soup, you hear?”
Eve laughed. “Of course. Thank you.”
“It’s the least I can do after all you do for me.” With a wave, she moved back down the hall and paused. “There’s a new Hugh Jackman movie out next week. He’s a hunk, too.”
“It’s a date.”
Mrs. Basso winked and stepped out of view.
Eve stared down the hall for a long time, clinging to the feeling of normalcy. The minute she closed her door it was gone, leaving her with a throbbing in her arm and between her legs, and a desperate need to know what in hell happened to her.
Fetching a spoon from the kitchen, Eve sat on her cream-colored sofa and turned on the television. She watched Buffy. A boyfriend had turned her on to the television series in the third season. It was the only thing she remembered about that particular relationship. And that was more than she could say about many of the romances she’d had since Alec Cain. But if she was honest, she hadn’t really had a relationship with him either. She’d just been screwed, in more ways than one.
As Buffy and Spike beat the crap out of each other, Eve felt her shoulders and arms tensing to the point of pain. Wild, edgy, aggressive energy pulsed through her veins. Sweat dotted her upper lip and her vision grew fuzzy.
The doorbell rang again and she lurched to her feet. “I ate every drop,” she yelled as she moved toward the door. She smiled at the thought of Mrs. Basso following up on her as if she were an errant child.
“Angel.”
Eve paused, her steps faltering.
“Open the door.”
She retrieved her gun, her hand slipping into the protective case to grip the hilt. Padding quietly to the door, she lifted on tiptoe to peer out the peephole.
For a moment she stood unblinking, unable to believe what—whom—she was looking at.
“Come on, angel,” he purred, using the pet name only he’d ever used. Evangeline. Eve. Angel. “Let me in.”
Even through the distorted glass, Alec Cain was breathtaking. Her damned mouth was watering.
Unfortunately, he also closely resembled the man who’d attacked her earlier. Her warning bells were clanging hell for leather. She hadn’t listened to them earlier and look where that had gotten her.
Eve backed up silently.
“Angel,” he said, softer this time, his voice so clear she knew he had to be resting his forehead against the door. “I know what happened today. You shouldn’t be alone. Let me in.”
Alec’s voice. Hearing it in person, after all these years, stabbed her like a knife. Dark and rich like chocolate, it was decadent. Sinful. It had urged her to relinquish her virginity, an act that was painful for most women, but had been the pinnacle of pleasure for her. She’d fallen head over heels that night. Would have done anything for him, gone anywhere he wanted. Anything, if it meant they would be together.
Stupid. Naïve.
Shaking her head, Eve continued to retreat, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her arms were straight and steady, pointing the muzzle directly at the door. She wasn’t surprised that he knew what happened to her today. The fact was, Alec always knew. From the beginning, he’d had an uncanny way of knowing what she was thinking and feeling. She was pretty sure that’s why he was so damn good in the sack. Before she knew what she wanted, he was giving it to her.
“Eve, listen to me. You can’t be alone now. It’s not safe.”
You’re not safe, she thought.
“I’m the closest thing you’ve got,” he retorted, as if he’d read her mind.
No. Go away. She couldn’t voice the words. Her throat was too tight.
“I won’t, angel. I’m coming in. Keep backing away.”
“I-I’ll s-shoot you.”
Eve could sense him pause.
Then her door burst open in an explosion of splintered wood and bent locks. Three dead bolts. The kind bullets couldn’t break.
Her entire body shook violently, but she held the gun level.
He entered her condominium with casual ease, his steel-toed boots thudding heavily on her polished wood floors.
Alec Cain was tall, dark perfection. He wore black from head to toe, from his fitted T-shirt to his leather pants. His inky locks were a bit too long, caressing his nape and falling over his brow. His full lips were drawn tight with strain. His brown eyes were burning. That intensity had done crazy things to her equilibrium when she was a wild child of eighteen. It did crazy things to her now.
The past decade hadn’t aged him at all.
“I told you to go