J. Kenner - Wanted

He paused and the air was so thick between us that it took all my strength just to draw a breath. I’m surprised that every eye in the room wasn’t turned to us, watching the spectacle of the fire that blazed between us. Because it was there. I felt it—I felt it and I wanted to burn in it.

I have no idea what he said next. He must have continued talking, because before I knew it, people were raising glasses in a toast and wiping damp eyes.

The spell that had captured me dissipated, and I watched, breathless, as Evan melted into the crowd. He shook hands with people and accepted consoling pats on his shoulder. He ruled the room, commanding and calm. A steady presence for the mourners to rely on.

And never did he take his eyes off me.

Then he was coming toward me, his gait firm and even, his expression determined. I was only half-aware of Kevin beside me, his fingers still twined with mine. Right then, Evan Black was my entire world. I wanted to feel his touch again. Wanted him to pull me close. To murmur that he knew what I’d lost when Jahn had died.

I wanted him to brush his lips sweetly over mine in consolation, and then to throw all decorum aside and kiss me so wild and hard that grief and regret withered under the heat of our passion.

And it pissed me off royally that it wasn’t going to happen because of a promise he made to a dead man.

I’m not sure what I was trying to prove, but I spun around and folded myself into Kevin’s arms.

“What—”

I cut him off with a kiss that started out awkward and weird, but then Kevin must have decided I needed this. That my grief had sent me over the wall and into the land of rampant public displays of affection.

His hand cupped the back of my head as his mouth claimed mine. As far as kissing was concerned, Kevin definitely got an A. Empirically, he was everything a girl should want, and yet I wasn’t satisfied. I wasn’t even close. There was no heat, no burn. No butterflies in my stomach, no longing for more. On the contrary, all Kevin’s kiss did was make me more aware of the void inside me. A hunger—a craving—that I couldn’t seem to satisfy no matter how much I wanted to.

Evan, I thought, and was shocked by the desperate longing that went along with those two small syllables. Somehow the tight grip I’d kept on my desire all these years had come loose. It was as if my grief had shoved me over the cliff, and for the first time in forever, I wished I could just erase Evan Black from my mind. I felt out of control. Frenzied and reckless.

And for a girl like me, that’s never a good place to be.

When Kevin broke our kiss and pulled away from me, all I wanted to do was pull him back again. To kiss him until we broke through my resolve. Until we created a fire out of friction if nothing else. Because I needed that. I needed to get clear. I needed to lose myself in him until the blazing heat that was Evan Black was reduced to nothing more substantial than a burn across my heart.

But that, I knew, was never going to happen.

Kevin’s palm cupped my cheek, his smile gentle. “Sweetheart, you look ripped to pieces.”

I nodded. I was. Just not for the reason Kevin thought.

I glanced around the room, searching out Evan. Wanting to know that he’d seen. Wanting him to be as twisted and tied up in knots as I was.

But he wasn’t even there.

“Angelina, my dear, the young waitress said I might find you in here. It’s so good to see you again, even under such sad circumstances.”

The Southern-smooth voice rolled over me, and I grimaced. I’d escaped to the kitchen—which was technically off limits to guests—with the hope of squeezing out just one tiny little moment alone. Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen.

Forcing a political-daughter smile onto my face, I turned away from the counter and greeted Edwin Mulberry, a congressman from either Alabama or Mississippi or some other state that most definitely wasn’t the Midwest.

“Congressman Mulberry. What a pleasure,” I lied. I willed my smile wider. “I didn’t realize you knew my uncle.”

He had silver hair and an audience-ready smile that I only half-believed was genuine. “Your uncle was an amazing man,” he said. “Very well connected. When I spoke to your father yesterday and he told me he couldn’t be here, I knew I had to come by.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. Mulberry was a representative with an eye on the Senate, and though my father was still on his first six-year term, he had forged powerful allies, including several who had started tossing his name around as a potential vice presidential candidate. I didn’t need to rely on my poli sci degree to realize that Mulberry was more interested in getting in good with the flavor of the month than he was in paying his respects to my uncle.

“It’s been what? Almost five years since I’ve seen you? I have to say, you’ve grown into quite the lovely young woman.”

“Thank you,” I said, managing to keep my smile bright though it had become significantly harder. “It’s been almost eight,” I added, unable to help myself. I’d seen Mulberry last at my sister’s funeral, and the memory of that day bumped up against the one I was currently living in a way that made me feel cold and hollow.

I hugged myself tight, trying to remember all my various bits of social training, but now feeling too lost to make small talk. “Well,” I said, and then just let the word hang there, suddenly unable to come up with a single thing to say.

It was Evan who rescued me.

“Congressman Mulberry?” The older man turned to Evan, who stood in the doorway looking as dark and mysterious as still water at midnight. “There’s a young woman out there looking for you. She seems very anxious to speak to you.”

“Is there?” The congressman perked up, his hand rising to straighten his tie as I bit back a grin.

“Long blond hair, short black dress.” He moved into the kitchen to stand near us. “She was heading into the library as I left her.”

“Well,” Mulberry said. He turned to me. “My dear, it’s been a pleasure, but if this young woman is a constituent, I should go see what she has on her mind.”

“Of course,” I said. “It was lovely seeing you again. Thank you for coming.”

As soon as he was out the door, I turned to Evan. “You are a very smooth liar.”

“Apparently not as smooth as I thought if you found me out so easily.”

“Maybe I just know you too well,” I quipped.

