Christmas Eve

by Flame Arden

  That realization hurt. She'd fulfilled her own sexual fantasies at the same time and relished the thrill.

  So where does that leave me?

  On a par with Priscilla's best!

  Embarrassed, hot tears stung Eve's eyes. She couldn't bear to face Nick again. Not knowing this.

  Foolish woman. She'd worried that Nick might be after her money, when all the time he was only interested in her body.

  Her stomach ached.

  I really am a basket case.

  But not for long.

  Reaching again for Nick's wallet, Eve searched through it in hopes of finding the name of his next of kin or that of a friend to notify in case of an emergency.

  All she found was Nick's own business card. The phone number on the card didn't look like the one she'd given to her roadside service. She dialed the new number in hopes a relative or housekeeper lived at Nick's address.

  "You've reached St. Clair Enterprises," a woman's voice on his message machine said.

  This must be Ruth?

  "The office opens at eight. Please leave a message at the sound of the beep and I'll get back to you."

  While waiting for the beep, Eve attempted to bring her wounded psyche under control. The recording ended. She heard the beep, then quickly said, "Nick is in the medical wing of University Hospital, on the third floor. I left his personal belongings with the receptionist at the desk in the emergency room. He needs you to pick him up when he's released."

  Eve's voice cracked on the last word and she hung up before she further embarrassed herself by bursting into tears.

  Her carefully worded message had sounded cold. Why wouldn't it? She felt exposed, as if she'd spent the past few days in a driving blizzard and would never feel warm again. She hung up the phone and closed her eyes.

  Even though I hope never to see him again, please let Nick live.

  Eve opened her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath.

  Nick's final words surfaced to haunt her again. "... the best damn lay she ever sent."

  Eve squared her shoulders as a fresh spurt of anger sent her striding across the room and up to the nurse behind the desk.

  "Excuse me..."

  "Yes?"

  "Could I get an envelope for Mr. St. Clair's personal belongings?"

  "He didn't come in with anything, as far as I know."

  "He gave me his wallet to hold," Eve said in a flat voice, "but I have to leave. I'm expected at work before long, so I need you to keep his things instead."

  The woman's jaw tightened with displeasure, but after a moment she passed an official-looking envelope to Eve. She printed Nick's name on the front in big letters, stuffed his wallet and keys inside, then sealed the flap.

  "Someone from his office will pick this up. Thank you, Nurse — " Eve made a show of bending down to read the badge pinned to the woman's pocket." — Jansen, for all your help. I'm sure Nick's things are in good hands."

  Without waiting for a reply, Eve shoved the envelope through the opening beneath the window, then tucked her purse under her arm and ran out the door.

  Chapter Twenty

  The hours Eve spent in her office dragged on forever. The first hour, she returned phone calls. After that, no one was at home to answer, and even her office phone stopped ringing.

  After lunch, time hung so heavy she turned to menial tasks, filing, dusting, opening holiday mail, to keep her hands and mind occupied. Still, every time she ran out of something worthwhile to do, her thoughts returned to Nick.

  As the minutes slowly ticked by, she resorted to filing her nails. Nick had admired her hands, had said they were graceful and feminine, but now ink-smudged and chapped, her hands were not all that pretty.

  If he could see them what would he say?

  Maybe she should call the hospital again. The first two times she'd called, the head nurse on his floor refused to tell her anything. Later, after an apparent shift change, the nurse in charge had reported, "Mr. St. Clair is doing just fine. We're giving him fluids through tubes in both arms to hydrate him and by tonight, his dizziness should be gone. His headache will continue to be a problem for a few days, though. He's been asking for you. He's anxious to thank you for safely bringing him here. Will you be by to visit him soon?"

  "N-not today," she'd replied much too quickly not to be considered rude and hung up, swamped by an unexpected backwash of relief.

  Nick would recover just fine without her. Eve doubted she would ever be the same.

