The Soul Collector - By Tamela Quijas Page 0,23
she questioned her sanity. She didn't know if an apology would really matter. She took another fortifying breath, made a move to reach for the knocker again, and nearly leapt out of her stilettos as the door swung open.
The towering man, whose image tormented her for the past few days, stood before her. As usual, he wore nondescript black, but she recognized a difference in his clothing. He lacked the thickly corded turtleneck and, instead, wore an expensively tailored silk shirt. Eva stifled a gulp, her eyes fastening on the top series of buttons that remained agape, exposing the barest bit of pale skin.
She colored painfully, and forced her gaze to his face. He looked her over, his gaze lingering on the heavy material of her winter coat and the ridiculous height of her shoes, and his interest seemed to increase.
Ever sedate, he didn't say a word. Instead, his attention flickered past her. For a second, she imagined he glowered at something just over her shoulder and she had the overwhelming urge to greet whoever was standing behind her.
The expression changed, becoming one of weary resignation. Eva straightened her shoulders, stifling a bone-chilling shiver. Once more, she felt hot color rise to her cheeks as his gaze flickered before settling on her eyes, causing her breath to catch and her heartbeat to stutter.
Her mind reeled. Eva inhaled a desperate gulp, the thudding of her heart filling her ears, realizing he had one hell of an effect on her senses. Despite years of professional training, she feared she’d greet him with nothing more than a babbling stammer. Despite the cold and lack of sleep, he left her speechless. She didn't understand how she could become such a bumbling and unprofessional mass of femininity with one look.
So much for the expensive journalism degree!
A flurry of vivid images flooded her, vibrant and heated, as she inhaled the delicious scent he exuded. Trying to erase the thoughts flitting through her mind, she scowled. She hadn't considered the possibility that it was insatiable lust keeping her awake at night.
Eva shifted from foot to foot. Vainly, she attempted to phrase a greeting, her mouth conspicuously dry. She focused on the curve of his jaw, the unbidden idea of how he would taste suddenly filling her thoughts. She ran her tongue over her lips, incapable of forming a coherent thought.
Instead of waiting for her to create the worst salutation of her lifetime, Luke stepped back. He opened the door wide, a soft glow spilling into the hall. He swept his hand before him, the antiquated gesture welcoming her inside.
Hesitantly, she stepped forward then paused, her bewildered eyes trying to focus after the blinding effects of the bright hall lights. As she became aware of her surroundings, she found his apartment was large and the décor surprising.
There was a wealth of expensive black leather and the brilliant shine of chrome and glass. His choice of furniture would have pleased a Swedish designer, though she noticed an obvious starkness to the room. There wasn't a single bit of artwork or photograph anywhere. The walls were excruciatingly bare, except for one overwhelmingly large object.
A sofa size, gilt framed mirror filled an entire wall, the item far too heavy to hang. The ornate Victorian antique remained propped against the empty wall, opposite the balcony windows that permitted a lofty view of the streets. The faintest glint of sunlight beamed through the window, varying hues of purple, red, and orange reflecting in the tarnished glass. It was a breathtaking image for late fall, and she remained at frozen attention in the middle of the room, struck dumb by the beauty reflected.
“Evangeline.”�
The soft pronunciation brought her crashing back to reality. He uttered her name in the most unusual of fashions, the slightest evidence of an accent in each carefully enunciated syllable.
“Will you allow me to take your coat?”�
Flustered, Eva snapped her gaping mouth shut, and shrugged out of the heavy material. She cursed herself a hundred times for being a bigger fool than what she already was in his presence. Lust, pure and simple, she attempted to reason and had to restrain from shaking her head. She preferred her men dark and sultry and couldn’t understand her sexual attraction to Luke Angeles, a character nearly ghostlike in appearance!
“How do you know my name?”
He granted her the smallest of smiles. “A little bird flew into my ear and whispered the secret.”�
Eva wanted to stomp her heel on the butter colored wood floor. He had