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Caught off guard, she said, “No. Why?”
Griffin regarded her intently, and even though not a muscle moved in his face, there was something she didn’t like in his expression.
A sense of unease settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Why?” she repeated.
Griffin’s eyes pinned her like lasers. “Carter Newell has been sleeping with another woman behind your back. He was with her two nights ago.”
She looked at him uncomprehendingly, but after a moment, his words hit her, washing over her like one big tidal wave of disaster.
Her mouth worked.
She was still unable to look away from Griffin’s eyes, and somehow they were the only thing keeping her standing.
Panicky dread coursed through her, making her feel ill.
“How—how do you know this?” she managed at last, showing a composure she didn’t feel.
“Does it matter?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Because he’d seemed ready for the question, she became suspicious.
“How did you find out?” she asked, trying again, her tone sharpening. “You and Carter don’t run in the same circles.”
Griffin shrugged.
“My father put you up to this, didn’t he?” she accused.
When he continued to look at her implacably, she said, “Answer the question, Griffin. You’re a hired gun, aren’t you?”
Griffin’s jaw worked. “Your father started the ball rolling by asking me to look into it, yes.”
“You mean he asked you to have Carter investigated,” she responded. “Let’s not sugarcoat it, shall we? He asked you to sic Tremont REH’s usual investigator on him, right?”
It was an interrogation, and from the look on Griffin’s face, he didn’t like it one bit.
Too bad, she thought. Since he’d volunteered to be the messenger, he’d asked for it.
“Does it matter how I found out?” Griffin asked.
“Did you tell my father you were coming here?”
He looked at her, his face carved in granite. “I didn’t tell your father anything—including what the investigator found out. I thought you should know first.”
“Misplaced gallantry, Griffin?” she said mock ingly.
His face tightened. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”
She glared at him. “Appreciate it? Appreciate you’ve had my fiancé investigated? Appreciate you’ve acted at my father’s bidding?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Oh, I appreciate it. I just don’t know which of you to thank first. Carter, my father or you.”
“Aren’t you sidestepping the real issue?”
“What if I said I don’t believe you?”
His expression chided her. “You know the investigator has evidence to back me up.”
For the first time, she focused on the envelope in his hand. “Let me see it.”
She moved to take the envelope from him.
“No.”
She came to a stop. “No?”
“I’ll let you see some of it. I brought some photos—and evidence that Carter has barely got a cent to his name.”
He said no more, but she understood the implications. If Carter had no money, and on top of it all, was cheating on her, all signs pointed to one reason why he’d been willing to marry her.
She hated coming to the conclusion her father had been right. Sure Carter had floated the idea of a prenuptial agreement, but he’d looked relieved when she—silly, romantic soul—had put the kibosh on the idea. And prenup or no prenup, Carter would have enjoyed the lifestyle to which her income and her trust fund would have made him accustomed.
As if that weren’t enough, for the second time, she felt like the recipient of Griffin’s misplaced gallantry. He was trying to spare her from seeing the sordid proof of Carter’s betrayal.
“Trying to protect me, Griffin?” she challenged. “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”
His expression closed. “You don’t act like a woman who’s just found out the man she loves has been two-timing her.”
“Are you questioning the strength of my feelings for Carter?”
He just looked at her coolly.
“You really are a piece of work, you know that?” she said. “First, you have my fiancé investigated, then you question my feelings. Do you always rub salt in the wounds?”
“Just noting the facts.”
“Did you expect me to break down and weep in front of you?” she tossed back at him.
“I suppose the tears will flow when you’re done being angry.”
That did it. She stalked forward to grab the envelope from him, but he was too fast for her.
He held the envelope aloft, and she wound up knocking against him instead of seizing the photos.
She jumped up, once, twice, but he was bigger, taller and stronger.
“Damn you!” she said between gritted teeth, tears stinging her eyes. Was she destined to be thwarted by all the men in her life?
“I’m damned all right,” he responded in a clipped tone.
