He wrinkled his nose. “Then my idea of paradise is very different from yours, darling. How about the high-roller suite in Monte Carlo, never having to lift a finger to work again?”
“You know I’m a terrible gambler. You go, have your fun. I’m done.”
“We’ll see,” John said.
***
Eve took John for a walk on the beach the next morning before he was to leave Chelsea. The sun shone as bright as a ten-carat diamond, warming the sand beneath their feet. The few humans on that stretch of sand were outnumbered by seagulls twenty to one.
Her shoulders lost some of their tension as she walked with her old friend. Over the past two days, they’d eaten and drunk and reminisced and done some planning for what she vowed would be her absolute final job the following week. They were both silent on this outing, and she enjoyed the feel of sand between her toes, the fresh ocean breeze that came and went with the waves.
When they were halfway to the jutting rocks that marked the end of Chelsea Cove, he broke the silence.
“Are you sure our shoes will be safe?”
“If they aren’t, I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“Yes, you will. Those are vintage Gucci.”
“Isn’t walking barefoot so much nicer?” She’d told him to leave his shoes behind at the stairs they’d used to access the beach. He’d only agreed because he didn’t want to get sand in his expensive Italian loafers.
“I suppose. I’m going to be busy for a few days, but I’ll be in touch early next week so we can finalize our plans.”
She sighed. “I hate that we have to do this at all.”
“I know. We’re backed into a corner. At least we’re in it together. We’ll do this, Deacon will be off our backs, and you can go back to playing house and atoning for your sins while I carry on, alone.”
His voice was light, but there was a grain of truth behind his complaint.
She cuffed him on the arm, laughing a little. “I know you don’t completely understand my reasons for leaving, John, but I appreciate you trying. Deacon’s got it in for you, too. I won’t let you down on this.”
“Evie darling—” John’s wheedling tone set off alarm bells in Eve’s brain. “—if we’re going to pull this off, an extra pair of hands might be useful.”
“Sadly, my network is a little thin on this side of the world. Someone like Ivan would be perfect. I’m fairly sure he’s ensconced with his sugar mama in Ibiza for the season.”
“I was actually thinking of Hudson.”
“Hudson Cleary?” The concept didn’t compute.
“What other Hudsons do you know?”
“But he’s a civilian. No, absolutely not, no. He’d be a liability. He’s probably a boy scout and would call the cops or something. No.” The idea of Hudson working the job with them was laughable at best.
John grinned. “He strikes me as a very reliable fellow, and he’s got the hots for you. Don’t tell me he wouldn’t accompany you on a romantic weekend away, if you promised to make it worth his while.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Eve laughed despite herself. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You don’t have to tell him why, or the entire plan. The less he knows, the better. He can be your cover.”
“Lie to him?” It would mean doing the one thing he’d asked her never to do.
“Call it omitting certain damaging details.”
“Right.”
“So you’ll think about it,” John persisted.
“No, I will not think about it. That’s not an option.”
“Fine. You’re the boss.”
“Fine. Where are you going, anyway?” She was anxious imagining her turning Hudson into some kind of patsy. Better to focus on John.
“Don’t you worry about that. Some of us still have to work, you know.”
She pushed down the feelings of guilt that had been rising through this entire conversation. She was sick of feeling guilty no matter what path she took. She thought of the manila envelope she still hadn’t opened. Perhaps when this mess was cleared up, she’d be able to take that step.
“Let’s go make sure your shoes haven’t been ravaged by seagulls.”
The look on John’s face was priceless.
***
A few hours later, Eve stood on her porch, looking down the road long after the taxi bearing John had driven out of sight. It would have been heaven to curl up with a book and a whisky, and then go to sleep and not wake until her life made a little sense.
But hard to brood when she had three boisterous workers making a racket as they finished the deck. They were working at full tilt to get the construction finished before the weekend.
Since she couldn’t mope around and feel sorry for herself, she should get something done. She hadn’t so much as glanced at her collection since the night she and Hudson had examined it together. With painstaking care, she finished unwrapping each precious painting, then asked the foreman to do her a favor and dismantle the crate and haul it away with him at the end of the day.
There were a dozen and a half pieces in all. It took her the entirety of the afternoon to arrange and rearrange them before she was satisfied with their distribution around the house. She found herself wondering what Hudson would say about her choice of the Degas in the downstairs powder room, or the sweet little medieval Madonna by the living room window. She’d hung countless shows at her galleries, but she still could have used his painter’s eye.
It unsettled her that she thought of him so often. Her concentration was shot. She blamed it entirely on him and that kiss. Well, both kisses. The first had been dreamy, unexpectedly sensual. The second had been intensely craved, and deeply felt. If the first kiss had been the product of flirtation, the second had been born of lust; unfortunately, she was as lusty as ever.
So there she stood in her bedroom, holding the final painting up to the wall, thinking about Hudson’s brain as she studied the color contrast between the still life and the room’s light. When she had the final placement right, she turned her thoughts to Hudson’s body, and how she’d like to sink onto her bed with him on top of her, so he could make good on the promise of those searing kisses. She felt branded by them, and no amount of wishing it away would erase that feeling.
