Page 11 of A Rhapsody of Ravens and Revenge

“Men your age shouldn’t wear shorts,” she countered. “You’ve got legs like a chicken.”

He snorted out a laugh and then made the transition in conversation abruptly. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Since you’re in such a good mood let’s talk about your bodyguard.”

“Really, Daddy, you’re getting ridiculous with your matchmaking attempts,” Evangeline said. “It’s obvious to everyone involved.”

She propped her bare feet up on the coffee table and crossed her ankles. “Who is it this time? An ex-Navy SEAL? An Army Ranger? I hope it’s someone with a sense of humor. You’ve sent some real duds lately. I’ve barely been able to stay awake once they start talking about themselves.”

His lips pinched and he steepled his hands in front of him. “Now, really. You’re being ridiculous, Evangeline.”

“You always get very proper whenever you get called out. Have you ever noticed that? Of course you have,” she said, before he could answer. “You were the Director of the CIA. I’m sure you’re familiar with all of your weaknesses.”

“Little girl, a little respect please. I’ve always said that smart mouth of yours is going to end you up in hot water one day.”

“Sorry, Daddy. I have no idea where I get that from,” she said, cheekily. “I’ve told you before I have no desire to get married and have children. No matter how badly you’d like to see that. I’ve got everything I want in my life.”

“That’s perfect. Because this time I’m not trying to use my matchmaking skills.”

She arched a brow in surprise. “So you’re admitting that’s what you’ve been doing all this time with the personal bodyguards?”

Her father smiled and shrugged unrepentantly. “You’re my only child. I just want you to be happy. I also want you to be safe. Which is why your protection comes above all else in this case. Besides, I’m out of single men who fit the profile. You’ve broken all their hearts.”

She chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest, snuggling down a little farther into the couch. Maybe she could use a vacation. She hadn’t stayed at the beach house since before her mother’s death. If you could call a three-story pink monstrosity a beach house.

He’d bought the house for her mother the week after she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. Her father was a tough man—unbending on his best days and something not worth mentioning on his worst days. But he’d been a softy when it came to his wife. She’d been happy at the beach house for almost three years longer than the doctors had given her to live.

Evangeline cleared her throat and pushed away the memory. “So if you’re out of poor saps you can marry off your daughter to, who are you left with? Attila the Hun?”

“Not too far off,” a voice said from the doorway behind her.

Her blood chilled and her head snapped toward the Lowcountry drawl she hadn’t heard in years. Surely her eyes deceived her. She blinked once—then once more—but his image didn’t disappear.

Calvin Cruz in the flesh looked better than he had any right to. Better than she remembered. And her memory was pretty good. He’d always been the kind of man people noticed. It wasn’t his looks so much as the way he carried himself. He had an aura about him that screamed danger.

His hair was black as sin and he wore it longer than he had ten years before when he’d been on active missions. Crystalline blue eyes stared at her mockingly, inherited from his Swedish mother, and his skin was swarthy, inherited from his Mexican father. Dark brows winged over his eyes, and he hadn’t shaved in a few days so he had a thick growth of beard.

She didn’t know if she was normal when it came to what a woman found attractive about a man. But she’d always been captivated by Cal’s shoulders. The breadth and strength of them, and how nicely they filled out the black T-shirt he wore. The black ink of tattoos showed below his sleeves, more than he’d had the last time she’d seen him. He wore loose linen pants the color of wheat and she wondered if he was carrying a weapon. She wasn’t sure it mattered if he was armed. If she saw Cal Cruz walking toward her in an alley, she’d turn around and run the other direction. He was dangerous with a capital D.

“Like what you see, sugar?” he asked, arching a brow.

Her cheeks flushed red and she looked at her father accusingly, but Robert was suddenly very interested in his water bottle.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, no. This is my worst nightmare.”

“Come on, Evie,” Cal said, coming farther into the room. “It’ll be just like when we were kids.”

His voice sent a shiver down her spine. How could one man have such power over her? She hated that about herself. She knew she was smart. Could make her own decisions and live an independent life without the help of anyone. Yet one man had controlled her entire destiny for a good portion of her adult life—a man she couldn’t trust far enough to throw him. And still his presence affected her like no other man’s ever had.

Her pulse fluttered in her throat. No matter how much she’d told herself she hated him, it was still Cal she saw in her dreams. A childhood crush that had never faded.

“Go away, Cal.”

“It’s the middle of summer and we’re at the beach,” he said. “Let your hair down for a while. Stop being so uptight. You used to be fun.”

“And you used to not be a jerk. I guess time changes us all.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and counted to ten, focusing on the sound of the ocean. The sliding glass doors were open and if she made a run for it she could have the sand between her toes in just a few seconds.

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