In the background, Eve heard keys jingle and an engine fire up.
“On my way home from the Atlanta Reads benefit at the Ashmere place.” Well, it wasn’t a lie. Technically she was between the benefit and home, which meant she was on her way there, right?
“Oh, yeah. I hope it was fun. Look, I’ve got to go. This is a stick shift and I need both hands.”
“Take care.”
“Bye, and thanks again.”
Eve snapped the phone shut and tucked it into her bag. “Thanks for being patient,” she said to Mitch.
The ghost of a smile was still playing around the corners of his mouth. “No problem. Sounds like we’re not the only ones with a hot date.”
“Isn’t that the truth. Only I managed to talk her out of it.”
One eyebrow rose. “Bit of a buzzkill, are you?”
Her body temperature was back to normal now. In fact, the skin on her bare arms and shoulders felt downright cool from the air-conditioning, which he’d considerately kept running. “It was the right thing to do. If she’d stayed, it would have compromised her ethics in a business matter.”
“Can’t have that.” He turned off the air, and silence fell. “Shall we go up?”
The moment of truth. Eve forced herself to relax her grip on her beaded handbag before she did some damage to it.
“I don’t think so, Mitch. Up until five minutes ago, my answer would have been completely different, but—”
“But your friend’s ethics problem might be yours, too?”
“I think you have to admit that it is,” she said quietly, and paused. After leading him on all night, she owed him honesty after changing her mind. “If I go with you, it might change the way I look at CWB’s proposal. And that wouldn’t be fair. I have to think about what’s best for the program, not only myself.”
“Is that likely to happen?” he asked. “The one has nothing to do with the other.”
The phrase triggered a memory of one of their shows from last year. They’d focused on the differences in the ways men and women process information. How much mileage had she and Nicole and Jane got from that? They’d all learned how much men tended to compartmentalize. Men—or at least the ones who had been guests on the show—seemed to have two boxes in their brains, one labeled Sex and one labeled Everything Else.
Clearly, for Mitch, this evening fell into the first box.
It had for her, too, for a couple of delirious, wonderful hours. But how long could she keep it there, particularly if, as he’d said, she’d be seeing him in her office on Monday, as determined as ever to buy her away from her friends? She couldn’t just put a dividing line between “fantasy weekend” and “real life” and expect everything to stay neatly on either side of the line.
“We might not see it that way right now,” she admitted, “but on Monday we will. And we’ll probably be sorry.” She felt the bullet shape of her cell phone under her fingers, through her bag. “Do you mind walking me to the lobby? There’s a cab line out front.”
“You’re not taking a cab.” He fired up the engine and fastened his seat belt once more. “I’ll take you home.”
She put a hand on his arm. “No, Mitch, a cab’s fine. Really. I’m not far from here.”
“In that case, it won’t take us long.” He backed out of the parking stall and she gave in.
“You don’t plan on stalking me once you know where I live, do you?” she asked, directing him to turn left at the intersection.
“It’s not a bad idea,” he said, “but I believe we have a date for tomorrow. This way, I can pick you up. Turn here?”
“The second right, then the first left. Were you serious about tomorrow?”
“Certainly.” His sidelong glance tracked lazily down her body, reminding her vividly that he hadn’t wanted her to wear underwear. “Breakfast, lunch, whatever you want. You could show me around. If you don’t have plans, that is.”
She couldn’t have told him what her calendar said if her life depended on it. That hungry gaze sent a ripple of desire through her belly. And it reminded her of how very dangerous it was to spend any more time with this man than it took to say no and show him the door.
“The white bungalow, there,” she managed to say. “Number 954.”
He turned into her driveway and parked, looking over the front of her house. “Nice,” he said. “Smaller than I would have expected for a celebrity. And the rambling roses over the door are a nice touch.”
You could still invite him in, the treacherous voice of her desire whispered. You could still have him, if that look a minute ago was any indication.
“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “It used to be a carriage house for that mansion there.” She pointed through the trees. “But it’s big enough for me. Big houses are for big families…or big egos. None of which apply here.”
He glanced at her. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one was that?”
“Whether I can see you tomorrow.” A dozen different answers crashed into one another in her mind, and he seemed to think that her hesitation meant she needed convincing. “Take pity on a Yankee, Eve,” he said. “What am I going to do with myself for two days if you don’t help me out?”
She was absolutely sure he’d have no problem finding something. The Braves were playing, there were concerts galore all over town, and at least two art exhibits were scheduled to open the next day.
“Come on,” he wheedled. “Let’s forget our job titles and the size of our in-boxes and do something fun, all right?”
Absolutely not. The more time she spent with him, the more difficult it would be to see him on Monday. The show came first. The words organized in her mind, she opened her mouth to say them.
“All right,” she said. “But I’m wearing a bra.”
5
THE WARMTH OF THE SUN on her eyelids woke Eve, telling her she’d forgotten to close the drapes before she’d gone to sleep the night before. No wonder. Her mind had been such a maelstrom of sex and ethics and work worries that it was a miracle she’d remembered to lock the front door.
But then, Mitch had been on the other side of it, sitting in the car with the engine running until she’d let herself inside and turned the porch light on and off. She hadn’t locked him out. Oh, no. She’d locked herself in, away from him.
She’d done the right thing. Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been so smart to agree to see him today, but after all, what could happen in broad daylight? Last night had been a combination of champagne, dancing and moonlight; that was it. Now that she’d had some sleep and could think rationally, it’d be easy to keep her distance.
In
