“Eve,” Matt said, squatting beside the bed where he’d left her sleeping. “I brought the car around out front. We need to go now.”
She roused herself enough to blink, twice. Her color was wan, her eyes bleary. “No.” She shook her head. “Not out front. Might be press. Paparazzi.”
Two thoughts hit simultaneously: even sicker than hell she’s worried about her image, and she was right about the risk.
Damn. Why didn’t I think of that? Matt’s only thought had been to warm the car, and he’d left it running out front where the doorman could watch it.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. We don’t have time to move it. I’m going to wrap you up in this blanket and carry you. No one will see you,” he told her, pulling a pair of heavy socks onto her feet. “It’s damn cold out this morning.”
She accepted his help without comment, but he could feel her unease.
“Besides,” he said, trying to lighten the moment, “it’s three days till Christmas. Nobody’s going to be looking at you.”
His tone must have come off sharper than he’d intended because she seemed to shrink into the blanket. Feeling like a heel, he picked her up. She clenched the blanket to her chest and kept her chin tucked tight as they exited her apartment.
Thankfully, the elevator was empty. The only sound came from the overhead speakers—a jingly beat of an updated version of “O Christmas Tree.” The seasonal carol must have touched a chord with Eve because she looked up at him and smiled. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? With your family?”
Matt experienced a sudden unexplainable urge to kiss her. Fortunately, the doorman greeted them the instant the elevator doors opened. “Good morning, Miss Masterson. So sorry you’re under the weather. Please let me know if we can be any help,” he said, escorting them across the lobby.
Eve nodded and tried to smile, but Matt could tell her strength was gone. He picked up the pace, praying his gimpy knee would hold.
With formal dignity, the doorman held the exterior door open, wishing Eve a “speedy recovery” as they walked past.
As he neared the car, a sudden niggling sensation made Matt lose focus on his step. His knee wobbled but he was able to right himself without stumbling. Concentrating on reaching the rental car, he limped to the street. Within seconds, she was tucked in the car. Matt tipped the doorman then hurried around to the other side of the car and got in.
“We’re almost home free,” he told her, ignoring the nervous glitch in his belly—his cop’s instincts. “I’ll have you at the hospital in no time, then all you have to concentrate on is getting well.” At least Matt hoped it would be that easy, but something told him nothing about Eve Masterson’s life was ever quite that simple.
CHAPTER SIX
MATT TWISTED the lid off his two-dollar bottle of water with enough force to decapitate a chicken. He’d run out of patience five hours ago. His usual calm resignation had been replaced by impatient pacing in the hallway. He wasn’t sure why, but it had something to do with the fact that Eve Masterson looked so ill in the big sterile hospital bed. His heart hadn’t been able to take it—especially seeing the array of tubes attached to her thin, white arm.
“Sir? Your wife’s blood work is back,” a nurse said, dragging Matt off his restless loop.
“Is it bad?” Matt asked.
The woman, a forty-something brunette with a large faded burgundy birthmark on her cheek, glanced at the chart then said, “Whoops. You’re not married.”
“No, but we’re planning on it.” Matt didn’t consider that a lie. He might possibly remarry someday, and he was sure Eve planned to be wed sometime in the future—just not to him.
“Well…” She shot a sideways glance to her associate—a pert, Meg Ryan–ish redhead with a lilting accent. The other nurse shrugged. “Hemoglobin’s at four. And her platelets are down. Way down.”
“What does that mean?”
She frowned. “The doctor will discuss it with Miss Masterson when he comes back.”
“When will that be?”
Her bemused look seemed to say “whenever.” Matt understood. “I get your drift. My mom’s been a nurse in New York for twenty years.”
The two women looked up with interest. He fed them a few nursing stories that made them laugh, and they shared a few bits of inconsequential trivia with him. Then the redhead said, “I was so surprised to see Eve Masterson on our patient list. The last I heard, she was going to be Communitex’s golden girl.” She made air quotes with her fingers. “It was all very hush-hush, but my husband golfs with Dag LaPointer, the CEO.”
