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“Sure!” she agreed with more enthusiasm than she felt. “How about Friday?”
Evan gave a quick victorious grin, perfectly masculine without being chauvinistic. It should have been appealing. Hell, even a month ago, it would have been appealing. Right up until the moment she found herself pinned against the wall of Will Thatcher’s bachelor pad.
“Kiss me?” she said suddenly to Evan. He looked slightly surprised at her forwardness, but plenty willing.
She regretted her impulsive request as soon as Evan’s head dipped toward hers. But maybe the kiss of another man would banish the demon of that man. She tried to lose herself in Evan’s kiss, she really did. But the harder she tried, the more she realized it wasn’t right.
When they finally broke away, he too seemed aware of the lack of chemistry.
“You’re sure about Friday?” he asked.
Brynn forced a smile. “Of course! I look forward to it.”
He gave her a small smile, looking a lot less interested than he had before their lackluster kiss. He made some noncommittal comment about double-checking his schedule and calling her.
Brynn had given enough polite brush-offs in her dating career to recognize when she was receiving one, but she couldn’t bring herself to care that this was probably the last she’d see of Evan the lawyer. She couldn’t blame the guy—from the way she’d kissed, he probably thought she was frigid.
She sighed and let herself inside, anticipating a hot bath, a good book, and a cup of tea.
The sight of the man sitting on her couch had her screaming like a banshee and dropping her purse. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Will held up her latest issue of Cosmopolitan without glancing up from the magazine. “Did you know,” he said, “that the average American woman has seven sexual partners in her life? Isn’t that interesting?”
Brynn took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart.
“Which notch is Evan on your bedpost?” Will asked thoughtfully. “Five? Fourteen? Thirty?”
“You were spying on me?”
He shrugged. “Open window, perfect hearing. Very awkward.”
Brynn let out a snarl. “Get out of my house. How did you even get in here?”
He sighed as though she was being an unreasonable child, and reluctantly set the magazine aside after dog-earing a page. “If you must k
now, your mother gave me a key. I stopped by to fix their computer and she asked if I could drop off the pie dish you left at their house.”
“My house isn’t even remotely on your way home. You mean to tell me that my mother expected you to drive all the way out here for a six-dollar pie dish?”
He merely watched her, somehow managing to look both amused and disinterested. “No. I volunteered,” he said simply.
“Why would you do that?”
“To spy on you and Romeo, of course. Who was he? Accountant? Chiropractor? Does he supply the retainers for all your snaggletoothed teens?”
Brynn gave a small, secretive smile as though the thought of Evan got her juices flowing. “He was a lawyer. Very rich. Very handsome.”
Will snorted, and followed her into the kitchen. “He sounds absolutely riveting. How was the kiss?”
“That’s some pretty thorough spying,” she said in response.
Brynn pulled down two wineglasses even as she told herself that he would absolutely not be staying. “Why are you here? And no more crap about my pie dish. I’m not really in the mood for company. I’m tired, cranky, and sort of…”
“Horny?”
“I was going to say pissed that you’re in my home, unexpected, without asking. If you’ve come to apologize about our…episode, let’s get it over with and then you can leave.”
He frowned and stepped closer. “Why the hell would I be apologizing? I don’t apologize for fucking, Brynn. Not when the woman is as willing as you were.”
