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Mistress by Mistake
KIM LAWRENCE
Drew Cummings more than lived up to his reputation for being incredibly sexy. He' d misjudged Eve, though, believing her to be a calculating gold digger chasing after his wealthy nephew… .So when Drew began seducing Eve himself, was he simply protecting his family fortune? Why else would he be interested in shy little Eve? There was no denying he wanted her… but was he looking for an affair– or something more permanent?



“I’m not interested in getting involved with you, Drew.”
“I think you are.”
“Then think again,” Eve advised grimly.“You really expect me to amuse you until you decide to go back to Lottie? It’s obvious that’s what you’re going to do!”
“Is that a fact?” he asked with interest.
Even he hadn’t the gall to deny it, she noticed.“Of course, it’ll have to be when you decide. I expect a man has to salvage a bit of pride in a situation like this.”
“You seem to have thought this through very thoroughly.”
She turned her head sharply to shut out the amused glow in his eyes.“Let me out, Drew.”
“Only out of the room, sweetheart, not my life!”

KIM LAWRENCE lives on a farm in rural Wales. She runs two miles daily and finds this an excellent opportunity to unwind and seek inspiration for her writing! It also helps her keep up with her husband,two active sons and the various stray animals that have adopted them. Always a fanatical consumer of fiction, Kim is now equally enthusiastic about writing. She loves a happy ending!

Mistress by Mistake
Kim Lawrence

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE
‘WE DON’T have to…you know…?’
Eve took pity on the teenage youth, who was looking more like the traditional sacrificial victim by the second. ‘Kiss? Definitely not,’ she said firmly. A ghost of a smile touched her lips as, with an unflattering sigh of relief, he slumped farther back onto the leather Chesterfield, his thin shoulders hunched.
‘Nothing personal,’ he added gruffly, casting a quick glance in her direction, just to see if she was holding up to the weight of his rejection.
‘Don’t fret. I’ll live,’ she promised with a gravity that was belied by the humorous light in her wide-spaced dark brown eyes.
It said a lot about her brother’s powers of persuasion, she thought, experiencing a tweak of resentful admiration for her manipulative sibling, that they were both sitting there like a pair of ill-matched bookends on Daniel Beck’s parents’ sofa, in Daniel Beck’s parents’ rather awesomely magnificent house. Eve was trying hard not to be over-awed by her surroundings. She hadn’t realised until today what sort of background her brother’s quiet, earnest friend came from. Everything in this magnificent house spoke of taste and money—serious money.
She doubted the black silky bias-cut creation that clung to her slim hips and thighs was the only designer label this particular sofa had seen. It was certainly the only designer label her body had ever worn—or was ever likely to for that matter!
That wasn’t just because her income didn’t run to such luxuries; Eve chose her clothes for comfort rather than impact. Her wardrobe boasted one skirt, which she wheeled out for weddings, funerals and interviews with her bank manager. She probably looked just as uncomfortable as poor Daniel, who was looking—well, frankly he looked ready to bolt!
‘Not long now,’ she said, glancing at the chunky, utilitarian watch on her wrist—a watch that definitely didn’t match her slinky outfit. Nick hadn’t exactly said synchronise watches, but he’d still managed to instil a strong sense of edge-of-the-seat tension when he’d given his detailed instructions.
‘Oh, God!’
My thought exactly! She summoned a smile that was meant to be maternal and comforting. The maternal part wasn’t that difficult, chronologically a mere five years might separate her from this boy, but in every other way she felt centuries older!
‘How long are your parents away for, Daniel?’ I’ll kill Nick for talking me into this, she decided as her high, curving cheekbones began to ache from the effort of smiling. What’ll I do if he faints before they all get here? Or, worse still, throws up over the carpet—a carpet that incidentally looks far too rich and sumptuous to actually walk on. The voice of impending doom in her head was growing stronger by the second.
‘Mum’s book tour of the States lasts another week or so,’ he said listlessly. ‘Dad might come back a few days early—business, you know.’
I could do with him walking through that door right now, she thought, eyeing the wooden panelled entrance hopefully. On the few occasions she’d met Alan Beck he’d seemed a really warm, friendly person, who’d be quite capable of sorting out his son’s problems without any outside help.
‘Lucky them. I wouldn’t mind being there now.’ Being anywhere would be an improvement on here. Soft-hearted? I must be soft-headed!
‘Mum doesn’t like being away from home.’
With this home who can blame her? Eve thought with a tinge of envy. Next month she’d make herself afford that paint they needed for the kitchen. She didn’t actually need a new winter jacket; the old one was more than adequate.
‘Not like Uncle Drew. He’s been everywhere.’
Not Uncle Drew! Eve’s groan was hastily transformed into a soft grunt of interest, which was enough to encourage Daniel to expand eagerly on the theme—she’d known it would be. Her expression glazed over slightly as he warmed to his subject, his pale features becoming animated as he extolled the virtues of his hero.
Eve knew all about Uncle Drew. She could have written a thesis on the man and all the daring, manly things he apparently excelled at! Since the uncle had moved in while his parents were away he’d been Daniel’s main—no, only topic of conversation, with the exception of the predicament this crazy charade was meant to extricate him from.
To Eve, Uncle Drew sounded as if he had a bad case of arrested development. She could easily imagine him as an indulged rich kid growing into just the sort of brash, immature action-man type she couldn’t stomach—a prize pain in the posterior!
She gave a small shudder of distaste as she mentally contemplated carefully nurtured biceps and an outsize ego. She strongly suspected half his supposed exploits were very probably fictional. He had to be the world’s worst role model for a sensitive type of boy like Daniel, who already had a budding inferiority complex about his lack of sporting ability.
‘Uncle Drew says…’ Daniel suddenly froze mid-sentence, and she was spared further worshipful detail. ‘They’re coming up the drive,’ he breathed. His eyes were fixed, horror-struck, on the view through the window of the sweeping drive. ‘I can see them! What’ll we do?’
‘Right, don’t panic,’ Eve said as her stomach did a nervous back flip. ‘Mess up your hair,’ she said, regarding him with a critical frown. Ignoring her brother’s parting instruction of, ‘For God’s sake, Evie, show a bit of leg,’ she automatically pulled down the black fabric of the short dress she was wearing.
‘What?’
‘Like this,’ she said, rubbing her hands impatiently through the short wavy ebony strands of her own soft, silky cap of hair. ‘Here, let me,’ she said with ill-concealed exasperation. She leant forward and rumpled the teenager’s straggly blond locks. ‘Put an arm around me, or something; make it look as if we’ve been…kissing.’
Daniel made a couple of vague movements towards her. ‘I can’t. I’ve never…’
You and me both, mate, she thought, managing a small ironic grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll show you what to do.’ A classic case of the blind leading the blind!
‘I just bet you would, sweetheart.’ The deep, cold voice made her start violently. ‘But I don’t think Daniel requires instruction from the likes of you.’ There was the touch of the surgeon’s scalpel to the insulting glance that flickered comprehensively over her tall, athletically slender figure.
He summed her up in glance: this was no gauche schoolgirl; this was a woman who knew what she was doing—and the fact that she planned to do it with his nephew caused Drew Cummings’ protective instincts to go into overdrive.
‘Likes of me?’ Just what the hell did he mean by that? Eve looked indignantly towards the intruder. She didn’t have to be particularly intuitive to know that she wouldn’t like it, whatever it was!
Even as she was being pulled unceremoniously off the sofa Eve realised she was at last making the acquaintance of the dreadful Uncle Drew. Even if she hadn’t, Daniel’s faltering, ‘I thought you were out,’ would have clinched it.
It turned out she’d been wrong to assume Daniel had exaggerated his uncle’s physical attributes. The muscles in the arms that were manhandling her were seriously well developed, and the chest she stumbled against was rock-hard—it was also still damp. Uncle Drew had obviously strolled into the room directly from the shower. One towel was looped far too casually for her liking around his slim waist, another was draped over his shoulders. Her sensitive nose quivered as she was treated to a heavy dose of a clean, sharp masculine odour.
