Elusive as the Unicorn

by Carole Mortimer

  Re-read this classic romance by USA Today bestselling author Carole Mortimer

  When Eve Eden discovers that successful art entrepreneur, Adam Gardener, is searching for the legendary English artist, The Unicorn, she nervously shies away. The Unicorn’s true identity hits a little too close to home…

  But Eve is rattled—and intrigued—by Adam’s mesmerizing presence, and his determination to entice her into his arms. As an engaged woman, she shouldn’t be flirting with anyone, let alone the most delicious man she’s ever laid eyes on… Can Eve resist the temptation of the forbidden?

  Originally published in 1989

  Elusive as the Unicorn

  Carole Mortimer

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘WHY did you let him do that to you?’

  The smile that had curved Eve’s lips faded, as she turned to face the owner of that intrusive voice, and was replaced by a puzzled frown. She didn’t know the man who stood in front of her; in fact, she was sure she had never even seen him before, for she would never have forgotten such ruggedly perfect features on any man. He didn’t have that pretty-pretty type of male looks that such a lot of women seemed to find so attractive nowadays, but a craggily stamped handsomeness that even her male-critical grandmother would have acknowledged as being ‘all man’. But still, Eve was sure she had never seen him before.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ She looked at him enquiringly.

  Dark brown eyes snapped with impatience as the man towered over her diminutive five feet two inches in height in her three-inch-high sandals, the man’s dark blond hair brushing the collar of his white evening shirt. ‘Why the hell did you take such a load of chauvinistic bull from the guy who just left you?’ he demanded disgustedly, shaking his head, as if her behaviour utterly amazed him.

  Eve gave an exasperated smile; after all, who was this man, to have been eavesdropping on her conversation with Paul in the first place? The fact that he was an American in no way excused his incredible rudeness in talking to her in this way, even if this was a party.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr …?’ She paused deliberately, giving him the opportunity to introduce himself to her at least.

  An opportunity he didn’t feel it necessary to take. ‘So you keep saying,’ he rasped in that husky drawl that had annoyed her the first time she’d heard it—and done little to endear itself to her since! ‘But it’s time someone told you that you can’t go through life apologising for being alive.’

  Enough was enough, even from a man who obviously had no idea how offensive he was being, his dark gaze raking over her with impatient demand. ‘Obviously no one could ever accuse you of that.’ Sarcasm dripped icily off her voice, her expression one of haughty disdain—her ‘Little Miss Aloof look’, as her grandmother called it.

  Humour lightened the darkness of the man’s gaze. ‘You can bet your sweet——No, no one ever has yet,’ he amended mockingly, making no apology for the language he had been about to use. ‘And I don’t intend they ever should, either!’ he added grimly.

  Eve gave a quizzical smile. This really was too ridiculous, a man she had never seen before verbally attacking her in this way, and so personally too. ‘I’ll bear your advice in mind, Mr …?’

  ‘You’ll have to do more than that if you intend seeing that guy again.’ He sipped the alcohol—probably whisky—from the glass in his hand, glancing across the room to where Paul now stood engaged in conversation with a group of other guests, again making no effort to take up her very obvious opening for him to introduce himself. ‘At the moment you’re nothing more than a walking doormat!’

  This conversation had been far from amusing from the first; now it was positively insulting! ‘Since I didn’t ask for your advice—or your opinion—I’ll thank you to keep them both to yourself.’ Blue eyes flashed her irritation.

  The man grinned, a hugely appreciative grin. ‘I see the mouse can roar if she wants to,’ he drawled derisively, his gaze openly challenging.

  ‘This mouse happens to be going to marry the “guy” across the room!’ she informed him caustically.

  She stood stiffly, deeply resentful of his personal remarks about Paul and herself. How on earth had he got an invitation to one of Lady Daphne Graves’s parties? Heaven knew, Daphne was far from being a snob, but Eve just couldn’t believe the other woman would have given an invitation to such a socially destructive man.

