by Lara Adrian
“And your dad?”
“The old man never came. Not once.” I state it matter-of-factly, because that’s all it is now. Fact. But for those first few months, I kept waiting to see him. Expecting it. Hoping. “He never wanted anything to do with me, even when I was whole. See, I’m the classic mistake, the kid who came along just when things were going south in my parents’ marriage. They patched it up, but sometimes I think he’s holding me responsible for making him stay.”
“I’m sorry, Gabe. If that’s true, it’s terribly unfair of him. And cruel.”
“Yeah, it sucks, but whatever. I’m long past needing any father-and-son bonding. If you want to know the truth, I only made it out of Bethesda thanks to a steady flow of pain meds and Jake’s regular ass-kickings, something that he’s perfected from the time I was a kid. Working with O’Connor in PT helped as well.”
In my peripheral, I see her looking at me with gentle understanding. “I think you can also take some of the credit for where you are. No one else could do the work for you. You had to be willing to step up, to fight back and heal. You’re the only one with the power to take control of your life.”
I slant her a wry glance. “Who says I’ve done that?”
She smiles. “Being a work-in-progress counts for something.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Maybe.” That sweet curve of her lips doesn’t mask the guardedness in her eyes. “I thought we were talking about you.”
“Until a second ago, so did I.” I lean toward her, bumping her shoulder with mine. “I told you, if you want me to know anything about you, you’ve got to tell me yourself. Nothing’s going to make me think less of you or judge you. And I’m not going to put it in a report to your brother. Scout’s honor.”
She laughs at that, and I see some of her reticence fade away. “You think I’m that easy?”
“Lady, I don’t think anything about you is easy.” As soon as I say it, I shake my head. “No, that’s not true. Looking at you is easy. Talking to you, that’s easy too.”
When she swivels her head to look at me, I swear it’s all I can do to keep from reaching out to touch her face. I want to do more than merely touch. I want to kiss her. Claim her. Possess her in every way.
I must be out of my fucking mind, either from the stifling humidity or from treading into the uncharted territory of having a real conversation with a woman who isn’t a comrade or a colleague. Because more than anything, I want to be the man Evelyn trusts with all her secrets and pains.
And her pleasures.
I inhale deeply, which is only a mistake that fills my lungs with the warm vanilla scent of her. I let it go on a gusted sigh and turn my gaze back out to the animals in the habitat.
“Never mind,” I say abruptly. “You don’t have to tell me anything. Not my place to ask.”
She’s quiet for a moment. About the time I’m thinking I should check in with my team and go back to earning my paycheck, she finally replies.
“I started modeling in high school. Local print ads, department store promotions, that kind of thing. I didn’t land my first national runway spot until I was twenty-one. Everything started moving really fast after that. I had an agent and a contract, and suddenly I was on the road every week, booked in one show after another.” She goes silent, and when I glance at her, I can tell her thoughts are miles and years away. “I was making more money than I’d ever imagined. But I was exhausted and lonely. I was scared and hungry and so very tired. I found ways to cope with the fatigue and anxiety. My agent helped there, arranging access to physicians and psychologists who knew just what to prescribe. When those weren’t enough, he had other contacts who were eager to provide whatever he thought I needed.”
“Narcotics?” I guess, and I don’t need to see her nod to imagine the scenario.
“The cocaine had the added benefit of suppressing my appetite, and as my weight decreased, my bookings began to explode. Pretty soon, the cocaine wasn’t enough, so I started purging too. It was a vicious cycle, one I didn’t even realize was happening until one morning I collapsed on the verge of cardiac arrest in my hotel room in Paris.”
“Jesus Christ.” I can’t curb my shock, or my fury at her agent and everyone else in her orbit at the time who’d allowed her health to spiral that far down--or, hell, encouraged it because of their greed. If I’d been there, I would have killed the ones responsible for her decline. “What about your brother? Did Beck know any of this?”