‘One day you’ll be glad I wasn’t, Dan.’ Drew Cummings flicked a quick, wry grin in his nephew’s direction before turning his attention back to Eve. His expression grew openly contemptuous. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ Eyes big and soft as a startled fawn’s stared back at him, all confusion and innocence. Innocence? That was rich! ‘But, unlike Dan, I’m not interested in providing a shoulder for the likes of you.’
A flash of anger flickered into the beautiful dark eyes which had been made even more exotic by skilfully applied make-up. ‘Though it didn’t look like you were having much luck in that direction from what I saw,’ he recalled with a taunting half-smile. ‘Besides, it seems to me like you’ve got more than enough leg to support yourself.’ His eyes moved consideringly over her legs, clad in fine denier, as he set her on her own feet.
‘Guilt’ had to be written in mile-high letters across her forehead she decided drearily, with subtitles of ‘scarlet woman’ and ‘cradle-snatcher’ for good measure.
Under the circumstances she was prepared to swallow his crude insults—just. Even though the snide, sneering superiority of this man made her want to scream. She told herself she had to remember that anyone could and probably would have misread the situation. He was going to feel pretty silly when he knew what was happening, and it was probably time she put him straight. The thought of Drew Cummings feeling silly was a warm thought to cling to when she felt she was drowning in her own humiliation.
‘This isn’t what it looks like, Mr Cummings.’ Calm composure was the best way to defuse this unpleasant situation, she told herself hopefully. Unpleasant, Eve? Who are you kidding, girl? This is on par with nightmares of walking around a supermarket stark naked!
‘You know my name?’ The blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘You do your research.’
Name, shoe size, favourite colour… ‘Daniel talks about you all the time.’
I bet he does, Drew thought, his eyes slipping of their own volition back to the incredible length of this girl’s legs. He’d yet to meet a teenage male who wouldn’t tell a female who looked as sleekly sexy as this one just about anything she wanted to know. He could recall all too well what it was like to be ruled by rioting hormones.
She wasn’t the type he personally went for, he preferred petite and blonde, but it wasn’t hard to see what Dan saw in her. The girl herself obviously had a good nose for money. Call him cynical, but he felt pretty confident about ruling out emotional involvement on her side. One thing was certain: she wasn’t getting her hooks any deeper into his nephew.
‘That gives you the advantage.’ Eve found his smile more threatening than any abuse he might have hurled at her head. ‘No, don’t tell me your name.’
If Katie ever found out about this he was dead meat. His sister was very protective—over-protective, some might say—of her only child. It had taken all her husband’s persuasive powers to convince her that her younger brother was a fit temporary guardian for their son’s physical and moral welfare.
‘I wasn’t going…’ Eve began hotly. Advantage! If she’d ever been in a situation that had made her feel less advantaged she couldn’t recall it right now.
The way he’d looked at her—as if she was a piece of meat! She shuddered, and shook her head from side to side as a wave of dizzying fury washed away her last idiotic impulse to apologise. No man had ever looked at her like that before.
This musclebound bully wasn’t what she’d pictured—he was worse! God, but she wished he’d put some clothes on. It was nigh on impossible to avert her eyes from that bare golden-brown flesh; there was so much of it! His shoulders and deeply muscled chest were extraordinarily wide in proportion to his slim hips. Hips that looked far too lean to stop that towel from obeying the laws of gravity. She doubted if the blushes would be his if the unthinkable occurred; modesty wasn’t one of the characteristics that leapt to mind when you looked at this man! Now if you were talking insufferable arrogance and smug superiority—that was another matter!
Was the hair on man’s body normally a shade darker than that on his head? In this man’s case a deeper shade of antique gold. The warm, squirmy, unpleasant feeling in the pit of her belly grew unaccountably more intense, and she swiftly raised the level of her eyes—and her thoughts too!
Even in these stupid heels she still had to look up at him, which was a novelty for her, and one she didn’t enjoy. He had to be at least six-four or five, she estimated. Concentrating on his face didn’t improve her growing sense of antipathy. His angular jaw was hard and uncompromisingly set, and his features, from heavy-lidded startling blue eyes to firm, sculpted mouth, managed miraculously to combine regularity with an individuality which made it impossible to dismiss him as just a pretty face.
If he sneered once more she might just give in to the growing desire to throw an unladylike punch.
‘Oh, but you are going—and now.’ The soft observation left no room for negotiation.
‘Uncle Drew, don’t!’ Daniel discovered his voice as his uncle’s hand fell heavily on Eve’s shoulder. ‘You don’t understand.’
Some of the implacable hardness died from Drew’s eyes as he looked towards his nephew’s horrified face. ‘I understand, all right. At best she’s a tart with a heart, Dan—at worst a predatory little bitch who targets boys like you because anyone with a bit more experience can see past her innocent eyes, beautiful face and sexy body.’ It was obvious from the contemptuous curl of his lips as he glanced at Eve which version he favoured.
Sexy body! Eve was so stunned by this assessment that all that emerged from her lips by way of defence was a strangled croak.
‘When I came in it looked to me like you were having second thoughts. Am I right, Dan?’
‘Yes, But not… She’s…’ the boy began, throwing Eve a horrified look of apology.
Eve looked at the stuttering boy and willed him to spit out the explanation. Since when did I need people to speak for me? she thought as she was hit by a wave of self-disgust for this display of wimpish behaviour.
‘You don’t want to learn the stale tricks she can teach you, Dan. Some day you’ll understand that fumbling can be a lot of fun, especially when you’re both fumbling.’
Eve, taken aback by this unexpected recommendation, caught herself thinking he looked almost human for a second. Was it the memory of a girl he’d fumbled with that brought a quite unexpectedly bleak expression to his eyes? Much more likely it was indigestion, she told herself, dismissing this fanciful notion; he wasn’t the type to get mushy and nostalgic about old flames.
The notion of his perfect uncle being personally acquainted with fumbling robbed Daniel of his last remaining powers of articulation.
If Nick and his companions, carefully selected for their ability to spread gossip, hadn’t entered the room at that moment Eve had no doubts she’d have been ignominiously expelled from the house.
Nick Gordon didn’t have to call on his excellent acting ability to display shock. After a brief moment of startled amazement, tinged by a degree of irritation that his excellent plan would have to be ditched, he swiftly assessed the situation and recovered his poise. Damage limitation was the best he could hope for, he decided regretfully.
‘Clear out, you lot,’ he announced casually.
It didn’t occur to Nick that his contemporaries wouldn’t follow his instructions. He didn’t even glance around to see them leave. Eve found herself envying her sibling’s casual ability to inspire obedience.
‘What’s going on here?’
‘Nick, isn’t it?’ Drew Cummings looked at the tall dark boy with a frown of recognition. ‘Did you have anything to do with this little initiation ceremony?’
‘You all right, Eve?’ Nick said anxiously, ignoring the older man. She looked a bit fraught. Eve took everything so seriously. She really should lighten up, he decided disapprovingly, but he’d never have asked for her help if he’d known it was going to upset her like this.
‘Does it look like I’m all right?’ All right? Eve bit back a hysterical giggle that rose inappropriately to her tight throat. ‘Will you sort this out—now, Nick?’ Her soft, attractive voice rose a quavering octave.
‘You know this girl, then?’ Drew was looking from brother to sister with hard suspicion. Conspiracy theories began to solidify suspiciously in his head.
‘Of course I know her. She’s my sister.’
‘Do you get your kid brother to pimp for you often, angel?’
A gasp that came from somewhere was loud in the pregnant silence. Eve turned her head and had the brief impression of scalding scorn in those impossibly blue eyes. When Nick’s plans went wrong they did so thoroughly, but this present situation was in league of its own.
Let him sort it out. She was out of here. Her first faltering steps turned into a sprint hampered only by the ridiculous heels. She knew her tears were only the irritating outward display of sheer, inarticulate fury, but she wasn’t going to let this monster see them and think otherwise.

