Something About Eve

by Debra Salonen

  “Mom, this is work. She’s sick. Are we clear on that?”

  “I know you, Matthew. There’s something in your voice. Just like when you found that little bird when you were eight and coaxed it back to life.”

  Matt smiled at the wistfulness in her voice. Gently, he said, “Mom, that bird had the wind knocked out of it. Eve’s situation is a bit more serious.”

  Turning back into the health-care professional she was, Irene said, “That’s right. And she has to see a doctor, Matthew. When the body gets this depleted, it needs help rebuilding. In the long run, you aren’t doing her any favor by keeping her from medical care.”

  Matt knew she was right, and he had a feeling Eve knew it, too.

  “I already called Margery and as soon as she gets back to me with the name of a doctor you can trust, I’ll call you.” Margery was his mother’s old friend from nursing school. He hoped she knew how to keep her mouth shut.

  As if hearing his unspoken worry, his mother added, “Don’t worry. We’ll be discreet.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’d better go. The soup is boiling. I can’t believe she actually had beef soup in the cupboard. There’s barely enough here to keep a mouse alive.” He started to hang up, but added, “By the way, would you give Ashley a call later? Sonya’s been sick and I’m hoping Ashley doesn’t get it.”

  After they said their goodbyes, Matt bagged the last of the garbage and carried it to the door. He’d take it to the Dumpster in the alley later. He had to go out to move his rental car, which he’d left directly under a sign forbidding overnight parking.

  Walking to the gas range, he picked up the lid of a small saucepan. A steamy cloud of beef flavored bouillon wafted out. His mouth watered. Eve might not be hungry but Matt was. And clear soup didn’t cut it. He’d whip through a fast-food drive-up window when he moved the car.

  He ladled a scoopful into a plastic bowl—the kind microwave meals came in, which was all he could find. He picked up one of the three non-plastic spoons he’d found and carried both to the couch.

  He set down the soup then cautiously lowered himself to the cushion near her hip. He still couldn’t get over how small she was. On his television screen she’d looked larger than life. He’d watched her bungee jump, for heaven’s sake. Unless she’d used a double. The thought made him frown. Was she a complete fake? Probably. She sure as hell wasn’t as beautiful as her billboard.

  He studied her face. True, her face still retained its basic shape—a perfect oval with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that were moderated by neatly arched eyebrows and thick black lashes.

  All right, he silently acknowledged, even at her worst, Eve Masterson was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. For some reason, that didn’t make Matt feel any better. In fact, it made him a little nervous, but he put his feelings aside to play doctor. Correction. Nursemaid.

  “Eve, time to eat.” He lightly shook her shoulder. His hand seemed obscenely big against her thin cotton pullover.

  He could tell by its wrinkles and stains her outfit hadn’t been changed recently. Matt knew if he were the one lying there, he’d kill for a shower and some fresh sheets on the bed. He resolved to tackle her bedroom next.

  “Eve?”

  He leaned closer and said her name softly to avoid startling her. His mother had warned him that a byproduct of dehydration and malnutrition was short-term memory loss. It was possible she wouldn’t remember him when she woke up. Matt’s earlier reaction to her asking his name probably was pretty obvious.

  Eve’s eyelids fluttered.

  “It’s me, Eve. Matt Ross. I have some soup for you. Nurse’s orders.” He kept his tone soft and unthreatening.

  With obvious reluctance, her eyes opened. Matt had never seen such dark irises. “Are you my day nurse or night nurse?” she asked. Her small yawn removed any suggestion of banter. Matt might wish she was well enough to flirt, but that wasn’t how things were.

  “Both. Which brings me to a very important question. Are you awake?”

  He waited until she blinked into focus. Behind those beautiful black eyes was intelligence masked by illness. He sensed the instant her mind rallied. “What?” she asked, a bit breathless.

  “Do you have a car?”

  The question obviously threw her. He quickly added, “The reason I ask is I have to move my rental car off the street by midnight, and I was hoping you had garage space.”

