My Lover, My Friend by Shirley Hailstock

Author:Shirley Hailstock
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

The rain started suddenly and within seconds had graduated to a downpour. Evan heard it slashing against the windows, sheeting against the house.

Rose slept soundlessly against him. Evan stroked her hair and kissed her temple. He didn’t want to wake her, but he tightened his arm around her anyway. She needed someone. Even if she wouldn’t admit it. And he didn’t mind being that person.

Evan leaned back and breathed in the smell of her hair and the faint fragrance of the soap she used. The fireplace lay across from him, wood stacked inside ready for lighting. Evan wished he’d lit it tonight. Rain, Rose and a crackling fire would be a perfect combination and maybe a soothing one for Rose’s jangled nerves.

Her mantel was full of photographs. By the light filtering from the hall, he recognized her parents and several of Rose at different ages: her first birthday party, dance school when she was twelve, high-school graduation, one of her skiing in Vermont. Evan had been on that trip. Rose skied better than he did. They’d spent a lot of time racing downhill and coming into the lodge with flushed faces for coffee and hot chocolate.

He scanned each photo carefully. Evan knew what he was looking for. He wanted to find one of Brett Patterson. Rose had to have one. It might be in her bedroom, but Evan thought she might have put one somewhere downstairs too and this was her favorite room.

He continued to look at the mantel and stopped near the end. There it was, nearly hidden behind one of Rose standing near the lighthouse. Evan glanced at her again. She was beautiful as she slept. He had the urge to kiss her but stopped himself. Carefully, he lowered her head to the sofa and slid out from under her. He put a throw pillow under her head and lifted her legs up. She moved into a comfortable position. Covering her with an afghan that was slung over a chair, he gave her another look and drew his hand down her face. She stirred but remained asleep.

Straightening up, he went to the mantle and lifted the frame down. The picture was a candid shot, even though the subject was looking directly at the camera. He sat in a leather chair in front of a battery of computers and accessories. He had dark hair and openly honest eyes. He had clean-shaven, boyish good looks, the kind that Evan often attributed to male models in magazines. Smiling at whomever was taking the picture, probably Rose, he looked as if he had everything in the world. Evan glanced at Rose and knew he had. Evan could see how Rose would be attracted to him.

The thought sent an unexpected pang of jealousy through him. Evan was nothing like this genius. How could he compete with a ghost, with someone who couldn’t change?

Was he competing with Brett Patterson? Evan stared at the photo for a long moment, then replaced the frame in the exact position he’d found it.

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