The Father of Her Son - By Kathleen Pickering Page 0,14
own achievements humbled her to the core. She couldn’t help but think this accomplished and excruciatingly handsome man was toying with her and her son. She ran a diner and lived in the two-bedroom apartment above it. They didn’t belong here.
She was about to sweep Matt back into the elevator when the door opened. Evan stepped out followed by a waft of air, warm and redolent with the savory smell of garlic and Italian sauce. She looked at his grinning face feeling like the typical deer in headlights.
“Hi, Evan!” Matt scrambled past his host and into the apartment as if he had been given a free pass to an amusement park.
“Hi, Matt...”
Evan answered Matt as an afterthought because his eyes were glued to Kelly. He whistled softly. “You look amazing.”
A lightning-fast blush heated her cheeks, ruining her composure. She didn’t like the feeling at all. Not now. Not at hello. Not when he looked excellent in a white button-down rolled up at the elbows and a pair of faded denims that sat on his hips as if they were sculpted to his body. She waved away his compliment, wanting him to stop staring while also soaking in the good feeling. “Go on with you now, Evan. I don’t always wear sneakers and an apron.”
His grin deepened. “You’re blushing.”
“And you’re a blustering fool. Now, will you be inviting me in, or shall I leave Matt to you for the evening?”
* * *
EVAN STEPPED BACK, opening the door wider. No way in hell would he permit Kelly to retreat on him now. Not when she looked so hot in that belted green dress and smelled like dessert. And, Holy Mother of God, those legs!
He stepped back, opening the door wider. He grinned when he realized she was grazing his body with her eyes as if enjoying his look. When her eyes met his, her blush deepened.
“Come on in, Red. It won’t be a party without you.”
She followed his gesture and entered. The soft incense of her perfume shot straight to his groin. What was it about this woman that made her blast his senses like a furnace? The familiar scent didn’t have this effect on him in Neverland, where she was steeped in her own territory and surrounded with patrons and friends. She eased past him as if trying to avoid a sidewinder. He’d have to tread slowly and carefully to put her at ease.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bite. Promise.”
“Of course, you won’t.” The temperature rising up her neck betrayed how foolish she felt.
He tilted his head into her line of vision. “Kelly, I am honored that you and Matt are here. I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. Please, feel welcome.”
She glanced into the apartment, where Matt seemed to have vanished. “I appreciate you saying that, Evan. Matt can use a male figure in his world.”
“I get that. I was an only child, too. My dad was a huge influence.”
She frowned. “You never told me you were an only child.”
“Really? How did we never get to that topic?”
She chuckled. “Because you always have your nose in my business.”
He gestured to the table beneath a huge framed mirror. “You can put your bag here if you’d like.”
He could sense that she was starting to calm when she lifted her face and inhaled. “I smell spaghetti sauce.”
“My boss’s family recipe. I’m hopeful this Irishman meets Steve’s Italian standards.”
“I’m sure Matt told you spaghetti is his favorite meal.”
“That and ice-cream cake. This newsman listens.” He tapped his ear to punctuate his promise.
Matt charged back toward them from somewhere in the open expanse, his face animated with delight. “Mom! Evan has a basketball hoop. Inside!”
Kelly appraised Evan’s home. He liked the way she smiled as she took in the mahogany entrance, the sprawling floors reflecting the same deep, polished timber as the door.
Her gaze rested on the huge, deep blue jewel-toned Oriental rug that delineated the living room. There were overstuffed caramel-colored couches, matching ottomans and inlaid antique tables with carved wooden elephants flanking the couches.
“Your home certainly is welcoming, Evan.”
He enjoyed his home. He’d taken pains to ensure that despite its modern decor, his home offered warmth and comfort—from the art-deco reading lights perched on each table to the “floating” mahogany wall unit that divided the living room from the open kitchen. The unit was stacked with books, unusual pottery and knickknacks from his travels. He’d placed the dining room by the floor-to-ceiling windows to give the effect of bringing outdoors