A Very Passionate Man. Maggie Cox

some reason Evan experienced a shaft of pure envy of the man Rowan Hawkins had loved and lost. His gaze swept across her face, saw the rebellious glint reflected in those pretty brown eyes with their curling dark lashes, the man’s sweater at least three sizes too big that swamped her slender frame and knew without doubt it had belonged to her husband. When she was alone in her bed at night, did she ache for him still?

      Rowan wondered at the sudden surge of heat that shaded Evan’s lean, hard jaw. Had she gone too far in speaking her mind the way she had? Had she made things worse instead of better? Expelling an impatient breath, she stared down forlornly at the tin of paint. A couple of drips from the brush had splashed onto the concrete path, creating two lilac splotches that resembled buttons. Raising her eyes to Evan’s, she folded her arms defensively across her chest.

      ‘If you’ve nothing else to say then I really must get on. I wanted to get these shelves done before this afternoon because the forecast said rain.’

      ‘I’m sorry I was rude to you. I have my reasons for being the way I am but I should never have taken it out on you. Will you accept my apology?’

      He looked desolate, Rowan realised in shock. Like a man who had lost everything with no possibility of ever getting it back. Knowing how that felt, she could more than sympathise.

      ‘Of course.’ She replied without hesitation and, as if to underline the words, accompanied them with a smile. A puzzled frown creased Evan’s handsome brow.

      ‘Just like that?’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘You find it so easy to forgive?’

      ‘What’s the point in harbouring grudges against people? It only eats you up inside and kills all the joy. Why would I want that for myself?’

      ‘Why indeed?’ He found himself smiling back at her, oddly pleased when her shy brown eyes slid away as if she couldn’t handle his new-found pleasure in her company. ‘I’d better let you get on.’

      He went to turn away, planning to lengthen his time spent walking on the beach by an extra twenty minutes. Why not? He was suddenly feeling more optimistic than he had in weeks.

      ‘I was going to offer you a cup of tea,’ Rowan said quickly, ‘unless, of course, you think that’s taking things a bit too far?’

      Noting the suddenly humorous glint in her eyes, Evan found himself warming to the woman more than he believed was sensible. ‘A cup of tea would be great—can it wait until I get back from the beach?’

      ‘Sure.’ Her heartbeat galloping, Rowan couldn’t deny the swift surge of pleasure that invaded her insides at his smiling acceptance. Suddenly, even the prospect of rain that afternoon couldn’t dampen her spirits. It’s only a cup of tea, she told herself as she watched him stride back down her path onto the road. But it couldn’t hurt to offer him a slice of home-made apple pie to go with it, could it?