Evan laughed deep in his chest. “You can do that anytime you want.” He nibbled her ear and Robin wriggled out of his embrace, spilling a little coffee on the thick oriental carpet she had bought on one of her shopping whims.
“Please listen to me,” she pleaded, and turned to face him. His boxers were tenting. She did not care for the tent. So she abruptly turned away, put her coffee down, and tightened her robe around her. Her temples were pounding, her mouth tasted like dirt. “You know what?” she said, avoiding Evan’s gaze—and boxers— “I can’t talk about this now. I need to get dressed for my new job. Can’t leave the bubble wrap waiting.”
“Want me to help?”
“No!” she said quickly, and grabbing her coffee, darted into her bathroom, shut the door behind her, and locked it.
After a moment, Evan said, “Robin?”
His proximity directly on the other side of the door startled Robin, and she reared back, held a hand over her heart for a moment before sinking onto the edge of the spa.
“Okay. I’ll use the guest bath.”
She heard him move away, and slowly released her breath. So. How did she get into this mess, again? As if her life could get any more ludicrous, as if it were possible that one person could make so many stupid, stupid mistakes in the space of a week! A sudden attack of panic assailed her, a strange feeling like she was standing too close to the edge of some deep hole and was in danger of throwing herself off.
Run. Not away, although that sounded pretty appealing at the moment, but down the street, far enough to pound out her frustration. Yes, run.
Robin got up, brushed her teeth, tried to brush her hair, found a bottle of aspirin and took four. No sense beating around the bush. She then peeked out the bathroom door, saw her bed was made, but all other signs of Evan removed. Cautiously, she hurried to her closet, found her running gear, and hoped that he was gone from her house.
No such luck. Evan was seated at her dining table, dressed in slacks and a polo shirt, one leg casually crossed over the other as he read the paper. Worse, Jake Manning was quietly working in the entry, wearing carpenter pants that hugged his very fine butt and a T-shirt that strained across his chest.
Evan looked up from the paper and smiled. “Ah, there she is! Hey, you’re going out for a run? You should have told me—I would have gone with,” he said cheerfully.
Robin tried very hard not to look at Jake. “Yeah, but you don’t have time, do you, Evan? Aren’t you headed back to Dallas?”
He casually sipped his coffee. “Actually, I’m going to be around for a few days. We have to get you set up, don’t we?”
We? She did not like the sound of that at all, and walked to the kitchen before he could say more. She opened the fridge, studied the empty box, and vowed to make it to the grocery store this calendar year. With a sigh, she went back into the dining room. That was when she spied the box of Krispy Kremes on the edge of the table and instantly looked at Jake.
He was watching her, expressionless. He glanced at the box and turned away. Hey . . . he’d brought her doughnuts. He had, hadn’t he? Jake Manning had brought her doughnuts! Cha-cha cha-cha cha-CHA! Cha-cha cha-cha cha-CHA! Evan could bring all the outrageously expensive wine he wanted, but doughnuts—now here was a man who really knew how to impress a woman.
With two fingers, Robin lifted the lid to the mouthwatering treats, until a T-square came crashing down on the lid, missing her fingernails by a hairbreadth. Robin squeaked, jerked her hand back, and looked up at Jake, who was holding the T-square firmly on top of the doughnut box, glaring at her. “Those are mine. Remember our little talk?”
“You almost hit me with that thing!”
“Let’s review—I am not your local Pac-n-Sac. Keep out of my stuff.”
“Goodness,” Evan said. He turned the page of the business section and continued reading.
“They’re just doughnuts,” Robin groused at Jake’s back as he walked back to the foyer.
Evan looked up over the business section, one brow lifted above the other. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed, sweetheart?”
Actually, just the wrong bed, and at the moment, she wished Evan would go far, far away. But he turned his attention back to his paper. “IBM stock is down.”
Robin looked at the doughnut box, then at Jake over the top of Evan’s head. That was a smirk on his face, she thought. At the very least, a smarty little twinkle in his eye. Robin walked over to the wall where he was working, pretended to look at what he was doing. Yep, it was a twinkle, all right.
She moved until she was standing so close that her arm brushed his sleeve. “Still testing the layers?”
Jake looked down, smiled a crooked, I-know-what-you-are-doing kind of smile. “Yep.”
“What’s that?” Evan called, forcing Robin to glance over her shoulder. He was watching her intently, his expression curious. “I thought you were going for a run?”
Okay. There were too many guys in her house, and his name was Evan. “Yes, I am. See you later,” she said and walked across the foyer.