  She took so long to answer, he feared the question was too much for her, but before he could ask again, she said, “No car. Barry promised me a company car. A…” She struggled but couldn’t come up with the name. Sighing, she said, “My parking space is the same as my apartment. Number…” Her eyebrows furrowed. Her bottom lip started to quiver.

  Matt put his index finger there to stop it. “Eight. You’re number eight.”

  The soft flesh beneath his finger stilled. Her focus turned downward, and Matt felt himself respond with something he knew wasn’t pity.

  Straightening up, he said, “Good. I’ll move my car as soon as you’ve eaten.”

  After hastily draping a paper towel across her chest—which he was careful not to touch—he picked up the plastic bowl. It warmed the palm of his hand. “I don’t suppose you know which box contains your real dishes, do you?”

  Her delicate nostrils flared at the aroma emanating from the bowl. Her lips parted and her small pink tongue licked her cracked bottom lip. “No.” Her attention was obviously elsewhere.

  Hunching forward, Matt fed her a spoonful of warm brown liquid that smelled better than it looked. His stomach growled for equal time.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed. “Brought your dog, huh?”

  Her unexpected quip almost caused him to drop the bowl. His bark of laughter made her start.

  “Airplane food doesn’t stick,” he said, giving her a second spoonful. “I’ll grab a bite when I move my car.”

  She inhaled the soup as if it were a chocolate sundae. “My cupboards are bare,” she said between bites. “Not even a dog bone.”

  Her wit gave him more heart than she could have known. Two hours earlier he’d been poised to call for help. Now he was starting to think she might be able to climb out of this pit without being hospitalized. He’d still take her to a doctor in the morning, but maybe they’d be able to avoid the tabloid headlines after all.

  “I called Ren and Sara a few minutes ago,” Matt told her, steadily plying her with broth. “Sara was so happy to hear you’re alive she burst into tears and Ren had to take over.”

  “She’s pregnant,” Eve said, her lips almost forming a smile, but a small cloud crossed her face. “Isn’t she?”

  “Yes. She’s expecting twins. Five or six months along, I think. Ren said she’s been known to cry when the timer goes off on the stove.”

  Eve opened her mouth. Matt, thinking she was about to speak, withheld the next spoonful—until she crooked her eyebrows and looked at him expectantly. In haste, he spilled a few drops.

  He used the edge of the paper towel to dab her chin.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice already sounding noticeably weaker. “My shirt’s a mess.”

  “Understandable,” Matt said. “When I get back from the car business, I’ll change the sheets in your bedroom. Maybe you’ll feel up to a shower or soaking in the tub before bed.”

  She took the last spoonful and sank back with a sigh. “That was good,” she said. “Very good.”

  She was silent a minute, but Matt had the feeling she wasn’t asleep yet so he waited. “Thank you. A bath sounds like heaven. It might be heaven, you know.”

  Matt took that for a yes. After making sure she was comfortable and snugly wrapped in her blanket, he dimmed the lights and picked up his jacket. At the doorway, he paused and looked back. The place wasn’t quite the mess it was when he first arrived, but it still remained a long way from what he’d been expecting.

  He stared at the woman lying on the couch to make sure she
was still breathing. The thick comforter rose a fraction and Matt let out the breath he’d been holding.

  Ill and frightened, yet strong enough to fight for what she wanted. In a way, he admired her, but at the same time he couldn’t comprehend why she would put her life at risk to protect her image. Matt shook his head. He’d never understand celebrities. He just hoped like hell he’d made the right choice on her behalf.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EVE DIDN’T WANT to be disturbed. She’d been enjoying a pleasant dream about a man with chocolate-brown eyes and a kind heart. She pushed the hand away. “Not now,” she muttered.

  “Eve, it’s getting late. If you want a bath, you’d better wake up.”

  A bath? That’s what the man in her dream had promised her, too. And he’d even joined her in a big, round tub.

  “Eve.”

  The dream evaporated. Irritated, she snapped, “Oh, all right.” She opened her eyes, then blinked, not quite certain whether she was awake or dreaming.

  “It’s you,” she said in a throaty whisper she didn’t recognize.

