Entwined with You (Crossfire 3)

“I love you, Eva. More than anything.”

I sighed. “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”

My other line flashed a call from reception, so I said good-bye and answered it.

“Hey.” Megumi’s voice was low and hushed. “The chick who came by for you once before, the one you wouldn’t see, she’s here again asking for you.”

I frowned, my brain taking a second to latch on to what she was talking about. “Magdalene Perez?”

“Yep. That’s the one. What should I do?”

“Nothing.” I pushed to my feet. Unlike the last time Gideon’s friend-who-wished-she-were-more had come around, I was prepared to deal with her myself. “On my way.”

“Can I watch?”

“Ha! I’ll be there in a minute. This won’t take long, then we’ll head out to lunch.”

Vanity had me smearing on some lip gloss before I slung my purse over my shoulder and headed out front. Thinking of Gideon’s note put the smile on my face that greeted Magdalene when I found her in the waiting area. She stood when I came into view, looking so amazing I couldn’t help but admire her.

When I’d first met her, her dark hair had been long and sleek, like Corinne Giroux’s. Now, it was cut in a classic bob that showed off the exotic beauty of her face. She wore cream slacks and a black sleeveless shell that had a big bow tied at the hip. Pearls at her ears and throat completed the elegant look.

“Magdalene.” I gestured for her to return to her seat and took the armchair on the opposite side of the small conversation table. “What brings you here?”

“I’m sorry to barge in on you at work like this, Eva, but I was visiting Gideon and thought I’d stop here, too. I have something to ask you.”

“Oh?” I set my purse down beside me and crossed my legs, smoothing my burgundy skirt. I resented her for being able to spend time with my boyfriend openly when I couldn’t. There was no way around it.

“A reporter stopped by my office today, asking personal questions about Gideon.”

My fingertips curled into the cushion of the armrest. “Deanna Johnson? You didn’t answer her, did you?”

“Of course not.” Magdalene leaned forward, setting her elbows on her knees. Her dark eyes were somber. “She’s already talked to you.”

“She tried.”

“She’s his type,” she pointed out, studying me.

“I noticed,” I said.

“The type he doesn’t stick with long.” Her full red lips twisted ruefully. “He’s told Corinne that it’s best if they remain long-distance friends, rather than social ones. But I suspect you know that.”

I felt a ripple of pleasure over that news. “How would I know?”

“Oh, I’m sure you have ways.” Magdalene’s eyes sparkled with knowing amusement.

Oddly, I found myself at ease with her. Maybe because she seemed so at ease with herself, which hadn’t been the case the previous times we’d crossed paths. “Seems like you’re doing good.”

“I’m getting there. I had someone in my life who I thought was a friend but was really just toxic. Without him around, I can think again.” She straightened. “I’ve just started seeing someone.”

“Good for you.” In that respect, I wished her only the best. She’d been horribly used by Gideon’s brother, Christopher. She didn’t know I knew. “I hope it works out.”

“Me, too. Gage is different from Gideon in a lot of ways. He’s one of those brooding artist types.”

“Deep souls.”

“Yes. Very deep, I think. I hope I get to find out for sure.” She stood. “Anyway, I don’t mean to keep you. I was worried about the reporter and wanted to discuss her with you.”

I corrected her as I rose. “You were worried about me discussing Gideon with the reporter.”

She didn’t deny it. “Bye, Eva.”

“Bye.” I watched her exit through the glass doors.

“That didn’t look too bad,” Megumi said, joining me. “No scratching or hissing.”

“We’ll see how long it lasts.”

“Ready for lunch?”

“I’m starved. Let’s go.”

WHEN I walked in my front door five and a half hours later, Cary, my mom, and a dazzling silver Nina Ricci formal gown laid out on the sofa greeted me.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” my mother gushed, looking fantastic herself in a fifties-style fitted dress with cap sleeves and a pattern of tiny cherries. Her blond hair framed her beautiful face in thick, glossy curls. I had to hand it to her; she could make any era look glamorous.

I’d been told my whole life that I looked just like her, but I had my father’s gray eyes instead of her cornflower blue, and my abundant curves were from the Reyes side. I had a butt no amount of exercise would rid me of and br**sts that prevented me from wearing anything without a lot of support. It still amazed me that Gideon found my body so irresistible when he’d previously been drawn only to tall, slender brunettes.

Dropping my bag and purse on a bar stool, I asked, “What’s the occasion?”

“A shelter fund-raiser, a week from Thursday.”

I looked at Cary for confirmation that he’d be escorting me. His nod allowed me to shrug and say, “Okay.”

My mother beamed, looking radiant. In my honor, she supported charities benefiting abused women and children. When the fund-raisers were formal, she always purchased seats for Cary and me.

“Wine?” Cary asked, clearly picking up on my restless mood.

I shot him a grateful look. “Please.”

As he headed off to the kitchen, my mom glided over to me on sexy red-soled slingbacks and pulled me in for a hug. “How was your day?”

“Weird.” I hugged her back. “Glad it’s over.”

“Do you have plans this weekend?” She pulled away, her gaze sliding warily over my face.

That got my back up. “Some.”

“Cary tells me you’re seeing someone new. Who is he? What does he do?”

“Mom.” I got to the point. “Are we good? Clean slate and all that? Or is there something you want to tell me?”

She started to fidget, almost wringing her hands. “Eva. You won’t be able to understand what it’s like until you have children of your own. It’s terrifying. And knowing for certain that they’re in danger—”

“Mom.”

“And there are additional dangers that come just from being a beautiful woman,” she rushed on. “You’re connected to powerful men. That doesn’t always make you safer—”

“Where are they, Mom?”

