“Not my blood,” he bit out.
Eva glanced across to where Moira lay dead, before quickly looking away again, her face having gone even paler.
He couldn’t claim to be unshaken by Moira’s death himself. He just hadn’t had time to think about it too deeply as yet. He had never been in love with her, but at one time he had thought he liked her. The her before he learned of her aged lover. The her before she turned into the stalker from hell.
His arms tightened about Eva as he felt her trembling increase. “It’s okay, Eva,” he murmured soothingly. “You’re going to be just fine—”
“Well of course I’m going to be fine!” The green eyes Eva raised to glare at him were spitting fire as she pulled out of his arms and stood up to continue scowling down at him. “You’re the one who had to play the hero—and you almost got yourself killed in the process! What on earth did you think you were doing, tackling an armed woman?”
“‘Playing the hero’?” Dair Grayson put in helpfully as Finn sat back on his heels in surprise at Eva’s attack.
Eva turned to frown at the other man. A man she had last seen bursting through the shattered window across the room, gun in hand. A man who looked hard and uncompromising, an impression that was added to by a livid scar on his left temple.
She certainly wouldn’t want to run into him on her own on a cold, dark night! “Would you happen to be one of Lucien Wynter’s security men?”
Strangely she couldn’t even look at Finn right now, felt—Eva wasn’t sure how she felt, exactly. There was still a certain amount of adrenalin pumping through her veins, most of it engendered by fear. Not for herself but for Finn. The anger she felt was also caused by him, and the sight of him leaping across the room when Moira was distracted by the window shattering behind her, and then hearing that damned gun go off just seconds later.
As far as Eva was concerned Finn had behaved recklessly. He might have died, damn it. She had thought he had died, which was why she’d fainted. Something she wasn’t proud of!
Eva still had that fear pumping through her veins, along with a deep anger towards Finn for having behaved so rashly.
“Dair Grayson.” The other man nodded before turning back to Finn. “As you say, we have maybe an hour before the police get through.”
Finn rose slowly to his feet, his gaze never leaving Eva, even though she now refused to look at him. “Dair is going to take you out of here—”
“I’ve already told you I’m not going anywhere,” she stated firmly. “I saw what happened, Finn. I can confirm that her—her death, was an accident.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore, Eva,” he assured softly. “Moira killed someone else this morning before coming here—Eva!” He reached out to grasp her arms as she appeared to sway.
“Oh good job, Devlin. Very smooth,” Dair Grayson murmured disgustedly. “Tell the lady who just fainted more bad news, why don’t you!”
“Shut the feck up, Grayson,” Finn growled as he guided Eva over to one of the chairs, seeing her seated before grabbing the duvet off the floor, draping it over Moira’s body, and then going down on his haunches beside Eva’s chair. “I want you to let Dair take you out of here. Please, Eva,” he encouraged fiercely as he could see she was about to refuse. Again.
“I can’t do that,” she insisted as she kept her face turned away from the now-covered body.
“Why the hell not?” Finn rose angrily to his feet.
She swallowed. “For one thing there’s the little fact of the Dailey Courier Service van parked outside.”
“We can deal with that.”
“And for another I’m not leaving you to deal with this on your own,” she repeated determinedly. “Mr. Grayson, please tell Finn that I’m right about this.”
“Me?” Dair slowly straightened from where he had been leaning against the door, watching the exchange with an amused smile curving his lips. He wasn’t smiling now. “I have a rule about never getting involved in an argument between lovers.” He gave a firm shake of his head. “Those situations have a nasty habit of the innocent third person being blamed for everything, while the lovers walk off together into the sunset.”
Dair Grayson was the epitome of big, tough, and just plain bad, and Eva couldn’t help but smile at the way he backed away and held his hands up defensively just at the thought of getting in between her and Finn.
So much for big, tough, and just plain bad!
But it was a fact that a dead woman lay on the carpet just a few feet away, and Finn had almost been shot, and could have been killed, trying to protect Eva.
And no matter how much Finn protested, she wasn’t leaving him to face the police on his own.
Chapter 13
Seven weeks later...
Eva stared down again at the invitation she held in her hand, not sure what to make of it, despite having read it so many times already she had memorized every word of it; ‘You are invited to attend a private showing of Finn Devlin’s newest collection, on Saturday the 7th of February at 8.00 p.m. in the Foster Gallery, Church Street, London’. That was today!
It had been three weeks since Eva last saw Finn. Three long weeks since the two of them had last spoken, outside the courtroom after attending the hearing on Moira Summers. With Moira dead, the police had already assured them that the verdict would be a foregone conclusion; Moira Summers had been responsible for murdering Ian Jackson and threatening the lives of Finn Devlin and Eva Shaw, all while of unsound mind.
After the court hearing Eva and Finn had spoken very briefly in the hallway. Finn had looked like a devastatingly handsome stranger in his formal dark suit, white silk shirt and grey tie, his hair neatly trimmed. His blue gaze had been guarded as he politely inquired about Eva’s Christmas and the health of her family. Eva had asked him the same stilted questions. Then Finn had politely invited her out to lunch, and Eva had just as politely refused.