She shakes her head. “He knew I was working too hard. Early on, he tried to intervene, but things weren’t so bad then. I thought he was just trying to hold me back. Later, as my career took off, I hid the truth from him for as long as I could. Paris was the end of everything. The paramedics revived me, and Andrew was on a plane from the States as soon as he was notified. He brought me home, then he and my father checked me into rehab, where they made sure I stayed for the next eleven months until I was healthy and sober.”
“And you never went back to modeling?”
“No. If I had, it would have killed me. Even I could see that. Andrew paid to bury all of the photos and gossip pieces that might have come out after what happened in Paris, or my rehabilitation afterward. So, as far as anyone else was concerned, ‘Eve’ had simply retired. No one knew I was fighting for my life. Some days, I didn’t think I had the strength, or the will, to make it. Some days, even after I was out of rehab, I didn’t want to make it at all.”
“But you did,” I point out. Gently, because even though she’s strong, I can feel the pain still radiating from her. I can feel the undercurrent of doubt still living inside her, despite the confidence with which she carries herself.
I angle toward her, and this time I can’t keep my hand from reaching out. With my palm cupping the side of her face, I stroke my thumb over the velvet-soft skin near her mouth. “I’m glad you’re here, Evelyn.”
She nods, her gaze dusky now, those gorgeous green eyes drinking me in. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”
Standing here with her like this, it’s impossible to deny how much I desire her. With her lips parted on a soft exhalation, her eyes locked on mine, all of the denials I’d girded myself with when I first approached her crumble away.
My head dips toward hers, without a thought for honor or duty anywhere in my reach.
Until, from somewhere behind me, I hear the jarring sound of someone clearing their throat.
“Ah, excuse me . . . Gabe?”
O’Connor’s voice is tentative and quiet, but I swing around as if I just heard a gunshot. “Yeah. What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your, ah, conversation,” she blurts, her gaze darting from me to Evelyn, before finally remaining glued on my face in a look somewhere between apology and utter shock. “The, um, catering service is about to start packing up, so the other guys on the team and I were wondering if you wanted to grab some chow with us.”
“No, thanks.” Ordinarily, I’d be tempted to joke with my buddy about her bottomless pit of a stomach, but I can’t even fake that. I sound guilty as fuck, and there’s no covering up what my friend and teammate just walked up on. And while I know she won’t mention my indiscretion to anyone else on the team or otherwise, that doesn’t make the whole thing any less awkward. “Go on without me. I’ll head that way in a few.”
She takes off without another word.
“I should go, too,” Evelyn says.
It’s probably a good idea, considering I can’t seem to keep my hands off her, even in full view of the public, not to mention risking being seen by anyone else from the company. I turn toward her and nod. “How’d you get here? Subway?”
“No.” Something dark, almost haunted, flickers in her expression. “No, I . . . I never take the subway. My car’s parked at the River lot.”
I know where it is, since that’s the same lot where I met up with my team when we arrived at the event this morning. “Come on, I’ll walk you there.”
> “You sure? I don’t really need an escort if you have things you need to do.”
“Let’s go.”
It’s a decent hike from where we are, and although my leg will feel it later, I’m not about to let Evelyn make the trip alone. We walk most of the way in companionable silence, even though the air around us still crackles with the awareness of our intensifying attraction and the kiss that would have happened if not for O’Connor’s timely interruption.
“Why don’t you like taking the subway?” I ask as we near the crowded parking lot situated between the Bronx River and the Parkway.
“I just don’t.” She gives me a nonchalant shrug, but her expression is too carefully schooled for me to believe. I can also sense that the openness she shared with me back inside the zoo is behind us now, so I don’t press.
If she were mine, I wouldn’t rest until she laid all her demons out for me to slay.
I’d slay them all now, even though she’ll never belong to me.
We reach her Volvo and I stand back, near the front bumper while she takes out her remote and clicks the unlock button. If I get any closer, I’m not certain I can trust myself to let her go.
