Dreams Don't Wait

chapter 6





At one-fifteen the next afternoon, Evan's phone rang in the cabin. Cal answered it while Jenny and Evan put the last of the cookies in the oven.

"Hi, Maud," he said. "Sure, she's right here."

Cal handed her the phone.

"Oh, Evan, I'm so terribly sorry to ask you this, but... Oh, I am sorry, dear..."

"Maud, what is it?" Maud's state of alarm quickly transferred itself to Evan.

"It's Mother. Marion has rushed her to the hospital. It doesn't sound good and... well, I have to go, Evan. Could you—would you?..."

"I'll be right there."

* * *

A few minutes later, Evan's head was buzzing with instructions. About the time she was going under for the third time, Maud tried to reassure her, saying, "Just look at my lists. Everything is there. Failing that, use your own best judgment."

Evan did look at the lists, and her stomach heaved. There were at least four pages of notes, covering everything from floral arrangements to the music selected for the orchestra. An orchestra! Linc might as well be hosting the President of the United States. She tried to hide her panic as she helped Maud into her coat and out to the waiting cab.

Settling into the cab, Maud rolled down the window and reached out to touch her hand. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Lincoln will be home this afternoon. Probably around three or so. He'll lend a hand if you need it."

The cab started to pull away and then came to an abrupt halt. Maud stuck her head out the window. "I almost forgot. The guest list is in the top drawer of the phone desk in the kitchen. There were a couple of last-minute additions Linc might want to know about. I made a note of them."

Evan nodded.

Maud waved. "Don't worry. It will all work out. Just work from the lists."

* * *

By three o'clock Evan was in a state of escalating panic as she searched in vain for Maud's notes. There were still a thousand things to do before the first guest arrived at eight o'clock. If she didn't find Maud's lists, she didn't know how she'd manage. Between the phone and the endless questions, she was running on adrenaline and nerves. She felt as though she were on an alien spaceship—out of orbit and out of control.

Rifling through the kitchen desk, she found the guest list for Linc. The added guests were clearly marked in Maud's neat hand. She scanned the names, and her mouth went dry. There were over 120 on it. Senior politicians, Victoria's top business people, and every local celebrity she'd ever heard of. This wasn't a party Linc was throwing, it was a tour de force. What in hell was she doing here trying to manage this... this carnival?

Evan didn't even notice Cal and Jenny come in. Blithely ignoring the legions in the kitchen, they were now digging into the fridge, intent on lunch. The caterer was looking at them as though they were freezer burn trying to get in. They saw the woman's glare and looked in unison to Evan.

"They'll only be a few minutes," she said. "I'm afraid they haven't had lunch yet." Damned if she didn't sound apologetic.

The caterer, a tall angular woman with a severely short hair cut and the attitude of a rogue-country despot, gave her a hard stare. "Ms. North, as you know, we have a large group to prepare for, and that makes every second here critical. That said, I'd prefer all nonessential people be kept out of the kitchen."

Evan went hot, then cold. Her back straightened. "From where I sit, in about another two minutes the only nonessential person in this kitchen is going to be you." My God, had she really said that? She soldiered on. "I suggest you get on with your job and leave my children to me."

The woman's mouth opened and closed twice before she pursed it tight and turned away with as haughty a look as she dared risk.

"All right, Mom! Way to go." Cal whispered from behind. "That was some bad ass attitude."

Jenny's hand slipped into hers, and the three of them observed the invading army.

Evan tightened her grip on Jen's hand. Five hours to go. She'd pull this thing off if it killed her. She smiled up at her tall son. "Glad you approve. Because you're officially drafted. I have to see to the floral arrangements, so after you've eaten, would you—"

"And me," Jenny said

She ruffled her hair. "And Jenny, please find out where Maud keeps the linen. There's a special table cloth she wants to use in the dining room. And after you've done that, I'd like you to..."

* * *

Linc didn't arrive home until after six. Confident Maud would have everything under control, he went straight to his room. Stepping out on his deck, he looked down to the patio. Tables dotted it, and spilled out onto the lawn. A three-piece orchestra was tuning up under a gaily striped canopy, and two men were working behind the bar. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly; it was going to be a busy night. He was showered, shaved, dressed, and downstairs fifteen minutes before the first guest was due to arrive. He made a quick stop in the library to pour himself a finger of scotch and drifted toward the kitchen.

