Chapter 20

Adam

The cold gets too much even for me but this outdoor venture is working like a charm. Evie is fully on board, no longer yawning. When she patted my arm, I couldn't tell if she was flirting. Though I've improved some in recent years, I'm still lacking at reading women. But one thing was clear, my skin reacted to her touch like it was a bolt of electricity.

Evie's wearing a hodgepodge of my clothes and I can think of nothing sexier.

Except for maybe a lacy, black teddy. It takes all my self-control to push the image away.

I need to get a grip!

Evie would never see me as a viable lover. She's nothing like the directionless, insecure women I've met in recent years. The ones looking for an "experience" out West. Evie is an accomplished, metropolitan, confident woman with grown kids. Surely, she wants a responsible city man, with a stable job who owns a closetful of dark business suits and is on the board of several charities.

We're both shivering now and we head back inside to the sofa, where Evie and I review our fictional backstory. Where we met, how we fell for each other.

Her cover, as we begin to call it, is Ronna Rosen, a divorcée from New York City. It works well given it's where I told my family my fiancée resided. The fact that Evie actually lives there saves a lot of trouble.

"Okay, now for the grueling particulars," I say, holding back a yawn. I'm beyond tired now and have no idea how I'm keeping my eyes open. Other than having a beautiful woman seated near me.

"When is your birthday?" I ask, pulling out my phone.

Evie says, "If we don't commit the details to memory, it's worth nothing. Looking at our phones to answer basic questions will be the kiss of death. They'll figure it out in the first ten minutes of meeting me. Didn't you say your sister works for the FBI?"

I nod. "You're right. Don't know what I was thinking." I put my phone away.

"Looks like I'm better suited as a con artist than you are."

The prettiest con artist ever. "There's tons to memorize about each other."

"Then we better get moving."

"I'll start. Ready for the rapid fire round?"

"Bring it on."

I lean in, energized. "Birthday?"

"October fifth."

"Leo, then?"

"Yep. You?" Evie asks.

"December thirtieth. Capricorn." I say. "Siblings?"

"Sister in Toronto. Five years younger. Podiatrist. Married, two teenagers."

"Hmm. Okay, hobbies... other than hiking or knocking off your hiking partner?"

"Tennis, crosswords . . . pool." She grins then asks, "Breakfast?"

"Froot Loops."

"Seriously?"

I nod, getting a kick out of her amused reaction. "Pizza or sushi?"

"Always sushi."

"Serious boyfriends?" I ask, tentatively.

Evie gives me a look. "They'll ask me that?"

I redden a bit. "No, that's mine."

She's holding back a smile. "Just two, the second being my ex."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Only if you'll reciprocate."

Evie takes my pause as agreement.

"Okay, well, My first boyfriend was Ronaldo. We met in college. He was an exchange student from Rome."

"Sounds exotic."

"I have to admit, it was the most passionate, exciting relationship of my life. We dated through our Junior year."

I'm not sure why Evie's description of her college boyfriend bothers me, but it does. I try my best to hide it. "Then what happened?"

Evie leans back, reminiscing. "He went home," is all she says.

"And you never saw him again?" I ask, hoping I don't sound too hopeful.

She shakes her head. "We wrote to each other for a while. But the distance was too much to overcome at that stage in our lives."

"You never wanted to go over there?"

Evie seems to consider the question. Her mind is back there now. Not what I was going for.

"Sure I did. I was a young woman in love." She blinks back to the present. "My life at the time was in New York. Neither of us could afford to hop an international flight. And then I met my husband, Marco. But Ronaldo will always be my first love."

She eyes me. "Are you all right?"

"Yup, just tired, I guess." And jealous. "Sounds like you prefer Italian men."

She laughs. "I suppose it looks that way, doesn't it? My husband was on the same exchange program as Ronaldo was. By the time I met my Marco I'd become a full-on Italophile."

"So, Marco was happy to stay in the States?"

"At least at the time. He was the opposite of Ronaldo."

Unsure what that means, I offer a brilliant, "Oh."

"Your turn," she says, her head leaning back against the sofa pillow.

"Looks like you're ready to call it a night." I glance at the clock on the side table beside me. 1:43 a.m. "We can pick it up again in the morning."

Evie pats her cheeks. "You're not getting off the hook that easily. I'm wide awake."

"Fine, a deal's a deal," I say, gearing myself for the impending third degree. "What do you want to know?"

Her eyes close and her breath is coming softly.

"Evie?"

No response.

Gently, I adjust the velvet sofa throw over her and brush the hair from her face. "Good night, Evie."

The urge to kiss her is overpowering but I force myself to leave.

I'm turning away when I hear her whisper, "Sweetheart?"

I freeze, the single word striking me like Cupid's bow. I swing back, ready to pull her into my arms, kiss her with every ounce of my being.

"Remember the piano," she says, softly.

I come to an abrupt stop. Evie is curled into a ball, her eyes still closed.

She's dreaming.

I swallow hard, aware I nearly did something crazy. I take a deep breath.

"Of course," I say.

The wind now taken from my sails, I go to bed, alone.