“As well as working at the DPA?” She was surprised. To be truthful, it was the last thing she’d expected. Why did she always think the worst of him? It was hardly fair. She was trying to hide the fact that her skin had just prickled when he’d said the name. Atlanta Memorial. The same hospital where she’d had her daughter. It was almost as if just when she’d decided to move forward, reminders kept popping up everywhere.
He shrugged. “He’s my friend. His job’s important to him. It felt good to work with kids again—to keep my clinical skills up to date. I’m not the bear you think I am, Violet. There’s nothing like working with kids to bring you back down to earth.”
Her throat felt dry, her mouth parched. She ran her tongue along her lips. The world seemed to have gone quiet around them. All her focus was on Evan and the diminishing space between them. It was all that seemed important right now.
“I don’t think you’re a bear, Evan,” she whispered.
His hand rested on her hip. “So what do you think of me, Violet? Because I really don’t have a clue. I can’t read you at all.”
His face was only a few inches a way from hers. She could sense the sizzle in the air. And for the first time it didn’t frighten her at all.
The edges of her mouth turned upward. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” She lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. She couldn’t take her eyes off his. It was if he was hypnotizing her, drawing her in.
His voice was deep, husky. She could tell he was as affected by this as she was. “I’ve kissed you before, Violet. And you’ve never mentioned it since then. Do you even remember it?”
A whole host of prickling sensations swept over her skin. Did she remember it? Was he crazy?
“I remember every second.”
His finger touched the side of her face. “Even though you were drinking?”
“Even though I was drinking.” She tilted her head toward his hand, willing him to touch her some more.
This was a totally different experience from the last time. There was no alcohol to make her bold, to make her act out of character and be swept up in the moment.
She couldn’t use alcohol as excuse for her behavior here.
He bent a little lower. She could feel his warm breath on her forehead, a smile dancing across his lips. “I’m going to kiss you now, Violet. Because I can’t stop myself. Are you okay with that?”
She couldn’t wait a second longer. She slid both palms up his chest, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him closer. “I think I can live with that.”
And then his lips touched hers. Gently at first, a sweet and tender kiss. It was perfect. It was inviting. It made her want more.
She didn’t feel threatened. She didn’t feel scared. All she wanted to do was kiss him some more.
She took the final step, closing that last inch between them. Her body pressing up close to his.
She could feel his body awakening, just as she could feel her own doing the same thing. Their kiss deepened, his tongue gently probing into her mouth, willing her to separate her lips and give in to his demands. Her fingers slid through his short hair. Nothing had ever felt this good. Not even that last kiss.
This was better. This was more real. Every part of her body was awakened. Reacting to his touch and his responses. Everything about this felt good and so right.
His hands slid around her hips and cupped her bottom, pressing her even closer to him. Even though they were still kissing she could feel herself smile at his natural response. It made her feel in control. It gave her confidence.
His mouth pulled away from hers, moving along her chin and down her neck. This wasn’t enough. This could never be enough. She wanted more and she wanted it now.
She could almost feel her heart rate quicken and her breathing change, her body preparing her for something else.
Something she hadn’t even considered.
“Evan?” she murmured.
“Yeah?” His head was still down at the side of her neck.
“How long will it take us to get back?” She held her breath.
He straightened up immediately, his pupils dilating even further. He looked at her carefully, as if he was considering the implication of the question. His scrutiny made her lower her eyes. She was beginning to feel a little embarrassed. Her emotions and desire were clearly on display. What if he didn’t feel the same?
He curled his finger under her chin, lifting her head back up to meet his. He was smiling at her. That lazy, sexy smile that drove her crazy. Most of the time he didn’t realize he was doing it. But right now he was concentrating it on her, with full effect.
And the effect was dazzling.
He bent forward and whispered in her ear, his free hand capturing hers and intertwining their fingers, “Dr. Connelly, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? Because if you are, I’m about to hire a helicopter to get us back in two minutes flat.”
Every hair on her body stood on end. His voice was so darned sexy. She smiled to taunt him a little more. “Make no mistake about what I’m suggesting, Dr. Hunter, and a helicopter is definitely required.”
He gave her one final kiss on the tip of her nose then pulled back. “Let’s finish our work here.”
It brought her to her senses. Evan disappeared back inside the house. But she stayed outside. The sun was starting to set.
She should be feeling nervous. She should be feeling scared. The last time she’d had sex she’d been pregnant and still in a relationship with Blane. Evan would be the first person she’d slept with since the death of her daughter.
She lifted the hand that had held his and touched it with the other hand. She could still feel the warmth in her palm from where his fingers had intertwined with hers.
She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. She was ready. And if he didn’t reappear soon, she might drag him out of that house like a cavewoman.
Evan appeared at her shoulder. “I’ve got the blood sample. Jaja will meet me back here the day after tomorrow. We should have the results by then and be ready to do the lumbar puncture.” He watched her for a second, obviously worried that the past few minutes had changed her mind. “Violet?”
He held out his hand toward her.
She didn’t hesitate. “Let’s see how fast you can drive.” She slid her hand into his and pulled him off toward the truck.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE JOURNEY SEEMED so long. Olibasi seemed oblivious to the sexual tension in the air and chattered away merrily about some of the families that they’d come into contact with that day.
Violet fixed a smile on her face, nodding at the appropriate times, all the while aware of the fact that Evan kept giving her sidelong glances. The tension was killing her.
When they finally reached the drop-off point for Olibasi and she slid out of the truck, the sigh of relief from the two of them was obvious.
They waited for a few seconds as Olibasi gathered up her colored skirts, gave them a cheerful wave and walked back to her village.
Their own was only ten minutes away.
“Well?” Evan raised his eyebrows at her, his voice laden with innuendo. “Have you changed your mind? Have you come to your senses?” Although his eyes were twinkling, she could almost hear the wariness in his voice—as if he was expecting her to run in the other direction.
She slid across the seat and put her hand on his firm thigh. “I can’t tell you much about my senses right now, they seem to be going haywire.”
It was almost as if she’d lit a match under him. He hit the gas pedal with a thud and the truck sprang forward instantly.
She moved her fingers in small circles over his thigh. He gave a little groan. “Not wise, Violet. Not wise at all.”
“Really? Why ever not?” She was enjoying teasing him. She was enjoying feeling in control.
He lifted one hand from the wheel and pressed it down firmly on top of hers. Stopping her fingers in their tracks. “Five minutes,” he growled.
She shuffled her shoulder closer to his. “Seems like an awful long time.”
“Violet.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “You’re driving me crazy.”
She felt something wash over her. A real feeling of contentment, a moment of pleasure. “Good, it’s about time.”
“What do you mean?”
“Working with you for the past six months has been an absolute nightmare.”
His mouth quirked into a smile. “I’m hoping that’s a good nightmare and not a bad.”
She lifted her hand and touched the side of his cheek. It felt nice to finally touch him. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t thought about it. She couldn’t pretend that she hadn’t done it in her dreams often enough. “It’s been a torturous nightmare.”
“You’ve still not told me if that’s good or bad. And this from the woman with the slinkiest red dress in the world.”
She felt her cheeks flush a little. He’d remembered. In the midst of the smallpox crisis he’d remembered her dress. “That was a distraction technique,” she admitted.