by CC MacKenzie
Tapping the phone against her chin Eve again racked her brain trying to remember a time they hadn't used a condom, but nothing dinged. Matt was scrupulous about sheathing himself. But as her doctor had said himself the only fail-safe measure for birth control was abstinence.
Burying her nose in the blooms, she recognised that Matt was trying to meet her half-way.
The least she could do was to thank him for the flowers.
She rang his cell and he picked up on the fifth ring.
"Hey, you."
"Thank you for the flowers, they're gorgeous."
"You're welcome. Good sleep?"
"Yes, the tiredness is a killer," she admitted.
"It should get better after the first trimester," he said.
Stunned, Eve just stared at the phone.
"Eve?"
"Sorry. I'd no idea you knew anything about pregnancy. You caught me by surprise."
"I played a doctor in a TV series and in a movie. Plus Google is my friend."
She didn't know what to say in response to that statement. But again that little thrill of excitement ran up her spine and she recognised it for what it was. Hope. But what if she was wrong?
"Matt, I..."
"Don't say anything. Look, Eve, I'm on my way back. We'll talk later, okay?"
She heard the plea and the anxiety in his voice, was sorry for it, but she couldn't let it influence her decision to move on. She had a child to protect.
But hadn't she just decided to meet him half-way?
"Okay," she agreed.
After a warm bath she felt better, more relaxed.
So Eve took herself on a tour of the luxurious suite.
And quickly realised that Matt was a slob.
He'd abandoned what appeared to be a dog-eared manuscript on the floor next to the couch. On the coffee table lay a sleek silver laptop surrounded by candy wrappers. A half-eaten chocolate chip cookie and crumbs had been discarded next to an empty saucer and a half drunk cup of coffee. A pair of battered leather boots were dumped in the middle of the vast rug of ivory wool. Obviously emptied from his pockets in a hurry was a pile of detritus tossed on a beautiful antique serving table next to the door; a key, candy wrappers, coins in a variety of currencies along with scrunched up Euros. The man showed absolutely no respect for the polished wood. Irritation bloomed in her belly. More candy wrappers littered the couch. The way his body was honed and toned she was amazed he had such a sweet tooth. Who'd have thought it?
Eve knew she was being nosy, but couldn't help but poke her head into his bedroom, wrinkling her fastidious nose at the trail of socks, jeans, underpants and T-shirt on the floor. The array of pocket crap on the bedside table mirrored the rubbish in the sitting room. Why hadn't she realised he was a pig? Probably because they'd been so busy ripping their clothes off she'd never had the chance to notice. Matt appeared to have the ability to make himself right at home in his chosen environment.
Eve wasn't like that, she loved the stability of her gorgeous but homely apartment. She'd worked hard through school and at eighteen won a place to the university of her choice, Exeter, to read English literature. When a model scout had stopped her in the street, taken her picture and contact details and handed her his business card she'd thought nothing of it. But once she'd realised the scout was legitimate and represented the top agency in the country, she'd given them a call. University was expensive. Her mother had passed away, so the idea of reducing her student loans held plenty of appeal for Eve.
Within months she'd been travelling the world, making more money than she'd ever dreamed of. Via distance learning she'd studied and gained her degree on the day she'd taken the Paris Spring Collection by storm. Her independence, financially and emotionally was very important. Karma had been good to her. The stars of success all standing in alignment. Until she'd met Matt, Eve reckoned she hadn't put a foot wrong.
He'd asked her to stay with him to talk.
She wanted to talk to him too.
But she was crazy about the son-of-a-bitch.
Spending too much time with him in such close proximity without going to bed with him was going to be a challenge. Eve was always honest with herself. Her heart might never recover from walking away from him when this meeting was all over and Matt moved on to his next big film.
Scooping up the candy wrappers from the couch she tossed them in the trash and couldn't stop her over-active brain chewing on her problems.
It was all such a terrible waste.