The house was vibrant, alive with color and scents. Flowers were everywhere. He bent to smell an arrangement of carnations in the hall, momentarily closing his eyes. Maud, as usual, had done a fantastic job. Still, it was a good thing he only staged one of these blasted PR events a year. Although he admitted the timing was right on this one. It would serve as a distraction, keep his mind off a certain green-eyed woman. No doubt she was curled up in the cabin with a book big enough to be a cornerstone in one of his buildings. He wondered what his bookworm would think about this kind of party. He wondered, too, exactly when she'd become his bookworm. He strode into the kitchen.

Two steps into that madhouse, he stopped. "What the hell are you doing here? Where's Maud?"

The buzz of activity stopped, and four pairs of eyes shot to him.

At his sharp tone, Evan looked up from the counter she was wiping, and a wayward strand of her long hair fell over her eyes. She brushed at it with the back of a hand, knowing in doing so she probably left a smudge on her forehead. She was tired, hot, and rumpled. Linc, on the other hand, looked immaculate in navy slacks and a casually tailored linen jacket. His shirt was blue-white. He didn't wear a tie. A wafer-thin gold watch glinted at his wrist. He was spectacular. Just looking at him made the back of her knees sweat. She put the damp cloth she was using in the sink.

Ignoring his lord-of-the-manor glower, and too tired to fight, she answered him quietly. "Her mother took a bad turn. Maud had to go to the hospital and meet her sister. She phoned a half hour ago. She's going to stay with Marion tonight. She says she hopes you won't mind."

"Of course I don't. When did she leave?" He shot a get-back-to-work look at the caterers before turning his attention back to Evan.

"One, maybe one-thirty." She hiked her shoulders. This was the first time she'd stopped working all day. She hadn't been aware of how exhausted she was.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Yes, it's too bad. But she did say her mother's feeling better."

"I meant I'm sorry this"—he lifted his glass and waved it around the tumultuous kitchen—"fell to you. It isn't part of our deal. If I'd known I would have..."

Evan cocked her head. "You'd what? Have come home and handled the arrangements yourself?" She grinned. "I have a hard time seeing you in an apron."

He stepped closer to her. "You should be angry."

"Yeah, well, right now I'm too tired to be mad." She moved away from him. "But if you think you can take over, I've got a bath and a book waiting for me at home."

When a slow smile crossed his lips, lightening the intense expression in his light blue eyes, Evan glanced at him quizzically.

"That's exactly how I pictured you before I came in here. Sitting on the love seat in the cabin with a twenty-pound book on your lap." He ran a finger across her jaw before he whispered, "Nice picture."

Evan's breath knotted in her throat. "Linc, don't, please."

"I know. I know." He took a drink of his scotch, and the ice clinked against the glass. "I'm supposed to be a good boy, and you're—"

"Daddy, Daddy." Jenny came bouncing into the room and lunged at him. He put his drink down and swept her up in his arms.

"How's my girl? Do I get a kiss?"

Jenny nearly smothered him before leaning back in his arms to give him a sober look. "I saved you some of my cookies, Daddy. They're at Evan's house."

"Thanks, sweetheart. But can they wait till tomorrow? Daddy's going to be busy tonight."

"I'll save you this many," Jenny announced, holding up four grubby fingers.

Evan laughed. "Looks like I'm not the only one who needs a bath."

"I'm going to a sleepover with Evan tonight, in her new house," Jenny stated, with four-year-old imperiousness.

Evan stroked her soft hair. "Only if your dad says it's okay."

"Can I, Daddy?"

"I'd say you're a lucky little girl—getting to sleep over at Evan's." He shot Evan a wicked grin.

Evan hid her blush by coughing against her hand, and adding a little too brightly, "Where's Cal, Jenny?"

Just then her son came through the kitchen door. "Right here. But I'm soon to be tailpipes. Mike's got a couple of videos, and if it's okay, I'm going to spend the night." He glanced around the still busy kitchen and groaned. "Tell me I'm finished here. Puh-leese."

Evan laughed. "You're finished—"

Cal brightened.

"—after you take out the empty boxes and stack the plastic crates that the dishes came in."

"Yes, suh!" Cal saluted smartly and headed for the boxes. Evan was pleased Cal was going out tonight, and she liked his friend Mike. He'd worked at the supermarket with Cal the last few months. Both boys shared a passion for computers and Harley Davidsons, and although Mike was two years older than Cal, he, too, was starting his first year at U Vic in the fall. She smiled. Mike also had a sister Cal's age, who was, according to Cal, okay.