Her friend pointed at Eve’s chart. “You can’t do much of anything when your hemo’s that low. I’m surprised she’s still functioning.”
Matt’s heart bottomed out near his stomach. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
The two nurses looked at each other before the redhead said, “She’ll be fine. She’s a lucky gal to have you sticking by her side—even if the hospital is a lousy place to spend Christmas.”
Despite the tasteful holiday decor in the hallway and waiting room, the holiday’s proximity hadn’t sunk into Matt’s consciousness.
Frowning, he walked to Eve’s room.
SOFTLY CLOSING THE DOOR behind him, Matt glanced at Eve—still asleep. Wrung-out, no doubt, from the battery of tests and X rays and the MRI she’d had that morning. Matt had spent much of the time in the cafeteria or outside making the requisite calls to Sara, Bo and his mother.
Sara—the only who’d been home to take his call—had been weepy, gushing on about how heroically Matt had saved Eve’s life.
“I’m nobody’s hero, Sara,” he’d said shortly. “This is my job. You’ll get a bill.”
Of course, no job in the past had included opening his eyes to find a famous television star curled up beside him. Matt had yet to figure out how that had happened. The chilly temperature combined with the gravitational pull of two warm bodies? But that didn’t explain the attraction he felt toward her. Something not only unprofessional but also unrealistic.
As Matt approached the bed, he tried to tell himself the only thing he felt for Eve was pity. And maybe a little bit of awe. After all, he’d never met a celebrity before. He was entitled to be a little impressed, wasn’t he?
Coming to a stop at the foot of her bed, Matt thought—not for the first time—that even ill, Eve was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met. Desirable. Unattainable. Totally out of my league.
He crossed the room to the pair of armchairs situated near the window. He glanced outside at the iron-gray clouds pressing low to the earth. In the distance the sound of a siren seemed to grow in volume, but he couldn’t see any flashing red light. Before sitting down, he stripped off his sweater—a remarkably dignified navy-and hunter-green-striped crew neck Ashley had given him last Christmas.
Thinking of Ashley made him pull his cellular phone from the pocket of his leather jacket, which was draped over the back of the chair. He punched in the code then took a sip of water.
“Hello.”
He closed his eyes in gratitude. Ashley, not Sonya. “Hi, it’s me. How ya’ doing?”
“Hi, Daddy! I’m okay, but I have the hugest zit on my nose. It’s so gross and now Bridgett’s invited some boys to her Christmas party tonight. And her brother’s home from college.”
“You’re beautiful—zit or no zit,” he told her.
“Oh, Daddy, you don’t understand.”
That was true. His daughter was perfect in every way that counted, but she seemed to run herself down at every opportunity. Any glitch in her clothes or body was cause for grief.
He just didn’t get it, and probably never would. But he had a feeling Eve would understand. Unfortunately, despite her own conviction, the message her profession gave was that looks were everything. Matt didn’t want his daughter believing that. Ashley was so much more than that.
“Is everything working out with Eve?” she asked, her tone too disingenuous to
be real.
“Not exactly. She’s in the hospital, honey. That’s for your ears only, by the way.”
Ashley made a sympathetic sound. “Will she have to stay there over Christmas?”
He hoped not. “I don’t know, hon, they’re still running tests.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. Did you call to talk to Mom? She’s not here. You know, Daddy, I’m starting to get a little worried about her. She hasn’t felt too hot lately.”
Matt shrugged it off. Sonya pushed herself—and the people she loved—to the limit. “It’s probably stress. Your mom wants everything to be perfect.”
“I know. Especially me,” Ashley wailed.
“You are perfect.” He smiled at her happy laugh.
Glancing toward the bed, Matt saw that Eve was awake and looking at him. A funny hiccup in his chest made him rub the fingers of his free hand over his breastbone. “Ashley, I have to go. I’ll call as soon as I get back to town. Forget about the zit, and have fun at the party. I love you.”
