by Sami Lee
“He wasn’t interrupting anything that shouldn’t have been interrupted.” Now that the cold wash of reality had swept away the magic of the moment, Eve was mortified that she had let things get out of hand. And to be caught by Barry practically making out—it was humiliating. It was all a huge, humiliating mistake.
“Eve—”
“I have to go get Bailey. He must be well past ready for bed by now.”
Barry made an impatient sound. “You’ve got exactly thirty seconds to sort this out, Mike.” With that he disappeared back into the kitchen.
She was halfway out to the main area of the hotel when the sound of Mike calling her name made her stop. She turned to see him jogging after her. When he reached her he placed a hand on either side of her head.
Eve’s breath caught for the umpteenth time that evening, her heart racing. When Mike’s hands ran over her hair she closed her eyes against the emotions swirling inside her. A moment later she opened them to see Mike holding up the ugly hair net she had been wearing.
Eve gasped and ran her hands through her hair. “I was still wearing that? My God! I must have looked awful!”
“No, you didn’t.” The look in his eyes made her think he wasn’t merely being gracious.
Her chest felt weighted down. “About what just happened. We shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know,” he surprised her by agreeing. “But we did, and I … damnit!” he reached back and massaged his neck in a gesture of patent frustration. “I don’t have time to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. We just need to forget it ever happened and go on with our lives.”
The look in his eyes trapped her to the spot like a green laser beam. “You can do that?”
Not in a million years. She lifted her chin. “Sure,” she lied, her voice cracking. “Why? Can’t you?”
He looked angry, his scowl lethal. Why should he be angry? Couldn’t he see she was giving him an out? He had got the kiss he was so determined to get and now she was giving him permission to completely ignore any consequences. He ought to be elated.
At last he said tautly, “Sure I can. It’s already forgotten.”
Eve didn’t let the way his comment stung show on her face. She smiled, too, the action hurting her cheeks. “Good.”
“Fine.”
“Good night.” She hesitated only a fraction of a second before turning on her heel.
As she rushed down the corridor, she heard Mike mutter something under his breath that might have been an answering good night, but might as likely have been an epithet.
The following day Eve’s presentation to the CEO of Fine Furniture went off without a hitch. Sheila Smith was impressed by the comprehensive information Eve presented and was blessedly unaware of the haste with which it was thrown together. Afterward, the staff mingled at a chaotically prepared morning tea that nevertheless looked like it had been planned for weeks. All in all, the morning went swimmingly. Eve should have been happy.
So why was her mind on anything but work?
Well, not on just anything. On Mike Wilcox, specifically.
Her brain seemed to be stuck in a time loop, her memory replaying over and over again those few moments spent behind the kitchen at The Rusty Marlin last night: the look in Mike’s eyes, the way their green had turned dark when they trailed over her face, the shared understanding that seemed to bind them, the way he had kissed her.
Her skin heated at the mere thought of it. How was she going to see him tonight and pretend she had forgotten all about it, like she’d assured him she’d have no problem doing?
Distracted from the spreadsheets she was reviewing, Eve’s gaze turned to her hand. The bandage Mike had applied still swathed her wound, which hadn’t really been that bad and was no doubt healed by now. She should probably take it off so she wouldn’t be reminded of the gentle, caring side of Mike she had seen last night. She had known he was a nurturer—in his conspicuously masculine way—by the way he handled Bailey, and the fact that he fed other people for a living; but she hadn’t expected ever to be on the receiving end of his TLC, and she was terrified by the things it made her feel.
Protected. Safe. Valuable. Worth the effort.
She hadn’t realised until now that, after so many years free of her mother’s neglect, somewhere buried deep inside there was still the feeling that she wasn’t worth the effort it took for someone else to care about her.