"Go help Cal, honey. Daddy wants to talk to Evan." Linc put Jenny down, and she went after her hero.

Linc picked up his drink and turned toward Evan. "Why don't you stay for a while? Have something to eat before you leave."

Evan plucked at her rumpled T-shirt. "I don't think so, but thanks. As soon as everything is done here, Jenny and I will head for the cabin. I'll fix something there."

Linc started to speak but was interrupted by the door chimes. He looked at Evan.

"Go. Your guests are alive and well and beating on the front door."

He continued to look at her, his expression unreadable. When the chimes sounded again, he turned and left.

It was a half hour later before Evan worked her way out of the kitchen. She took one last look around, ran a hand over her cheek, and shook her head. She'd tidied up as best she could; the rest was up to the caterers and cleaning people. It was time to go.

* * *

Jenny and Evan were standing on the second-floor landing looking down at the crowded entryway below. They'd made a quick stop at Jenny's room to get her PJs and clothes for the morning, and Evan couldn't wait to get home. Home. She savored the word, thinking happily about her private, comfortable cabin. Right now it seemed like heaven compared to what was going on below. People were arriving in groups of two and four, the hall now an expressway to the patio and living room.

Many of the guests were already outside, drinks and smiles firmly in place. Evan shuddered. She'd never attended a gathering like this one and hoped she never would. It surprised her that Linc would arrange something like this. He'd struck her as a more private person. Telling herself it was no concern of hers, she looked down at Jenny.

"Come on, hon. We'd better go. We'll take the back stairs through the kitchen."

Jenny's face was pressed between two spindles, and she was watching with fascination. "Can I look more? Please," she begged. "I want to see Aunt Caressa. Please," she said again, giving Evan a beseeching look that made her smile in spite of her weariness.

A double please from Jenny. How could she resist? "Okay, but only for a few more minutes; then we have to go."

Jenny nodded agreeably and turned back to her lookout.

"She's pretty." Jenny pointed an impolite finger at a new arrival.

Evan followed it until her eyes rested on one of the most striking women she'd ever seen. Her hair was a fiery, unapologetic red, her skin ivory, and her strapless black linen sundress pure perfection. As Linc started to help this guest remove her short jacket, the woman leaned back into him and whispered something in his ear. Hands on her shoulders, he smiled, and unaccountably, Evan's blood heated at least fifty degrees. She stared fixedly at the twosome. It was beginning to look as if they were a permanent freeze-frame, then Linc stepped back. Took the man an awfully long time to help her with an awfully small jacket.

The woman glanced around the flower-bedecked hall. "Oh, Lincoln, how wonderful everything looks. But you should have called me. I could have helped with the food... or something. Really, darling, I would have been happy to lend a hand."

Evan rolled her eyes. Yeah, right! The hands the striking redhead referred to were tipped with perfectly manicured nails at least an inch long.

Linc hung up her jacket and smiled. "Somehow, I can't see you grubbing away in the kitchen, Natalie. Don't you keep telling me that you were made for better things?"

Natalie's laugh tinkled upward. It was the first time Evan knew that a laugh could actually, really and truly, tinkle. She hated it.

"So I do, and those better things are seldom done in the kitchen—though anything's possible," she purred. "Besides, I keep forgetting you have that wonderful woman working for you. What's her name?"

Linc hesitated for the briefest moment. "Maud. And yes, she is wonderful."

The front door opened again, whoever it was not bothering to ring the doorbell.

Jenny didn't hesitate. "Aunt Caressa! Up here." She yelled and waved. No one in the hall could miss her—or Evan. Linc frowned when he caught her eye, and Evan was glad he couldn't make out the fresh wave of pink that washed across her face. She quickly took a step away from the railing.

Caressa lifted her hand and smiled. "Hi, sweets. Come and give your spinster aunt a hug. After the day I've had, I need it." As Jenny hurtled down the stairs, Caressa craned her neck. "Is that you up there, Evan?" she asked as Jenny launched herself into her arms.

Damn! "Yes, it's me, Caressa."

"Are you coming down?" Caressa asked.

Now she had Natalie's full attention, who looked first at Evan, then, questioningly, to Linc. He appeared not to notice.

Evan was quick to respond. "Uh, no, I don't think so. I was getting Jen's things. She's staying with me tonight." She turned her attention to Jenny. "Come on, Jen, we'd better go."

