Uncharted Waters. Linda CastilloЧитать онлайн книгу.
sharp pang of recognition shook him, sent his heart hard against his ribs. Denial that it could be her rose inside him. There was no way she could have found him. Not that he’d been hiding, he assured himself. He’d simply moved on with his life. He’d hoped she had, too.
A small boy, maybe four years old, stood at her side. Drew took in the blue cap, baggy shorts and skinny legs and tried not to remember, tried even harder not to feel. He’s the right age, a cruel little voice pointed out. And Drew was suddenly, utterly certain it was her.
What in the holy hell was she doing in Emerald Cove?
Thankful he was wearing sunglasses, he stared at the woman, trying hard not to let his shock and disbelief show. His eyes did a quick, dangerous sweep of her, taking in her tiny waist, the curve of her hips and athletic shape of her legs. She was casually dressed in khaki shorts, a sleeveless yellow blouse and sandals with flat heels. But Alison Myers didn’t look like a tourist. She didn’t blend into the crowd. She stood out, like a brilliant diamond surrounded by rough-cut stones. She sure as hell shouldn’t have looked sexy, but she did. Alison always looked sexy. And Drew had always felt like a son of a bitch for noticing.
The old attraction tugged hard at him, a big fish snagged on a barbed hook and fighting for its life. It shouldn’t have surprised him that even after four years and the hell of losing his best friend nothing had changed. The reality of that disturbed him. He knew it was unreasonable, but he suddenly felt incredulous and a little angry that his hormones would betray him now.
He’d tried desperately to forget her. To forget what he’d done, not only to her, but to her son. How could she do this to him now?
She smiled and waved upon realizing he’d spotted her. Drew knew he should smile back at her but, God help him, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do a damn thing except stare at her and feel the memories tangle with dread and augment like a big sour ball in his gut. Her hair was shorter, but the color was the same sun-streaked blond. She’d cut it into a sleek style that swung like a curtain of silk against her jaw when she turned her head. She’d lost some weight—a little too much if he wanted to be truthful about it. Drew preferred more substantial women. The kind who wore tight jeans, a quick smile and had a weakness for pilots. Alison Myers had never been that kind of woman to him. But that had never mattered.
Drew approached her, praying he was wrong, that the woman walking toward him with a smile on her face and a little boy at her side wasn’t the woman he’d spent the last four years trying to forget. But he knew it was her. He would know her anywhere. He would know her by scent alone, by the sight of her legs, by the rise of tension inside him whenever she was near, though he’d never had a right to think of her in any of those terms. He may have put six hundred miles between them, but he’d dreamed about her too many times in the last four years not to recognize her now.
For an instant, Drew felt like turning around and walking straight back into his office and locking the door behind him. Not the kind of conduct one would expect from an ex-Navy officer. But Alison Myers was the last person on earth he wanted to see. He did not want to talk to her. God forbid, he did not want to look into her son’s innocent eyes, knowing what had happened to his father. Alison represented a past he wanted to put behind him forever.
He didn’t want her here, dredging up all the memories he’d been working so damn diligently to forget. Why couldn’t she just leave the past behind and let him move on with his life?
Feeling as if he were about to face the firing squad instead of a chat with an old friend, Drew held his ground just outside the hatch. Because he needed something to do, he looked down at the clipboard in his hand and scribbled something meaningless. Vaguely, he was aware of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, his heart pounding in perfect rhythm with his head. He felt trapped and annoyed and a little mean. The urge to run was overpowering. But if he’d learned anything in the last four years, it was that running didn’t help. It was the fastest route to nowhere, and memories had a way of following a man no matter how far or how fast he ran.
An uncomfortable quiver ran the length of him when she shoved her sunglasses onto her crown and waylaid him with eyes the color of the Caribbean and a fourteen-karat smile. “You’re a hard man to run down, Drew Evans,” she said, a little breathless, a little ruffled and a whole lot sexy.
Drew didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
She reached him a moment later, the little boy’s hand clasped tightly in hers. Drew looked dumbly at the child, then at Alison and felt another wave of disbelief wash over him. He hadn’t thought he’d ever see her again and the shock of it was like a punch right between the eyes.
“What are you doing here?” he managed to ask after a moment.
Her smile faltered, and he silently berated himself for sounding so harsh. He hadn’t intended to sound snappish. But didn’t she realize she had absolutely no reason to smile at him like that? Didn’t she know what he’d done?
“I wanted to surprise you.” She laughed, but now seemed uncertain. “It looks like I succeeded.”
“It’s okay,” he said a little too quickly. “I mean, it’s nice to see you again.”
“Nice, huh?” When he didn’t move, she rolled her eyes. “Well, there’s an enthusiastic welcome.”
Drew knew what was going to happen next. And for a split second he very seriously considered walking away and dealing with the consequences later. But he was aware of the little boy watching him, of his customers all around, of Alison Myers smiling at him and his body responding in a way that was worse than inappropriate.
He stiffened when she leaned close. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed a kiss to his cheek. He felt the brush of her lips against his face like the meeting of heaven and hell, a silent explosion that was as devastating as any bomb. The worst part about it was he couldn’t do a damn thing, except stand in purgatory and watch it happen.
“It’s really good to see you,” she whispered.
Drew barely heard the words for the hot rush of blood through his veins. How was it that after four years of hell, she could still look at him as if he were her husband’s best friend and not the man who’d played a major role in his death? Where was the outrage? The hatred? And for God’s sake, how could he stand there knowing what he’d done to her and still want her?
The questions pelted him like jagged stones. Drew endured the brief contact and the pounding questions in stoic silence. He made no move to touch her. He might not be able to control his response to her, but he could damn well control his motor functions. He’d had his fill of guilt; he wasn’t going to do anything to add to it.
But in the instant when her lips had been pressed chastely against his cheek, he’d closed his eyes against the quick rise of heat. The rush of blood to his groin. The agony of knowing his lust for his best friend’s wife was still as strong as the day he’d first laid eyes on her.
She smelled like tropical fruit, rich and sweet—and definitely poisonous—to him, anyway. All he could think of was that he couldn’t think of a better way to go....
Grappling for composure, Drew disengaged from her, took a quick step back and tried to get his bearings. Because he was having a hard time meeting her gaze, because that kiss had done something he wasn’t proud of to his body, he looked down at the little boy at her side. But if Drew thought looking at her child would be any easier, he was wrong. The little boy looked up at him with big brown eyes that were hauntingly familiar. His father’s eyes, Drew thought, and guilt rose like nausea.
“This is Kevin,” Alison said cheerfully.
Hoping he didn’t look as shaken as he felt, Drew stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Kevin.”
The little boy grinned and shook his hand vigorously. “I’m four. Are you a real pilot?”
“I was the last time I checked.”
Kevin’s brows went together and Alison chuckled.
He