It isn’t until she opens the door and starts to climb in that I notice something’s off with the tilt of the vehicle. I glance down and immediately see the cause.
“Evelyn, wait.” She looks at me in question as I hunker down near the front wheel on the driver’s side. “You can’t drive this car anywhere right now. The tire’s flat.”
And the closer I look, I realize the tire hasn’t just gone flat.
It’s been deliberately punctured.
I run my fingertips over the deep, inch-long slit in the rubber that’s been made near the rim and the hair at the back of my neck rises.
A knife caused this hole. And whoever wielded the blade in broad daylight, chose to make the puncture in a way that wouldn’t be readily detected. But who--and why--someone chose to disable Evelyn’s vehicle out of all the other cars in the lot is a question that begs a fucking answer.
And this seemingly random incident on top of the recent peculiarities at L’Opale makes my combat instincts prickle with foreboding, even dread.
“What happened to my tire?” Evelyn steps around the open driver’s door to see what I’m looking at.
Since I don’t want to alarm her before I have more facts--and definitely not before I have a chance to alert Beck to my suspicion that something is very wrong here--I stand up and insert myself between her and a clear view of the tire.
“I’m not sure yet, but it looks like it’s in bad shape. You’re going to need a new one.”
She frowns. “There’s a donut spare in the back.”
I shake my head. “You’re not going to drive home on that. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of the tire. But first, I’m giving you a lift home.”
I step away from Evelyn and call O’Connor. “Yeah, it’s me. I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything,” she says, no hesitation at all.
“Cover for me for about an hour. Andrew Beckham’s sister’s got some car trouble, so I’m going to run her home. Anything comes up in the meantime, call me.”
“No problem, Gabe. You got it.”
I end the call and slip my phone into the pocket of my jeans. I can’t help giving the lot a surreptitious visual sweep as I settle my hand on the small of Evelyn’s back. “Let’s get you out of here now.”
12
~ Evelyn ~
The drive from the Bronx to my apartment building on the Upper East Side takes about half an hour. Riding next to Gabe in his Lexus almost feels like we’re coming back from a date, especially after the electrically charged moments we shared back at the zoo.
I still feel the current of awareness rolling off him as he smoothly changes lanes ahead of the traffic light at my block of East 86th. It still lives inside me too. I glance out the passenger window and bring my fingers to my lips on a silent sigh. If his friend O’Connor hadn’t walked up when she did, I have no doubt Gabe would have kissed me right there in front of the Thomson’s gazelles and anyone else who happened to look our way.
It stuns me how much I wish he had. How much I still want him to, even though he’s gone from tender and sexy to all-business in the time since he discovered my flat tire. Maybe he’s relieved to have an excuse to avoid talking about what almost happened between us. Then again, he doesn’t strike me as a man who requires an excuse for anything he does or doesn’t do.
Right now, his focus seems rooted solely on getting me home and getting back to his job. Since we’ve been in the car, he’s kept our conversation limited to directions to my place and a brief update on equipment and installation timelines for L’Opale’s new security system next week.
“After I drop you at your apartment, I’ll head back to your car and take care of it for you,” he tells me, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses and glued to the road ahead of us. “Do you have anywhere you need to be between now and Monday?”
“No. I’m going out tomorrow night with some friends, but I’m not driving. My friends are picking me up.”
He grunts, still not looking at me. “Where are you going?”
“Some new club in the Meatpacking District. It’s only been open for a couple of weekends. Melanie and I have never been, but our other friend, Paige, can’t stop raving over it. The club’s in a converted warehouse, so it’s got a massive dance floor and the top deejays in the city. Supposedly, there’s also a VIP room with a twenty-grand cover fee, unless you’re accompanying a member as their guest. Anyway, I don’t care about any of that. I’m really just going so I can hang out and have fun with my friends.”
