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She leaned back against the cushions of her couch and set her coffee cup down on the end table. She was still in her pajamas, having allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in after having worked at the Hardings’ party.
Beth laughed. “Well that was quick work. Last week, he got rid of your fiancé and this week he proposes to you himself!”
“In a sense.”
She’d filled in Beth about Carter’s deceit and Griffin’s role in bringing it to her attention. She’d left out the kiss with Griffin at her apartment because, she told herself, she’d chalked it up as an aberration.
But there was no way to chalk up a proposal as an anomaly or a figment of her imagination—though she’d tried last night. If she’d been successful, she’d have been able to dismiss the strange temptations she was feeling.
And when Beth had phoned this morning to discuss how the party had gone, she couldn’t help but tell her friend about the real entertainment last night.
“I’ll say this for him,” Beth said. “He’s slow out of the gate, but he sure knows how to make up for lost time. He’s known you, what? Ten years?”
“Has it been that long?” she responded.
“So what are you going to do?” Beth asked.
“Are you kidding? Nothing! In case it’s escaped your notice, I’ve spent the last decade detesting Griffin Slater.”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate.”
Didn’t she know it. The past few days had brought that home to her. She’d thought she loved Carter, only to discover she hadn’t known him at all. And she’d thought she detested Griffin, only to discover, well…
But she didn’t want to go there with Beth. “Anyway, I don’t need him. This is the twenty-first century. I have options. Except, of course, he very considerately pointed out to me that, by taking him up on his proposal, I wouldn’t get just a sperm donor, but an involved father.”
“He’s got a point there.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m just saying. I’ve got three kids, and believe me, there are days when I’d like to clone myself.”
“Hmm.”
A buzz sounded, indicating there was an incoming call on her cell phone. She removed the phone from her ear to check the screen, and recognized the number as Griffin’s. Over the years, they’d been in perfunctory phone contact about Tremont REH board business, so she wasn’t surprised he had her number.
Speaking into the phone again, she said to Beth, “You won’t believe this, but it’s Griffin on the other line. Can I talk to you later?”
“Of course! Let me know how it goes. I’ll be dying to know if he drops any other shocks on you. Oliver is so boring!”
When she’d ended the call with Beth, and switched over to the other call, she said unnecessarily, “Hello?”
“It’s Griffin.”
“I suppose you’re calling to recant your moment of insanity last night,” she said, affecting a bored tone, even though she was experiencing the exhilaration of a sky dive. “Well, no need to bother—”
“Actually,” he interrupted dryly, “I’m calling to hire you for a party.”
She sighed. “I feel compelled to point out that, as your spouse, you’d get my services for free. So, I’m confused—have you decided to hedge your bets?”
He laughed. “Okay, you’re on to me. My diabolic plan is to force you, one way or another, to provide me with a free party whenever I want.”
“I’ve got news for you,” she shot back. “It would hardly be a party.”
He chuckled. “I think I could handle you.”
A wave of heat sizzled through her.
“I really am calling to hire you,” he insisted. “I’ve been thinking of throwing a cocktail party for some business associates a week from Friday.”
“Oh.”
“Are you available?”
“I need to check my calendar.” She already knew she was free.
“I was planning to go with the caterer I usually use, nothing fancy, but after seeing you in action last night, I wanted to hire Occasions by Designs.”
“I don’t come cheap.”
“Do you really want my answer to that?”
“You are persistent.”
“My middle name. And how can you resist the opportunity to prove to me how good you are?” he said, his voice low and smooth as silk.
Damn him, he knew how to get to her.
Aloud, she said crisply, “We’ll have to discuss what you want, and I’ll have to send you my standard contract.”
“Excellent.”
When she ended her call with Griffin, she immediately thought that she was going to regret agreeing to this assignment.
Before she could dwell on her anxiety, however, her phone rang again, playing “That’s What Friends Are For.”
She flicked the cell open. “Hello, Beth.”
“Well?” her friend asked. “How did it go? I decided calling was better than dying to find out.”
“He wants to hire me.”
“Rent-a-wife?”
“No, another stunner. He wants me to arrange a party for him. I can’t tell anymore if he’s lusting after me or Occasions by Design.”
“Well, I give him points for originality. It’s better than lusting for the Tremont REH millions.”
Actually, Griffin was keeping her so off balance, Eva thought, that she wasn’t sure what he was really after.
As she filled in Beth about her phone call with Griffin, she also realized that, for once in her life, she could see a positive side to being pursued for her money by men like Carter: at least she knew where she stood.
Eva arrived at Griffin’s Pacific Heights mansion at four on a bright Friday afternoon. She had given herself three hours to set up before the guests arrived.
From the curb, Eva looked up at the house’s impressive Queen Anne facade, which was partially shielded from the street by a high fence and well-manicured front garden.
When Griffin had given her his address over the phone last week, so she could set up deliveries for the party, she hadn’t thought twice about his location in Pacific Heights.
Now, however, she was surprised to discover he lived in a majestic structure replete with gables, wings and towers.
She was charmed despite herself.
Over the years, she’d made a point not to be curious about Griffin. The less she knew about him, the more she could pretend not to be affected by him. And because they’d ironed out the details of tonight’s party by phone and fax, she’d never had the opportunity to see his home until today.
