Page 79 of Love and Loathing

That finally made her laugh—shakily. She was still holding the envelope in one hand, and she put it down, wrapping both hands around the hot mug.

“I am grateful,” she said. “Too grateful to even speak. As you can see.” She gave herself a shake, annoyed at how pathetic that sounded. “I will pay you back. Somehow. Eventually.”

“Evie, no.” He put his hand on her knee, drew her to face him. “No. Don’t you dare. I just told you that money was a bonus. I won’t miss it. Besides, I think you more than deserve it for being forced to waltz with the man.”

She gave another small laugh. “But your job… You’re out of work… Surely you need the money now.”

He squeezed her knee. “I’ll be fine. I have savings.”

“You’re mad. Mad to spend the money on this when you need it yourself.”

“I don’t need it. And as a great poet once said: Love isn’t rational, and IthinkI might love you.”

She laughed for real that time, needing to put her tea down on the coffee table so that she didn’t spill it. Then she did the thing she probably should have done from the start and climbed into Aubrey’s lap, her arms around his neck, her face pressed to his chest. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I don’t deserve it. But thank you.”

“I did it for the trees,” said Aubrey dryly, though his arms came tight around her back. “For the bees and the butterflies and the damned rainbows.”

“For the children,” she said, voice muffled as much by tears as by his shirt.

“Yes,” he said, more seriously. “Perhaps I did it a bit for the children, too.”

They were quiet for a moment, Evie warm and tight in the nest of his arms, the beat of his heart under her ear. She sniffled back her daft tears, Aubrey stroking her shoulder with the one thumb he could spare from holding her. They were content like that for a long time.

Then Evie said softly, “Aubrey?”

“Mm?”

“I think I might love you.”

THIRTY-THREE

Aubrey laughed softly, tighteninghis arms around Evie. “Minx,” he said quietly, mouth against her hair.

She lifted her head, shifting on his lap to sit astride him, one hand on his shoulder, the other stroking softly up and down the back of his neck. He could have closed his eyes and purred like a cat. But she was looking at him seriously.

“I do,” she said. “Love you. I mean it.”

There it was again: the joy so sharp it was pain. He looked down, unable to handle the weight of the moment, afraid, even now, of revealing how much it meant. His hands were resting on her hips where the overlarge fabric of the top she was wearing bunched. He rubbed a fold loosely between his fingertips.

She seemed to know—she always seemed to know. Changing the subject, she said more lightly. “Tell me how it happened? How did you persuade Bluedeen to sell?”

“My brother Andrew. He’s in charge of property law at the family firm. He was curious about the deal—he’s been investigating local authority property sales. He found someirregularities. And it’s the site of an old petrol station. The costs for removing the underground tanks, coupled with complaints from local residents about having a big apartment block shading out their houses—plus some annoying hippies harping on about some garden or other… It all started to make the site more of a headache than anyone at Bluedeen had anticipated. A little pressure from my brother and a suggestion that a few improper things went on when the deal was made… Well. When we made the offer to buy it, they didn’t say no.”

“I can’t believe you went to all that trouble.”

“It wasn’t much. Andrew did a lot of the boring work.”

“You signed the cheque, though.”

“Mm.” Aubrey smiled, lifting his hand to toy with a strand of her hair that was too short to stay tucked behind her ears. “Luckily Andrew worked pro bono. I couldn’t afford his fees.”

Evie laughed. “That’s not the cheque I was talking about.”

“Oh? Was there another?”

He grinned at her expression, relief sending his mood skipping like a leaf lifted on a summer breeze. It wasn’t so terrible, having her know. It was better, in fact, than keeping a secret. She was a Blackton anyway. A million here or there wasn’t really so much money to her, not having grown up in a family like hers. She’d digest it eventually, get used to the idea.

The last bit of tension faded away and warmth filled him. He’d forgotten what it was like, this perfect bliss. Loving a woman. Being loved. The hand on her hip slipped under her top, seeking the tangible warmth of her, the soft skin. His palm spanned the curve of her hip, the shallow dip up to her ribs. He remembered she was wearing no bra and unzipped her top, not saying a word, knowing she would sit there on his lap, let him look. Would enjoy it.

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