What am I doing here?
Unfortunately, Evan knew exactly why he was there. After finding out that even his pen pal had a date, he’d been restless. For some unknown reason, he’d been annoyed that she was actually going out on a date. He hadn’t been teasing when he’d told her he was jealous. He was envious of the man she was out with tonight. Somehow, he’d become addicted to her words on the screen, and he wanted to know what she was doing. Was she having a good time? Was the guy she was seeing a decent sort of man?
Christ! This is ridiculous. I don’t even know her, and I’m worrying about her.
The problem was, she’d become a friend to him, and Evan Sinclair didn’t have very many friends. He had people who catered to him, told him what he wanted to hear. But those people didn’t like him; they liked his money and power. He had acquaintances with the same status he had, but all of them were too busy to actually strike up a real friendship. They were connected by business, and business was a priority for all of them.
I like her. And she likes me as a person. She has no idea who I really am.
Just the fact that his mystery writer liked him as a person without knowing his identity was a novelty, and it made him covet her attention. Okay. Yes. He was greedy and selfish, but it was the first time he’d wanted something just for himself.
I should have told her that I wanted to meet her.
He’d had the chance when he’d admitted he was in Maine, but then he’d have to tell her that he was in the same town she lived in, thus having to reveal his identity. If he didn’t, she’d think he was some kind of crazy stalker. Why would an employee of the Sinclair Fund be in Amesport? It would be way too much of a coincidence that he just happened to have family in this town. She might be alarmed, afraid of him.
Grimacing at the thought of his email friend being fearful of him, he picked up his coffee at the pickup window and carefully made his way through the crowd and out of the shop. He was going to get into his black BMW, which he’d bought to keep at his Amesport house, and he was going to get back to work. He could have called Stokes to drive him into town, but the elderly man had already gotten himself settled into Evan’s guesthouse. He didn’t want to disturb his driver after he’d probably already gone to bed. Stokes might seem invincible and unflappable, but he wasn’t a young man anymore. Evan had found the keys to the vehicle he’d never used before and had driven himself.
Every Sinclair home on the Peninsula had a guest home, but some were bigger than others. Evan’s was relatively small. Maybe Jared had rightly guessed that Evan would never have friends visiting here. That was a depressing thought.
“Dammit!” The curse was followed by a collision with Evan’s back that nearly took him to the ground on the slick sidewalk. He quickly regained his footing, and then swung around to see a guilty-looking Randi Tyler right in front of him.
Evan’s cock hardened instantly, and his entire body tensed, a reaction he had anytime he saw Randi—an automatic, carnal response that completely annoyed him at the moment.
He glared at her as she informed him contritely, “I spilled most of my coffee on the back of your coat. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t speak as he observed her flushed cheeks and her breathless state. Her dark hair was loosely held to the back of her head by a hair clip that Evan was secretly itching to remove. Even though she had apologized, there was no fear in her beautiful hazel eyes as she met his pointed stare directly. She looked sorry, but she wasn’t afraid of him like most people usually were. She never had been.
“It’s one of my favorite coats,” he muttered huskily, not knowing what else to say. It was indeed one of his favorites, but it didn’t matter if it was stained. He had another one just like it in his closet.
Evan saw a flash of irritation in her beautiful eyes, their color so vibrant in the dim light that they reminded him of a rich milk chocolate. Her eyes changed from deep brown to a greenish tint in different lighting, but the ring and flecks within the iris remained exactly the same. No matter what color they appeared to be, they were always frustratingly gorgeous, just like the rest of her. Framed by long, velvety black lashes the same color as her hair, her gaze was nearly mesmerizing him.
“If the stain doesn’t come out, I’ll pay for it,” she told him, sounding annoyed as her chin rose stubbornly.
He highly doubted her teacher’s salary was going to cover one very expensive custom coat. “It’s just coffee.” He shrugged, but he was feeling far from nonchalant. Randi made him edgy and out of sorts. He could be charming when he had to be for fundraising or business, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words to say to a woman like her—maybe because he’d never met anyone quite like her before.