The door she’d been hammering on for almost the past five minutes finally swung open. Eve watched Theo’s expression change from initial lack of recognition to open-mouthed shock.
‘Say a word and you’re dead,’ she promised him venomously, just as the grin was beginning to form. ‘I forgot my key.’
The grin was swiftly deleted. ‘New look, Evie?’ He gave an appreciative leer.
‘If we’re talking make-overs…?’ She allowed her eyes to run speakingly over the tall, rangy figure of her lodger. ‘Do the words ‘‘ageing hippie’’ strike a chord?’ Head high, slender back ramrod-stiff, she stalked up the stairs trying to ignore the sounds of inexpertly muffled laughter. ‘I’ve had a very bad day!’ she yelled in warning over her shoulder.
The carpet beneath her feet was beginning to get thread-worn. It wasn’t the only thing in the big Victorian house that needed replacing—a circumstance that sometimes kept her awake late at night. When her parents had died five years earlier the first thing the solicitors had suggested was putting the rambling old building on the market.
But how could she have wrenched her thirteen-year-old brother away from the only home he’d ever known? He’d already lost his parents, and if they’d moved house he’d have had to change school too. She’d known there wouldn’t be enough left after the debts were settled to buy a place in the same area. Their parents had had many admirable qualities, but a knack with money had not been one of them. Eve had been fiercely determined that no matter what happened Nick wouldn’t suffer—he’d have all the advantages, bar loving parents, that she had had.
When she’d told the solicitors about her idea they’d regarded her with the sort of superior scorn that some people reserve for teenagers.
Impractical, they’d said. Not economically viable. Well, they’d been wrong, she thought with satisfaction. Five years on and Theo was their only long-term lodger, and, with a few exceptions, they’d been lucky with the succession of people who’d rented the other two rooms in the ugly Victorian monstrosity she’d always called home.
Right now they had a lady librarian in her early thirties and a postgraduate engineering student in his twenties as well as Theo, whom they’d known since they were children. She didn’t actually know at what point she and Nick had accepted him as extended family.
Eve had asked Theo once why he stayed, and he’d laughingly told her he was too lazy to move. He’d used to look at property, but he’d stopped pretending some time ago that this was a short-term measure. There had been a few wagging tongues when he’d moved in—she hadn’t yet been nineteen and he wasn’t exactly in his dotage—but unkind gossip had been the exception even then. Now it was non-existent. Eve thought maybe they—she and the other residents of 6 Acacia Avenue—filled a gap in Theo’s life, a gap where, but for a cruel twist of fate, there would have been a wife and children.
The old place ate up the cash, of course, so at the end of the day they weren’t much better off financially, but they coped. Actually, she was better off financially at the moment than she’d dared hope, since Nick had won a prestigious scholarship that was going to ease the financial burden of his three years at university considerably.
‘Do something reckless with it, Evie,’ he’d advised when she’d suggested spending the money she’d been putting aside for his education to replace the leaking flat roof on the kitchen extension.
‘Reckless,’ she said in disgust to her reflection in the mirror on the old mahogany dressing table. She pulled the back of her hand across her crimson-stained lips. This was the last time she let her silver-tongued sibling persuade her to do anything!
‘I’ve planned it with military precision, Evie. Nothing can go wrong.’ Nick had played expertly on her soft heart. Soft heart, she thought once again with a disgusted snort—soft brain, more like! Nick’s meticulous planning had gone wrong—big time.
She blamed herself for being so easily conned. She should have known things were getting out of hand when Nick had produced the expensive designer outfit belonging to his latest girlfriend’s sister and suggested she go into the kitchen to change. She ought to have kicked up a fuss when the girlfriend had produced cosmetics from an apparently bottomless make-up bag. To her amusement the teenager had been scandalised when Eve had casually confessed she didn’t actually bother with make-up normally.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for a miserable-looking Daniel saying, ‘She doesn’t have to do it, Nick,’ she might well have chickened out there and then. Stripping off the borrowed finery, she wished she had done just that, and been saved the most embarrassing, humiliating experience of her life.
That man, she silently fumed as she tightened the draw-string waist of her loose combat trousers with unwanted viciousness. No wonder poor Daniel didn’t confide his personal problems to an insensitive brute like that.
Recalling the flick of those icy cold blue eyes made her feel grubby and guilty all over again. She rubbed fiercely at the rash of goosebumps on her forearms and shuddered. No, she told herself firmly. I refuse to let that feeble excuse for a guardian make me feel like this. I’m not the one who should feel guilty. If Mr Marvellous hadn’t been so busy polishing his own ego he might have noticed his charge was suffering a major dose of teenage angst!
Now, of course, she could think of several choice phrases which would have cut that musclebound bully down to size. What had she come up with at the time? ‘This isn’t what it looks like, Mr Cummings.’
‘I still can’t believe I said that,’ she said out loud.

Theo looked up from the steaming pan to which he was adding indeterminate amounts of a variety of spices.
‘Why don’t you use the extractor? The whole place reeks of curry.’
‘Curry,’ the tall man repeated with offended dignity. ‘That word hardly describes the delicate balance of spices in my work of art.’
‘Fine. The whole place reeks of your work of art.’ She pulled out one of the mismatched chairs that were set around the long table in the middle of the room and slumped dejectedly down.
‘Want to tell Uncle Theo all about it?’ he suggested deserting his culinary enterprise with a regretful backward glance.
‘About what?’
‘Come off it, Evie,’ he said bluntly.
She gave a small concessionary shrug and rested her chin upon her arms, which were supported by the comforting solidity of the oak table. ‘I’ve never been so humiliated in my life!’ she confided, her voice muffled by the soft fabric of her olive striped top. ‘It was Nick’s fault.’
‘It would be,’ her companion acknowledged, speaking with the authority of someone who hadn’t escaped unscathed by that absent young person’s inventive schemes. ‘You’ll feel better if you talk about it.’
Being an innately sensitive human being, he didn’t laugh as the whole story spilled out.
‘There, I knew it—you think I was stupid!’ She lifted her head and tossed a feathery dark curl away from her cheek.
‘I think,’ he soothed, ‘it was a classic case of bad timing.’
‘I couldn’t refuse, could I?’ she appealed to him. ‘Poor Daniel was going through hell at school; he’s such a sensitive boy,’ she said, unable to think of his pale, sensitive features without a gush of maternal anguish.
‘So it was this girl—the man-eater who came on to him—that spread the rumour in school about him being gay?’ Eve nodded. ‘But he’s not…’
‘Gay? Of course not. The poor boy was just petrified by her. Not all seventeen-year-olds are like Nick.’ Confidence with the opposite sex was not something that her brother lacked—a fact that had given her several sleepless nights over the last couple of years.
‘So Nick was supposed to arrive with an audience guaranteed to spread the story just as Daniel was in a clinch with the object of all adolescent male fantasies—a desirable mature woman. Overnight his name would be synonymous with stud.’
‘In a nutshell…’ She pressed her fingers to her temples as if to physically remove the sickening throb of the terrible headache which was developing. ‘A case of bad casting, I know.’
‘It’s quite clever, really,’ Theo mused with grudging admiration.
Eve cast her lodger a look of intense dislike. ‘Clever! Pardon me if I don’t sound suitably appreciative. I doubt if you would either if you’d been threatened and abused by that disgusting man. Do you know what he called me?’ she demanded, her voice quivering with outrage. ‘A predatory, grasping little tart who couldn’t handle real men.’ Even when she closed her eyes she could still see the scornful blaze, hot enough to strip flesh from the bone, in the distinctive blue eyes.
‘Ouch.’
‘Ouch—is that all you can say?’
‘Well, I suppose it must have been a shock for the guy, finding his nephew in the clutches of a—’ He came to an abrupt halt and cast her an apologetic lop-sided smile. ‘That outfit did make you look pretty—well let’s just say you looked the part. Not a tart, you understand,’ he added hastily, ‘just…’
‘You’re digging yourself a very deep hole, Theo,’ she pointed out, uncharitably glad to see someone other than herself suffering foot-in-the-mouth syndrome. ‘He very obviously thought I was a tart.’ Her bosom swelled with indignation. ‘I suppose you think I should be flattered.’