He nods, jaw tense, but I can’t tell if he’s actually listening. I’m sure my plans for a girls’ night at a noisy dance club makes for riveting conversation in his opinion, but he did ask.
Rounding the corner onto my street, he says, “I should be able to have your car back in your hands before Monday. I’ve got a cousin who owns a garage in the Bronx. The flat shouldn’t take him more than an hour or so to replace, then I’ll see about having the car brought out here to you once it’s fixed.”
“You mean delivered?”
He shrugs. “Len owes me a favor. But he’s family, so he’ll do it just because I asked.”
“You really don’t have to go to the trouble, you know. I’m capable of arranging my own vehicle repairs.”
“Never said you weren’t.” He glances at me, a grin at the edge of his lips. “Nothing I can do if you need a doctor or a lawyer, but if it’s a job for a cop or a mechanic or a first responder, ask a Noble and we’ve got you covered.”
Even though he says it like a joke, I can hear the family pride in his voice and it makes me smile. “Well, in that case, thank you.”
“No problem.” His attention returns to the traffic as we approach my block and the nineteen-story tower where my apartment is located. “Which building is yours?”
“The tall light-gray one between the two brick buildings.”
“Nice.”
It’s an understatement that’s not lost on me. The neighborhood is one of the best in Manhattan, and in this building even one-bedroom units start around seven figures. My two-story, three-bedroom on the tenth and eleventh floors is one of the most coveted spaces in the building, if not the entire block.
“I bought my apartment as soon as my modeling started paying really well,” I explain. “Now, it’s all I’ve got left to show for my former career.”
“Looks like a good investment,” Gabe says as we roll to a stop at the curb. He takes off his sunglasses and drops them into the cup holder in the console where I’ve given him my Volvo’s key fob. “Parking?”
I glance at him in question. “You could just drop me off here.”
“I said I was seeing you home. In my book, that means seeing you all the way to your door.”
His expression is solemn, not that I really want to argue.
No, what I want to do is lean across the seats and take the kiss his friend robbed me of. I can’t keep my gaze from straying to his stern mouth, and when I finally do, I see the stormy gleam of hunger in his darkened hazel eyes.
“Tell me where we’re going, beautiful.”
God, I wish I knew. If I didn’t think he would push me away, I would tell him where I’m really hoping we might go. Up to my bedroom. Into the backseat of his car. Anywhere that will mean feeling his hands on me, his mouth on mine, our bodies unclothed and moving together.
I’ve never been meek about sex, in spite of my current, lengthy drought in that area and my seemingly endless single status. I’m not shy, but I am choosy. And right now, everything female in me has chosen Gabe.
A tendon jumps in his jaw before he turns his head away from me to look out the windshield. “Is that the entrance for the garage?”
“Yes. It’s underground, just past the lobby doors.”
I point and he drives past the doorman on duty, taking us down to the gate at basement level. I give him my access code for the panel, then show him where my reserved space is.
“I’ll get your door,” he says, turning off the engine and not waiting for me to tell him that gallant gesture isn’t necessary, either. He’s at the passenger side in no time, holding his hand out to me as I exit the car.
The elevator lets us off in my private vestibule on the tenth floor. Gabe pauses behind me, waiting as I retrieve my apartment keys from my purse. “Would you like to come in?”
“For a minute,” he says, his voice a deep growl. “I’m curious to check things out.”
He enters my home and it’s as if I’m seeing it for the first time too. I watch Gabe take in the blond hardwood foyer and the large, neutral living room into which it opens. It’s airy and bright inside, with pale gray and cream furnishings, and two-story windows that draw in light and the multimillion-dollar views of the city.
To the left of my spacious living area and green space terrace outside is the entrance to the formal dining room and chef’s kitchen. To the right, my office and a library, plus a pair of guest rooms down the hall. Overlooking the two-story living area is open loft, accessed by an elegant, curving staircase that provides windowed views all the way up to the palatial master bedroom suite.
