you earn from your paintings to help further his political ambitions.’
Sophy was the daughter of an old friend of Eve’s grandmother, and it had been through her grandmother’s urgings that Eve had finally shown the other woman some of her paintings four years ago. Sophy, in her usual fashion, had turned out to be abrasively honest about her work. But her criticism of Eve’s work then had been justified, and it was because of that honesty, and the faith Sophy had had that she could be a great artist, that she had been able to have her first small exhibition almost a year later.
Her criticism of Paul, Eve felt less able to accept without demur.
‘We’re going to be married, Sophy,’ she reminded stiffly. ‘It’s only natural that I should want to help further my husband’s career.’
Sophy gave a disgusted snort. ‘It isn’t natural for him to be ashamed of your success to the point where he doesn’t like people to know you’re The Unicorn!’
Warm colour darkened Eve’s cheeks. ‘He isn’t ashamed of my success,’ she defended stiltedly. ‘He’s just trying to protect me.’
‘From what?’ the other woman challenged, her beautiful head thrown back.
Eve shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Auburn brows rose over snapping green eyes. ‘Do you?’ Sophy drawled hardly.
Eve gave a heavy sigh. There had been a continuing argument between Paul and Sophy in recent months, because Paul, as her adviser and lawyer, refused to let Sophy launch the publicity campaign concerning The Unicorn that would, without it actually coming to the point of revealing her true identity, seriously endanger her anonymity.
The Unicorn, because of the subject of her paintings, had been a name she and Sophy had come up with for her during that first frank discussion about her work. And while the name, coupled with her work, had added a certain amount of interest during the early years, Sophy now insisted that it was no longer necessary, claimed it would only add to the success of her work if it should come out that The Unicorn was a woman, and not the man everyone had so readily assumed it to be.
Paul insisted as strongly that her identity remain a secret. And so the argument went on, with Paul coming to the point where he had advised Eve not to take part in the winter exhibition at all if Sophy couldn’t do what they asked.
‘Let’s not talk about that any more today, Sophy,’ she dismissed wearily. ‘I hope you managed to placate that man Adam after the rash promise you had made him,’ she added teasingly.
‘I only told him The Unicorn would be at the party; it was up to him to discover who that was. Besides,’ the other woman gave a wicked grin, ‘he was so relieved to learn that Paul wasn’t The Unicorn that I didn’t need to placate him at all!’
‘Sophy——’ Eve chided wryly.
‘Well, it’s true,’ Sophy insisted with wide-eyed innocence. ‘He almost got down and kissed my feet when I assured him Paul was telling the truth.’
She couldn’t help smiling; Sophy really was outrageous! ‘Who is he, anyway?’ she queried lightly, deciding she might just as well ignore the other woman’s sarcasm at Paul’s expense; Sophy took no notice of her reproof, anyway!
‘A successful entrepreneur, worth millions,’ Sophy confided. ‘And he also owns one of the most prestigious galleries in New York,’ she added excitedly, her veneer of bored cynicism slipping in her genuine enthusiasm for the subject.
It was when Sophy was like this that Eve could see the side of her that Patrick obviously knew and loved so well. A confirmed, single-minded career-woman until Patrick had come into her life, there was obviously something within him that was able to reach into the softer core of her, some quality that only Patrick possessed; this more endearing side of Sophy was certainly never in evidence when Paul was around. If it were, they possibly wouldn’t argue quite so much!
‘And he’s very interested in the The Unicorn paintings the gallery owns,’ Sophy continued triumphantly. ‘Informed me that he has his own private collection back in New York.’
His admiration for Eve’s work had been more than obvious a couple of evenings ago, but nevertheless it shook her slightly to think of him owning any of her work; the paintings were, after all, private pieces of herself she had put on to canvas. He had been right when he’d said her work came from her heart and soul, and each painting was a labour of love.
‘Apparently he always has at least two pieces of your work on display at his gallery,’ Sophy confided with enthusiasm. ‘In fact, he wanted me to approach you about taking your winter exhibition over to New York. With Patrick and me working on a commission and overseeing the project, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Eve said drily.
But she couldn’t help feeling pleasure in the compliment she had just been given. Each painting she did was a labour of love, and when it left her studio to be sold at Sophy’s gallery it went with great reluctance on Eve’s part to let that part of herself go. She had often wondered what sort of person, just who, would claim her latest and most precious ‘child’; each successive painting had always become the most precious.
Much as it made her feel slightly uncomfortable to think of the man Adam owning several parts of her inner self in that way, she also knew instinctively that the paintings would be cherished by him, that despite being a businessman he was able to appreciate the emotional value of her work and not just the financial; and so many of the buyers seemed to be concerned purely with the financial nowadays.
‘And there’s more,’ Sophy added, with a gleam of laughter in her eyes.
Eve instinctively distrusted that gleam. ‘Oh?’ she prompted warily.
‘Mm,’ the other woman said teasingly. ‘He told me the two of you never had got around to introducing yourselves properly the other evening.’
‘It didn’t seem necessary, the fact that we’re called Adam and Eve amused him enough,’ she recalled with a heavy sigh.
Sophy chuckled. ‘That’s because he had the added insight of knowing his full name is Adam Gardener!’ she announced with great enjoyment.
‘It couldn’t be!’ Eve groaned, briefly closing her eyes, shaking her head as if to shut out the awful coincidence of that name.
‘It is,’ the other woman laughed softly. ‘Think how much more amused he would have been if he had known he was talking to Eve Eden!’
It didn’t even bear thinking about!
‘What on earth were our parents thinking of when they named the two of us?’ she gasped.
‘Well, certainly not that you would ever meet each other!’ Sophy was obviously enjoying herself immensely—at their expense.
And why shouldn’t she? Good heavens, Adam Gardener and Eve Eden—it was too ridiculous to even think about!
‘Well, at least that isn’t likely to happen again.’ Thank goodness. What a topic for conversation they would be if the people she knew should ever realise Adam’s full name and its significance to hers. Goodness knew, her name alone had been a source of amusement