Oh, Jacinta had cared, but she was an exception. Jacinta’s father had been wrapped up in his career, her mother in her clubs and committees. Although materially they gave their daughter whatever she wanted, they didn’t exactly shower Jacinta with love—and she was their flesh and blood. With Eve, Jacinta’s parents had never been unkind but they were distant, and she had never developed a close relationship with them, even before they divorced when she and Jacinta were both sixteen. After that, Jacinta’s father had taken a position overseas and her mother quickly got busy hunting for a new husband.
Since Jacinta died, Eve had never felt more alone. But last night, she had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t. Was it possible? Could it be that Mike really cared about her?
“Is something wrong, Eve?”
Terri Howard was standing at her open office door, a thick manila folder in her hands. “Wrong? No, not a thing. Why do you ask?”
“You just seem a little … I don’t know … out of it.” Terri shrugged and stepped across the threshold, moving forward and depositing the folder she carried on Eve’s desk. “I brought those reports you wanted.”
“Thanks.” When Terri still stood by uncertainly, an apprehensive expression on her face, Eve asked, “Is there something wrong with you?”
“I was just wondering if I could ask you something. You know that friend of yours, Bailey’s uncle?”
“Mike?” she asked casually, as if he had been the farthest thing from her mind. As if she hadn’t been sitting here dreamily recalling the feel of his lips on hers, so intently that she appeared ‘out of it’.
“Yeah. I was just curious…” Terri began, and something inside Eve flipped over at her next words. “I think he’s totally hot and wanted to know if by any chance he’s single.”
Chapter 7
“Why do you ask?”
Eve knew from snippets personal information Terri had revealed that she’d had the same boyfriend for over two years. But, then, she suspected Mike would gain the attention of all women, even attached ones.
“It’s not for me!” Terri rushed to answer. “It’s for my friend, Mandy. She’s always got me on the lookout for available guys, and he was really good-looking. And sweet, bringing you lunch yesterday. I wondered if he might be interested in a set-up.”
Eve told herself the flash of irritation was unwarranted. After all, she had tried to give the impression her and Mike’s relationship was completely platonic. It was platonic. It wasn’t out of line for Terri to ask such a thing. It wasn’t easy for single women to meet quality single men.
Quality men. “Okay, so Mike’s a quality man, I’ll give him that,” Eve muttered, not realising she had spoken the thought aloud until she glanced up and saw Terri looking at her strangely. “What I mean is, I don’t think he needs to be set up.”
“Maybe he doesn’t, but—”
“I have to go home.” Eve’s abruptness shocked her and Terri both. She stood and started gathering her things, suddenly assailed by a desperate need to escape. The last thing she wanted to do was explain her unreasonable aversion to setting Mike up on a blind date.
She was halfway to the door before Terri said, “But you wanted these reports.”
Eve waved a dismissive hand. “They can wait until Monday. Let Nathan know I had to leave, will you?” She had no desire to get into any detailed explanations to the General Manager about her sudden disappearance, not really understanding it herself; but she had started early today and blitzed the presentation with the CEO. She was certainly due a little time off
.
The stunned expression on the brunette’s face made Eve wonder when she had last left in the middle of a work day. She failed to recall a single occasion.
Eve smiled all the way to the parking lot, feeling buoyed by her daring, like a kid skipping school. Not that she had ever done that either, come to think of it. She’d bet Mike had. She’d also be willing to bet his jaw would hit the floor when she turned up, ready to take over duties with Bailey so he could have an afternoon to himself.
She rationalised that this was what she needed to do, why she had decided to leave work. Mike had been working days caring for Bailey, and nights slaving in a hot kitchen, sparring with Barry McClusky. He couldn’t have been getting enough sleep and was surely in need of a break. She would take Bailey for a walk so they could watch the breeze ripple the surface of Moreton Bay in the resplendent afternoon sun and let Mike take a much needed nap. It was the least she could do, given all he’d done for her and Bailey and how churlishly she’d acted about it.