  His grin had faded the moment she made her announcement. ‘You’re marrying him?’ He gave a pained wince at the idea. ‘Why?’ His eyes narrowed.

  Eve’s own triumphant smile at having momentarily disconcerted him instantly disappeared at his bluntly put question. ‘Why?’ she echoed exasperatedly. ‘You ask the strangest questions.’ She shook her head. ‘Questions that obviously need no answer.’

  ‘This one sure does,’ the man scorned. ‘Why would you want to tie yourself for life to a man who orders you to wait for him here—and obviously expects you to obey him without question—while he circulates among the other guests, enjoying himself?’

  ‘Paul didn’t order me to stay here!’ Eve’s cheeks were flushed with indignant anger.

  ‘No?’ the man beside her derided scoffingly. ‘It sounded like it to me.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that at all,’ she denied defensively. ‘He simply asked me to wait for him here while he——’

  ‘Circulated.’ The man’s opinion of that was obvious from his tone.

  ‘It’s important that Paul meet people like this,’ Eve told him in annoyance, inwardly wondering why she was even bothering to explain herself; her relationship with Paul was none of this man’s business. ‘He makes vital contacts at parties like this one.’

  Dark brown eyes levelled derisively on Paul as he continued his conversation across the room. ‘I’m sure he does,’ the man said with obvious distaste. ‘But those contacts might be a little more impressed with him if he paid more attention to the woman he intends to marry!’

  Paul had turned to look at them curiously now, a question in his light blue eyes as his gaze met Eve’s, a question Eve didn’t have the answer to; she didn’t even have the benefit of knowing this man’s name, let alone why he should have chosen to single her out for his insulting remarks!

  He shook his head now, blonder highlights picked out in the dark blond hair by the illuminated crystal chandelier above them. ‘Most of the women I know would have told that guy to take a hike if he had ordered them to stay put,’ he remarked, implying she should have done the same if she’d had any sense.

  Eve held herself stiffly erect at his insistence that Paul had ‘ordered’ her to do anything. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet?’ she prompted resentfully, her mouth set in an angry line.

  He gave a mocking smile. ‘I’m not allowed to insult you until you know my name, hm?’ he taunted in that slow drawl.

  She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I just thought it might be more—polite.’ She couldn’t help wishing that Paul would stop just looking at them with narrowed eyes, and actually come over here and rescue her from this unpleasant conversation.

  The man at her side gave a dismissive shrug as she looked at him with steady query. ‘Most people call me Adam. Although I’m sure it isn’t the only name I’ve ever been known as,’ he added with a humorous glint in his eyes.

  She could imagine it wasn’t the only name he had ever been called to his face, either; men who could be as personal a
s this one was, without even the benefit of a proper introduction, must get used to being told a few home truths about themselves!

  However, the single name he had given her was enough to make Eve give an inward groan. ‘Well, Adam——’

  ‘Isn’t it usual to reciprocate?’ Chocolate-coloured eyes openly laughed at her for her deliberate omission, as if he were already in on the joke of their names, although she felt sure he couldn’t be.

  Her inward groan became a cry for help; considering how brutally frank he had been about something that was none of his business, she hated to think what comment he was going to make about their two names—Adam and Eve!

  Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Oh, during her childhood her friends had done the usual teasing about her name, and how she was ‘waiting for her Adam’, but the man’s name hadn’t been one that was popular at the time of her birth or for several years before that, and so, strange as it might seem, men named Adam had been distinctly missing from her life. Until now.

  Why on earth did this man, a man who already found her such a source of amusement and a recipient of his pity, have to be called Adam?

  ‘Eve,’ she muttered with all the heartfelt reluctance she knew.

  Dark blond brows quirked over questioning eyes as he leant down towards her slightly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.’

  She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I really shouldn’t keep you from your companion for the evening any longer,’ she dismissed with light finality.

