“That’s none of your—”
His hand covered my mouth. “Don’t. Tell me when, then. And before you say never, take a good look at me and tell me if you see a man who’s easily deterred.”
His face was hard, his gaze narrowed and determined. I shivered. I wasn’t sure I’d win a battle of wills with Gideon Cross.
Swallowing, I waited until he lowered his hand and said, “I think we both need to cool off. Take a couple days to think.”
He persisted. “Monday after work.”
The elevator arrived and I stepped into it. Facing him, I countered, “Monday lunch.”
We’d have only an hour, a guaranteed escape.
Just before the doors closed, he said, “We’re going to happen, Eva.”
It sounded as much like a threat as a promise.
“Don’t sweat it, Eva,” Mark said, when I arrived at my desk nearly a quarter after two. “You didn’t miss anything. I had a late lunch with Mr. Leaman. I just barely got back myself.”
“Thank you.” No matter what he said, I still felt terrible. My kick-ass Friday morning seemed to have happened days ago.
We worked steadily until five, discussing a fast-food client and contemplating some possible tweaks to ad copy for a chain of organic grocery stores.
“Talk about strange bedfellows,” Mark had teased, not knowing how apt that was in regard to my personal life.
I’d just shut down my computer and was pulling my purse out of the drawer when my phone rang. I glanced at the clock, saw it was exactly five, and considered ignoring the call because I was technically done for the day.
But since I was still feeling shitty about my overly-long lunch, I considered it penance and answered. “Mark Garrity’s—”
“Eva honey. Richard says you forgot your cell phone at his office.”
I exhaled in a rush and sagged back into my chair. I could picture the handkerchief wringing that usually accompanied that particular anxious tone of my mother’s. It drove me nuts and it also broke my heart. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m lovely. Thank you.” My mom had a voice that was both girlish and breathy, like Marilyn Monroe crossed with Scarlett Johansson. “Clancy dropped your phone off with the concierge at your place. You really shouldn’t go anywhere without it. You never know when you might need to call for someone—”
I’d been debating the logistics of just keeping the phone and forwarding calls to a new number I didn’t share with my mom, but that wasn’t my biggest concern. “What does Dr. Petersen say about you tracing my phone?”
The silence on the other end of the line was telling. “Dr. Petersen knows I worry about you.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I said, “I think it’s time for us to have another joint appointment, Mom.”
“Oh…of course. He did mention that he’d like to see you again.”
Probably because he suspects you’re not being forthcoming. I changed the subject. “I really like my new job.”
“That’s wonderful, Eva! Is your boss treating you well?”
“Yes, he’s great. I couldn’t ask for anyone better.”
“Is he handsome?”
I smiled. “Yes, very. And he’s taken.”
“Damn it. The good ones always are.” She laughed and my smile widened.
I loved it when she was happy. I wished she were happy more often. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow at the advocacy dinner.”
Monica Tramell Barker Mitchell Stanton was in her element at society functions, a gilded shining beauty who’d never lacked male attention in her life.
“Let’s make a day of it,” my mom said breathlessly. “You, me, and Cary. We’ll go to the spa, get pretty and polished. I’m sure you could use a massage after working so hard.”
“I won’t turn one down, that’s for sure. And I know Cary will love it.”
“Oh, I’m excited! I’ll send a car by your place around eleven?”