Evan. Diana Palmer
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Dear Reader,
I really can’t express how flattered I am and also how grateful I am to Harlequin Books for releasing this collection of my published works. It came as a great surprise. I never think of myself as writing books that are collectible. In fact, there are days when I forget that writing is work at all. What I do for a living is so much fun that it never seems like a job. And since I reside in a small community, and my daily life is confined to such mundane things as feeding the wild birds and looking after my herb patch in the backyard, I feel rather unconnected from what many would think of as a glamorous profession.
But when I read my email, or when I get letters from readers, or when I go on signing trips to bookstores to meet all of you, I feel truly blessed. Over the past thirty years I have made lasting friendships with many of you. And quite frankly, most of you are like part of my family. You can’t imagine how much you enrich my life. Thank you so much.
I also need to extend thanks to my family (my husband, James, son, Blayne, daughter-in-law, Christina, and granddaughter, Selena Marie), to my best friend, Ann, to my readers, booksellers and the wonderful people at Harlequin Books—from my editor of many years, Tara, to all the other fine and talented people who make up our publishing house. Thanks to all of you for making this job and my private life so worth living.
Thank you for this tribute, Harlequin, and for putting up with me for thirty long years! Love to all of you.
Diana Palmer
DIANA PALMER
The prolific author of more than a hundred The prolific author of more than a hundred books, Diana Palmer got her start as a books, Diana Palmer got her start as a newspaper reporter. A multi–newspaper reporter. A multi–New York Times New York Times bestselling author and one of the top ten bestselling author and one of the top ten romance writers in America, she has a gift for romance writers in America, she has a gift for telling the most sensual tales with charm and telling the most sensual tales with charm and humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, humor. Diana lives with her family in Cornelia, Georgia.
Visit her website at www.DianaPalmer.com.
Evan
Diana Palmer
To my very special friend Suzanne Hewstone
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
It wasn’t that he minded the dinner so much, or the business talk that followed it. What bothered Evan Tremayne was the way Anna sat and watched him.
She was nineteen, blond, buxom and blue-eyed, a statuesque young woman with long tanned legs that looked incredible in shorts. Evan had tried for the past year not to notice her, despite the fact that he and her mother did a lot of business together. At thirty-four, he was the eldest of four brothers, and he had almost total responsibility for their mother. The family business was mostly under his control and his life was one long tangle of cattle, personnel problems and financial headaches. Anna was the last damned straw.
Especially, he thought, in that pale blue dress that showed too much of her golden tan and her full breasts. Surely her mother should have said something about that. He wondered if Polly Cochran noticed how fast her daughter was growing up. Polly was never home, though. She seemed always to be busy with some new facet of her real estate business. Anna’s father was an airline pilot, but he and Polly had separated years ago. He lived in Atlanta, Georgia, while they lived in Texas. In fact, Anna had been given most of her upbringing by Lori, the family housekeeper. Nobody seemed to have had much time for her.
Polly had excused herself to take a phone call, and Evan was left uncomfortably alone with Anna.
“Why have you been glowering at me for the past ten minutes?” Anna asked softly. Her blond hair was piled on top of her head, and she looked sophisticated and very mature for a change.
“Because that dress shows too much of you,” Evan replied with customary bluntness. His dark eyes glanced from her face to the swell of her breasts. “Polly shouldn’t have bought it for you.”
“She didn’t,” Anna said with a grin. “It’s one of hers. I borrowed it when she wasn’t looking. She hasn’t even noticed that I’m wearing it. You know how unobservant she is. Everything with Mama is business.”
“Your mother’s dresses are too old for you,” he replied, softening the words a little with a smile. He tended to be more abrasive with Anna than with anyone else in his life because of his unwanted attraction to her. “You should wear something more appropriate for your own age.”
She took a slow breath and her eyes gently worshipped him before they dropped to the table. “Do I really seem so young to you, Evan?”
“I’m thirty-four, little one,” he said, his voice deep and slow in the silence of the dining room. “Yes, you seem young.”
Her blue eyes settled on her folded hands. “Mama’s giving a party Friday night to celebrate the opening of that new mall in Jacobsville that she sold the property for,” she said. “Are you coming?”
“Harden and Miranda might,” he murmured. “I stay busy.”
She looked up, her eyes searching his dark, broad face relentlessly. “You could dance one dance with me. It wouldn’t kill you.”
“Wouldn’t it?” he asked with graveyard humor. He touched his linen napkin to his wide, chiseled mouth and laid it down beside his plate. He got to his feet, towering over her. He was a giant of a man, all muscle and streamlined, from the broad wedge of his chest to his narrow hips and long, powerful legs. “I have to go.”
She stood up. “Not yet,” she pleaded.
“I’ve got things to do,” he said.
“No, you haven’t,” she said, pouting. “You just don’t want to be alone with me. What are you afraid of, Evan, that I’ll assault you on the table?”
He lifted an eyebrow over twinkling brown eyes. “And get mashed potatoes all over my back?”
She let out an irritated breath. “You won’t take me seriously.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, fending her off with the ease of years of practice. “Tell Polly I’ll see her tomorrow at the office.”
“I could be dying of love for you,” she said quietly. “And you don’t even care that you’re breaking my heart.”
He grinned. “Hearts don’t break, especially at your age.”
“Yes, they do.” Her eyes ran up and down his big body, lingering on his broad chest. “You might at least kiss me goodbye.”
“Let Randall do that,” he replied. “He’s still at the experimenting age, like you.”
“And you’re over the hill, I guess?”
He chuckled. “Feels like it sometimes,” he confessed. “Good night, little girl.”
She colored delicately, which heightened the blue of her eyes. “I’m not a child!”
“You are to me.” He picked up his Stetson from the sideboard without looking at her.