to making his own rules as he went along, to coming and going as he saw fit without waiting for someone else’s okay.
But this wasn’t the kind of situation he ordinarily found himself in. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he had no recourse but to go along with procedure. “What floor is maternity on?”
“Fifth.” She clamped her mouth shut, as if she’d just given away a state secret. “But you can wait here,” she went on, her eyes daring him to contradict the edict.
“I’ll wait on the fifth floor,” he told the woman. There was no arguing with his tone.
“All right, suit yourself. Just give the nurse at the desk your name when you get there.”
He inclined his head, as if she had been the one to win and not him. “Yes, ma’am.”
As he walked to the bank of elevators located to the side, he heard the nurse mutter under her breath, “If I was just twenty years younger …”
A small, amused smile curved his mouth.
“How do you feel?” he asked Eve, walking into her private room.
It was more than thirty minutes later and he had begun to think that something had gone wrong. But then an intern had found him and gave him the all clear sign, telling him the number of Eve’s room. He lost no time in getting there.
She’d just begun to doze off. The sound of Adam’s voice temporarily banished any thought of sleep. She’d started to think that he’d taken the opportunity to leave the hospital.
That he hadn’t coaxed a smile from her.
“Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.” Eve took a deep breath and pushed herself up into a sitting position. “They said that Brooklyn’s fine.”
Adam nodded. He’d been to the nursery before coming to her room. “I know. I asked.”
She should have known he would. The man didn’t believe in leaving stones unturned. “You’re thorough.”
Crossing to her, he stood at her bedside and struggled against the temptation to brush the hair away from her cheek. Instead, Adam shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Keeps the mistakes at a minimum,” he told her.
She raised her eyes to his. For a moment, she was silent. And then she said, “At least some of them.”
Was she telling him that she thought of their having made love as a mistake? That would mean that she considered the baby a mistake, which wasn’t the impression he’d gotten. He’d seen love in her eyes when she looked down at Brooklyn.
“Some of them,” he echoed.
She ran her fingers along the top of her hospital gown. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask him and somehow resolve. But she was so very tired again. Far too tired to think clearly.
As she fought off the drugging demands of fatigue, Eve tried to remember what it was that she’d asked him to do. And then it came to her.
“Did you call Vera? I didn’t give you her number,” she realized out loud.
“I found it,” he assured her. “And I called her. She wanted to know who I was.”
She looked at him warily. “And what did you tell her?”
“The truth,” he said simply. “That I was someone you used to know.”
“That’s not the truth.” Although she fervently wished that it was. “I didn’t know you.” And still don’t, she added silently. “I thought I did, but I didn’t.”
“We can talk about that some other time if you want to,” he told her, cutting her off. He glanced at his watch. It was almost two in the morning—as Vera had pointed out none too happily when he’d called her—until he’d explained why he was calling. “Right now, you need your rest.”
It just wasn’t in her to argue with him. She knew he’d win. “I am tired,” she agreed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eve.”
It was a perfunctory remark. Right now, he really didn’t know if he was coming back, at least not in such a way where she could see him. And he did have work to attend to, both his actual job and what he did in order to maintain a cover for the outside world. There were times when his double life really got to be confusing. The less she knew, the better for everyone. He couldn’t jeopardize the mission, not even for her.
Besides, he was fairly sure the woman didn’t completely trust him. She would be better off if he stayed away as much as he could.
Bending over, he pressed a kiss to Eve’s forehead. “Get some sleep,” he instructed just before he started to walk away.
He was almost at the door when he heard her call his name.
“Adam?”
Turning around, he waited for her to continue. Did she have a lingering craving and want him to bring her back a pound of pistachios or some licorice? “Yes?”
“Stay with me. Just for a few minutes,” she added, anticipating being turned down. “I don’t want to be alone just yet.”
Was she having doubts about what she’d just let herself in for, becoming a mother? He heard that a lot of new mothers suddenly worried about that once the euphoria wore away.
He retraced his steps to her bedside. “Sure.”
Pulling up a chair next to the bed, he swung it around and straddled it, then waited for Eve to drift off to sleep.
An ache woke her up. It shot through her entire body, from the very roots of her hair down to the tips of her toes. All except for two of her fingernails—one on each hand—and those felt numb because she’d clutched so fiercely at her comforter while pushing out her daughter.
Her daughter. She had a daughter? She had a daughter.
Her eyes flew open, the very act instantly divorcing her from the dream she’d been having.
She didn’t need to remember, she knew the dream by heart. It was the same dream that had invaded a third of her nights in the last eight months. A dream that echoed what she’d felt that one glorious night that she and Adam had made love.
Eve blew out a breath. She hadn’t had that dream for at least a couple of weeks now and had begun to nurse the hope that she was finally over it.
Finally over him.
Having Adam pop back into her life had brought the dream back in vivid living color—both the bad and the good.
Adam.
Last night’s events came rushing back