Before Matt had walked out on her, walked out on them as a couple, she'd recognised he had the potential to be a wonderful partner to her. Something deep in her heart believed it was possible that he might be a good father to their child, too. But again her head told her to be very careful. Would he, as he'd done in the past, walk away from getting in too deep? He was already in too deep, he'd said so hadn't he? Worrying her bottom lip she wondered what he'd meant by the statement. Let's face it, there was nothing emotionally deeper than parenthood. Did the fact Matt felt he was in too deep with her mean that he cared for her? Maybe too much? Or did it mean he recognised she had strong feelings for him and perhaps he didn't return those feelings?
She had no idea.
But life had taught Eve that there were times when a person needed to take a leap of faith. Like her modelling for instance. Good things in life didn't happen unless a person was prepared to take a certain amount of risk. A calculated risk. So she would give Matt one chance to be a good father to his child. One chance. For herself she wanted nothing from him. Liar, a little voice whispered. Okay, she might dream of having his undying love and devotion but she was a realist. By his behaviour it was obvious he cared more about his freedom than he did about her. She was a big girl and knew she couldn't have everything she wanted in life so she'd just need to suck it up. Dreams had no place in the real world. She owed it to herself and to the child she was carrying to never live with regret.
Carrying the vase of roses from her bedroom, she wandered through the sitting and dining part of the suite, appreciating the old-world splendour, the height of the coffered ceiling, the big bay with arched windows. The scent of the flowers she carried mingled with wax and vanilla from giant candles flickering in urns of clear glass on the mantelpiece. The tick, tick of the carriage clock was restful and peaceful. She placed the vase on the marble coffee table in front of the fire.
Eve's London apartment was nothing flashy but it was immaculate and it was home and anchored her in the peripatetic world of her chosen career. Deep down inside her she'd always hankered after the things she'd never had. A normal life with a normal house, the white picket fence and two or maybe three children. Simple things that she knew would make her happy. In her mind the man in her future would want those things too. Now anxiety had her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Somehow she couldn't quite see Mathias Carter mowing a lawn, washing a car or taking out the trash. Or, the little voice whispered in her head, changing a dirty diaper.
Matt strolled through the door laden down with parcels and expensive looking shopping bags. The sight of him with a beanie pulled low on his forehead, most of his face hidden by a matching muffler of black cashmere, made her smile.
"Is that supposed to be a disguise?"
She looked stunning Matt thought as he stepped through the door and saw her.
Any man would be a lucky bastard to find a woman like that waiting for him at home.
She was wearing skinny jeans under an overlarge sweater of soft wool the colour of clotted cream. Her feet were bare, toenails painted in clear varnish. And her fabulous hair was loose. It hung to her waist in a copper waterfall. No jewellery, he noted. Well, he'd bought a couple of pieces for her for Christmas. He'd had plenty of time to think while putting a hefty dent in his credit card. And he'd decided she was spending the holidays with him. She looked rested now. Not as fragile, thank God. Because that fragility had touched something deep within him.
"The disguise worked," he sa
id, dumping the bags on a couch. Pulling off the beanie he unwound the scarf from his neck, tossing them and his thick quilted jacket on top of the bags on the couch. He remembered Eve liked order and everything in its place, so he found the little frown of irritation in her eyes absolutely adorable.
"You look good," he said as he walked to her.
Christ, she smelt amazing. Fresh honey and warm woman.
Whisky coloured eyes critically studied his face.
"You look like a scruff. You need a shave."
Delighted with her, the bossy attitude thrilled him, made a man want to grab her and kiss her until his head spun. He'd never been stupid with a woman and Matt wasn't about to start being stupid now. If he touched her, she'd deck him.
Instead, he thrust his hands into his pockets and grinned at the irritation in her eyes.
"I'm incognito."
"You still need to commune with a razor," she said. He took her arm and turned her
towards a couch next to the fire. "What are you doing?"
"Making sure you rest."