“You’ve never experienced the sting of rejection, have you? Noooo, of course not. You’re Mr. Oh-So-Perfect. Mr. Fix-It.”
“You don’t know the first thing about it.”
“Oh, right, I forget,” she quavered, swiping at a tear. “You’re a man. You don’t need to worry about your biological clock ticking, about the fact your mother entered menopause prematurely, about the fact you’re past thirty and closing in on thirty-five and the bell may toll on your fertility before you’re ready for it.”
While she was giving him a piece of her mind, she realized he’d gone still as a rock, his expression frozen.
“I’ll never have a baby now.”
And then mortifyingly, the tears welled up and burst from her.
Griffin tossed the envelope aside, and grasped her by the arms as sobs racked her.
His mouth came down on hers, as he pressed her back against the wall behind her.
Stunned, she went still.
He plundered her mouth, and she was swamped by the sensation of him. His hard, lean body pushed against her, and she picked up the scent of Ivory soap that clung to his skin.
Then as anger and frustration poured out of her, she kissed him back.
It was a brutal kiss, a contest of wills. She made sounds halfway between moans of pleasure and groans of angry frustration.
Griffin had infiltrated her house, stripping her of every protective layer and exposing her vulnerability, and then had the nerve to kiss her.
She tried to shrug off his grasp, but he just pinned her with his body, his hand coming up to hold her head still.
His hot mouth devoured her, and sizzling sensation skated across her skin.
Finally, however, she pulled together the frayed ends of rationality and tore her mouth from his.
She shoved at him, and he rocked back on his heels.
Her sobs had faded away, and anger now completely filled the void. Whatever she’d felt toward her father and Carter, it was directed all at Griffin for the moment.
Confused and disturbed by his kiss, she grasped at the first thing she could think of to lash out at him with.
“Did you think I’d be ripe for the picking now that Carter’s proved faithless?” she asked, trembling. “That I’d be so desperate…”
She left the sentence unfinished. So desperate she’d even consider taking up with him.
Griffin’s expression closed. “Trust me,” he ground out. “The last way I’d describe you is desperate.”
Then, before she could say anything else, he turned and strode to the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
She dashed to her front window and watched as he emerged from her house seconds later and climbed into his Porsche convertible.
She lingered to watch as he pulled away down the street.
Only then did she become aware of the fact that she had two fingers pressed to her lips—where she could still feel his kiss.
Four
Eva already had plans to meet Carter for dinner the following night.
She breezed into The Last Supper Club at a quarter past seven. If she had her way, she thought, this would be Carter’s last supper.
She was dressed in a Proenza Schouler little black dress. Her kiss-off dress, she liked to think of it as now.
She’d called ahead to the restaurant so the staff could advise Carter when he arrived that she would be a little late.
Now, she found Carter exactly where she expected him. He was already seated, enjoying a glass of red wine and perusing the menu.
His face brightened when he spotted her. “Eva! Glad you’re here.”
He wouldn’t be glad for long, Eva thought.
She stopped when she reached his table, not bothering to take a seat.
Carter rose, and Eva watched the gesture cynically.
When she’d first met Carter, she’d been taken by his gentlemanly manners, but now she saw them as just another piece of artifice in his carefully constructed facade.
Her gaze moved over him.
He was wearing an off-white linen blazer over an open-collar light blue shirt that accentuated the paleness of his eyes. His dirty-blond hair was artfully mussed.
His appearance struck her now as too perfect, and Eva called herself a fool for the thousandth time in the last twenty-four hours.
She thought about Carter’s willingness to have kids right away, and wondered now whether his enthusiasm had been feigned. On the other hand, kids would have solidified his claim on her money.
Even Carter’s push for a big wedding appeared suspect in retrospect. A large wedding would have been a major networking opportunity for him since the cream of San Francisco society would have been in attendance.
Carter reached to pull out her chair, but she continued to stand where she was.
Belatedly, Carter took in her expression and frowned.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
“Tell me one thing,” she said bluntly. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Are you seeing another woman?”