He looked at me for a moment, then took a single step closer. My breath hitched and my pulse began to pick up tempo, and when he reached out an arm toward me I stood perfectly still, anticipating a touch that never came—it wasn’t me he was reaching for, but a bottle of wine.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. But at least I could breathe easy again.

“Too well?” he said, as he poured a glass of pinot noir and passed it to me. “Does that mean you’ve figured out all my secrets?”

Our fingers brushed as I took the wine from him, and I shivered from the spark of connection that seemed to shoot through me, all the way from my fingers to the very tips of my toes.

I saw the quick flash of awareness in his eyes and wanted to kick myself. Because it wasn’t me that knew his secrets—it was the other way around. And damned if I didn’t feel confused and exposed and vulnerable.

“Secrets?” I repeated. I stood up straighter, determined to snatch back some measure of control. “Like the mystery behind why you’ve barely said two words to me all night? Why you’ve looked everywhere but me?”

He tilted his head as if considering my words, then he poured his own glass of wine and took a long, slow sip. “I’m looking at you now.”

I swallowed. He damn sure was. His cloudy gray eyes were fixed on my face, and I saw the tension in his body, as if he was fighting the coming violence of a storm.

Against my better judgment, I took a drink of my own wine. Yes, I needed a clear head for tonight, but right then I needed courage more. “You are,” I agreed. “What do you see?”

“A beautiful woman,” he said, his tone making my heart flutter as much as his words. “A beautiful woman,” he continued, “who needs to take a step back and think about what the hell she’s doing and why she’s doing it.”

“Excuse me?” His tone had shifted only slightly, but it was enough to totally erase that flutter. “Excuse me?” I repeated, because he had so completely flummoxed me that I couldn’t seem to conjure any other words.

“You’ve had a hard time of it, Angie,” he said. “You deserve to be happy.”

I twirled the stem of my wineglass between my fingers as I tried to figure out his angle. Was he about to tell me that he could make me happy? The thought sent a small tingle of anticipation running through me, but I didn’t believe it. He was too hot and cold, too confusing. And I wasn’t going to figure out what the hell he was thinking unless I flat-out asked.

“What makes you think I’m not happy?”

He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I get why you’re dating Warner,” he said. “Political father. FBI agent boyfriend. It all fits. It all makes sense. The perfect daughter piece in the picture perfect puzzle that makes up your life.”

I’d gone completely tense, my throat tight, my chest heavy. I felt like a walking target that he’d just skewered with a dead-on bull’s-eye.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Kevin’s wonderful,” I said tightly, determined not to let him see that his barb had hit home.

“No,” Evan said. We were still standing next to the counter in the kitchen, completely alone except for the few waiters who wandered in to refill their trays. Now he moved a step closer, and I swore I could feel the thrum of the air molecules buzzing between us. “For someone, maybe. But he’s not for you.”

“What would you know about it?” I’d intended to sound indignant. I didn’t even come close.

“I know enough,” he said, closing the distance between us even more. “I know you need a man who’s strong enough to anchor you. A man who understands what you need, in bed and out of it.” A deliciously sexy smile eased across his mouth. “You need a man who can just look at you and get you hot. And, Angie,” he said, “I also know that Kevin Warner isn’t that man.”

Oh, my. Perspiration beaded on the back of my neck. My breathing was shallow, my pulse fast. I felt hyperaware of my body. Of the tiny hairs standing up on my arms. Of the needful, demanding feeling in my legs. I was wet—I was certain of it. And all I wanted right then was Evan’s hands upon me.

It took a massive force of will to manage words, and even more strength to look him in the eyes. “If not Kevin, then who?” I asked, but the question that remained unspoken was, “You?”

He reached out and tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear, the soft brush of his finger against my skin just about melting me. “I guess that’s something you’ll have to figure out.”

I spent the next hour circulating through the condo, chatting with the guests, and reminiscing about Jahn. I caught sight of Cole twice and Tyler once. I didn’t see Evan at all, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, I’d liked the way he’d looked at me. I’d liked the frisson of awareness that tingled through me simply from his proximity.

On the other hand, our conversation in the kitchen had been so surreal that I wanted to avoid him until I could wrap my head around what had happened. And I sure as hell didn’t want another lecture about Kevin. Especially since everything Evan had said was so damn right.

As for Kevin, he’d been my almost constant companion since the moment I’d left the kitchen. He played the role of the supportive boyfriend with such gusto that I barely had a moment to myself. I finally escaped, claiming that I was going to the bathroom when all I really wanted was a moment when I could stand by myself and simply breathe.

Rather than slip away to one of the restrooms, I hurried up to Jahn’s rooftop patio. It’s my favorite place in the condo, accessed by a stunning spiral staircase on the north side of the living room. Jahn decorated it with as much detail as the interior of the condo, so the covered and uncovered areas were full of comfortable chairs and lounges, conversation areas, and beautiful plants that made this oasis in the sky feel like a park. Or at the very least, like the best rooftop lounge of a five-star European hotel.

While most of the guests were lounging on the couches and sipping drinks by the outdoor kitchen, I moved away from the crowd. I stood alone between the tiny potted firs that lined the perimeter, my hands pressed to the glass that provided that extra bit of protection against the urge to spread your arms and leap, proving once and for all that though you might appear human, you really weren’t. You were just air and breath and the thrill of motion, and nothing bad could happen to you in the night sky because the wind would always catch you.