“Hey there.” He returned his attention to his task, scraping out the last bit from the can with a spoon. “Making my world famous SpaghettiOs for dinner.”
“World famous?” With a derisive snort, she sat at the island bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. “Someone’s stroking his own ego.”
Not exactly the kind of stroking he wanted, but if it got her to smile, he’d take it. At least now she was comfortable enough to joke with him. That was a good sign. “Aw, ouch. I thought you like my canned goods. There’s even meatballs.”
“Pleading the fifth.”
He gave the pot a stir. “Well, as Dad used to say, you’ll eat it and like it or go without—and you’re not going without.”
Eva smiled and visibly relaxed, her shoulders easing up underneath the jersey. “Have I ever mentioned how much I think I would have liked your dad?”
“He would have loved you, no doubt in my mind about it. He always wanted a daughter, but after Jude turned out to be another boy, my parents called it quits with the baby making.”
“Good thing. The world can’t handle more Wilde boys.”
He took a couple bowls down from the cupboard. “If Dad had a daughter, he would have treated her like just another one of the boys. She would have turned out a lot like you—except with better rhythm. Mom being a dance instructor and all.”
“A monkey has better rhythm than I do, so that’s not saying much.”
The SpaghettiOs done, Cam dumped some into one of the bowls and set it in front of her, then stepped over to the Keurig and opened the lid. “Coffee?”
She stared at it with obvious longing, but then shook her head. “Better not. I don’t think anything will keep me awake at this point, but I’d rather not take the chance.”
“Right.” He popped a K-cup into the machine for himself, grabbed his favorite mug from the dish drainer, and discovered he was fresh out of small talk. There were so many things he wanted to say to her—“I love you” chief among them—but that wouldn’t put her at ease around him so he kept his mouth shut. After all these years, he was damn good at keeping mum.
Cam busied himself with dishing up his own bowl. More than once, he swore he felt her eyes on him like a stroking hand down his ass, but whenever he turned around, she’d be staring down at her food. When his bowl was filled, he picked up his coffee and joined her at the bar.
Silence spread between them, thick and more impenetrable by the minute.
Finally, Eva pushed her half-eaten dinner away. “I’m going to bed.”
The way she said it, he couldn’t decide if it was an invitation or a warning. He nodded. “I haven’t made up the pull-out yet.”
“I know where everything is.” She stood. “Mind if I skip helping with dishes tonight?”
“No problem. I got them.”
“Thanks for cooking for me,” she said but still didn’t move.
Cam set down his fork. “Eva. Are we going to be okay?”
Sleepy eyes traced over his face, down his body, and lingered on his lap. There was no hiding his response to the once over with the pop tent action going on at the front of his pants. Dammit, couldn’t he have a civil conversation with this woman without his cock leaping to attention?
She hissed out a breath and spun away.
“Eva,” he called.
She paused with one hand on the ladder to the loft and met his gaze from across the room. “I don’t know, Cam. I really…don’t know.”
Chapter Twelve
Eva found cotton sheets for the pull-out bed in an old trunk that Cam had once told her belonged to his mother. She fitted them on the mattress before settling down and shutting her eyes. With how tired she was, she expected to fall right into dreamland, but she was far too aware of Cam’s every movement in the rooms below. He wasn’t loud. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to stay quiet, and she only heard a few clinks of silverware against the sink basin as he cleaned up.
Was it too much to hope that he’d retire to his room when he finished? Probably. It was still too early for a night owl like him to go to bed and, sure enough, he settled down on the couch in the living room a few minutes later. The TV clicked on, and he immediately lowered the sound to little more than a muffled whisper, then he shut off the lights.
Eva lay on her back for a long time, watching the blue flicker of the TV against the far living room wall. Sleep completely eluded her and, instead, her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t go.
Like to Cam, naked, his erection straining toward her…
Damn. She kicked off the blanket and sheet. Every muscle in her body ached as if she’d spiked a fever, stress coiling tighter and tighter inside her with each passing minute. She yearned for a release, but a repeat of Key West wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t happen. Cam was so far off limits, he might as well be on a different planet. He’d made it plenty clear the sex had just been sex, and although his body may still respond to her, she wasn’t anyone he wanted long-term. He didn’t want anything more than their friendship.