“Follow me, and all you’ll get is nothing. There won’t be evidence. There’ll be the absence of evidence. It’s not the same thing.”
“We’re living in Reporter World now, not Math Land. Just go with me here.” He cocked his head. “Unless you don’t want me to come with you.”
“No!” she said, then blushed because she’d said it way too hastily. “I mean, if you want to write an article, then that’s fine. I’ve got plans with a friend today, but—”
His quick smile lit up his face, making him seem even more delectable—and making her heart stutter in her chest. “No worries. You two go on about your day. I can be completely unobtrusive.”
“Right. Sure.” She drew in a breath, wishing she could reach out and touch him. And, yeah, wishing she could kick herself for sounding like such a dope. He was just a guy; she talked to guys all the time.
But he’s not just a guy. He’s Evan. And the idea of spending the entire day with him was enough to make the concrete streets of the city sprout with daisies and lilies and forget-me-nots.
He tilted his head, then crooked his arm for her to take. She hesitated only a second, then slid her arm through his. He was right there, only inches away, their bodies slightly touching, even if that touch was hampered by his cotton shirt and her long-sleeve T-shirt. Yet despite all that, the contact was as sensual—as soft, as arousing—as if bare skin were brushing against bare skin.
Dear Lord, she needed to stop this.
“Taxi?” he said.
She turned to look at him, still feeling off center. “What?”
“You said you were spending the day with a friend. Do we need a taxi?”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” Bella’s apartment was only ten minutes away by cab, and it made sense that they’d go there first, and then hit the bank branch near Bella’s place so that Darcy could get some more cash.
She edged near the curb, watching Evan as he lifted his arm to hail a cab. Only half watching, really. Mostly, she was lost in the delicious fantasies about this man who’d come here today to see her.
Wonder of wonders…
And that wonder swept her forward into the street—
“Darcy!”
—and right in front of a taxi that was violently swerving toward the curb.
“Darcy!” This time the scream was accompanied by a yank on her arm, and as she rocketed toward Evan, her mind processed a whirr of motion and the screech of tires. It was a blur, a mess.
And then suddenly it wasn’t. Suddenly she was pressed against him. His body right there, holding her tight. His breath coming hard and fast. “Darcy. Darcy. Holy shit, Darcy, you—”
“I’m fine,” she said, but she wasn’t. She was shaking now, scared of what had almost happened, and overwhelmed by what was happening now. Evan. The way his body felt pressed tight against her. The beat of his heart, the warmth of his hands…
And the sweet tingle of anticipation that swept through her as she realized his mouth was right there, hovering just above hers.
3
TIME STOPPED AS EVAN’S heart pounded in his chest. Not from fear—he’d been terrified, but that had passed once he recognized that she was safe. And not from adrenalin, although he had a hell of a lot flowing through his veins.
Not from any of that—but from the sweet pressure of Darcy in his arms.
She was softer than he’d imagined, her curves fitting against him as intimately as if they were in bed. And, as if they were in bed, her lips were there for him, parted sweetly, red and plump and ready for his kiss.
It was enticing. Overwhelming. And he bent closer, intending to claim the prize.
She’d enticed him from the first moment he’d seen her, and each and every time he’d been with her since—at Cam’s birthday parties or his wedding or any one of a dozen seemingly haphazard meetings—she’d gotten into his head. Got his blood going, his senses burning.
She made him laugh, and her analytical way of looking at the world made him think. And damned if she didn’t make him hard all over, as if the effort of holding back was turning him to stone, as if he would die if she didn’t touch him. Melt against him. Let her lose herself in him.
He wasn’t living his life as a monk, that was for damn sure, but it wasn’t until this moment—this spontaneous press of her in his arms—that he’d truly understood why the women he dated seemed so inadequate. How could they be anything but inadequate when compared to Darcy?
He leaned closer, and saw her lips part, and for a moment he wondered if she felt it, too. If the air between them was zinging as much for her as it was for him.