Theo was too wise a man to respond to that challenge. ‘Didn’t you explain? Didn’t the boy put him straight?’
‘What chance did I have? I couldn’t get a word in edge-wise.’ Theo looked openly sceptical and she grated her teeth, at a loss to explain to someone who knew her how she’d been inexplicably reduced to a witless zombie by the sheer trauma of the situation. ‘Plus the fact,’ she continued tartly, ‘Nick and his cronies rolled up about thirty seconds after Drew Cummings put in an appearance. It was a circus. And as for Daniel, he obviously thinks the man can walk on water,’ she spat in disgust.
When Drew Cummings had entered the room she’d thought for one awful moment his nephew was going to pass out. She’d almost envied him; at the time losing consciousness had had a distinct appeal.
‘Talk about macho man!’ she added scornfully. ‘And I’m positive he’s just the type to encourage Daniel’s hero-worship. Having a young boy thinking he’s a cross between James Bond and Mother Teresa is just the sort of ego stroking he would enjoy. He’s the typical product of an over-privileged background—you know the type. He’s got that unshakeable sense of his own superiority.’
Theo let out a long, slow whistle. ‘And how many products of an over-privileged background do you know on a first-name basis, Evie? You sound as if you’re addressing a political rally.’
Eve had the grace to blush. ‘You had to be there,’ she said defensively.
‘This bloke’s really got to you, hasn’t he? You really shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Evie. I thought you were the one down on people who generalised,’ he reminded her. ‘It’s not like you actually know the man.’
The gentle censure in his tone brought a further self-conscious flush to Eve’s cheeks. ‘True, I don’t know him. So things could be worse,’ she agreed tartly. Under the circumstances she felt she was being quite restrained.
‘God, I wish I had been there—as an observer, of course. Come on, Evie!’ he chided. ‘This isn’t like you. Where’s your sense of humour? I don’t doubt Nick’s sorting things out right now. You’ll all laugh about it later.’
Eve stared incredulously at him. Laugh! It was obvious to Eve that Theo failed to appreciate that Drew Cummings was a person totally without redeeming features.
‘I hope that all doesn’t include Uncle Drew. Because I can’t conceive of a situation where I’d go within ten miles of the man, let alone share cosy laughter!’
‘Talking about Nick—where did he get to?’
‘He’s big enough to look after himself,’ she responded grumpily. All the same, she did glance with some anxiety at the clock. She didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d manage to talk his way out of this as easily as he did every other difficult situation he’d ever found himself in his short life—but even so…
‘Talk of the devil. That sounds like dear Nicholas now.’ At the sound of the front door slamming Theo raised his head from his cooking. ‘Follow your nose, Nick, we’re in the kitchen,’ he yelled. ‘Well, well, who’s been a— Hellfire, Nick, what happened to you?’ Dropping his wooden spoon, an expression of genuine concern on his face, Theo rushed past Eve.
Eve forgot about the cold disdain she’d been going to dish out to her brother and spun around in her seat. With a gasp of horror she too was on her feet.
Nick held out his hands to ward them off. ‘It’s worse than it looks,’ he assured them hastily. The swollen split lip made his voice slightly slurred. ‘No, Evie, don’t touch…ouch!’
‘Ice…’ she said firmly.
‘Sara’s already put ice on it.’
‘It looks terrible!’ Subconsciously she registered the significant fact that he’d turned to his girlfriend first, rather than her. She saved her contemplation of birds leaving the nest until later—the thoughts uppermost in her mind right now were for Nick’s immediate health.
‘Thanks.’
‘Have you had it checked out in Casualty?’
‘Don’t fuss, Evie, it’s only a bloody nose and a split lip. I’ll be my usual beautiful self by next week. Besides, I thought you’d be pleased. Just deserts and all that…’ he suggested slyly.
Eve expelled a pent-up breath and relaxed a little now she could see the damage to her brother’s face was actually quite superficial. ‘If I was a spiteful person…’ she only half teased.
‘You’re mad with me?’ Eve grimaced in sympathy as producing his normal winning grin cost Nick a definite wince.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re not ready to see the funny side yet.’
‘How intuitive of you. But, first things first, how did you do that?’ Her gesture covered the swollen and discoloured area of his mouth and the evidence of a bloody nose.
‘It’s a bit embarrassing, really,’ he admitted, looking sheepish. ‘If you’d hung around another thirty seconds you’d have seen for yourself. You know how I always say words are more effective than fists? Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that that was a very mature statement. Problem is, I wasn’t feeling too mature when he…when he said…’ He glanced at Theo, his colour heightened slightly. ‘That crack about you, Evie,’ he finished uncomfortably. ‘I just saw red.’ The confession was accompanied by a lot of foot-shuffling and shoulder-shrugging. Confessing to the inexplicable urge to protect his sister’s honour was obviously affording Nick considerable discomfort.
Eve froze and went dramatically pale. ‘Are you telling me,’ she said slowly, ‘that he did this to you?’ She recalled the greyhound-lean body and the rippling muscles and a wave of incredulous fury fogged her brain. Nick, for all his height, had the slender body of a young man emerging from adolescence.
‘That wouldn’t be so embarrassing. The damned man moves incredibly fast for a big bloke,’ Nick admitted, his voice tinged with an admiration that was totally incomprehensible to his sister. ‘I didn’t get to lay a finger on him. I went charging straight past him, tripped over some damn table and straight into some bloody great clock thing. In keeping with the general theme of disaster, it turned out to be an antique family heirloom sort of thing.’
This minor technicality that Uncle Drew hadn’t actually laid hands on Nick passed over Eve’s head. Her brother was injured, and the damage was directly attributable to Drew Cummings.
‘That’s it!’ Insult her and he might get away with, but cause her baby brother harm and there was no way he was going to escape scot-free!
‘What do you think you’re doing, Eve?’ Her brother asked in alarm as she scrabbled through the small pile of loose keys deposited on the big old-fashioned dresser.
‘I’m going to tell Mr Drew Cummings exactly what I think of him, that’s what I’m doing. Where are your car keys, Theo?’ she continued, ignoring her brother’s groan of dismay.
‘Don’t give them to her, Theo,’ Nick pleaded. ‘I don’t need big sister rushing to the rescue. Tell her, Theo. I just about talked the guy around. The last thing I need is you turning up screaming abuse.’
‘I’ve no intention of screaming, and I’m not doing this for you.’ That was true. At least in part. It had really got under her skin that she’d been reduced to some sort of compliant moron earlier. ‘I’m doing this for humanity in general. That man needs pulling down a peg or two!’ Why the hell didn’t I stand up for myself when I had the chance? she wondered as she contemplated her missed opportunity with seething frustration.
‘I’m not telling her anything.’ Eve flashed her brother a smug grin, which faded as Theo snatched the discovered keys from her hand. ‘But neither am I letting you use my car, Evie. Not until you’ve cooled down.’
‘But you know the van’s at the garage until tomorrow, Theo,’ she wailed reproachfully.
‘Then wait until then.’
‘How can you say that?’ she spluttered indignantly. ‘Look at Nick.’
‘Nick’s already explained the man didn’t lay a finger on him.’
‘Nick was defending me!’ Because I chickened out when the going got tough, she thought with a wave of self-disgust.
‘If you’re honest, Evie, you’re just using this as an excuse because you’re itching for a fight.’
‘No such thing,’ she denied hotly, without meeting his eyes.
‘You’re mad because you ran away without defending yourself. Or maybe,’ he said with an abrupt change of tactics, ‘it’s a sexual chemistry thing between you and Uncle Drew.’ He looked at her with innocent enquiry. ‘That could explain all this hostility.’ He exchanged a conspiratorial grin with Nick.
‘So could being verbally and physically abused,’ she replied frigidly. Didn’t she have the bruises on her arms to prove it?
‘The guy certainly has muscles in all the right places,’ Nick agreed solemnly.