They sat and he didn't miss the way she moved out of his hold to tuck herself into the corner of the couch. In a defensive move, she grabbed a big cushion to hug. A shield. An act that made him bite down hard on the inside of his cheek.
His gaze met hers. "Eve, I'm not going to jump you."
Then his eyes narrowed at the heat that rose into her fabulous face. And was that disappointment he read in those vivid eyes? Something like relief uncurled the nerves in his gut. Maybe she'd give him a chance?
"I miss your smile," he told her. "Am I ever going to see it again?"
Wary eyes stayed on his and the fact he'd put that expression there annoyed the hell out of him.
"You're being ridiculous. Like any normal person I smile when I'm happy."
"So can I deduce from your expression that you're one step down from miserable? Do you want to talk about it? That'll be sandwiches I ordered," he said when there was a knock on the door. "I requested a bit of everything."
Eve decided the best and safest place to sit was at the small dining table.
She smiled at the waiter, listened to Matt chatting about who'd scored in the big rugby game of the day. She didn't miss the quick switch of folded notes from one palm to the other. Picking up a coffee pot she poured Matt a cup. The man was addicted to the stuff. Then she poured herself a tea from the pot, added a slice of lemon.
"What's the new script about," she asked, feeling nervous and not sure why.
He sat opposite, piled a plate high with sandwiches and dug in as if he hadn't seen food for a week.
She simply stared.
He grinned at the expression on her face, grabbed a napkin and wiped his fingers.
"Sorry, haven't eaten since brunch. Help yourself. The new movie is set in a gothic urban future. Humans have been almost wiped out by an outbreak of avian/swine flu. A pharmaceutical company manufactures a vaccine. The man who makes the breakthrough is hailed a hero. Then he causes a sensation by admitting on world-wide television that he's a vampire. Vampires have always walked among us."
"Wow," she said and nibbled the edge of a smoked salmon sandwich. "And what part do you play?"
"The hero. I'm the guy who owns the pharmaceutical company. I'm seven hundred and eighty years old and one hot and handsome dude."
She just had to ask, "Who are the bad guys?"
Eyes twinkling he sat forward, his enthusiasm contagious.
"Evil beings who use magic to open portals to enter our reality. When a portal opens it causes seismic shifts in the earth's polarity causing earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, tornadoes. We're talking eventual global extinction," he said with glee.
"So it's a disaster movie with vampires as the good guys?"
He wolfed down another sandwich. "Almost, not all vampires are created equal. We jump forward ten years. He meets a woman. No disaster movie worth its salt is complete without a valid emotional love interest. She's a commander in the World Health Authority investigating the assassination of a group of vampire elders. The way they died is not pretty. And the theory is they were killed by haemoglobin manufactured by yours truly. And she just happens to be a very powerful witch. And so the story begins."
She sat back in her chair, watching him over the rim of her cup with something like awe and wonder as he demolished everything on his plate.
"A paranormal disaster movie?"
"Yep. It's a departure for me. Great fun. Brilliant director and cast."
"When do you start filming?"
"Next month, in New Zealand. It'll take about a year to get it in the bag."
Vivid blue eyes were glittering with sheer excitement into hers.
She blinked.
And just like that Eve's little ray of hope bit the dust.
Disappointment in him was a leaden weight on her heart.
He was going to walk away from their baby.
The sandwich on her plate swam out of focus and she blinked, desperate not to show how devastated she felt. Bitter anger with him for being a selfish bastard, and with herself for having false hope, rose into her throat. What had she expected? He'd never entertain the idea of not taking a role just because he was becoming a father.
Timing was everything.
Now Eve decided that the timing was just right to give him her lawyer's papers.
Refusing to meet his eyes she tossed what she hoped was a brilliant smile in his general direction and stood. "Actually, I have something for you."
On legs that were far from steady she went into her bedroom for the file with the papers her lawyer had drawn up.
She felt the heat of Matt's blue eyes on her as she returned, placed the file in front of him.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed he was frowning.