And then she had gone home alone to cry for hours, her heart aching, longing, for the man she had met—and fallen in love with—during a blizzard.
And now this invitation to Finn’s new exhibition of photographs had arrived in the post this morning.
The question was why had it?
Was Finn just being polite in including her amongst the list of guests invited to this private and early showing of his latest exhibition?
Or maybe the invitation had been sent out of gratitude, because Eva had insisted on remaining at Finn’s side throughout the whole of the investigation into Ian Jackson’s murder and Moira Summer’s death, and the publicity that had accompanied it?
Finn had been right about that; the newspapers had been full of the story over the Christmas and New Year.
Eva had even met Finn’s brother Liam that last day at the court, the Irishman having flown over especially to support his younger brother.
Finn’s description of his brother having remained blissfully unaware of Finn’s reputation as a world-class photographer had proven correct too, when Liam had become totally overwhelmed by the reporters waiting outside the courthouse before and after the hearing. Dair Grayson and several of his associates had also been there, and had been forced to intervene by pushing a path through the crowd to allow Finn and Liam to get past the media when they were arriving and leaving the courthouse.
Eva hadn’t seen or heard from Finn since that day.
Until now.
She looked down at the invitation again. Strangely there was no RSVP at the bottom of the gold-embossed card. No telephone number either. Just the time and place of the exhibition.
Did she want to go, if only out of curiosity?
As a way of seeing Finn again?
Or did she stay away from the exhibition, and the man who was capable of ripping her heart from her chest, if this should turn out to be an ‘out of politeness’ invitation, and Finn barely acknowledged her existence?
“One of us is either over or underdressed...”
Finn froze in his pacing of the g
allery, a tingling sensation running the length of his neck and down his spine as he slowly turned to face the doorway.
Eva...
The breath caught at the back of his throat at how beautiful she looked in a bright red, knee-length, figure-hugging dress, her hair dark and glossy as it flowed loosely over her shoulders and down the length of her spine.
God, she looked so beautiful.
“Please tell me I haven’t come here on the wrong night...?” She looked thoroughly confused as she glanced about the empty and dimly lit gallery, with only Finn present and standing back in the shadows.
He moistened his lips before speaking. “No, you have the right night,” he assured huskily.
Eva didn’t know what to make of any of this.
She had hesitated outside the gallery for several minutes after the taxi dropped her off, confused by the fact that the gallery door was closed and it appeared to be fairly dark inside, blinds pulled down over all the windows.
She had expected it to be ablaze with lights, and possibly members of the press outside wanting to interview the private guests before they entered the gallery.
Eva had steeled herself for just such an occurrence after making the decision to accept Finn’s invitation.
How could she give up the chance to see Finn again one last time?
And so she had showered and washed her hair, put on her favorite red dress and some make-up, and then gone downstairs to get in a taxi. Before she had time to change her mind!
But instead of the glitz and glamour she had been expecting there was just the empty gallery and these dimmed gallery lights, with Finn himself pacing inside.
Even so, he was a much more familiar-looking Finn than that day at the court; tonight he wore a dark t-shirt and a pair of faded denims low on his hips—unfortunately, with all of the buttons fastened, Eva noted with disappointment.
His hair had also grown long again in the past three weeks. That rich dark hair that Eva had so enjoyed entangling her fingers in when he had thrust inside her again and again and she had cried out—
“What’s going on, Finn?” She frowned at the strangeness of the situation.
He stepped forward, and Eva drew in her breath as she now saw that he was thinner in the face than when she had last seen him, and there was an unfamiliar wariness in those Irish-blue eyes, a grim set to those perfectly sculpted lips.
Understandably so, after the strain he had been under these past seven weeks.
The media hadn’t been quite so frenzied around Finn recently though, but no doubt they had continued to make life pretty grim for him.
Finn had insisted throughout the investigation that Eva had merely been an innocent courier delivering a parcel, and then had become caught up in Moira’s insanity because of becoming stranded in the blizzard. A case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
As a consequence, Eva had been allowed to fade back into obscurity once the court hearing was over.
“You’re looking well,” he told her gruffly.
“You’re not,” she came back candidly.
Finn gave a grin—without a doubt the first time he’d genuinely smiled since he’d last seen Eva. “Brutally honest, as usual,” he drawled as he stepped further into the light.
She gave a shrug as she looked around the empty studio. “Where’s everyone else?”
Finn ate her up with his eyes. God, he had been hungry just for the sight of her these past three weeks. “There is no one else.”
She gave a shake of her head, midnight hair moving like silk across her shoulders as she turned back to him. “I don’t understand...”
Finn held out his hand to her. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
Eva stared down at that strong artistic hand.
The same hand that had grabbed hold of the gun being aimed at Eva. Possibly saving her life.
The same hand that had touched her, caressed her, made love to her. Utterly ruining her for anyone else.