  He wanted a clean break. To his way of thinking, he'd successfully concluded a business transaction and paid his bill. More than likely he'd used a credit card to seal his deal with Priscilla and saved his cash for her tip. Well, she would send back Nick's money by bonded courier as soon as she was certain he had returned home.

  End of story.

  How long does it take for a broken heart to mend?

  Thoughtful, she spread a coat of plum colored gloss on a fingernail with great care.

  How long would it take for the hurt to end?

  She'd returned her parents' obligatory holiday call, left them a message almost identical to the one they'd left for her: "It would certainly be nice if you could find the time to visit us in Greece next month."

  Maybe she would go. The weather in Athens this time of year would be pleasant. Gentle Mediterranean breezes. Salt spray.

  Eve straightened. She shook her head, bemused, as she blew on her shiny nail. She must really be desperate. Dropping in on her vacationing parents was the last thing she wanted to do. She had spent the last five years trying to separate her life from theirs. She didn't need any new emotional entanglements.

  A change of scenery wouldn't do any harm, though.

  Maybe a ski trip to the Swiss Alps. In a day or two, once she'd welcomed the new year and her employees had all returned to work, she'd check it out.

  A few minutes after 4:00 p.m. she locked the office door and headed home where two unopened presents awaited her under her tree. She unwrapped them. A maize cashmere sweater from her mother, and from her father, a gift card from Lowe's. He was still at a loss when it came to selecting an appropriate gift for her.

  Eyes closed, she hugged the stiff card representing her father's love, or lack thereof, to her breast. After a moment she put it down and headed for the kitchen. She'd given Lucy a few days off so Eve opened a can of soup and heated it, too tired to care what she ate.

  Not long after clearing the table, she went to bed, anxious for the trying day to come to an end.

  It didn't. She tossed and turned all night, causing her to sleep late the following morning and wake cross.

  * * * * *

  In the hospital across town, Nick woke at first light, feeling like a different person, one extremely glad to be alive. He vaguely remembered Ruth's visit the day before. She had patted his hand like the mother he'd sorely missed while growing up. He'd called his mother early in the day on Christmas Eve. She'd sounded tired. It pleased him to finally know exactly where to reach her, and that she had everything she needed to keep her safe and well. For too many years that was not the case, he'd learned. Her struggle for survival after she left his father was such a catastrophic event he didn't want her ever to suffer hardship again. That's why he'd bought her a house.

  He'd long ago forgiven her, but never forgotten she'd abandoned him, not that he blamed her, but some things a child never forgot. He hadn't liked living with his old man either, and had escaped from his hard-assed scrutiny as soon as he could.

  His mother was getting up in years. Maybe he should get her a maid.

  Nick gazed out the window, watching a street sweeper cleaning the hospital parking lot. He couldn't recall much of Ruth's visit yesterday. Everything in him had hurt then.

  Not now, thankfully. He felt as if he could run a race. Fly a kite. Ride a toboggan.

  Say a proper thank-you to Eve, but he didn't know how.

  He regretted now that he hadn't listened when she had first introduced
herself. In Eve's profession, names were adopted, then abandoned, as often as clothes. First names were all that counted. The last name of one of Priscilla's girls had never mattered to him before.

  Now it mattered a great deal.

  His doctor strolled in. "How do you feel, Nick? Ready to get out of here?"

  "I am. Can I?" Nick held his breath.

  "Yes, but be careful what you do for the next few days. No strenuous exercise. And avoid stress. I don't want to see you back here again."

  "Does that include sex?"

  The doctor chuckled. "Sounds like you already have a partner in mind. I'll leave that decision up to you. If the opportunity arises and you feel up to it, I won't stand in your way."

  They shook hands and the doctor strode out with a wave of his hand.

  Down in the parking lot, the change of shifts had begun. A nurse walked slowly toward her car, got in and backed out, giving up her parking place to a waiting van. Another nurse in a crisp white uniform stepped out of it, ready to start a new day. All the nurses who had attended him had been great. And good looking. They got plenty of exercise just doing their job. Two had openly flirted with him, but neither one was as appealing to him as Eve.