"For you," she said.
Sinking into the chair at the table she topped up her cup with tea she didn't want, placed a sandwich she had no intention of eating on her plate. Heart thundering in her ears she wondered if maybe she should have given him an inkling of what the file contained.
Too late.
Matt read the pages and went absolutely still.
Face pale, he closed the file and very carefully placed it on the table.
Those blue eyes weren't twinkling now, instead they'd gone too dark with something like wrath.
"Do you seriously expect me to sign that? What kind of man do you think I am?" He got to his feet, all six foot four inches of towering and furious male. "More to the point, do I even know who you are? The Eve I thought I knew would never dream of asking me to sign something like this." She flinched when his fist punched his chest. "To sign away my rights as the father to my child?" Those blue eyes were like chips of solid ice. "Are you fucking insane?"
Eve blinked.
Okay.
Now she had an unequivocal response she forced down the flare of hope that flickered to life in her belly.
Was it possible she'd read him wrong?
He'd just said he was going to New Zealand in four weeks while she'd be here in England.
Her brow creased.
Nope.
She hadn't read him wrong.
In fact, she'd understood and received the message loud and clear that his career came first.
So why was he so angry with her?
There was no way he was going to come and go as he pleased, surely he understood that?
Perhaps he didn't believe her? Hadn't she let him come and go in her life? Without asking for anything and without making demands? Perhaps he thought he could just continue their relationship as before?
Not a chance, sunshine.
She licked her lips, cleared her throat.
"Have you thought this through? Because..."
Then she leaned back in her chair as he slapped his hands on the table making the dishes dance.
He leaned over and his eyes impaled hers.
"There's nothing to think through," he roare
d.
Fascinated she watched him fight a war of attrition to keep a firm grip on his temper.
"Yes, but..."
Standing upright with his legs apart and arms folded he glowered and glared at her.
"But nothing," he rudely interrupted her. His chin jerked up. "Now you just listen to me, Eve. You're carrying my child. I have rights. The child has rights. And you have rights. I get that. I will be the best hands-on father I can be..."
"But how can you be a hands-on father when you'll be thousands of miles away?" she shot right back. Who did he think he was standing there talking about his rights with her? He was the one walking away. He had no rights.
And the question was a logical one so why was he looking at her like that?
His eyes were almost black, narrow and intense on her face. He looked at her as if she'd lost her tiny mind. Maybe she had because she was still totally confused.
He took a big inhale through his nose, held it and then let it out.
"Simple. New Zealand is not outer Mongolia. It has state-of-the-art medical facilities. You'll love it there," he assured her. "Why are you looking so shocked? Where I go, baby. You go. Capisce?"
Chapter Seven
It was seven-thirty in the evening at The Dower House and Bronte Ferranti was in her sitting room tucked up next to the fire.
Her feet were warm and toasty encased in thick fleece-lined socks. Settling the cushion at her lower back to ease the ache niggling there she tried to relax, stroking a gentle hand over the giant football of her stomach. Four weeks to go and she couldn't wait. With her collapse and blood pressure going through the roof, both her and Nico had needed nerves of steel to get them through the last two months of this pregnancy. She winced and adjusted her position, trying to get comfortable to accommodate the active child using her belly as a punch bag.
She inhaled the scent of smoky pine cones crackling in the fire, the cinnamon and apple cookies Rosie had made. She smelled Christmas. She smelled home. God, she loved it. Most of all she loved the people in it, her big Italian husband and the miracle of their children. But at this time of year that love was bitter sweet. During the festive season she missed her mum and dad too much. How she wished they'd lived to meet her babies. Her father would have got such a kick seeing how excited her two year old twins were about a visit from the big guy in red with the white beard. And her mother especially would have adored Nico. Her eyes filled when it hit her that her mother had never experienced the joy of having Luca crawling onto her knee. Never had the chance to rock Sophia to sleep. A fat tear ran down her cheek as she sniffed.