He turned off the phone and put it back in his jacket pocket then rose and walked to the bed.
“Hi,” he said. “Feeling any better?”
She aligned herself a little straighter, fussing with her pillow. Without asking permission, Matt pressed the arrow key on the control pad attached to the bed rail. A motor hummed as the head of the bed lifted. He stopped it at forty degrees.
Eve smiled. “Typical guy. Get within ten feet of a remote and they have to press buttons.”
“Humor is encouraging,” he said, crossing his arms to keep from touching her.
She sighed. “You mean there’s hope I’m not brain dead? I don’t know if that can be determined until after an autopsy. What other reason could there be for getting involved with Barry?”
Her self-disgust was obvious. Matt hated to see her beat herself up over one slip in judgment. “So you made a little mistake. Big deal. I heard the doctor say that bug you picked up in Panama really zapped you and is probably to blame for the anemia.” He rested his hip on the bed—far enough from her to be discreet. “If that’s true, then you can’t be held accountable for anything you said or did in the last few months. It’s the law,” he added, trying to keep a straight face.
“The law according to Matthew Michael Ross?” Her eyes seemed to sparkle with a hint of her renowned wit.
“Hey, your brain is back online.”
She sagged. “Enough to know I owe you a huge thanks.”
Matt shifted uncomfortably. “Let’s hold off on that until the book’s closed on this case, okay?” Maybe his tone was too stiff and businesslike. She looked a little hurt.
“I talked to Sara,” he said, changing the subject. “She sounded relieved to hear you’re getting the care you need. She said she’d contact your parents in Australia and tell them you’re okay. I gave her this number and she promised to call tonight after Ren gets home.”
“I keep thinking about what might have happened if Ren and Sara hadn’t sent you to find me. I might be dead if it weren’t for you, Matt.”
Matt felt himself blush, but he didn’t reply because she closed her eyes and sighed. Her energy seemed to retreat like an ocean tide. He depressed the down arrow of the control pad then tugged the soft woven blanket around her shoulders. He studied her face several minutes before making himself turn away.
Give it a rest, Ross.
He picked up his jacket intending to head outside for a walk when the phone in his pocket jingled. He pulled it out and pressed the talk button.
“Hey, cuz,” his cousin said, his natural exuberance echoing across the line. “I just talked to Sara. Sounds like Eve’s in good hands. I guess you can head home.”
Matt grimaced. Somehow he’d known that was what his cousin would say.
“I’m not sure I can do that,” he said sheepishly.
There was a small pause, then Bo asked, “Why not?”
Good question. “I don’t know exactly. I guess I feel sorry for her. You wouldn’t believe the mess in her apartment. Boxes everywhere. And I’ve got to do something about the lock situation. I don’t trust that jerk Barry not to have another key.” He paused. “By the way, what’d you find out about him?”
“I’m still working my way past the basics. Gimme a break. You’re the computer geek, not me.”
Bo made an odd sound—sort of a strangled laugh. “But I think it’s safe to say he’s no prize. I’m sure Eve would feel safer if you stick around. We don’t have anything pressing in New York until after the first of the year.”
Matt frowned. “I don’t plan on staying that long. I can’t miss Christmas Eve with Ashley, but I may hang around here until Saturday.”
“Okay,” Bo said, drawing out the word as if following another train of thought. “That’s cool.” He cleared his throat, then added, “Um, cuz, you’re not by any chance falling for her, are you?”
Matt blew out a harsh sigh. “Dammit, Bo, number one—this is my job. She may be famous, but I’m not some starstruck teenager. Number two—she’s ill. She’s not the same woman we used to see every morning on television.” He made sure by his tone Bo caught his meaning. “Mainly, this is Christmas, and I can’t help feeling sorry for her. All right?”