Eve shivered. It seemed Hudson Cleary was a complication she couldn’t make herself avoid. She set the painting down and grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it.
The length of the five rings before he answered were almost enough time for good sense to filter back through the haze of lust she’d been in all afternoon.
“What can I do for you, Eve?” His sexy bass broke through her meager defenses.
“I know you probably already have plans, since it’s Friday night, but I was wondering if you wanted…dinner. To have dinner with me.” Could she be more incoherent?
“I can be there in fifteen minutes. Dinner optional.” His voice was deeper, rougher. Just how she liked it.
“No,” she said weakly. “Only dinner.”
“All right, dinner first.”
“Just dinner.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
“Dinner,” he repeated.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“A little.”
“Then you can bring the wine. I’m making pork. Be here at seven.” She hung up. At least, she’d gotten in the last word.
***
The doorbell wasn’t unexpected, but it still made Eve jump. She took a deep breath. They were having dinner, and that was it. She was being friendly. Kissing didn’t even figure into the equation, because they weren’t going to do any of it. Right.
She tore off the oversized T-shirt she’d put on in lieu of an apron and smoothed down her hair on the way to the front door.
He’d made an effort, which made her feel better about the hour she’d spent deciding between outfits. She’d been going for a “I’m so naturally stunning I don’t even need t
o try” sort of look with her hair loose, her feet bare, and a simple white blouse over perfectly tailored jeans. Rubies twinkled at her ears and neck, making her feel powerful.
Hudson was also in jeans, but in place of his normal broken-in flannel, he wore a thin cashmere sweater the color of his eyes, a chocolate brown that made him look completely edible. His hair was a little damp, and he smelled like fresh laundry. The wholesome image was utterly cancelled out by the wolfish grin on his face and the bottle of Dom Pérignon in his hands.
“I didn’t know what went with pork, then I remembered you said champagne is always a good idea.”
“I was right.” The fact that he’d listened to her, remembered her offhanded remark, then bought her one hundred and fifty dollar bubbly made her feel warm, like he’d switched on a heat lamp inside her.
She popped the cork and it seemed to pop the tension between them, as well. He told her funny stories about his childhood in Chelsea. They didn’t speak of his art, or her collection of paintings, most of which had been hung. She didn’t mention John, or the task she faced. He didn’t bring up the kisses they’d shared. Or the fact that they were finally alone in the house, and a staircase was all that was between them and a very large, very accommodating bed.
Hudson seemed so distracted by the meal she’d prepared that anything else, sex, art, or crime, wasn’t even in the air. She didn’t know whether to be proud or exasperated.
“This tenderloin is incredible!” he said, happily taking seconds. “I didn’t know you were such a cook. John sort of gave me the impression….”
“That I’m hopeless in the kitchen? He’s a little obsessed with technique,” she said, warmed by his compliment. “I usually don’t follow recipes. I put together ingredients that I think will taste good together.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?” He sounded perfectly serious.
Eve laughed. She was a little sad, knowing he’d probably take back every complimentary thing he ever said or felt about her if he knew exactly what kind of person she was.
“A few things.” She topped off his champagne glass. “I’ll get the dessert.”
While she was more than competent in the kitchen, she usually left baking to the professionals. She pulled a bakery box out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter to take the chill off. The box was chock full of delicious tidbits she’d picked up earlier in the day on a mad rush around town after Hudson had accepted her invitation.
Eve had made her mind up about two things. First, she was going to sleep with Hudson Cleary. Second, she wasn’t going to tell him anything he didn’t need to know. The second made the first doomed to a passing fling, but perhaps that was how her life was destined to be. He was too delicious to pass up, and she’d already spent her share of willpower keeping her hands off him this long. She plated a lemon tart and a couple of chocolate éclairs and carried them back to the dining room.
“Why don’t we take these….” she trailed off, leaving off the word “upstairs” when she saw Hudson was on his cell phone.
“All right, don’t worry, I’ll be right there.” He ended the call and frowned at her. “I’m sorry, but my brother’s eldest is sick and he took her to the hospital. He wants me to go over and watch his two littlest ones so his wife can join him.”
“Of course.” His concern was palpable. “Listen, you’ve had too much champagne, and I’ve had barely half a glass. I’ll drive you over there.”
“I’d appreciate it,” he said.
“Give me two seconds.” Eve returned to the kitchen to repack the bakery box. She balanced her purse and a sweater on top of it as they stepped outside, and she spared a moment to key in the security code, sealing the house up behind them.
“Thanks. I’ll come get my car tomorrow,” he said, and climbed into the passenger seat of her sedan.
The trip down the hill and into town took mere minutes. Hudson directed her to his brother’s trim wood frame house in the residential area by the elementary school. All the lights were on, and she could see movement behind the practical white curtains.
He started to thank her for the ride, but she was already out of the car. She didn’t intend to impose on his family, but she wanted to make sure everyone was going to be okay.
A slim, olive-skinned woman with attractively highlighted brown hair opened the door before they could knock. “Hudson, thanks for coming.” Two dark-eyed children jumped up and down behind her as they caught sight of their uncle.