"You're not coming to the party?" Caressa turned to Linc. "Tell me, dear brother, were you born a jerk or do you have to work at it?"

Evan groaned, and the blaze on her face burned hotter.

For some strange reason, Linc smiled. It looked like he tried not to, because his lips twitched slightly before his full grin emerged, along with those wonderful sexy creases near his mouth. His eyes never left Evan's as his smile widened.

Damn the man! He was enjoying this.

And Caressa wasn't through with him. "Why on earth would you have her work tonight of all nights? She's my friend and—"

"Caressa, stop. You're embarrassing me. Come on, Jenny, please. Let's go." To Evan's immense relief, Caressa shut up and Jenny obeyed.

In minutes they were down the back stairs, out of the house, and in the cabin. Evan had the insane urge to bar the door behind her. She'd felt like a fool with that... Natalie woman looking at her as if she'd oozed out from under the sink. Then there was Linc, breaking into that ridiculous smile.

Humph!

"Come on, Jen, let's get you to bed. But first I think you can use some soap and water." She certainly didn't need to worry about feeding the weary child. Under the ominous glares of the declawed head caterer, she and Cal had made repeated, and very successful, raids on Linc's gourmet buffet.

Evan pointed the tired girl to the bathroom and followed her in to switch on the light. While she was helping Jenny wash and get ready for bed, she glanced up to the mirror over the sink. She closed her eyes and nodded sickly, as understanding dawned. No wonder Linc had smiled. He should have laughed outright.

She was a sight. Her hair was a mess; there was a huge black smudge on her forehead and something icky and white on her cheek. She rubbed at it. Flour? She tasted it. Almond paste. How it got there, she had no idea. She looked like a checkerboard.

A surprisingly agreeable and very tired Jenny went straight to bed, and Evan got into the tub. As she sank into the steaming water, her embarrassed anger gave way to a self-defense mechanism. She told herself she didn't care if she looked like a gargoyle, and Linc could laugh all he wanted, as long as she had this cabin. Those thoughts firmly in mind, she set to scrubbing away the grit and aches accumulated during the long, unsettling day.

Donning a nightgown and robe, she padded barefoot into the kitchen and made herself dinner—a peanut butter and peach jam sandwich and a glass of milk. She heard the music drifting from Linc's patio on the warm night air and decided to take her milk outside. Sitting on the top step, she looked at the full, glorious moon admiring itself in the silky ocean and sipped her milk. She tilted her head; the band was playing... she hummed a few bars... "Chances Are"—an old Johnny Mathis song. She closed her eyes and sang along.

"Do you mind an audience?"

Evan's eyes popped open, and she spilled the last few drops of milk on the step. "What are you doing here?"

Linc's jacket was off, and he was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I thought you might like something to drink."

"Are you crazy? You've got over a hundred guests up there." She nodded in the direction of his brilliantly lit house.

"That's exactly why I'm here. The party is at full boil. No one will notice I'm gone." He poured a glass of white wine and handed it to her. She eyed it warily.

"Take it. It's a very good year. I promise."

She accepted it. "This is not one of your better ideas."

He poured the second glass and put the bottle on the ground before joining her on the porch. "I think it's the best idea I've had in months, maybe years."

His leg brushed hers as he sat down beside her, and she pulled away. "Where's Jenny?" he asked.

"Asleep."

"She didn't give you any trouble?"

"No. She was too tired."

"Hmm." He didn't seem inclined to discuss Jenny. He didn't seem inclined to talk at all. He just sat there staring at the moon and drinking his wine.

Evan stole a sideways glance. The moon silvered his dark gold hair and cast mysterious shadows over his face. Stark and dramatic, he was a picture, a classic, finely etched black-and-white photograph. But his mouth, normally tense and hard-lined, was unusually relaxed—which made him even more dangerously attractive. She trembled as if from a chill.

"What are you thinking?" he asked, turning to look at her.

"I'm thinking you should go back to your guests," she mumbled.

"What were you really thinking?" His eyes pinned her, daring, demanding the truth.

Sex. She was thinking about sex. She was, to put it bluntly, lusting for him. If he only knew...

"I was thinking that—" She stopped, as another old Johnny Mathis hit wafted through the night. Moonlight Becomes You. This was crazy. Who was playing that drippy music anyway? She couldn't take any more. She wouldn't take any more.