  Why hadn't she visited him?

  He'd soon find out. Nick, impatient to be on his way, waited until 8:00 a.m., then called Ruth and held the phone away from his ear until she finished her good morning spiel.

  "The doctor just released me. How soon can you be here to pick me up?"

  "Well, I don't know. I'll have to leave the office unattended."

  "It's all right to leave the office unattended while you pick up your boss. Lock the door and walk away. Whatever it takes, come get me out of here. I don't want the limo pulling up to the hospital door and directing unwanted attention on me."

  He'd already showered and dressed in the sweats he must have worn to the hospital, although for the life of him, he couldn't remember putting them on that night. But he did recall how bad his head hurt. And Eve washing his face.

  She'd driven him here to the hospital, he'd discovered with great difficulty. He owed the lady a lot.

  Nick looked down at his clothes. He'd feel strange walking through the hotel lobby in house shoes and sweats. Maybe he'd have Ruth drive around to the delivery door. If he rode up to the penthouse in the freight elevator, not many of his employees would see him looking like this. He'd worked too hard to gain their respect to walk through the casino looking like he'd been out all night. Or worse.

  Had word gotten out that he'd been in the hospital?

  He could count on Ruth not to gossip with the staff, but she might have let something slip. He'd prefer the details of his holiday tryst and late-night dash to the emergency room not wind up in the tabloids. Or become the subject of speculation during an employee coffee break.

  He'd prefer to keep the story off the evening news, too. He had always guarded his privacy. A night spent in the hospital wearing a paper dress that opened up the back had put a temporary end to that.

  And damaged his pride, to boot.

  Nick ate breakfast, what there was of it, from a tray, and by the time he had brushed his teeth and combed his hair, he heard Ruth talking to someone outside his door.

  "He'll balk at riding in that wheelchair. He's a very stubborn man."

  "We'll see about that. All discharged patients leave the floor in one of these." Nick recognized the voice of the helpful male orderly who had so willingly located a razor for him.

  Nick grinned, a plan to show Ruth she didn't know everything forming in his mind.

  The orderly wheeled in the chair. "Your chariot awaits."

  Meekly, Nick sat. "Let's go."

  Ruth had to run to keep up, but Nick decided it would be good for her.

  In the car, she kept up a constant chatter. He'd once taken her to the airport and to lunch a number of times. She'd talked a lot then, too.

  Feeling benevolent, Nick held his tongue, although he longed to tell her to be quiet. After the hushed quiet of his hospital room, her non-stop talking was hard to take.

  As they neared the casino, Nick asked, "Would you mind letting me out at the back door?"

  Ruth studied him with a puzzled frown. It slowly cleared. "If that's what you want..."

  "I do. It wouldn't be good for business, to be seen in the lobby dressed like this."

  She skirted the hotel, let him out in the back and drove away, heading for the employee's parking lot and the space he'd personally painted her name on for her birthday last year.

  Ah... blessed quiet.

  He stepped inside. The freight elevator only went to the nineteenth floor, leaving him one flight of stairs to climb, but his plan worked. He was able to slip into the penthouse without running into anyone.

  He'd been away for nearly a week, and went straight to the refrigerator, removed the last can of soda. Empty calories sounded good. Nick popped the top and strolled over to the answering machine, planning to review his messages while sipping the contents of the can.

  Before he could, the phone rang. He answered with a cheery, "Hello."

  "Nick? I'm dreadfully sorry to hear Angie stood you up on Christmas Eve. What can I do to make amends?"

  "Priscilla? What the devil are you talking about?"

  "I've only just returned to my office. I told you we were to be closed for a few days. Remember?"

  "Yes." He hoped she would get around to whatever she was trying to tell him soon. He had things to do. Important things. Like finding Eve. Priscilla would know how, and he intended to ask her, as soon as she paused for breath.