“This is my sister-in-law, Nancine,” Hudson said. “And these are the little monkeys.” He indicated the children. The kids, a boy and a girl who looked about five and three, giggled and hauled him into the house.
“Hi, I’m Eve. I drove Hudson over. What can I do to help?”
“I’m going to run over to the hospital now. Gracie, my oldest, has been sick for a couple days, but then her fever spiked and my husband and I didn’t want to wait until morning to get her seen. I’d appreciate it if you could give Hudson a hand with the kids. He’s great with them, but he doesn’t exactly set boundaries. They should have been in bed half an hour ago, but….”
“I understand,” Eve said, smiling reassuringly. “You go. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, I have my cell phone and I’ll text if we’re going to be more than a couple of hours.” Nancine called out, “Jordan! Caitlyn! Your Uncle Hudson is going to put you to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.” She then escaped out the door.
Eve surveyed the scene. Jordan, the older one, was holding a foam football and talking nonstop about some sporting event he’d seen. Caitlyn, the toddler, was clutching a well-worn stuffed horse in one hand, and her uncle’s hand in the other. Eve’s heart melted a little at the sight of big, strong, commanding Hudson hand in hand with a diminutive girl in a sparkly purple tutu. He was trying to listen to his nephew while also paying attention to his niece, who was tugging at his hand and exhorting him to look at her new collection of ponies.
She caught his gaze. He smiled apologetically. Eve squared her shoulders.
“Hi guys,” she said, “I’m Eve.”
The chatter stopped and she was inspected by two pairs of curious eyes.
“Caitlyn, do you want to show me your ponies while your Uncle Hudson takes your brother to change into his pajamas?”
Divide and conquer, that was her plan. She held her breath, hoping she sounded more authoritative than she felt. What she knew about kids could be written on a cocktail napkin.
Caitlyn seemed to consider her offer. “Are you Uncle Hudson’s girlfriend?”
“Um.” She glanced at Hudson, but he looked as curious as his niece about her answer. “I’m his friend who happens to be a girl,” she said, a bit lamely.
“Okay,” Caitlyn said, apparently satisfied. She dropped Hudson’s hand and grabbed Eve’s.
“Come on, buddy, let’s go get ready for bed.” He winked at Eve, and took off down the hall, listening attentively as Jordan resumed his story at full tilt.
Eve found herself dragged to the corner of the living room that had been devoted to everything a three-year-old girl could want, from a play kitchen to a dress up box overflowing with all things pink and sequined.
She sank onto her knees so she could be at Caitlyn’s level as the girl introduced her to a stable’s worth of ponies, from the stuffed one in her hand to the miniature purple plastic one on her play table. Eve oohed and aahed over each one, but when the introductions were over, she was somewhat at a loss.
Caitlyn turned to her. “You have pretty hair.”
She choked up a little. “What a lovely compliment. You have beautiful hair, as well.” Caitlyn had glossy brown curls in no semblance of order framing her chubby toddler’s face.
“Thank you,” the little girl said formally.
Not for the first time, but sharper than ever before, Eve felt certain that she wanted this, a chubby face looking up at her, a daughter or son she could adore with her whole heart.
She had precious few outlets for her affectionate impulses at the moment; she was overflowing with the need to give love and be loved in return.
Hormones, too. She blamed hormones. Her body was getting louder with each passing year. Get pregnant! it seemed to scream at her every time she saw a babe in someone’s arms or a family walking down the street.
Perhaps that could explain her deep carnal response to Hudson. As a physical specimen, he was flawless. He had a virility that was obviously in direct contact with her womb. Eve could all too easily picture a baby with his chocolate brown eyes, his golden brown skin. Maybe her ears. Not that Hudson didn’t have fine ears, but she’d always liked her own.
This thought trend was making her a little sad. There was no baby in her future, not immediately, anyway, and especially not with Hudson. She stood up briskly. “Do you want to show me your bedroom?”
“Okay,” Caitlyn said. “But I have to say goodnight to my ponies first.”
Eve waited while Caitlyn said goodnight to each one in turn. The little girl then grabbed a stuffed one with the unlikely name of Joey Sparklehoof and tucked it under her arm.
Caitlyn led her down the hall. There were three bedrooms. They passed the door to an older girl’s bedroom, decorated not with ponies but with cats. The Cleary girls really liked animals. The door to the master bedroom was closed, as was the door to the bathroom. Eve could hear Hudson cajoling Jordan into brushing his teeth.
Caitlyn finally arrived at the room she shared with Jordan, bunk beds taking up most of the space, clothes and toys filling the rest of the small room. Eve spied a pair of yellow and pink striped pajamas on the lower bunk bed. She handed them to Caitlyn, who began carefully changing out of the sparkly tutu and into the shirt and pants.
“Where’s my mom?” Caitlyn asked.
“She had to go out, to be with your dad and your sister,” Eve said.
“Gracie got sick,” the little girl confided in her.
“Yes, I know. I’m sure she’ll be better soon.”
“I hope she gets better before the party,” Caitlyn said, now pajama clad.
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