Finn hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he exhaled with an audible sigh as Eva tentatively placed her much smaller hand into his.
As an indication that she trusted him?
God, he hoped so.
These past three weeks, staying away from Eva had been absolute hell, as he first allowed the frenzy of the media to abate, and then gave Eva the space and time to get over those nightmare events from Christmas and the New Year.
The only thing that had kept him sane was keeping busy preparing the set of photographs he was about to share with Eva.
“Where are your photographs, Finn?” She looked in confusion at the bare walls in the main gallery.
He drew in a deep breath. “The public exhibition isn’t until next week.”
Eva’s frown deepened as she wondered what was going on. Why Finn had invited her, and her alone, here tonight.
Eva gave a shake of her head. “I still don’t understand...”
“You will, I hope.”
She stared at him blankly for several long seconds, and then her cheeks became flushed as realization dawned. “You’re new exhibition is those photographs you took of me...?”
In the confusion of the night of Moira Summers’ death, and then the weeks that had followed, Eva hadn’t given another thought to the photographs Finn had taken of her that day.
Chapter 14
Eva came to a halt as Finn released her hand to switch on the lights in a smaller gallery at the back of the building, revealing walls that were adorned with at least two dozen perfectly lit black and white photographs.
All of them of Eva.
She crossed the room as if in a dream, totally absorbed as she moved from photograph to photograph.
When she had asked Finn about them that day in North Wales, he had told her the photographs of her were beautiful, but this… This was so much more than Eva could ever have imagined.
Because of the subject, the mistress, and the poses Finn had demanded of her that day, Eva had fully expected the photographs to portray raw sexuality. A woman ripe for carnal pleasure. A siren. Temptation incarnate.
Instead Finn had captured the depth of beauty and sensuality that was a woman. The joy, the expectation, the promise of pleasure, in every shadowed dip and curve.
True to his word, Finn had ensured that her face was never revealed. But Eva recognized herself, nonetheless.
Finn’s anxiety grew exponentially as he watched and waited for Eva reaction. His heart pounded in his chest as she walked slowly around the gallery, looking at each photograph, her face in the shadows and her expression unreadable.
He still had no idea whether or not she liked them. “These photographs will never be seen by anyone else but me,” he assured her softly.
Eva’s eyebrows rose as she turned to look at him. “They aren’t ‘The Mistress’?”
“Hell, no,” he rasped harshly as he stepped forward, and then stopped again as he realized that he and Eva still had a lot to talk about.
He probably shouldn’t have done things this way. Should have just telephoned Eva and invited her out to dinner, like any other man interested in dating a woman, rather than setting up this evening.
“Do you have a name for these photographs, Finn?” Eva looked across at him curiously.
Finn’s anxiety rose to new heights as he wondered how best to answer her.
With the truth, idiot, he instantly reprimanded himself. If anyone deserved that then it was Eva.
The Eva who had insisted on standing at his side during the media frenzy that had followed Moira’s death. The Eva whose determination had never wavered, despite having been hounded by that same media every time she so much as stepped outside of the London apartment she had returned to after the Christmas holidays, in preparation for resuming her university degree, which she had now done, presumably.
Eva had handled it all with great dignity and strength, completely unflappable, before, during, and after the hearing on Moira’s death.
He drew in a deep breath before answering her. “I call them ‘Love’. Don’t panic,” he added quickly as Eva’s eyes widened. “I’m not expecting… Oh hell!” He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair as he could no longer meet Eva’s gaze. “As far as I’m concerned, these photographs—your photographs, are the image of the perfect woman. A woman of both sensual promise and innocence. Of what every man dreams of—or should dream of—possessing for himself.” He closed his eyes, knowing that his dreams of Eva these past weeks had been the only thing that had helped to keep the nightmares of Moira at bay.
Eva chewed on her bottom lip, knowing it would be so easy to misunderstand what Finn was now saying to her. That he could just be telling her that the photographs of her represented the innocence of a woman after the ugliness his relationship with Moira Summers had become.
He could be telling her that. But he could just as easily be telling her something else completely. Something much more important...
Something worth so much more than a few moments of humiliation on her part. Something she would be a fool to walk away from...
She gave a rueful smile. “We went about things the wrong way, didn’t we, Finn?” she kept her tone deliberately light. “The photographs. The sex. We should have gotten to know each other a little better first.”
His jaw tightened, those beautiful Irish-blue eyes glittering darkly. “That wasn’t just sex, Eva. I know what casual sex is, and that wasn’t it.”
So did Eva. And no, that connection between the two of them had been nothing like the relationship she’d had with those other two men. It had been more than just physical. So much more.
She had felt it. The emotional tendrils wrapping themselves about her heart. And once or twice, just briefly, she had known Finn felt it too.
And here in front of her was the proof of that.
The beautiful photographs that Finn called ‘Love’.
Surely Finn was trying to tell her something. The private invitation for tonight. The photographs. The fact that he had assured her they would never be seen by anyone else but him.
Christmas Alpha Page 9