she said sweetly. ‘Though not all at once.’
Six was okay. Given Evangeline’s charm and enjoyment when it came to the pleasures of the flesh, six lovers in as many years was downright picky.
‘Anything else you’d like to know?’ she offered.
‘Really don’t want to know,’ he said quickly. Only a madman would ask her for details and he had no intention of doing so, and besides … he’d wanted her to explore her sexuality after he’d left her, hadn’t he? Wanted her to be sure of her preferences and to know her own mind.
Still did.
He looked around the room again and thought of the woman-child he’d once known and the woman Evie was now. ‘Tough profession, engineering,’ he said mildly.
Evie nodded, letting him change the subject.
‘Why’d you choose it?’
‘I wanted in on a highly paid and flexible profession that had the potential to take me anywhere. No relying on anyone else for my financial well-being or my status in society.’
That need hadn’t started with him. At least, Logan didn’t think it had. ‘Why the overwhelming need for independence?’
‘My mother’s been a trophy wife all her life. It’s hard work. Soul-destroying, at times. I guess I simply grew up not wanting it.’
‘Is that why your bedroom’s so spartan? Because you’re rebelling against the perfect-homemaker label?’
‘I hope not,’ she murmured. ‘Because that’d be stupid, considering I made this home for me. No, I just really like the minimalist aesthetic. Which is not to say I’m totally against a lavish touch at times, because I guarantee you’ll find one in the bathroom. Bubble bath, scented candles, fluffy towels.’
‘Sensualist,’ he murmured and Evie shot him a slow smile.
‘Rich, coming from you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never known anyone who savours sensuality the way you do. Who cherishes touch the way you do. Anyone would think you’d been starved of it as a child.’
‘My mother wasn’t demonstrative,’ he offered blandly. Evie had seen for herself what kind of relationship he had with his mother. His father’s hand had usually been hard and punishing, but those memories he kept to himself. Better a fist than no touch at all—that was the way the crazy ran for him at times. The reason why he’d taken so instinctively to pain play during lovemaking. He hadn’t needed a psychologist to tell him the why of that.
But not last night. Last night’s lovemaking with Evie had been positively, effortlessly normal.
‘Do you have any plans for today?’ he asked, and Evie shook her head and the vivid red silk robe slid from her shoulder again.
Pretty.
He bit into the cinnamon roll Evie had brought up with the coffee and it tasted sweet and flaky and sticky on his tongue.
‘I could show you round Sydney if you feel like playing tourist,’ she offered.
‘Can there be jet boats on the harbour involved?’
‘Yes.’
‘With me at the wheel?’
‘No.’ Evie rolled her eyes at him. ‘For that you’d have to buy the boat. Bridge climb?’
‘Too slow.’
‘Skydiving?’ she offered next. ‘I’m in a club.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’
‘Because you’re getting to know me,’ she offered dulcetly. ‘But in the interests of full disclosure, we could also head for the Botanic Gardens this morning and lie on the grass and listen to buskers play lazy Sunday-morning songs. That’d work for me too. I guess it all depends.’
‘On what?’
‘On whether you plan to stick around and slay a few more demons this week or whether after last night you already consider them vanquished, in which case my money’s on you leaving some time in the next ten minutes.’
Not only did this woman know her own mind, Logan thought uncomfortably, she also had a fair and accurate reading of his. ‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘No.’ She was breaking the other cinnamon roll into bits and he couldn’t see her eyes for eyelashes, but the steadiness of that no was reassuring.
‘You said you’d give me a week,’ he said.
‘And I will, if that’s what you want.’
She still wouldn’t look at him.
‘I do want,’ he said and leaned forward and snaked his hand through her hair and kissed her gently, and then a whole lot more thoroughly, on the lips. ‘But with wanting comes fear—of my nature and of yours and of the path we took last time. You scared me, Evie. With your compliance and with what you were prepared to give. You have no idea how much I wanted to take it all. And then demand more.’
‘You’re right,’ she said quietly and the gaze she pinned on him was dark and knowing. ‘I didn’t know the dangers of that particular road we were on. But I do now.’
‘If I break you I’ll never forgive myself.’
Truth.
‘You won’t break me, Logan. I know what I’m doing. I’ve got your back.’ As the gentle touch of her tongue to the corner of his mouth threatened to undo him. ‘And your front.’ Her hand slid slowly down his stomach, searching for stiffness and finding it. ‘Your measure.’
And he prayed to God that she did.
SUNDAY passed in a blur of tangled limbs and bed sheets and Monday morning came around way too fast. Up at six, with Logan up and ready to head back to his serviced apartment for the day. Scalding-hot coffee and marmalade on sourdough toast as Evie slipped into her work clothes and scowled at the clock. Not a morning person after a night chock-full of Logan. Not a sensible thought left in her head other than she was determined to show him what her life was like, and that her life—on the whole—involved generous quantities of work.
Evie was a good business partner to Max and she needed Logan to see that. She lived a busy life and she wanted Logan to see that too. She wouldn’t be derailed by him the way she had been before.
Half six and out of the door, locking it behind her while Logan stood at her side and waited. She’d see him tonight for dinner. His choice of restaurant this time and he’d let her know exactly what that choice was some time during the day. Not to be controlling or to keep her unsure of his plans for the evening; he just didn’t know yet—this wasn’t his city.
A twenty-minute walk to work for Evie, with Logan heading in the opposite direction.