‘I didn’t notice.’
Her brother laughed out loud at this one. ‘Maybe you’re going back for another look.’
A sharp image of a big bronzed body rose up in her mind to add insult to the injury of her brother’s warped humour. A girl didn’t go through life without seeing images of male perfection, and Drew Cummings had to fall into that category, but none of those images had assaulted her senses with a raw, earthy sexuality. Of course not. None of them had ever grabbed hold of her whilst half naked, she told herself crossly.
‘It’s nice to know who your friends are.’ She treated them both to her best display of icy dignity as she stalked out of the room.
‘I don’t think she appreciated the joke,’ Nick surmised. ‘You don’t think she really…?’ He looked with comical dismay at the older man beside him. ‘Nah,’ he said shaking his head.
‘Maybe the walk will cool her down?’
‘Do you think so?’ Nick asked sceptically.
‘Not really. I was trying to cheer you up.’

CHAPTER TWO
EVE’S cheeks were tinged pink with exertion after ten minutes of furious pedalling. Serve Nick right if he thought his bike had been stolen. How many times had she told him to chain it up?
Actually, she was forced to acknowledge a definite sense of exhilaration at being the one behaving recklessly for once. It was really quite a liberating feeling, she decided thoughtfully as she ran her fingers through her short, fashionably tousled hair.
She propped Nick’s pride and joy against the gleaming paintwork of a big shiny four-wheel drive drawn up on the gravelled forecourt and walked purposefully up to the porticoed entrance. She regarded the pair of stone lions guarding the entrance defiantly.
The door was slightly ajar, and she experienced the first twinge of apprehension as she rang the bell. Her nerves were primed for the offensive, however, and all it took was a quick mental replay of her earlier departure through this very door and the generous lines of her mouth firmed into a line of steely determination and her shoulders squared.
She’d show Uncle Drew she wasn’t the sort of girl he could push around, the sort of girl who ran away meekly, the sort of girl who was reduced to inarticulate compliance by a set of bulging biceps and a few harsh words! She liked a joke as much as the next person, but she hadn’t found anything humorous in Theo and Nick’s appalling suggestions. Chemistry indeed!
‘Come on through!’ A disembodied voice instructed. 26
Startled, Eve looked over her shoulder, half expecting to find someone these words were directed at standing there.
‘Through here!’ Impatience this time, and also the distinctive touch of gravel she’d noticed before. A man who didn’t suffer fools gladly—or at all.
You heard what the man said, Evie. Don’t just stand there, girl. She hadn’t expected it to be quite this easy to get back into the Beck residence.
‘It’s the card table by the door. Can you do it in situ,or will you need to take it away? If that’s the case I need it back by Thursday at the latest.’
Somehow the top of his dark blond head managed to convey harassment. When his head finally lifted, this impression was reinforced. His hands were still immersed in a bucketful of soapy water as he spoke. ‘Well?’
‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’
‘Should I?’ he began impatiently, pushing aside a wing of fair hair that had flopped in his eyes. ‘You’re not the French polisher? Dear God!’ he breathed, his eyes widening in recognition. ‘It’s the femme fatale. Not looking very femme or fatale,’ he added unkindly, getting to his feet and rubbing his wet hands against the legs of his jeans.
Eyebrows raised, he let his curious glance run incredulously over her simple stripy top and sleeveless fleece jacket. The loose lines of her khaki pants blurred the outline of her long legs and the flat, practical boots were about as far removed from the strappy stilettos she’d worn earlier as was possible.
It was ironic, considering his initial assessment, that she could now easily be taken for a schoolgirl—and he knew for sure she wasn’t. She had a freshly scrubbed, wholesome quality that some men found attractive. Personally, he found the long-limbed athletic look attractive on racehorses rather than women.
Is this display of masculine bad manners meant to make me feel uncomfortable? Dream on, she thought scornfully. Lips pursed, she deliberately mimicked his action and let her eyes rather obviously wander critically over his body. She didn’t actually hold out much hope of finding anything to criticise—she was right.
He was wearing a light-coloured cotton shirt, not tucked into the waist of his jeans. His wet hands had left dark marks on the paler material which outlined thighs that Eve already knew were powerfully muscular. She noticed two wet marks where he’d been kneeling on the floor. He was the sort of man who looked good in any clothes, she reflected, but better without them. Just when her confidence was riding high this random thought sent a flurry of panic zinging along her nerve-endings.
To her surprise, when her flustered glance returned abruptly to his face, she found amused appreciation of her retaliatory action in his expression. A couple of deep breaths and she was able to dismiss her embarrassing observation as an aberration. Stress did things like play havoc with your concentration. She comforted herself with this widely accepted fact.
‘What do you want?’
‘You can ask that?’
‘Oh, you’ve come to apologise…sorry, I still don’t know your name.’
Apologise! Her eyes widened. The cheek of the man! ‘I was under the impression that you didn’t want to know my name.’
He didn’t pretend not to understand her. ‘Earlier I was trying to dispel—shall we say, any sense of intimacy.’
Not even a shred of embarrassment, she decided, searching his face. The man was totally shameless. Nick hadn’t gone into details—well, actually, honesty forced her to acknowledge she hadn’t exactly given him the chance—but this man must know by now she was innocent of sinister intentions towards his nephew.
‘Tell me, are you planning to use that?’
‘What…? Oh.’ She followed the direction of the inclination of his head and flushed deeply as she saw the trowel she was brandishing in her hand. ‘I didn’t realise…it was in my pocket,’ she mumbled in explanation.
‘Got anything else muddy and lethal I should know about in there?’ he asked, sounding insultingly amused as she shoved the tool back into the capacious pocket of her warm fleece.
‘Not muddy.’ She took exception to this slur; she was scrupulous about caring for the tools of her trade. ‘I’m a gardener—a landscape gardener—freelance.’ ‘Freelance’ sounded more impressive than ‘worried about where her next job was coming from’ besides, things weren’t really like that any more. Under the circumstances, she had no qualms about making her business sound a lot grander than it was.
After her parents had died she’d had to scale down her plans for the future appropriately. Starting her own garden maintenance business had been a far cry from the degree in landscape architecture she had planned, but what had started as little more than hedge-trimming and lawnmowing had gradually led to better things.
She knew the turning point had been the roof garden she’d created for Adam Sullivan the previous year. He’d been delighted with the results and generous with his praise. And Adam had a lot of upwardly mobile young friends who were keen to employ her services.
‘You sound very intense about it,’ Drew remarked.
The only evidence of the make-up she’d worn earlier was a slight dark smudging of soft grey kohl around her eyes. Lucky girl. Those eyelashes were a natural ebony that matched her hair. He could think of several women who would kill for those lashes. He took a step closer and noticed the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose that had been concealed behind a layer of foundation on their last meeting. She had that rarest of all complexions, a genuine peaches and cream one.
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she countered, suspecting condescension in his voice. ‘Aren’t you intense about your work? Is it only the financial wizards in banks who juggle millions who are allowed to take their work seriously?’ It was easy to be a big cheese when Daddy Cummings owned the bank, she thought scornfully. How well would he have done if he’d had to fight his way up the ladder?
‘My, my, Dan has been talking, hasn’t he?’ Drew mused, mentally adding another subject he needed to bring up with his nephew in the near future. ‘But point taken.’
‘I’ll tell you what I do take seriously, shall I, Mr Cummings?’
His only visible response to her aggressive tone of voice and scornful glare was a quirk of one well-defined brow. ‘Feel free, Miss…’ What had the boy called her? Just how much of his personal history had Daniel supplied to this young woman? he wondered grimly. He was a man who guarded his privacy zealously, and there were some episodes in his personal history he preferred stayed within the confines of the family.
Well, didn’t I make a big impression? He doesn’t even remember my name! ‘I take people assaulting my brother seriously.’
‘Assault! You’ve got to be kidding, lady! What the hell is your name anyway?’
Eve was pleased to see his air of vaguely amused condescension had vanished. He sounded extremely irritable.