She’d been relieved, actually, by the indirect communication. These days, she didn’t think she could take another face-to-face encounter with Griffin.
But she knew her reprieve was about to come to an end.
As some of her employees unloaded supplies from one of Occasions by Design’s vans, Griffin drove up in his silver sports car.
She watched him park at the curb. Seconds later, he emerged, pushing back black sunglasses to the top of his head.
She took in his navy-blue suit, and noted he looked as if he’d gotten a haircut. His hair, short to begin with, now thinly outlined his uncompromisingly masculine face.
He looked crisp, sexy…spectacular.
Her body vibrated with energy. It was a reaction she was growing used to now that she knew the reaction he was able to evoke from her with his lips and his hands.
Still, she was determined to resist him. Tonight was about scoring another hit for Occasions by Design. Nothing else.
She told herself she was here simply because she had room in her calendar to arrange this party. Of course, after the Carter debacle—how could she have been so blind?—it was also possible she was a master of self-deception.
Luckily her parents weren’t going to be here tonight, so the pressure was off in that regard. She knew from her mother that her parents had had to decline Griffin’s invitation because they’d a prior commitment.
“Hello,” Griffin called, his gaze sweeping over her.
She felt his look like a hot stamp, and she smoothed her hand over a crease in her trousers. She was dressed in an outfit she loved—a beaded, cornflower-blue top, black silk pants and Christian Louboutin mules—but she suddenly felt self-conscious.
To cover her nervousness, she nodded to the mansion before them. “Not quite where I pictured you living.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he came closer. “Let me guess. You were expecting some penthouse condo bachelor pad.”
She nodded. “I thought I heard my father mention a while back that you had a place somewhere downtown.”
“I gave up the penthouse a couple of years ago.” He shrugged. “I was looking for a change. And this place allows me to entertain on a larger scale. It’s still a work in progress, though.”
“Two years ago?” she asked. “Wasn’t that around the time you got your promotion to CEO of Tremont REH?”
She was being contrary by implying Tremont money was the reason he could afford a fancy Pacific Heights address, but she couldn’t help herself.
Anything to divert the heat of his gaze from her. She felt as if she could go up in flames right here on the pavement.
“Let’s just say, the real estate market was doing well at the time,” he returned easily. “For Evkit Investments as well as Tremont REH.”
“I just assumed a penthouse would be more your speed,” she said in a more conciliatory tone. “You must be lost in all this space.”
An enigmatic smile played at his lips. “Hoping for evidence in my choice of real estate that I’m not the settling down type? Sorry to disappoint.”
“Actually,” she parried, “I thought you’d enjoy the view from up high in a penthouse, looking down at us lesser mortals.”
He chuckled, and then murmured, “I don’t think you have a clue what I’d enjoy, Evangeline.”
Eva realized they were no longer talking about real estate—or even the seriousness of his marriage proposal.
A vision of the two of them having sex on tangled sheets sprang into her mind.
Reflexively she shook her head to clear it.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, his expression amused and too knowing.
She whirled away. “I need to go supervise in the kitchen since there’s not much time. I’m here to plan a party, remember?”
“Of course,” he murmured as she turned away. “Why else would you be here?”
His cryptic comment almost broke her stride, but she forced herself to keep going.
His question echoed in her head. Why else would she be here?
Seven
So far so good, Eva thought, as she made sure plates and utensils continued to be well stocked on a sideboard set up in Griffin’s living room.
It dawned on her that she didn’t feel like a professional party planner tonight, or even a guest.
Instead it felt as if she and Griffin were joint hosts, acting in easy, unspoken harmony. She’d helped welcome his guests, many of whom she happened to be acquainted with, and Griffin had come back to the kitchen to assist several times. It was almost as if they were husband and wife, a voice in her head whispered before she could silence it.
Earlier in the evening, she’d been just as charmed by the inside of Griffin’s house as by the outside. The chef’s kitchen—with its top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, double sink and two cooking ranges—was a dream. The layout of the other rooms on the ground floor lent itself to the easy flow of traffic. French doors and a large number of windows also brought in a nice breeze to the party.
There was no doubt about it, she reflected as she straightened up the sideboard. Griffin had chosen well when he’d purchased the house. But then she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised he had a keen eye for real estate.
She’d also had to concede tonight that Griffin was far wealthier than she’d imagined.
It wasn’t just the impressiveness of his home. From snatches of conversation among the guests, she’d discovered just how successful Evkit Investments had become in the last few years—years during which she’d purposely refused to pay attention to anything Griffin was doing.
Many guests had heaped praise on Griffin’s investment savvy. She’d learned that Griffin owned prime residential real estate—condos and rental units, alike—all over San Francisco.
Union Square. Russian Hill. Bernal Heights. Fisherman’s Wharf. And, of course, Pacific Heights. His acquisitions ran the gamut of San Francisco’s exclusive and hot neighborhoods.
Under other circumstances, the guests’ conversation may have driven her crazy. Tonight, however, it didn’t bother her. She was more consumed with Griffin’s effect on her pulse whenever he was nearby.