What was normally a half hour drive took her only twenty minutes without peak hour traffic to contend with. Eve’s mood elevated further when the sight of the bay greeted her, its waters glistening in the noonday sun. She wound her window down, uncaring that the breeze would mess with her hair. The salt air wafted into the car. The weekend was ahead of her, and for the first time in a long time, she was really looking forward to it.
She was not rushing home because she was looking forward to seeing Mike.
Her brow furrowed when she pulled into the driveway of the cottage. Another car was parked out front, a white hatchback she didn’t recognise. The thought gripped her that Mike might have a female visitor, and Eve’s throat went dry as she ascended the stairs to the front door.
If he did have a lady friend over, she would have something to say about his introducing Bailey to some newfound bimbo, Eve thought peevishly, telling herself she was concerned only with Bailey’s welfare. She was not jealous, not one little bit.
Swinging open the front door, Eve announced loudly, “I’m home!” before she caught sight of the woman standing beside Bailey’s high chair.
She rushed toward Eve, shushing her. “Could you keep it down a bit? Mike’s asleep downstairs.”
Eve did her best to greet Mike’s mother politely. “Hello, Denise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Nor I you. A bit early to be home, isn’t it?”
Eve bit back a sharp retort at the other woman’s tone. “I gave myself an early mark,” she explained frugally, realising afterward how self-important she had made herself sound. Oh, well. Denise already didn’t like her, a little more damage would hardly be noticeable.
Denise Wilcox regarded her coolly through pale blue eyes rimmed with a generous coating of mascara. Where Mike’s hair was dark, Denise’s was light—the colour of wheat with lighter strands of gold that Eve had always assumed were added by a hairdresser. The suspicion was confirmed by the grey-flecked re-growth that was now apparent at the roots of her otherwise chic, shoulder-length bob.
She had let her usual vigilance with her appearance slip, Eve realised, the thought making her feel guilty for her less-than-charitable thoughts. Denise had lost her eldest son less than two months ago, and Eve felt real sympathy for her, but the other woman’s demeanour made it difficult for Eve to remain civil.
Denise’s dusky brown eyebrows rose. “Good for you.” The tone of her voice hardly as congratulatory as the words implied. “I wish I could get away from the office as easily, but the place barely runs without the Office Manager. I have a rostered day off today, so I decided to come over and give Mike a break. He sounded exhausted when I called. I don’t think he can be getting much sleep, rising early to look after Bailey when you go to work and then working half the night.”
Eve felt sure there was an admonishment of her in there somewhere and tried to remind herself that Denise was not only Bailey’s grandmother and perfectly within her rights to see her grandson, but that she was also Mike’s mother and entitled to her concern. Hadn’t she herself just had that same concern? Her retort was out before she could moderate it. “I didn’t ask Mike to move in here.”
“No, he seemed determined to do that regardless of what anyone else said. Still, the main thing is that he has some kind of relationship with Bailey I suppose, however limited it might be.”
“I would never want to limit Mike’s relationship with Bailey. It’s why I agreed to let him stay here.”
“To let him?” Denise’s laugh was as bitter as a straight shot of lemon juice. “The way I see it, he’s the one who lets you stay here. If nothing else, Derek at least left him this house. A pretty nice arrangement for you it is, too. I know he refuses to accept any payment of rent from—”
“Mum, what are you doing?”
They both turned at the sound of Mike’s voice. He was standing at the top of the stairs, a fierce scowl marring features that were already just-woke-from-a-too-short-nap grumpy. His white T-shirt was crinkled, his hair mussed. As Eve watched, he ran his hand through it in an effort to neaten it.
“Nothing, Michael. Eve and I were just talking.”
“You were badgering her.”
“Please, both of you,” Eve interrupted before things could get any more heated. The last thing she wanted to do was come between Mike and his mother. “Can’t we just forget it? I’m sure Denise and I can agree that we disagree on some things and leave it at that.” She sent the other woman a look that dared her not to rise to the challenge. “Can’t we?”