  He nodded as if she were mentally challenged. “Yes. It’s me. Matt Ross. From New York. Remember?”

  The way he spoke in a slow, deliberate cadence made her want to laugh, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He’d been kind—in her dream, anyway. The rest was a little vague.

  “I remember,” Eve said, sitting up. She was surprised to find she actually had the strength to do so without feeling light-headed. “I feel better.”

  “Good. Do you feel strong enough to take a bath? I drew some water.”

  Suddenly the urge to be clean, to submerge her withered body in warm water took on a need akin to lust. “Yes. A bath sounds wonderful.” Taking a deep breath, she attempted to rise, but Matt stopped her by placing his hand on her shoulder.

  “If you don’t mind, I think I should carry you.”

  His suggestion was so formal, so polite; she didn’t know what to say at first. “Why?”

  “To help you conserve energy. Mom’s worried about the bath. She actually suggested I give you a sponge bath, but I told her I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

  The heat from his hand soaked through the fabric of her sweatshirt, like a hot-water bottle wrapped in a towel—her grandmother’s way of warming the bed when Eve was a child.

  “Right,” she said dumbly.

  “Just relax,” he said. “Let me get my feet under me and we’ll be in fine shape.”

  Fine shape, she silently repeated as her fingers lightly skimmed the breadth of his shoulders. He’d changed into a faded gray T-shirt adorned with the letters NYPD.

  He slowly straightened, gathering her to his chest like a heroine in a romance novel. Unfortunately, Eve felt anything but sexy.

  His first step was accompanied by a slight shudder.

  She frowned. For one so athletic, he seemed to carry himself a tiny bit off balance. When he walked, there was a definite hitch in his gait. Eve would have asked about it, but she was suddenly overcome by emotion. She closed her eyes to keep her tears at bay and pressed her cheek to the crook of his shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, pausing.

  “I’m sorry you have to do this, Matthew Ross,” she said, concentrating on recalling his name from his driver’s license. Eve had always prided herself on her ability to remember names.

  “I don’t have to do anything, Eve. I’m here partly as a favor to a friend and partly because I’m getting paid for it,” Matt said, turning toward the hallway.

  The words clicked in her head, bringing back Barry’s candid admission that he’d wooed her for profit not love. “Yeah,” she muttered, “there’s a lot of that going around. I’ll try not to be too much of a nuisance.”

  His scoffing sound made her tilt her chin back to look at his face. His grin seemed self-deprecating. “As if there aren’t half a million men who would kill to be in my place.”

  Eve understood what he meant, but that only applied to the old Eve. “What man in his right mind would volunteer for invalid duty? Helping a stranger.”

  His low chuckle thrummed through her chest. “I may be a stranger, but you’re not, Eve. I used to have breakfast with you every morning.”

  She glanced up and saw him smiling down at her. A genuine smile. The kind of smile you could trust, but then, she’d thought that about Barry at first, too.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again, apparently sensing her tension. “I bought a few groceries, parked the car and changed the sheets on your bed.” He carried her—effortlessly, it seemed—toward her room. “After I removed all the shoes,” he added, wiggling his narrow black eyebrows in a playful manner.

  “The shoes?”

  Suddenly, she remembered. In a snit, Barry had dumped an entire packing box of shoes on the bed while trying to find a pair of slippers Eve had requested. “Sorry about that.”

  “No problem,” Matt said with a grin. She could smell his breath—coffee and something aromatic. Some kind of gum. She recognized the brand but couldn’t come up with its name. Think, Eve. You know this.

  “Dentyne,” she exclaimed triumphantly.

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. He had that look again—as if her mind was functioning at half power.

  “Do you have any gum?” she asked as casually as possible.

  He stopped in the middle of the hallway. The overhead light cast his features into a dramatic relief of shadows and angles. He is a very handsome man, Eve thought. I wonder what his wife would think of him carrying me to my bath.

  He shifted Eve in his arms. Her breasts brushed against his chest. The sensation was enough to create an automatic reaction she couldn’t believe still existed. Her nipples puckered. Without a bra, they felt slightly chafed by the fabric of her sweatshirt.