‘Eve Gordon.’
‘Well, Eve Gordon, I didn’t lay a finger on your brother. But if I can’t get his blood out of my sister’s carpet I might just oblige you.’ He gave the bucket at his feet a frustrated kick, and some of the sudsy water splashed on his leather boots.
All he was bothered about was blood on his rotten carpet, when poor Nick might have been scarred for life or bled to death! ‘You should have left well alone and got it professionally cleaned.’
Drew, who had just come to this conclusion himself, gave her an unfriendly look. ‘I had enough trouble finding a French polisher who’d come straight out and repair the damage your young thug did to the table.’
‘I’ll tell him you were asking after his health. He’ll be so touched by the concern.’
Drew’s lips tightened at this dose of irony. ‘He looked fine when he left here.’
‘I doubt that very much,’ she snorted. ‘I don’t suppose it occurred to you to take him to the hospital. I call it the height of negligence to let an injured boy walk out of here in that state.’
‘He didn’t walk. A pretty girl picked him up.’
That sounded about right, she grudgingly conceded. Pretty girls were always picking Nick up. Eve suspected pretty girls would be running around after him most of his life. In that respect he probably had quite a lot in common with this man.
‘Sara,’ she said, not looking mollified by this information.
‘If you say so. She was the hysterical type too,’ he said dismissively.
‘Meaning she couldn’t look at the mess you’d made of Nick without displaying some emotion?’ She could hardly trust herself to speak at this display of callousness.
‘I thought I’d already told you I didn’t touch your brother. I was the victim of the assault. A fact you appear to be conveniently forgetting. What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him batter my brains in?’
‘One look at you and a person can see straight off how savagely you’ve been battered,’ she observed scornfully, looking at his perfect profile with an expression of disgust.
‘Lightning reflexes,’ he agreed complacently. ‘But come back after my sister sees I’ve managed to let her house get trashed,’ he suggested drily. ‘And if she even suspects I’ve allowed her son’s morals to be tainted…’
He chose to ignore that Katie’s initial response when he’d offered to step into the breach had been to advise him to get a baby of his own if he wanted to play father, or to buy a dog. ‘I don’t want you practising on mine, Drew,’ she’d said frankly.
He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d opted to spend his well-earned holiday here rather than join his friends on the ski-slopes. When Katie had put forward the ridiculous proposition that he was bored he’d laughed, but the more he considered it, the more he was inclined to believe there might well be more than a grain of truth in that accusation.
Eve was unaware that she was chewing her lower lip as she met his taunting look with a belligerently stubborn one of her own. Her blushes were held in check by sheer will-power. ‘Not by me.’ I probably couldn’t taint a moral if I tried, she pondered gloomily—and at twenty-three that was quite an indictment.
Drew shrugged, giving the distinct impression that the minutiae of the incident were of no interest to him. ‘Let’s just say it’ll take more than reflexes to save me then.’ He shook the excess moisture off his hands with an expression of distaste. ‘When I agreed to keep an eye on Dan I wasn’t expecting any of this.’
‘Perhaps,’ she muttered, ‘if you spent more time listening to Daniel and less time talking about yourself, this might have been avoided.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I’m sure Daniel makes a very good audience,’ she remarked, her eyes opened to their widest and most guileless. ‘He is very young and easily impressed. We get to hear all about your exploits—second hand, of course, but it brightens up our dull existence no end to hear how the other half live.’
The obvious way to remove that smug, provocative little smile was to… Drew caught himself up short, shocked at the crude, politically incorrect and worryingly tempting solution that had instantly occurred to him. Perhaps a bit of the barbarian lurks in us all, he thought, putting the kiss idea firmly out of his head. He didn’t go around kissing strange women—well, not this strange anyway!
‘You’d know all about bringing up a teenager, I suppose?’ It must be at least five minutes since she was one herself.
‘If that’s meant to be some sort of criticism of Nick…’ Eve began hotly. ‘I just won’t have it!’ she declared passionately. ‘I’m not saying his idea was a good one,’ she conceded reluctantly, ‘but his heart’s in the right place. He wouldn’t have tried to hit you if you hadn’t insulted me. I may not be a perfect parent-figure, but I’m proud of Nick, and I won’t have some…some male blond bimbo criticise him!’
Drew swallowed the male bimbo crack; he was too astonished at the idea of this woman—hell, she wasn’t much more than a girl herself—bringing up a teenager.
‘Are you trying to say you’re your brother’s keeper—in the legal sense?’ he asked incredulously.
Eve had come across this response before. There had been a lot of people who had thought that she was ruining her life taking on the responsibilities of a young boy when she was barely eighteen herself. A lot of people who’d urged her to let Social Services take the burden. Opposition had made her all the more determined to keep their family unit intact.
‘Until he’s eighteen,’ she confirmed, her whole stance saying, clearer than words, Want to make something of it? ‘Which is next week, as it happens—the same day as Daniel.’
‘No wonder you’re weird,’ he breathed, half to himself. ‘I’ve only been responsible for Dan for weeks, not years, and I’m already feeling ready for the funny farm.’
An unscrupulous tart and now I’m weird—charming! ‘It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t mince his words,’ she observed insincerely. ‘As it happens I’ve found it an extremely rewarding experience watching Nick mature into a warm, caring young man.’ Her lovely mouth curved into a faintly disdainful bow as she selectively deleted all the low points—and there had been quite a few during the last five years. ‘A wise man knows his limitations, and there’s nothing wrong at all with being self-centred. I’m sure you’re extremely wise to avoid responsibilities.’
Neck extended, he allowed his head to roll back in a relaxed, sleepy way. Eve began to think her provocative words had been too subtle for the pea brain to take in—until she saw the steely expression in his half-closed eyes as he looked down at her. Maybe not that subtle, she conceded, swallowing hard—maybe not subtle enough, a small, cowardly voice suggested.
‘Wisdom.’ He considered the word slowly as it rolled thoughtfully off his tongue.
It gave Eve time to give his mouth a detailed examination. Unlike her own, it was perfectly proportioned. She came to the conclusion that there was something quite cruel about the thin upper lip, and there was a disturbing sensuality to the full lower curve. An unexpected tingle of excitement bubbled through her veins and her heart-rate picked up tempo in response. Stimulating? Exchanging in-sults with this man? Next thing she knew she’d be playing on the railway track. There wasn’t much to choose between the two pursuits.
‘Is that the same sort of wisdom you displayed when you decided to play the sultry temptress? A snogging session on the sofa with a schoolboy?’ He awaited her reply with an expression of rapt interest. ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ he prompted, ‘that you like ’em young. Some women do. Or were you living out your naughty fantasies? Then again I might be barking up the wrong tree completely. Do your tastes run in an entirely opposite direction?’ He looked thoughtfully at her sensible shoes.
Her cheeks went bright red as she caught the drift of his crude insinuations. ‘I was not…not…’
‘Snogging?’ he prompted her helpfully.
‘It’s not men I don’t like. Just you!’ The nostrils of her masterful little nose flared and she looked at him with loathing. ’As for kissing… I didn’t… I wouldn’t!’ she spluttered furiously.
‘I thought it was Dan who wouldn’t.’ The breath escaped from between her clenched teeth in a noisy gasp. His smile was a gentle pat on the head. ‘Probably afraid of being eaten alive. That was some outfit.’ And some body that had filled it out, he added mentally—though you’d never suspect it right now. Talk about camouflage! ‘Don’t take the rejection too much to heart. Your average adolescent would have leapt at the chance—and leapt at you too,’ he added thoughtfully.
‘Meaning a proper man would have had more sense?’
‘Sensitive nerve?’ he suggested with a maliciously sympathetic smile. ‘Sorry.’
‘You know where you can stick your apology!’ she hissed.
‘I can imagine,’ he responded hurriedly. ‘But don’t get anatomical, I beg you; I have a very delicate stomach.’
Delicate! she silently raged. Do me a favour—he’s about as sensitive as a brick!