By the way her pink-painted lips twisted, Eve guessed Denise didn’t appreciate the corner she had been backed into, but she said with forced pleasantness, “Of course we can. In fact, I was hoping to talk to you, Eve. I was going to suggest we have Bailey’s birthday celebration early, the day after tomorrow, at our house. Unless you’ve organised something for next weekend that I don’t know about.”
“Birthday?” Eve repeated, before she could stop the word and its incriminating implication escaping. A sick feeling washed over her.
The feeling only got worse when Denise made no attempt to hide her shock. “Surely you realise it’s Bailey’s birthday on Wednesday? Or did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget,” Eve lied. She had known the date of Bailey’s birthday, she just hadn’t realised how quickly it had crept up. She had been distracted. She glanced sideways at Mike, the source of her recent distraction. She had forgotten Bailey’s birthday because she was wrapped up in a man.
Like mother, like daughter. The nausea worsened.
“Oh, yes, you did,” Denise persisted, fury underpinning her words. “You forgot.”
“Come on, Mum,” Mike said. “The situation’s a little extraordinary. With everything that’s happened, it’s understandable that it slipped our minds.”
Denise turned her eyes to her son, disappointment clear in her expression. “You, too? Oh, Michael. How could you?” Her only answer was silence that thrummed with their combined guilt. Eve felt as though the both of them had been called into the principal’s office.
But this was much more serious than high school hijinks. They—she, because it was her responsibility to remember these things—had failed to make plans to celebrate little Bailey’s birthday—a very important birthday—not only because it was his first on the planet, but his first significant event without his mother and father.
His first with her, Eve O’Brien, a poor substitute for his mother indeed.
It was Mike who finally broke the silence. “I’m sorry Mum—we both are.” Eve felt rather than saw the gesture Mike made to include her in his admission. She didn’t dare look up at either him or Denise. She was too ashamed of herself. “A bit of a party at your place sounds like a great idea. We can throw everything together by Sunday. What time do you want us there?”
“Noon would be good,” Denise said, grudgingly abandoning her invective, at least for now. “If that fits in with Bailey’s nap schedule. Your fat
her’s been champing at the bit to use the barbeque before the weather gets too cold.”
“That’ll suit us,” Mike told her. “I can organise a cake.”
“I’ll do it.”
Eve was as surprised as Denise and Mike appeared to be at her interjection, but there was no equivocation in her statement.
Denise said, “Don’t trouble yourself too much.”
“I’ll do it,” Eve said again, her tone inviting no further debate, so that even Denise was compelled to silence.
Eve intervened no further as Mike and his mother sorted out some of the finer details. It would just be the family, Denise said: her and Mike’s father, the two of them, and Bailey, the guest of honour. A short time later, Denise planted a kiss on Bailey’s forehead and Mike’s cheek. There was no such affection for Eve, but then she hadn’t expected any. The other woman gave her a cool goodbye and a curt nod before Mike walked her to her car.
Eve let out a long, slow breath once they were gone, and wandered over to where Bailey sat still strapped in his high chair. He looked up at her and grinned, revealing his two bottom teeth poking up through the gums. Her chest squeezed tight.
“I’ll make it up to you, B,” she vowed. “I promise I’ll get better at this.”
Step one was learning to bake a cake.
Eve stared down in dismay at the charred disc that was supposed to be a cake and felt ridiculous, emotional tears threaten. She didn’t understand. The recipe had outlined explicit instructions any fool could have followed and come out with something edible.
Any fool except this fool.
She had risen early and gone shopping for ingredients, staunchly refusing Mike’s repeated offers of help. The look of scepticism on his face when she had insisted she would be the one to bake Bailey’s cake, despite never having baked one before, had irked her. It was a wholly superior chef’s look, one that implied she had no business dabbling in things she didn’t understand. Incensed, thinking how difficult could it be to cook a simple cake, Eve had insisted she could manage and had gone on her way.