  ‘I came with a couple of friends,’ he shrugged, equally dismissively.

  Eve’s interest flickered into life in spite of herself; somehow she had half expected him to be in the company of one of the svelte model-types here that would probably be more to his liking than the tiny blonde that she was, her slender figure complemented by the petrol-blue dress she wore rather than the other way around, her shoulder-length hair framing a heart-shaped face that was dominated by dark-lashed blue eyes. And while half of her had believed this man would be accompanied by a woman who was the complete opposite of herself, the other half of her had queried what he was doing talking to her if he had come with a fascinating woman like that? But he had said a couple of friends …

  ‘A married couple,’ Adam supplied in a mocking tone, as if he had guessed the direction of her thoughts—as he probably had! ‘They aren’t going to be in the least concerned by my disappearance; they know I’m here to meet someone.’

  Her eyes widened, large blue pools lightened almost to turquoise by naturally thick, dark lashes. ‘I don’t think Daphne throws those sort of parties,’ she derided.

  ‘Someone special,’ he added softly.

  Her brows quirked. ‘Even so …’

  ‘Someone very special,’ he mocked.

  He sounded so positive, as if he had someone definite in mind. Or as if, once he had found the woman he was interested in, he would have no trouble whatsoever in convincing her she was interested in him too! And, probably, he usually didn’t.

  ‘Then I hope you succeed in meeting her,’ Eve told him briskly, ash-blonde hair moving silkily about her shoulders as she straightened dismissively.

  ‘Daphne doesn’t throw those sort of parties,’ he reminded drily.

  A delicate blush brightened her cheeks. ‘I know that,’ she said sharply, wishing once again that Paul would forget those ‘vital contacts to his career’ for once and rejoin her.

  He was deep in conversation with Lord Graves at the moment, although to give him his due she could see Lord Graves was doing most of the talking, Paul’s attention distracted, as his mind was half on the fact that a complete stranger had engaged Eve in conversation for the last ten minutes or so.

  ‘So do I,’ Adam derided softly. ‘I’m here to meet a legend.’

  Eve gave a puzzled frown at the announcement. There were some very important and internationally renowned people here tonight, titled people, politicians, others from the world of theatre and music, all of them mingling as equals, specifically invited for their ability to make this yet another social triumph for Lady Daphne; it wouldn’t be a Lady Daphne party if it weren’t a social success. But, as far as Eve was aware, famous as some of these people were, or were going to be, none of them merited being called a legend. Not yet, anyway!

  ‘Are you sure you have the right party?’ she taunted wryly.

  Some of the confidence left him as he too glanced around the elegantly furnished drawing-room of the Graveses’ at the assortment of people gathered there. ‘I hope so,’ he finally frowned. ‘Sophy assured me——’

  ‘Sophy?’ Eve echoed sharply, shooting Paul a worried glance, relieved to see he still couldn’t escape Dudley Graves, a complete contradiction of her thoughts of a few moments ago. Her gaze returned to Adam. ‘Do you mean Sophy O’Donnell?’ she put the question casually.

  He nodded, a frown still marring his perfectly sculpted brow. ‘She and her husband are the couple that brought me here tonight.’

  She had already guessed as much, just as she could now realise to which ‘legend’ he referred. Paul wasn’t going to like it one little bit when he found out what Sophy had been up to.

  Not that it was too difficult to work out the reason for the other woman’s bloody-mindedness; she hadn’t liked it one bit when Paul had proved difficult about the ‘showing’ at her gallery this winter, and had obviously decided to be a little awkward herself by bringing this man Adam to this party, a man intent on meeting a ‘legend’, even if that legend didn’t want to be met—or recognised.

  Sophy and Patrick O’Donnell owned and ran one of the most prestigious art galleries in London; Sophy was a shrewd businesswoman who hated to be told no, and let no one forget it. Even a ‘legend’ who she knew chose to remain anonymous.