  "...Well, I was just now reviewing my messages, and the first recording was from Angie, the escort I promised would keep you company on Christmas Eve. Her car couldn't make it up the mountain without chains, she said, and the Highway Patrol insisted she turn back. Since she had no way to contact you, she called the office, but no one was here to take her call."

  Angie? Not Eve?

  Damn.

  "I'm terribly sorry," Priscilla continued. "I can imagine how disappointed you were, but..."

  Disappointed? No, that's not the right word.

  Attracted?

  To Eve? Yes.

  Intrigued?

  By Eve? Damn straight.

  In love?

  With Eve?

  Quite likely.

  He tuned back in to Priscilla to hear her say, "I intend to make this up to you, Nick. Your next two engagements are on the house. How's that?"

  Hit by a sudden thought, Nick rocked back on his heels.

  Who the Hell is Eve?

  Priscilla rambled on for a few more minutes before Nick could bring their conversation to an end and try to sort everything out.

  Eve had showed up at his door. Apparently not invited, as he'd thought, but nevertheless welcome.

  Oh, yes.

  And definitely not one of Priscilla's girls.

  Oh, lord.

  What Eve claimed must have been true. She was a real estate agent sent to show the house next door.

  Which meant Eve was definitely not a call girl.

  Then why in Hell had she gone to bed with him?

  The mix up did explain her sweet innocence. He'd been convinced that was an act.

  True, she had looked as unspoiled as the new-fallen snow. But once he got her going...

  Man, oh man. Rev Eve's engines and she purred like his well-tuned Ferrari.

  Wait a minute. Even though she was not a call girl, he'd offered money to her. And she'd accepted it.

  Why hadn't she thrown it back in his face?

  The implications of this mix up were only now sinking in.

  The things he'd said.

  The things they'd done.

  The money he'd forced on Eve, assuring her she'd earned it.

  It's a wonder she hadn't slapped his face.

  He would have to take back those words.

  He didn't want to consider what Eve must think of him, but knew he
must. She would be...

  A quiet knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened it to find Rex, his most trusted bellhop, standing there.

  "A courier just delivered this for you, Mr. St. Clair."

  "Thanks."

  Nick exchanged a tip for the envelope in Rex's hand, and the grinning bellhop stepped back inside the elevator just as the door slid shut, leaving Nick once again alone. He closed the door to the penthouse, tore open the envelope and turned it upside down.

  Ten crisp, large-denomination bills slid out into his outstretched hand.

  Eve! The sudden sharp pain in Nick's stomach made him wonder if his nausea had returned. The intense ache made him hurt to suck in a breath.

  Slumping onto the sofa, he cradled his head in his hands while the reality of what he'd done to Eve washed over him.

  How could he right this unforgivable wrong? He'd insulted the woman he loved.

  Find her and apologize, of course.

  But how?

  He didn't even know her last name.

  She sells real estate.

  Maybe she left one of her cards at the cabin. He needed to retrieve his laptop and his Ferrari, so why not go up there and have a look?

  Rather than call a taxi, he called a friend. Bill Resner, a lawyer, was not one to pry and he knew Bill would not complain when Nick had little to say on the twenty minute drive. Too many regrets cluttered Nick's mind to indulge in small talk with him.

  Later, he couldn't recall saying goodbye to Bill and sending him on his way, but would never forget walking into the cabin and inhaling Eve's distinctive fragrance still lingering in his cabin as he moved from one empty room to the next. His clothes were negligently tossed over a chair, his boots by the back door, but nowhere did he find a reminder of Eve's presence, other than in the air he hungrily gulped into his lungs.

  With a set jaw and a heavy heart, he emptied the refrigerator of the uneaten food André had prepared, did away with the tray of snacks left out prior to his fall, then washed and dried the plates and containers before putting everything away. His housekeeper was curious enough about his lifestyle without giving her even more reason to be suspicious of him.

  He'd forgotten to check the bathroom and walked slowly down the hall, remembering how he had carried Eve down this same hall, her soft body warm and trusting in his arms.