As he and his brother chatted about his sister-in-law’s pregnancy, and the excitement about the upcoming arrival, Griffin’s mind traveled back to Eva’s declaration yesterday.
I’ll never have a baby now.
He’d brooded over her words all last night.
He’d intended to save her from a two-timing fortune hunter. He hadn’t realized he’d also be throwing a wrecking ball into her plans to beat her biological clock.
What the hell. Eva was only thirty-two. Plenty of women had children in their thirties, especially these days.
He’d looked up premature menopause on the Internet last night and had discovered it referred to women going into menopause in their thirties or even twenties. Some women were apparently genetically disposed to having their periods stop early, and from what Eva had said about her mother, Griffin concluded she was one of them.
“Hey, Griffin, you still there?” his brother asked, his voice exasperated but tinged with amusement.
Griffin realized he’d let his mind drift off.
“Yeah, sorry,” he responded. “Listen, you and Tessa should come up to San Fran again soon. We’ll celebrate. In fact, I’ve been thinking of throwing a little cocktail party for some business associates in a couple of weeks. It’d be great if I could coax you and Monica up here along with the spouses.”
“I’ve got to check our schedule,” Josh replied, “but I’m sure Tessa would love to travel as much as she can before the doctor grounds her for the last months of her pregnancy.”
“Excellent.”
“Putting that big house of yours to good use, huh?” his brother teased. “I’ve been wondering what you’ve been doing besides rattling around in it.”
“Saving it for all the nephews and nieces that you and Monica are going to give me,” he responded smoothly.
His brother snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right. One day your wild harem parties are going to come to light.”
His brother’s teasing was a running joke between them. The truth was he’d lived life with a single-minded ambition since their parents had died.
When he signed off on his call with Josh, Griffin swiveled his chair to stare out his office windows.
He was happy for his brother, but it hammered home to him Eva’s problem. The problem he’d helped create for her.
I’ll never have a baby now.
For years, his attraction to Eva had been like a mild irritation—an itch he could avoid scratching if he put his mind to it.
And he had put his mind to it. He’d been focused on building his company and on parenting his younger siblings.
The last thing he’d needed was to get involved with his mentor’s daughter and the ensuing complications.
But now that he’d scaled the mountain he’d set himself to climbing, he was able to stop and look around—and realize that maybe he’d fought his attraction to Eva for too long.
That he’d almost lost her to a worthless cad like Newell brought that last thought home to him.
Obviously Eva couldn’t be trusted to make a sane decision about men, and by God, if she’d settle for Newell, she’d settle for him.
Griffin scanned the glittering crowd clustered on the terrace and lawn, and recognized most of the guests as regulars on San Francisco’s society circuit. He supposed Eva knew many of them—some of them doubtlessly since her private school or Junior League days.
Weeks ago, he’d received an invitation to tonight’s 1930s-themed party at the Palo Alto estate of socialite Beth Harding and her husband, Silicon Valley mogul Oliver Harding.
He’d initially decided not to attend, even though he and Oliver were acquainted from sitting on a couple of corporate boards together.
Right before the RSVP deadline, however, he’d changed his mind. He knew Beth was a good friend of Eva’s, and Marcus had mentioned weeks ago that Eva was the party planner for tonight’s event.
He hadn’t seen Eva since last week, when he’d had to break the ugly news of Carter’s infidelity to her, but he was determined to catch up with her.
So here he was, dressed in a zoot suit that he’d bought on the Internet, and feeling just a little ridiculous.
When he’d arrived a short time ago, the party had been well under way. Oliver had introduced him to Noah Whittaker, who was on a business trip to Silicon Valley for computer giant Whittaker Enterprises, and he’d spent some time talking business with the Boston-based entrepreneur.
He’d also gleaned from Oliver that Eva was mingling with the guests when she wasn’t in the kitchen. She was apparently walking a line between hired help and invited guest.
He raised his glass of wine to his lips and scanned the crowd again—then paused as he finally spotted her.
His pulse kicked up.
She was wearing a black cigar girl’s outfit. The tiny skirt reached to midthigh on her, revealing a set of shapely legs that went on forever. Fishnet stockings and platform peep-toe heels complemented the outfit.
She carried a small tray in front of her, suspended from a ribbon around her neck.
Clever, Griffin thought, even as desire heated his blood.
This was the first party he’d ever attended that had been organized by Eva. He wondered now whether he’d been too quick to judge and dismiss her business—and how good she was at it.
Absently he gave his wineglass to a passing waiter. Then he made his way toward her.
She was oblivious to his approach, but he reached her just as she began to move in the opposite direction.
“Making sure everything is going smoothly?” he asked before she could move out of earshot.
She whirled around.
Her eyes widened, and then narrowed. “In my work life you mean? Because as you know, my personal life is a mess at the moment.”
He gave a curt nod, and she pretended to look him over.
“What? No more shocking photos?” she baited him. “No more sensational evidence?”
“I heard you gave Carter the boot.”
“From my father, no doubt.”
“You didn’t completely explain to him why, though.”
She tilted her head. “Disappointed that I’ve been spared the ultimate humiliation?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I can think of worse things—”
“—than