She huffed. “You don’t have to take that tone with me. I was only trying—”

“Maybe you should go,” I cut in coldly, the chill I felt on the inside leaching out through my voice.

“Your Rolex,” she snapped, and it was like a slap to my face.

I staggered back a step, my right hand instinctively covering the watch on my left wrist, a treasured graduation gift from Stanton and my mother. I’d had the silly sentimental idea of passing it on to my daughter, should I be lucky enough to have one.

“Are you shitting me?” My fingers clawed at the clasp and the watch fell to the carpet with a muffled thud. It hadn’t been a gift at all. It’d been a shackle on my wrist. “You’ve seriously crossed the line!”

She flushed. “Eva, you’re overreacting. It’s not—”

“Overreacting? Ha! My God, that’s laughable. Really.” I shoved two pinched-together fingers in her face. “I’m this close to calling the police. And I’ve half a mind to sue you for invasion of privacy.”

“I’m your mother!” Her voice trailed off, took on a note of pleading. “It’s my job to look after you.”

“I’m a twenty-four-year-old adult,” I said coldly. “By law, I can look after myself.”

“Eva Lauren—”

“Don’t.” I lifted my hands, then dropped them. “Just don’t. I’m going to leave now, because I’m so pissed off I can’t even look at you. And I don’t want to hear from you, unless it’s with a sincere apology. Until you admit you’re wrong, I can’t trust you not to do it again.”

I walked to the kitchen and grabbed my purse, my gaze meeting Cary’s just as he was coming out with a tray of half-filled wineglasses. “I’ll be back later.”

“You can’t just walk out like this!” my mother cried, clearly on the verge of one of her emotional fits. I couldn’t deal with it. Not then.

“Watch me,” I muttered under my breath.

My goddamned Rolex. Just thinking of it hurt like hell, because the gift had meant so much to me. Now, it meant nothing at all.

“Let her go, Monica,” Cary said, his voice low and soothing. He knew how to deal with hysteria better than anyone. It was crappy sticking him with my mom, but I had to go. If I went to my room, she would just cry and plead at my door until I felt sick. I hated seeing her like that, hated causing her to feel that way.

Exiting my apartment, I went to Gideon’s next door, rushing to get inside before the tears overwhelmed me or my mother came after me. There was nowhere else for me to go. I couldn’t go out in public shell-shocked and crying. My mother wasn’t the only one who had me under surveillance. There was also the possibility of the police, Deanna Johnson, and maybe even some paparazzi.

I got as far as Gideon’s couch, sprawling across the cushions and allowing the tears to flow.

7

“ANGEL.”

Gideon’s voice and the feel of his hands on me pulled me from sleep. I mumbled a protest as he shifted me onto my side, and then the heat of his body was warming my back. One of his muscular arms wrapped around my waist, tucking me close.

Spooned with him, the biceps of his other arm hard beneath my cheek, I slid back into unconsciousness.

WHEN I woke again, it felt like days later. I lay on the couch with my eyes closed for long minutes, soaking in the warmth of Gideon’s powerful body and breathing air that smelled of him. After a while, I decided that sleeping longer would only throw off my body clock even more. We’d had a lot of late nights and early mornings since we had gotten back together, and they were taking their toll.

“You’ve been crying,” he murmured, burying his face in my hair. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

I wrapped my arms over his, snuggling into him. I told him about the watch. “Maybe I overreacted,” I finished. “I was tired, which makes me irritable. But God … it hurt like hell. It totally ruined a gift that meant a lot to me, you know?”

“I can imagine.” His fingers drew gentle circles across my stomach, caressing me through the silk of my shirt. “I’m sorry.”

I looked toward the windows and saw that night had fallen. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

“What time did you get in?”

“Half past six.”

I wriggled around to face him. “Early for you.”

“Once I knew you were here, I couldn’t stay away. I’ve wanted to be with you since your flowers arrived.”

“You liked them?”

He smiled. “I have to say, reading your words in Angus’s handwriting was … interesting.”

“I’m trying to be safe.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “While still spoiling me.”

“I want to. I want to ruin you for other women.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over my bottom lip. “You did that the moment I saw you.”

“Sweet talker.” My depression lifted just from being with Gideon and knowing I was his sole focus at that moment. “You trying to get in my pants again?”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“Is that a no?”

“That’s a yes, I want under your skirt.” His eyes darkened when I nipped his thumb with my teeth. “And inside your hot, wet, tight little cunt. I’ve wanted that all day. I want it every day. I want it now, but we’ll wait until you’re feeling better.”

“You could kiss it and make it better.”

“Kiss what, exactly?”

“Everything. Everywhere.”

I knew I could get used to having him all to myself like this. Knew I wanted to. Which was impossible, of course.

Thousands of little pieces of him were committed to thousands of people and projects and commitments. If I’d learned anything from my mother’s multiple marriages to successful businessmen, it was that wives were often mistresses, almost invariably taking second place because their husbands were also married to their work. There was a reason why a man became a captain in his chosen field—he gave it his all. The woman in his life got what was left.

Gideon tucked my hair behind my ear. “I want this. Coming home to you.”

It always startled me when it seemed like he’d read my thoughts. “Would it have been better if you’d found me barefoot in the kitchen?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed, but nak*d in bed would work best for me.”

“I’m a decent cook, but you just want me for my body.”

He smiled. “It’s the very delicious package holding everything else I want.”

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

“Love to.” His fingertips slid gently down my cheek. “But first, I want to make sure you’re in the right frame of mind after the situation with your mother.”

“I’ll get over it.”

“Eva.” His tone warned me that he wouldn’t be put off.

I sighed. “I’ll forgive her, I always do. I don’t have a choice, really, because I love her and I know she means well, even if she is seriously misguided. But this thing with the watch …”