“Okay. Okay. I get it. Don’t bite my head off. You just sounded different. My mistake.”
They said goodbye then Matt pocketed his phone. Glancing over his shoulder, he was relieved to see Eve still asleep. He hadn’t been entirely truthful with Bo, but it was better than admitting to the world the depth of his foolishness. He might be attracted to Eve in the worst way, but with any luck nobody would ever know it.
EVE LAY as still as possible, her heart hammering in her chest. She’d been asleep until the sound of a low voice had entered her dream. Matt’s voice. At first she didn’t try to make sense of the words. It was comfort enough to know he was near. He was her anchor to reality, which, if she stopped to think about it, was an odd thing since they’d known each other less than twenty-four hours. But then, the phrase “This is my job” sank in.
The sleepy fog disappeared.
She missed some of what followed but understood what wasn’t said. Not the same woman…
A heavy weight pressed on her chest making it hard to breathe. Why did I think he was different?
She strained to catch the rest of his words, but made out only something that sounded like, “I can’t help feeling sorry for her.”
A deep sadness seeped through her bones. Numb, she remained motionless until she knew he was gone, then she rolled to her back and stared blankly at the ceiling.
When did everything go haywire? she wondered. When did I stop thinking with my head and let my heart lead me astray? Tears threatened, but she was too tired to cry.
What does it matter? she mused. So, he pities me. Why not? I’m pitiful. I brought all of this on myself. If I’d paid more attention to my health than to Barry’s promises, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe that’s the lesson I needed to learn—to put Eve first.
But who is Eve? A little voice asked. The beauty queen? The celebrity? Or a woman with two pasts and a questionable future?
Sighing, she closed her eyes and welcomed the gentle oblivion of sleep.
EVE COULDN’T GAUGE how long she’d slept, but when she opened her eyes she still felt far from rested. “When am I not going to feel so tired?” she muttered.
“Soon,” a voice said.
Eve lifted her head from the pillow. A man in a white lab coat stood in the doorway. Something about his dark complexion, receding hairline and thick glasses looked vaguely familiar. “You’re my doctor.”
He awarded her with a smile. “Yes. How are you feeling—besides tired?”
He walked to the bed and took her wrist in his hand. While he did “doctor things”—like flashing a light in her eyes, examining her tongue and throat, and listening to her heart, he explained the test results that had returned. Eve caught about a third of what he was saying.
He patted her hand. “It’s a possibility, Eve. But we still don’t know for sure.”
“What did you say about a blood transfusion?”
He ducked his head as if trying to avoid being pinned down for an answer. “Again. A possibility. We need to run a few more tests.”
Eve frowned. “How can you expect my body to build up blood when you keep taking it from me?”
He smiled as if pleased by her little show of testiness. “You need to rest and let your body tell us how to fix what’s wrong. Time will tell.”
She scowled. “That’s easy for you to say. You get to go home for Christmas.”
His sigh sounded sympathetic, but it was interrupted by a commotion at the door. Something green and bushy waltzed into the room. A tree. A five-foot fir was doing some kind of two-step with Matt, who peeked around its aromatic branches.
“Have tree will travel,” he said, grinning.
“Matt,” she exclaimed. Eve was thankful she wasn’t attached to a heart monitor—it would have drawn a brigade of nurses with a crash cart. “What’s all this?”
He gave her a droll look. “It’s a Christmas tree, of course.”
“It’s beautiful,” Eve said, eyeing the healthy green specimen. She spotted a telltale cord. “Does it have lights?”
Matt pretended to be surprised. “Uh-oh. Maybe this was the display model.” He gave her a roguish smile. “Too late now. It’s yours. Where should I put it?”
As he glanced around, he suddenly stiffened, apparently spotting her doctor. He set down the tree, making sure its plastic stand was properly aligned, then walked to greet the man.
“Matt Ross.”
“Ahmed Krist.”
They shook hands. “I can come back later,” Matt said. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
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