"That?" Linc prodded.

"I'm tired. It's been a long day." She stood. "Good night. Thank you for the wine."

"Don't go. Please."

For a moment he didn't move. Then he carefully set down his half-full wineglass. He locked his hands between his knees and was silent. The eerie cry of a loon echoed across the water. Evan stood over him, unmoving, her feet stubbornly refusing the command of her commonsense.

"Jenny isn't mine, Evan." He did not raise his eyes to hers.

"Pardon?" she said, certain she hadn't heard him right.

"Jenny's not my daughter."

"I don't understand." And she didn't. Three seconds ago she was thinking about—well, never mind what she was thinking about—and now she was struggling to grasp Linc's serious statement, the implications of it.

He stood, faced her, and shoved both hands in the pockets of his slacks. His face was grave. "I don't expect you to understand. But believe this, I love Jenny as though she were my own blood."

A million questions hovered on her lips, but she hesitated to ask any of them. Linc's revelation was startling enough, but why had he felt compelled to tell her, and why tonight?

He eyed her carefully, one eyebrow lifting. "What, no questions?"

"If I thought you'd answer them, perhaps, but you won't."

"You're right, I won't. I just wanted you to know."

Still in semi shock, she stared at him. "I do have one question."

He stared back and nodded.

"Why me? Why tell me?" She gestured in the direction of his large, guest-filled house. "And why tonight."

He took a step closer and lifted her chin. Evan leaned back on the porch railing, all too conscious of her light robe and nightgown. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and for a moment, she thought he wasn't going to answer her.

"I think it was when I saw you standing on that balcony smudged with angel dust and chimney soot. It was good to see Jenny's hand in yours. She trusts you. And so do I. Can we leave it there?"

She wanted to say more, but settled for "Fair enough."

Linc's eyes strayed to her mouth. "On second thought, maybe we won't leave it quite there."

His hand slid down her cheek to rest on her throat, and his eyes darkened. He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers so lightly, the kiss was more dream than reality. Evan's lips parted, and her breath coiled in her throat, as her hands gripped the rail behind her. When he lifted his head, she was mesmerized by the heat and hunger in his eyes. She ached to touch him, stroke his warm skin. Gripping the railing until her fingers were bloodless, she closed her eyes, tried to shut out the cool moonlight and a man who was anything but cool. Her head was spinning.

"Evan," he whispered, his tone softly insistent. "The porch rail will stand without your support, I promise." His mouth quirked into a grin. "I'm an architect; I know about these things." He stroked her arm, running a hand behind her to touch her white-knuckled lock on the rail.

"That's just the trouble. You know a lot of things I don't." She held fast to the railing.

He nuzzled her throat. "And that makes you nervous?" He mumbled the words somewhere close to her ear, and she bent her neck to allow him greater access.

"It makes me wary, yes."

He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Good. You should be wary of me. My, uh, record with the fairer sex has more than its share of failures." He lowered his head. "On the other hand, there are things I do very, very well."

"Such as?" She bit her lip. Too late.

He smiled.

She blushed.

"You'd better go. It's been a long day. Besides, I'm not much good at sophisticated patter."

"No, you're not. One of the things I like best about you. You say what you mean, and you don't ask questions. But, sweet one, I don't think that smile of yours always comes so easy. I think we both have stories to tell when the time is right, and then—" he gave her a challenging look "—maybe we can take the next step."

Next step! She twisted her chin from his hand before turning back to look at him. "There's no next step to take. We agreed..." Her voice turned pleading. "Why are you doing this? You'll ruin everything. What we have here, Jenny, the cabin, Maud—it works. It's enough."

"It can be better," he added. "Much better."

Evan let out an exasperated breath. Her brain could neither process, nor keep up with, this seesaw conversation. She remained silent, tense—and afraid. There were feelings here she recognized, her body stirring to a male touch, an urge for physical satisfaction, and there was... something else. Indefinably connected with Linc, that something was profoundly, frighteningly new.

"You don't understand—or won't understand." She swallowed. "I don't want a man, any man. It, they—it doesn't work for me. Cal's father..." She hesitated. "And then when I was eighteen, I—" She stopped. It was futile. She wasn't accustomed to talking about it, and the right words wouldn't come.

"They were boys, not men," he said, his expression sober. "There's a difference. Trust me."

She shook her head. "That's just it, Linc. I don't think I can."