  Eve fixed a bright smile on her pastel-pink painted lips. ‘Then I really shouldn’t keep you any longer. I have to go and talk to Paul anyway,’ she added quickly, as it seemed Adam might begin to protest.

  The mockery returned to dark brown eyes. ‘That’s allowed, is it?’

  Her mouth tightened, but she forced the smile to remain on her lips; she wanted to get away from him, and stay away from him, and engaging in another verbal exchange with him wouldn’t achieve that. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Adam.’ She nodded dismissively before turning away.

  She wasn’t too surprised by the light grip on her arm that followed, having half expected a man like Adam was proving to be wouldn’t just meekly accept being dismissed. But she intended keeping this as brief as possible.

  The warmth in his dark brown eyes as she turned back to face him unnerved her a little, though. And he made no effort to remove the warmth of his hand from her arm, either—long, tapered fingers very deeply tanned against her much paler skin.

  ‘You really shouldn’t marry that guy, you know.’ His voice was huskily intimate, giving the impression that they were the only two people in the room.

  Irritation snapped in her eyes. She had waited a long time for Paul to notice her, and now that he had she wasn’t about to listen to the uninformed opinion of a complete stranger concerning the two of them. What did this man really know about them?

  ‘You’ll bear my advice in mind, right?’ he derided with a shake of his head. ‘But it’s more than advice, Miss Whoever-you-are,’ he added with serious intent, his eyes narrowed. ‘If you marry Paul with your relationship the way it is, then the marriage—or you—is doomed for disaster, depending which breaks down first.’

  Eve felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine, and then instantly dismissed it. She had known and loved Paul most of her life; what could this man, who didn’t know Paul at all, possibly know of that love? He certainly had no right to pass an opinion on it on such short acquaintance!

  ‘Paul and I will be very happy together,’ she told the man at her side stiffly.

  His mouth twisted. ‘Is that what he told you?’ he countered.

  She drew in an indignant b
reath. ‘You really are the most arrogant——’ She broke off, stunned at her own vehemence, her cheeks fiery red. ‘What I meant to say was——’

  ‘You were doing just fine before,’ he mocked her distress. ‘Talk to your Paul a few times like that, and I doubt he would order you to stay put for too much longer.’

  ‘He didn’t——Oh, really, Adam, I don’t think there’s any point in continuing this conversation.’ She shook off his hand impatiently, slightly disturbed when she could still feel the warm imprint of it against her skin. ‘You simply don’t understand my relationship with Paul.’ And you never will, her tone implied.

  How could he possibly understand a love like the one she had for Paul, and Paul had for her? Adam himself seemed to be free of such emotion, and probably always had been.

  ‘I understand love,’ he told her softly. ‘I’ve witnessed the genuine article between my own parents for the last thirty-eight years.’ And what you have with Paul isn’t it, his tone seemed to imply.

  ‘You——’

  ‘Sorry to have left you so long, darling,’ interrupted a dearly familiar voice, Paul’s arm moving lightly about her waist as he came to stand beside her. ‘But you seem to have been kept amused.’ He looked enquiringly at the other man.

  Eve turned to him gladly, feeling her heart skip its usual beat as she gazed up into his handsome face.

  A little under six feet in height, Paul was possessed of a natural male elegance, had naturally wavy dark hair that was styled just long enough for that natural wave to be apparent, dark lashes surrounding eyes that were that curious colour that was neither blue nor grey, but could be both, or somewhere in between.

  At thirty, just four years older than Eve herself, Paul was nevertheless able to meet the older man’s assessing gaze with equal confidence. And why shouldn’t he? No matter who this man Adam turned out to be—and he had to be someone for Sophy to have bothered with him!—Paul was a successful man in his own right.

  ‘I hope she has,’ the man called Adam replied. ‘You really shouldn’t leave this lovely lady alone for too long.’

 
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