tightness in her throat as Eve bent toward him and brushed his forehead with a kiss. She longed for the right to do that every night. She straightened, murmuring, “Have a nice night, Toby.”
“Good night, Eve.” With a contented look on his face, he snuggled deeper under the covers.
Her hand faltered as she reached past the framed photograph to turn out the light. Standing up, she moved silently out of the room. Bitter tears burned the back of her eyes. She regretted more than she ever had in her life that she had been born plain.
In the living room Eve turned down the volume on the television set and picked up a magazine lying on the coffee table. Curling up in the large armchair, she tried to force herself to read the articles it contained. The clock on the fireplace mantel ticked away the time.
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Luck pulled into the driveway, much later than he had anticipated. Switching off the engine, he grabbed his briefcase and his suit jacket from the rear seat. The briefcase he carried in his hand as he climbed out of the car; the jacket he swung over his shoulder, held by the hook of a finger. His tie was draped loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt unfastened.
The tension of a long drive and the mental fatigue from a full day of business discussions cramped the muscles in his shoulders and neck. Weariness drew tired lines in his tough rakehell features.
As Luck walked to the front door of the cabin, he noticed the light burning in the window. The edges of his mouth lifted in a faint smile at the welcoming sight. When he opened the door, he heard the muted volume of the television set. There was a warm run of pleasure as he realized Eve must have waited up for him to come home.
Setting his briefcase down just inside the door, he walked into the living room and paused. Eve had fallen asleep in the big armchair, with a magazine in her lap. His smile lengthened at the sight of her curled up like a velvety brown mouse. Luck tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa along with his tie and walked over to turn off the television set.
Silence swirled through the room as he approached the chair where she was sleeping. He intended to wake her, but when he looked down at her, the tiredness seemed to fall away from him. In repose, her serene features reminded him of the gentle beauty of a madonna — or a sleeping beauty waiting to be wakened with a kiss. The latter was a tantalizing thought.
Leaning down, Luck placed his hands on either armrest of the armchair. He felt alive and whole, renewed by her presence. He lowered his mouth onto her lips, stimulated by their sweet softness. At the initial contact, they were unresponsive to the mobile pressure of his kiss. Then Luck felt her lips move against his. Raw emotions surged through him, an aching pressure building inside him.
Eve stirred with the beginnings of wakefulness and he pulled back, not straightening but continuing to lean over her. The desire was strong to pick her up and carry her into his bedroom where he could give rein to those feelings that swept him.
Her lashes slowly drifted open and he watched the dawning light of recognition flare in her brown, nearly black eyes. His blood was warmed by the pleasure at seeing him that ran wild in her look.
“You’re home,” she murmured in soft joy.
“Yes,” Luck answered huskily, because it seemed he had come home. It was a sensation he couldn’t quite explain, not even to himself.
One minute he could see the welcome in her eyes and in the next it was gone, as a sudden rush of self-consciousness hid it from him. She lowered her chin, a vague agitation making her restive.
“I must have fallen asleep.” She brushed a hand across her eyes, then reached for the opened magazine in her lap.
Faintly irritated by her sudden remoteness, Luck pushed himself erect, withdrawing physically from her as she had withdrawn from him. He saw the flicker of her hurt in the velvet darkness of
“Good night, Eve.” With a contented look on his face, he snuggled deeper under the covers.
Her hand faltered as she reached past the framed photograph to turn out the light. Standing up, she moved silently out of the room. Bitter tears burned the back of her eyes. She regretted more than she ever had in her life that she had been born plain.
In the living room Eve turned down the volume on the television set and picked up a magazine lying on the coffee table. Curling up in the large armchair, she tried to force herself to read the articles it contained. The clock on the fireplace mantel ticked away the time.
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Luck pulled into the driveway, much later than he had anticipated. Switching off the engine, he grabbed his briefcase and his suit jacket from the rear seat. The briefcase he carried in his hand as he climbed out of the car; the jacket he swung over his shoulder, held by the hook of a finger. His tie was draped loosely around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt unfastened.
The tension of a long drive and the mental fatigue from a full day of business discussions cramped the muscles in his shoulders and neck. Weariness drew tired lines in his tough rakehell features.
As Luck walked to the front door of the cabin, he noticed the light burning in the window. The edges of his mouth lifted in a faint smile at the welcoming sight. When he opened the door, he heard the muted volume of the television set. There was a warm run of pleasure as he realized Eve must have waited up for him to come home.
Setting his briefcase down just inside the door, he walked into the living room and paused. Eve had fallen asleep in the big armchair, with a magazine in her lap. His smile lengthened at the sight of her curled up like a velvety brown mouse. Luck tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa along with his tie and walked over to turn off the television set.
Silence swirled through the room as he approached the chair where she was sleeping. He intended to wake her, but when he looked down at her, the tiredness seemed to fall away from him. In repose, her serene features reminded him of the gentle beauty of a madonna — or a sleeping beauty waiting to be wakened with a kiss. The latter was a tantalizing thought.
Leaning down, Luck placed his hands on either armrest of the armchair. He felt alive and whole, renewed by her presence. He lowered his mouth onto her lips, stimulated by their sweet softness. At the initial contact, they were unresponsive to the mobile pressure of his kiss. Then Luck felt her lips move against his. Raw emotions surged through him, an aching pressure building inside him.
Eve stirred with the beginnings of wakefulness and he pulled back, not straightening but continuing to lean over her. The desire was strong to pick her up and carry her into his bedroom where he could give rein to those feelings that swept him.
Her lashes slowly drifted open and he watched the dawning light of recognition flare in her brown, nearly black eyes. His blood was warmed by the pleasure at seeing him that ran wild in her look.
“You’re home,” she murmured in soft joy.
“Yes,” Luck answered huskily, because it seemed he had come home. It was a sensation he couldn’t quite explain, not even to himself.
One minute he could see the welcome in her eyes and in the next it was gone, as a sudden rush of self-consciousness hid it from him. She lowered her chin, a vague agitation making her restive.
“I must have fallen asleep.” She brushed a hand across her eyes, then reached for the opened magazine in her lap.
Faintly irritated by her sudden remoteness, Luck pushed himself erect, withdrawing physically from her as she had withdrawn from him. He saw the flicker of her hurt in the velvet darkness of
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