Evangeline could hire any number of people to work at her business, but she didn’t. She did the baking and worked harder, even, than Ashe. There was nothing at all about Evangeline that suggested she considered herself entitled just because she’d come into money. She hadn’t changed at all. Evangeline was sweet and very genuine. It was no wonder her husband and Timur were protective of her. Ashe felt a little protective as well.
She forced her body to move, to make it into the master bathroom. Hot water helped to wake her up. She had to decide what to do and she needed to make up her mind fast. She had brought danger to Evangeline. She’d had a completely different idea of who these people were. Criminals to be sure. But …
She turned her face up to the pouring water, letting it cascade over her and run down her body as she closed her eyes. Evangeline being so nice, being such a wonderful person, complicated things. They’d known each other such a short time and it had been a few years earlier, yet right away she’d given Ashe the use of her home. She’d offered immediately, without hesitation, once she’d made up her mind to help Ashe. Clearly she’d gotten in trouble with both her husband and the head of security, but she’d stood up to them for her. Who did that? If she was the wife of a terrible criminal, would she do that?
She washed her hair, contemplating that. What if Fyodor wasn’t really a criminal after all? What if the couple didn’t deserve hell knocking on their door? She pressed her forehead against the tile. What have I done? She’d set things in motion, and maybe she couldn’t turn them around. If she couldn’t, then she would have to confess to Timur and he would kill her for sure. Still, that would be better than setting up an innocent woman and her husband to possibly die.
She wrapped towels around her, winding one around her hair and the other around her body. She didn’t have much in the way of clothes, but she hadn’t planned on being there for very long. Now, she would have to leave even faster. Once she’d made up her mind, she felt better. She could lead trouble away from these people, just as she’d led it there in the first place. She just needed a good plan.
“Coffee’s hot.”
Timur stuck his head in the space between the bedroom door and the doorjamb. He’d obviously showered. He looked wide awake and very hot. Handsome. Sexy. Too much for her so early in the morning. Coffee sounded good, especially coffee she didn’t have to make herself.
His gaze moved over her body and she just stood there like a sacrificial lamb, letting him look his fill. He took his time and there was genuine appreciation in his gaze. She kept her head up, trying not to notice that her nipples peaked and her sex fluttered under the intense scrutiny. She was susceptible as hell to him.
“Get a move on, woman. Breakfast is almost ready.”
His head disappeared and she let out her breath, aware for the first time that she’d been holding it. There was something about those cold, cold eyes that set off sparks in her. Not just sparks. A timber fire. He found something deep inside her that had never been touched before and it ignited just for him.
She dressed slowly, afraid of spending too much time with him. She pulled on her tight tee, the one that was soft and thin and perfect, but clung to every curve. She’d never cared before, but now, her favorite shirt seemed a little too revealing and worse, it felt sensual on her skin. Sensual. A T-shirt. That was really his fault. Her favorite pair of jeans, faded to a near white, with a couple of genuine threadbare spots in them, felt as if the material caressed her skin as they slid up her legs and over her thighs and hips. That was just plain insane.
The door opened and Timur strode in. He didn’t slow down, he just kept coming straight at her. Her breath caught in her throat. Her lungs seized. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. He just dipped low, shoved his shoulder into her belly and lifted. Her head went down his back and she had to grab at the back of his shirt, clutching it in her fist.
“What the hell? I’m not a freakin’ sack of potatoes.” She all but yelped it. Sadly, her weird sense of humor kicked in and there was also a note of laughter in her voice. She doubted it mattered one way or the other to him. Laughter or anger, he was striding through the house, taking her into the kitchen to the little breakfast nook. She liked that nook: it was round and comfortable, windows surrounding it.