than that, he was her gift, a treasure garnered from a terrible and humiliating mistake.
"But you have your daddy, Jenny girl. And he loves you, very much. You're luckier than you know." She kissed the child on the forehead and left the room, closing the door behind her.
"Is she asleep?" It was Maud coming down the hall.
"Uh-huh."
"She's not always so difficult, you know. It would have been twice as bad if her father had been here. Sometimes bedtime can last for hours. Jenny knows who she can push around."
"After that night in the pizza parlor, I know what you mean."
"I was hoping you'd... speak to Lincoln about that."
"I tried. He told me to mind my own business." Evan said. "And I intend to do just that. He's right, you know. It isn't my concern."
"No, I guess not," Maud said, looking disappointed. "Well, thanks for tonight anyway."
"Anytime."
Maud laughed. "I might just take you up on that."
* * *
The following morning, Evan rose earlier than usual. She was uncertain of the distance or bus routes between Linc's house and her office, and she didn't want to be late. It was shortly before seven when she stepped out the front door, coming close to knocking Linc over in the process.
"Whoa! Hold it there," he said. And again she found her shoulders held in strong hands. She stepped back.
"You're just getting home?" She sounded for all the world like a cloying great-aunt. But one good look at Linc told her she was right. His heavy golden hair hadn't seen a comb, the crease had departed his slacks, and his white shirt, open halfway down his chest, was a presser's nightmare. He was a rumpled, ruffled mess, which had the odd effect of heightening his attractiveness. He slung his suit jacket over his shoulder, held it with one finger, and stared down at her, looking wryly amused. The faint scent of alcohol drifted toward her.
"Do you do this often? Stay out all night?" Her question was terse, edged with irritation. Even as the words left her mouth, she wondered what possessed her to say them. The man certainly didn't have to answer to her.
She was telling herself, once again, to mind her own business when he answered. "Not often enough. Only when I get the call of the wild." He lifted her chin and brought his face to hers. A smile played at the edges of his seductive mouth. "If you know what I mean..."
* * *
Linc saw anger drift into her eyes, then a surge of disappointment. He'd disillusioned her; it didn't matter. She didn't matter. That lie didn't take root.
His gaze traveled to her neat, off-to-work hairdo, the light touch of makeup, the trim navy skirt and blouse. A pale pink sweater rested across her shoulders. She was as fresh and in control as he was stale and wrung out. Prim, proper, and prudish, he added to himself—and the second woman he could remember who'd pulled out of his embrace. When he thought about yesterday at the beach, he pushed the thought away.
Was it only yesterday he'd thought he liked this woman? He must have been nuts. Today, standing on his front step, looking at him with her cool green eyes, she pissed him off royally.
"I have to go. Excuse me." She put her head down and tried to step past him. He blocked her path.
"Where are you going?"
"To work. I have a job, remember?" She managed a mildly placating look. A humor-the-drunk-and-maybe-he'll-go-away look. Well, he wasn't drunk, and he didn't want her to go away. Not yet.
"Where's work?"
"Downtown. A couple of blocks from the Parliament buildings. And I really, really should be going." Again she tried to sidestep him, again he blocked her.
"Where's your car?"
"I don't have a car," she said. He could see her struggle for patience.
"Why not?"
She glanced at the sky over his head before letting her eyes fall to meet his. "Because I don't know how to drive. And even if I could, I couldn't afford a car. Does that answer your question?"
Mentally he kicked himself. He'd probably embarrassed her. He changed tack. "So what do you