he wasn’t allowed to be in control. If his three-week battle with flu hadn’t left him with chronic fatigue and muscle ache, he’d probably be back at work now—even against doctor’s orders.
‘Mike won’t call me unless he really has to.’ He pushed to his feet, impatient to bring the call to an end.
‘I suppose I’ll just have to trust that you won’t do anything foolish, then, like working out or undertaking a twenty-mile hike or something stupid like that.’
‘No chance.’ The thought that he couldn’t physically do either of those things right now was like a spear through his heart. It emasculated him somehow…made him feel less like a man, when previously he’d been so awesomely fit. Suddenly shivering with the cold, Evan was anxious for Beth to be gone so he could dress.
‘See you, then.’
‘Bye, sis. Give the boys a hug for me.’
Rowan knew it was a stupid thing to do but, knowing she was driving into town for groceries and hardware supplies, she couldn’t help but believe it was rude not to ask her neighbour if he needed anything. She hadn’t seen him around for a few days, but his car—a brand-spanking-new Land Rover—was still parked outside. In her hands she carried a peace offering: a plastic container filled with newly baked fruit scones. Well, she reasoned, she couldn’t eat them all herself, could she? And everyone knew that scones didn’t freeze well.
Lifting the heavy brass knocker, Rowan rapped smartly on his door before she lost her nerve, all the while her heartbeat thudding like the knell of doom inside her chest. Hearing footsteps approach, she steeled herself as Evan opened the door. There was a startled shift in his unsettling green eyes as he silently regarded her and Rowan stood mesmerised, unable to think of even one thing to say. Dressed in faded blue jeans with a rip in one knee and a black T-shirt, Evan Cameron’s hard, fit body elevated the ordinary, everyday clothing to something else entirely…something almost illicit, leaning heavily towards the dangerously sexual. For long, worrying seconds Rowan was completely transfixed by the sight of those bulging, taut biceps, with their straining sinews that his scant clothing drew immediate attention to. Something in the pit of her stomach sizzled like coals on a barbecue and sucked all the moisture from her mouth.
‘I—I thought you might like some of these.’ She pressed the plastic container into his hands, then quickly retreated. ‘Scones. I just made them.’
Evan silently contemplated the box he’d unwittingly accepted, then raised his gaze to pin Rowan to the spot. Her cheeks were arrestingly rosy and her pretty brown eyes shy and uncertain. For the life of him Evan didn’t have a clue why she would want to present him with the results of her baking—not after their last encounter.
‘Thanks.’
Was that all he was going to say? Rowan knew a moment of sheer blind panic. What on earth had possessed her to approach the man again? It should have been obvious to a blind woman that he clearly didn’t want anything to do with her.
‘You’re welcome.’ Her slim shoulders shrugged beneath her green waxed jacket. ‘I’m going into town to do some shopping. I wondered if you needed anything?’
‘I only repaired your gate, Ms Hawkins—not rescued you from drowning.’
She felt heat rush to her cheeks in a hot flood. He was smiling, damn him! Looking at her like the epitome of the Big Bad Wolf, with his slightly dishevelled black hair and even blacker brows. No man had ever gazed upon her in such a…licentious manner before. What on earth was she supposed to do now?
‘I’m quite aware of that. I know you’re not interested in being “neighbourly,” as you put it, but I hadn’t seen you around for a couple of days and thought you might be unwell or something. In which case you might—you might need me to…’ Her words dwindled to silence as Evan continued to study her as if she was suddenly the most interesting woman on the planet. Helplessly, her gaze gravitated back to his biceps. Oh, why couldn’t the man take pity and go and put on a sweater?
‘There’s nothing I need right now.’ His voice was almost akin to a honeyed growl and Rowan nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste to engineer some distance between them. ‘But thanks for thinking of me…and for these.’ He held up the box and gave it a little shake.
‘Anyway.’ Hitching the strap of her black leather bag more securely onto her shoulder, Rowan pushed back a mutinous strand of hair that had flicked across her face. ‘I’d better go. Lots to do.’
‘Don’t let me keep you,’ Evan said behind her as she scurried back down the path. Was it her fevered imagination or had he laced the innocent-sounding comment with a taunt?
Inside, Evan leant back against the door and prised the lid off the plastic box. The mouthwatering aroma of still-warm baking drifted tantalisingly beneath his nose.
‘Hmm.’ Smiling to himself, he closed the lid. ‘You do know how to tempt a man, pretty little Rowan. I wonder what other delights you’re capable of surprising a man with…apart from your cooking, that is?’
Alarmed to find himself pleasantly aroused, Evan strode irritably into the kitchen, promising himself that from now on he’d give the arresting little widow zero encouragement when it came to getting over-friendly. He didn’t want anyone invading his self-imposed isolation, and right now he had no use for a woman who was nursing a hurt he couldn’t begin to imagine how to alleviate. But as he flipped open the plastic container and helped himself to a warm, melting scone, Evan’s fertile imagination made a liar of that last statement. Unbidden, the thought of Rowan warming his bed and helping to tangle his sheets with that sweet, curvy body of hers stole into his mind like forbidden fruit…all the more exciting because under the circumstances the very idea was totally outrageous.
CHAPTER THREE
HER shopping done, Rowan didn’t rush to get back home. Instead she found a welcoming little bistro tucked away in a cobblestoned side-street and treated herself to fresh salmon cakes with a lemon butter sauce and a glass of wine. Satisfied after her meal, she paid her bill and stepped out into the surprisingly mild spring evening. By the time she got into her car and drove out of the town, back onto the country roads, she was feeling pleasantly tired and looking forward to a peaceful evening curled up on the couch with her soft cashmere throw and a book. In the boot of her car were her grocery shopping and two big carrier-bags full of handy items for sprucing up the cottage. The next day she planned to get cracking on her home improvements, telling herself she’d start by removing all the pine shelves in the living-room and giving them a cheerful coat of paint.
When she pulled up in front of the cottage, it was all she could do to unlock the boot and unload her shopping, she was so tired. But as she busied herself standing the bags side by side on the road, the sound of footsteps approaching made her spin round in alarm. Attired in dark jeans and a black polo-necked sweater, Evan Cameron drew up beside Rowan and blew into his hands. The ensuing steam from his breath curled up into the night. The scent of the sea was all around him and he had clearly been walking on the beach. Beads of perspiration stood out on his lightly grooved brow but his imperious green gaze was decidedly cool when Rowan automatically smiled her surprise.
‘Oh. It’s you. It’s a lovely evening for a walk, isn’t it?’
His gaze flicked over her figure in her waxed jacket and long black skirt and boots. Her soft brown hair was loose, blowing around her face in the breeze, her cheeks pink like two rosy apples. There was something wholesome about her that pricked at Evan’s conscience, something