  If Matt sensed her response, he was gentleman enough to ignore it. “I just bought some,” he said, producing a small flat package that he flipped in the air. It landed on her belly. “Help yourself.”

  She tore her gaze from the new growth of beard shading his jaw, which worked his gum with serious force, and picked up the glossy package. In order to open it, she was forced to raise her right hand to her left—in essence wrapping her arms around his neck. The situation felt slightly loverlike and Eve blushed as she hastily unwrapped a small rectangle, then popped it in her mouth.

  His color changed ever so slightly and he swallowed hard, as if his gum had become lodged in his throat, then he resumed walking.

  Eve bit down on the small soft morsel. The taste of cinnamon exploded in her mouth. A veritable flood of saliva swamped her throat muscles. Between swallows, she choked out, “Thank you.”

  As they passed through the doorway of her bedroom, Eve twisted her neck to check out her room. The shoes were nowhere in sight. “Wow! You’re not just a nurse. You’re a genie.”

  He shrugged. “I moved your suitcase to the closet, hung up the clothes that were in it and put your cosmetics bag in the bath. The shoes are in the box in the corner.”

  He headed toward the bed.

  Bending at the hip, he eased her down on the clean-smelling linens. “Wait,” she cried. “I’m too grubby to touch clean bedding. Can you take me to the bathroom?”

  “Sure. It should be nice and steamy in there by now.”

  He had to juggle her again to finesse the doorknob, and then he quickly slipped inside the warm, fragrant room. Eve inhaled deeply.

  “Lavender,” Matt said, answering her unasked question. “I found a little bottle of bath oil by the tub so I put some in the water.”

  Lavender. A memory flickered. A bad sunburn. With Ren? In Maui? The memory fled like a rabbit down a hole. What was wrong with her?

  “I can’t remember things,” she said abruptly. “What if my mind is going…like Reagan’s?” she asked.

  He slowly lowered her to the ground.

  “Reagan has Alzheimer’s,” he said firmly. “That’s not your problem.”

  “
What is my problem?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a doctor, but it isn’t Alzheimer’s. Okay?” His gaze—intense and alive—held hers captive until she nodded.

  He added, “Mom told me short-term memory loss is a common side-effect of dehydration and malnutrition. It’ll come back once you’re better.”

  Eve hoped he was right.

  He released his hold on her shoulders and stepped back. “I’ll be right outside if you need any help. Just holler.” He started to open the door then paused, apparently noticing a switch on the wall. “Great. A heat lamp.” He gave the knob a twist and suddenly the room was bathed in a bright, warm glow. “This way we can keep the door open a tiny bit and you won’t catch a chill.” Glancing over his shoulder, he told her, “I promised my mother you wouldn’t get your hair wet, okay?”

  Eve nodded, eager now to get to the water. Without even waiting to see if he was gone, she struggled out of her top, barely finding the strength to lift her arms. Her loose-fitting bottoms puddled at her feet. Her thick wool socks were troublesome, but she finally got them off and stepped into the large, pale pink tub.

  The heat was a shock at first, but Eve slowly lowered herself into the fragrant water.

  Closing her eyes, she rested her head on a built-in cushion and sighed, “Oh…heaven. I finally made it to heaven.”

  A chuckle made her smile. It was comforting to know she had someone looking out for her—even a total stranger. A man. A part of Eve warned it was foolish to trust a stranger, but at the moment, he was her link with survival.

  “This feels so good. You have no idea. My skin is like sandpaper. Worse than when I was in Saudi…I think I was in Saudi.”

  “Do you need me to turn up the heat?” Matt called from the doorway. “It seemed a little chilly in here for someone who wasn’t moving around much, but I’m not good a judge. My body runs warm.”

  Does it ever. Just being in his arms had been enough to thaw the block of ice inside her. “I think it’s okay. It’s like a spa in here. I may never come out.”

  “Not even for Christmas?”

  His tone was light and teasing, but the reality of his words struck her like a sucker punch. “W-what day is it?” she asked in a small voice.