‘Poor Dan has been going through hell at school,’ she told him passionately. She was too angry to notice the spasm of self-recrimination that tautened her opponent’s handsome features momentarily. ‘Kids can be incredibly cruel.’
Did she think he needed telling? he wondered. The fact the kid hadn’t told him bit deep—he hadn’t noticed any of the clues, and, in hindsight, those clues had been glaringly obvious. He’d been a miserable failure as a guardian.
‘Can’t you remember what it was like to be singled out as different?’ Eve’s dark eyes swept disparagingly over him, from the tip of his blond head to his expensively shod feet, and she realised she was looking at the boy everyone else had wanted to be, not a loner isolated by quirks of nature. ‘No, I don’t suppose you can. I was only trying to help.’
‘Save me from fool women with good intentions!’ She’d obviously approve of him more if he could produce evidence of childhood trauma. ‘Alas, I can’t wheel out a dys-functional family, even though I can see the fact my parents are kind, loving, well-balanced…and, yes, well-off individuals ruins my credibility in your eyes.’
‘They must be wondering where they went wrong with you.’
‘You really can’t stop with the cheap wisecracks, can you? Dear God, I wouldn’t give you custody of my cat, let alone a child! Didn’t it occur to you to tell me before you embarked on your crazy scheme?’
‘It wasn’t my…’ she began. She closed her mouth. She wasn’t about to lay the blame at her brother’s door. After all, she had been a co-conspirator and the allegedly responsible adult; she should have known better. It was having this awful man point out the fact—very unpleasantly—she couldn’t stand.
‘Dan made us swear not to. He didn’t want his fantastic Uncle Drew to think he was a wimp. Tell me, what does it feel like to be a role model?’
A dull red ran up under Drew’s perfect tan. Her smile of triumph faded and a soundless squeak escaped her lips as she realised with horror she was wondering how far that golden colour extended. She hadn’t seen any demarcation lines earlier.
‘So you decided you were better qualified to deal with this problem than, say, his parents, or guardian, or head-teacher? Isn’t there anyone who can put the brake on your wild ideas? What did your partner think of the scheme? Or didn’t you tell him? I take it he is a he?’
Eve knew in that second she’d die rather than admit her unattached state. Up until this point she hadn’t attached a stigma to her single state, but under the mocking glare of those hateful, knowing eyes things looked very different.
‘Very much so. Theo is very supportive of anything I do.’ It sounded so smooth she was quite impressed herself.
Please forgive me, Theo, she thought, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. He wouldn’t mind her using his name in a good cause, she told herself. Question was, would he think scoring points off Drew Cummings a good cause?
‘Meaning you walk all over him in your hobnailed boots.’ He lifted a supercilious eyebrow as he gazed at the footwear. ‘Poor guy.’
‘He doesn’t need your sympathy!’ She ground her even white teeth silently.
‘No, he needs therapy.’ He looked pointedly at her clenched fists and shook his head. ‘A family trait, I see. There was some point was there, to you barging in here, Miss Gordon?’
Good question, Eve. What are you doing here? Other than coming second in this battle of words, that is.
‘I did not barge in; I was invited.’ Pity Nick hadn’t landed him a punch, she thought wistfully.
‘I won’t make that mistake twice,’ he assured her.
‘I was hoping you’d display some remorse for causing Nick’s injuries and for treating me so appallingly. We all know your hands and feet are lethal weapons. You didn’t need to beat up on a teenager to prove it.’
‘Past tense, I see…you’ve decided my character’s as black as your hair, I suppose?’
On impulse he flicked the feathery end of one ebony curl that lay against her temple. There was a definite blue sheen to her hair when the weak winter light caught it. Against his fingers the texture was just as silky as it appeared. Eve leapt back as if he’d struck her.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she breathed, shaking her head to dispel the warm, muzzy sensation that filled her brain. The messages whizzing around in her head seemed to be having trouble connecting.
Drew Cummings held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Sounds like the best advice I’ve had all day.’ He didn’t go in for spontaneous physical contact with strangers, and he felt annoyed with himself for doing so now. ‘Tell me, do you always act like something out of a Victorian melodrama? It must get exhausting living with you.’
Eve chewed down hard on her full underlip, well aware that her instinctive response had been way over the top. ‘I think it’s perfectly legitimate for me to be nervous after you manhandled me earlier.’
‘I was as gentle as a lamb. Remarkably restrained, actually.’
‘Really?’ she said scornfully. She lifted both hands and let the sleeves of her thin top fall back. ‘Pardon my scepticism.’ The faint blue discoloration made by his fingertips showed clearly on the pale skin of her wrists.
His vivid blue eyes deepened abruptly to navy blue, and a deep line appeared between his brows. ‘I didn’t do that.’ His voice held an edge of revulsion.
The impact her display had made surprised Eve. She’d expected some slick, sarcastic retort. ‘No? Let your mind slip back a few hours. You were hauling me about like a sack of coal.’
‘God, I’m really sorry. I had no idea.’ He reached out and firmly took her hands. Eve searched his face curiously and saw only genuine concern. This wasn’t just a line he was shooting her, she realised. He really was sorry. ‘Dear God, you must be fragile. I can only say it was unintentional.’
Her slim build hid a wiry strength, not on a par with his, but nonetheless she was no delicate flower. Eve didn’t point this out. The constriction in her throat made it hard to point anything out.
This time she didn’t recoil. That strange slow motion thing was happening again, and she didn’t have the will or desire to fight it. She let herself go with the flow. Drew turned her arm slowly over and back again, examining the blue-veined inner aspect of her forearm. His own hands were nicely shaped—big, capable hands, with long, tapering fingers.
‘There’s no need to make a fuss about it,’ she began, trying to put some emphasis into her husky-sounding voice. She could see the fine lines which time would etch deeper radiating from the corners of his eyes. Letting her flickering, wary gaze dwell on the deep azure warmth of his eyes made her feel dizzy. On the whole she had felt a lot better when those eyes had been ice chips. A man holding your hand should have no effect whatsoever on the stability of your knees, she told herself sternly—it made no sense at all.
He’d had enough time to make a map of the area by now! The soft contact was incredibly abrasive to her vulnerable nerve-endings. Nobody would have guessed from the activity of her heart that she was in the peak of physical condition. This wayward organ was pumping at a rate of knots, and her breath was coming in short breathy gasps.
What did he think he was doing anyhow? Running fingers that had never seen an honest day’s work in their lives over her skin. Eve had had some very uncomfortable interviews with bankers in her time. More important, what was she doing letting him?
‘It’s nothing…I bruise easily. I only told you to make you feel guilty.’ She didn’t add that she hadn’t expected to succeed.
‘You smell…’ His voice was kind of distracted, and when he lifted his head from his prolonged contemplation of his handiwork she saw his blue eyes were still burning with a very worrying light. Eve thought it wise not to dwell too long on those hot, hungry eyes.
‘I’m sorry my personal hygiene doesn’t meet with your approval.’ She dredged around and from somewhere managed to find sarcasm.
‘Nice,’ he growled. ‘You smell nice. I don’t recognise the perfume.’ Without actually touching her he inclined his head to breathe in the fragrance of her hair. The sudden compulsion bothered him—annoyed him. And it showed in the downturn of his lips.
‘It’s soap. Probably the medicated one I bought for Nick’s acne,’ she elaborated prosaically. Flat-out panic felt like a heartbeat away. Had someone turned up the thermostat in the room? She couldn’t breathe properly.
‘Acne,’ Drew echoed flatly. His thumb had moved to the delicate hollow of one elbow; the circular motion sent a tingling down to her curling toes.
‘Teenage complaint from which you were no doubt immune.’ This person was invading her body space. She ought to be sending out some clear and unambiguous signals that read ‘Get off!’ loud and clear. Instead, what was she doing? Probably acting like every other female this man had ever touched—a compliant push-over.
‘It isn’t a subject that springs immediately to mind when I’m responding, albeit reluctantly, to a mutual chemical attraction.’
