as he had when he’d smiled at her first thing that morning. With minimal effort and very few words, he talked her into staying for breakfast.
He stood in front of the six-burner gas cooktop like a captain standing at the helm of a ship. Glancing at the array of ingredients and utensils spread out on the counter around him, she asked baldly, “Can you actually cook?”
He looked insulted. “I went away to college. I lived in a fraternity house with nine guys.”
“So we’re having pizza and beer for breakfast?” she asked dryly.
“I can manage an omelet.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, questioning your culinary abilities. I mean, you did whip up that hot cocoa last night.”
“Smart aleck.” He motioned toward one of the stools on the opposite side of the granite-topped island. “Go sit down before I rescind the invitation.”
“Right.” After a two-fingered salute, she did as instructed.
Dawson was surprisingly efficient in the kitchen for a man who was used to having others wait on him. He mastered the eggs, though the toast wound up burned. The coffee was fine, excellent in fact. But Eve suspected that out of all of the appliances in his state-of-the-art kitchen that one was probably the one he operated on his own most frequently.
She ate the eggs, passed on the toast and asked for a second cup of the freshly ground French roast.
Sunshine streamed in through the tall window over the sink, making the room glisten. “I’ve got to tell you. This is a wonderful room, a chef’s dream,” she said. “My entire kitchen would fit in your subzero refrigerator.”
“Can you cook?” he asked.
She couldn’t help but laugh as he handed back her earlier insult.
“Yes. I can cook. I went away to college, too.” Between student loans and scholarships, she’d managed four years at a state university. “And I get to practice on a regular basis. Unlike you, I can’t quite afford to hire out the job during the week, although I do have a pretty close relationship with a Chinese restaurant a block up the street from my apartment. They’re the first number programmed into my cell phone and I’ve got them on speed dial at home, too.” She grinned.
“I think I’m insulted.”
“Don’t be. It goes without saying that after last night you’ve moved up considerably,” she assured him, leaning over to peck his cheek.
Dawson cleared his throat. In the brief amount of time that took, his expression shuttered. Eve knew what he was about to say even before he began speaking. Her sudden clairvoyance, however, did little to blunt the impact.
“About last night, Eve. I hope that you … I mean, I hope that you understand I’m not … I’m not ready for something serious right now,” he said. “I may never be.”
“Define serious.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Apparently I don’t.” She pushed her plate aside and folded her arms over her chest. Beneath them, she swore her heart felt bruised. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Eve, I like you. I like you a lot. But I can’t … I can’t …” He shoved a hand through his hair and expelled a frustrated breath.
“Actually, you can and you did. Very well, I might add. Twice last night and then again this morning.”
She’d hoped for a smile, but he was dead serious when he replied, “I’m not talking about physically.”
No. Of course he wasn’t. “Which leaves emotionally,” she said.
He nodded and she felt her heart start to break. For the first time since they’d made love, she wondered if she’d made a huge mistake. To think just an hour ago she’d awakened with a smile and thought her life grand.
Because far more than her pride was stinging at the moment, she told him, “I don’t believe I mentioned expecting to march down a church aisle wearing white anytime soon.”
“No. But I need to be sure that you understand where I’m coming from.”
She swallowed, raised her chin. “I believe I do. You’re saying that our relationship is only temporary.”
“Temporary is not the word I would have chosen,” he said quietly.
“Semantics aside, it’s what you mean.”
Dawson looked miserable. He looked remorseful. But he didn’t contradict her.
Not good enough. The phrase echoed in her head, taunting her. It seemed to be the motto for her life, the tagline that summed it up. She hadn’t been good enough for her ex-boyfriend’s pedigreed family. And now she wasn’t good enough to compete with Dawson’s memories of his late wife and the previous life he’d enjoyed as a husband and father.
“I’m sorry, Eve.”
Far from being appreciated, the apology only made matters worse for her. Around the lump in her throat she said, “Now I want to be sure that you understand something. I’m not the sort of woman who just hops into bed on a whim.”
“I know that—”
“No.” She slashed a hand through the air to silence him. “This obviously needs to be said. When I’m with a man, I’m not just marking time until something better comes along.”
“I’m not marking time, Eve. I promise you that.”
She nodded again. “Also, when I’m in a relationship I’m exclusive and I expect the same in return. Nothing about me is casual, Dawson, if you follow my meaning.”
“I do.”
“I stayed here with you last night because being with you meant something to me.” When her eyes filled with tears, she hated herself for the weakness they represented, the futility, but she blinked them away and pressed on. She would have her say now. A good cry could wait until later. “I stayed here because you mean something to me.”
He reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “God, I know that. I’d know that even if you hadn’t said as much.”
“I’m not expecting a marriage proposal.” She’d learned her lesson about such expectations after her long-term relationship with Drew. “But I am expecting you to be honest with me and monogamous for as long … for as long as this lasts.”
Her anger and outrage were spent. She wished them back, because insecurity began filling the void.
“You have both,” he promised. Then, “And for the record, I’m not the casual sort, either.”
She nodded and pushed back the stool so she could stand. Gathering up what remained of her pride, she forced a smile to her lips. “Well. Thank you for breakfast and dinner last night.”
“You’re