Not him too! Chemical…chemistry…they’d all gone stark staring bonkers. Her eyes narrowed. She hadn’t missed the ‘reluctant’ bit either. Aren’t I up to his usual standard? she wondered truculently.
‘I’d worry about the chemical reaction going on under your feet if I were you.’
He cursed with satisfying distress as he followed the direction of her gaze.
‘I told you, you should have got a professional cleaner,’ she reminded him cheerfully as she rubbed her toe against the newly bleached area underfoot. Things had got a bit silly, but she was in control again now, she decided with a relieved sigh.
He lifted his head and caught the tail-end of her surreptitious grin. ‘Maybe you won’t be laughing so much when I send you the bill?’
Eve hoped this was an empty threat, because her tight budget wasn’t up to surprises like that. ‘Does this mean you don’t love me after all?’ she pouted, giving a passable impression of a spurned lover. He was obviously one of those men who tried it on with any female that had a pulse, she thought with disgust.
Actually, she’d never been spurned; she’d done a bit of minor spurning herself—there had been that lovely Adam with the roof garden who’d wanted to get closer, and one or two others, but none had lit any answering spark in her.
Sparks! She glanced gloomily at her feet and had a sharp mental image of flames curling over the practical footwear she wore. ‘Sparks’ didn’t begin to cover the conflagration she’d been recklessly flirting with. It was all some nasty hormonal conspiracy; an example of the weakness of the flesh from which she’d learn a valuable lesson once she was safely home and away from this man. She might even be able to decide what the lesson was then.
‘It’s possible I might be able to give you up without aversion therapy.’
‘I’ll try to be stoical about it,’ she promised evenly. Didn’t aversion therapy involve repeated exposure to the thing you wanted to give up? Now there was a very unsettling thought!
‘I’ll always cherish our time together.’
Sarcastic pig! ‘How fortunate you are to possess a shallow and superficial nature,’ she said sunnily. She suddenly wished she was still wearing the feminine armoury of earlier. For some reason she felt it would have made it a lot easier to smile in the face of this masterly put-down if she’d known she looked feminine and…well…sexy. ‘For an awful moment I thought I might have to fight off your advances,’ she confessed.
His white even teeth clamped together in a snarl-like smile. ‘If those are the signals you send out when the options you’re considering are fight or flight you could have serious problems,’ he told her drily.
‘I hope you’re not suggesting I wanted you to kiss me!’ she yelled. The smug smile made her want to stamp her feet in childish frustration. ‘You’re delusional, and even more in love with yourself than I thought!’
Head on one side, he observed her pink cheeks and heaving bosom thoughtfully. ‘Are you trying to goad me into kissing you?’
Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly several times. ‘Are you…mad?’ she squeaked hoarsely.
‘I’m not going to kiss you into submission, you know,’ he informed her apologetically. ‘Don’t get me wrong—I can see the appeal. If only,’ he observed, half to himself, ‘to get you to shut up. You’re just not really my type.’
‘You’re pathetic,’ she grated incredulously. ‘Do you actually think that every female you meet fantasises about being swept up in your strong arms?’
‘This is what I was worried about,’ he said sadly. ‘You just want more than I can give. I wanted to save you this hurt and humiliation.’
Now she knew for sure he was winding her up, having a good laugh at her expense. He must have noticed she’d been shaking feverishly when he’d taken her hand. He obviously found the whole idea of her finding him attractive hilarious.
‘You’re very considerate.’ She’d had enough of being the live entertainment. It really went against the grain to retreat, but she could do it with dignity at least. ‘I’m going home now. I hope for Daniel’s sake his parents aren’t going to be away much longer.’
He smiled wryly. He’d instinctively known she was the sort of female who had to have the last word. Drew listened for the inevitable crash of the front door before he sat down in one of the luxuriously upholstered chairs. He couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if he’d actually kissed that strident, volatile young woman.
The entrance of his nephew halted the erotic nature of his thoughts.
‘Have a seat, Dan. I think we need to talk.’
‘Again?’
‘Again. Now, just what exactly have you told Nick and his peculiar relations about me?’
‘Not much.’
‘And does that ‘‘not much’’ include the Lottie saga?’
‘No! I wouldn’t tell anyone about that, Uncle Drew.’

CHAPTER THREE
A BLAST of warm air hit Eve as she entered the scullery. She was physically tired, but happy. At times like this she was conscious of how few people enjoyed their work as much as she did, and she felt very fortunate as the weary glow of well-being enfolded her.
To her surprise a somewhat breathless daughter of the house appeared in the doorway so swiftly it was obvious she must have been hovering close by. Her face fell ludicrously when she saw Eve.
‘Oh, I thought…I thought you were someone else.’ The glossy blonde hair surrounding her flower-like face swung like a silky bell as she shook her head self-consciously.
Someone important enough to make this beautiful, sophisticated woman behave like a breathless teenager must be quite someone, Eve reflected as she rubbed her frozen fingertips together. They began to tingle as her sluggish circulation hotted up.
‘Your mother asked me to stop by for a cup of tea when I’d finished, Mrs Hall,’ Eve explained apologetically. Beyond the adjoining door to the kitchen she could hear sounds of activity.
‘I did indeed.’ Mrs Atkinson, dressed with impeccable elegance in a soft grey creˆpe two-piece, entered the room behind her daughter. ‘Take a seat, Eve, my dear. You know Charlotte, don’t you.’
Eve nodded politely. As she hadn’t been invited into the kitchen she didn’t bother removing her boots. She’d been briefly introduced to the elegant woman when Charlotte had arrived from the airport the previous evening, her slender body encased in a floor-length silver fur coat almost exactly the same shade as her hair.
Eve had exchanged the customary pleasantries and departed inclined to give the other woman the benefit of the doubt where the fur was concerned; it probably wasn’t real. Eve had been left with an impression of style, gloss and cut-glass beauty. She doubted if she’d left any impression at all on the other woman.
Right now Charlotte Hall seemed on edge and brittle, but the edge of vulnerability didn’t detract from her fragile, classically perfect beauty.
‘Mummy tells me you’ve been restoring the knot garden. It must be a bit cold at the moment to be working outdoors.’ She glanced out of the window at the frost-covered garden and shuddered.
She reminded Eve of a delicate hothouse orchid that would shrivel in the Arctic conditions that were sweeping the country, making this the coldest January in living memory.
‘Charlotte’s been living in California; she’s forgotten what a proper winter is like. Don’t you fret. Eve here is very sturdy, but actually she’s been doing some work in the greenhouses for us today.’
Eve tried and failed to look on ‘sturdy’ as a compliment. Compared with the diminutive creature dressed entirely in black, which did marvellous things for her translucent complexion, she felt like an ungainly giant.
‘California. That sounds exciting. Will you be visiting for long?’ Eve asked, receiving her steaming mug with a smile of thanks.
Charlotte glanced at her mother quickly and lowered her eyes, a mysterious smile playing about her lovely lips. ‘Possibly,’ she said enigmatically. ‘Will you excuse…?’ She drifted ethereally from the room.
‘She’s a bit on edge,’ Mrs Atkinson confided. ‘I’ve arranged a little luncheon party.’
‘I was just going,’ Eve said, taking the hint.
‘No, there’s no need for you to hurry.’
Eve settled back down, even though her schedule was tight. Mrs Atkinson was a woman with a lot of time on her hands, who liked to chat, and Eve, a good listener, usually obliged.
‘Actually, it’s rather awkward. Charlotte used to be engaged to the young man we’re expecting. It was a couple of years ago now, but she’s not actually seen him since…well, actually…she walked out at the last minute, just before the wedding.’
‘You mean she jilted him?’ Eve gasped, goggle-eyed. ‘I mean, I’m sure she had her reasons,’ she added hastily as she saw the maternal hackles visibly rise.
Mrs Atkinson looked mollified. ‘Actually…’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘She didn’t actually tell us why, but everyone knew it must have been something very bad to make her act so out of character. They’d been a couple on and off since schooldays, you see—inseparable. She ran off to America and married Rufus Hall eventually; he’s very rich, of course,’ she added.

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