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He lasted a week. One week before he rang his brother during Max’s working day on the pretext of getting Max’s opinion on converting an outer London warehouse into residential units. Max’s speciality, not his. Was Max interested in taking on the project? Developing an international profile?
Was Evie?
‘Since when have you been interested in redevelopment projects?’ came his brother’s guarded reply.
‘Since staying with Evie in her warehouse apartment,’ he countered. ‘I didn’t mind the experience.’
‘Well, aren’t you the lucky one?’ said Max with unmistakeable bite. ‘Did it ever occur to you that the reason you liked the warehouse apartment experience was because of the woman involved?’
‘If you’re not interested, all you have to do is say so,’ countered Logan coolly.
Silence from Max’s end. ‘I’ll talk it over with Evie,’ he said grudgingly. ‘I don’t know that we’re ready to take the company international. You looking to move on the warehouse fast?’
‘Don’t have to. Just letting you know it’s there. Any news on the civic centre bid?’
‘Looks promising,’ said Max. ‘There are three bids left on the table and one of them is ours.’
‘Good,’ said Logan. ‘Good. What do you know about Sinclair House?’
‘You mean Mum’s latest charity? It’s a safe house for victims of domestic abuse. She goes there once a fortnight and helps with meals or something. Why?’
‘She hit me up for a donation. Apparently they need a new roof.’ But Max’s answer had piqued Logan’s interest more than it had settled it. ‘What do you mean she goes there once a fortnight?’
‘Just what I said.’
‘She needs to stop that. It’s not safe.’
‘It’s a safe house, Logan. Heavy on the security windows and doors. Six-foot fences.’
‘Yeah, and it’s full of God knows who.’
‘Mostly battered women and children, from what I can gather. What exactly do you think they’re going to do?’
Logan shook his head. This was the difference between him and Max. Max had no goddamn idea what people were capable of. ‘Desperate people do desperate things.’
‘Yeah, and they also need help. What do you want me to do, Logan? Tell her to stop? That’d work on her almost as well as it works on you. You talk to her if you’re that concerned about it. Heaven knows she treasures every last scrap of attention you throw her.’
‘Hey, you’re the favourite.’
‘You know what? For all your legendary business acumen you’re one blind son of a bitch.’
‘Language, little brother.’
‘Screw you. Don’t start with me, Logan, or I’ll serve it straight back at you. Matter of fact I’m going to anyway. Why haven’t you called Evie? Which, by the way, she predicted.’
‘What do you mean predicted?’
‘I mean when I asked her if she’d heard from you she said no, that wasn’t part of the deal. What the hell kind of deal is that?’
‘Look, Max—’
‘Don’t you “look, Max” me. You spend a week inside a woman’s skin, she opens up her home to you and her life to you and a week later you can’t be bothered to give her five minutes of your precious time? What is wrong with you?’
‘Nothing! I was just … giving her some space.’ A gaping pit was beginning to form in Logan’s stomach at the thought that something might have happened to her. ‘Is she all right?’
‘Evie’s fine, Logan. Just peachy, thanks for asking. She does her work, she goes to the beach, she bought a Ducati road bike that goes from zero to one hundred in six point nine seconds, but don’t let that alarm you. She’s taking road-safety lessons from a former AMA Motocross champion called Duke, but don’t let that bother you either. His manners are impeccable and he knows how to use a phone.’
‘Hey, hold the PMS.’
‘You deserve the PMS. You’re treating a woman I respect and admire like a whore and she’s letting you. Doesn’t make it right.’
‘If I’d wanted a sermon I’d have gone to church.’
‘Go to hell, Logan. I vouched for you. I practically threw Evie at you, and this is how you repay me? By using her up and walking away without a backward glance? My business partner. My friend. And your loss. I’ll give your regards to Duke.’
And then Max hung up on him.
‘Who’s Duke?’ asked Evie as she strode into MEP’s outer office, head down and preoccupied, but not so unconscious that she hadn’t caught the way Max had slapped his phone down on the desk, and there was definitely no missing his scowl.
‘Duke’s the US motocross champion who’s teaching you how to ride your new Ducati,’ said Max curtly. ‘Don’t ask.’
‘Huh,’ said Evie thoughtfully. ‘Am I enjoying the process?’
‘Immensely.’
‘Good for me,’ she said. ‘Because it’s a good idea. I take it that was Logan on the phone?’
Max nodded.
Evie smiled; she couldn’t help it. ‘So what else have I been doing?’
‘Not moping,’ said Max. ‘As a true friend I’m doing my level best to ignore your current state of mope.’
‘Excellent,’ said Evie. ‘Good for you too.’
‘Do you remember how peaceful life was back in the days before we got engaged and I made the idiotic mistake of introducing you to my family?’ Max asked with a great deal of wistfulness. ‘I do.’
‘Never mind, Max. You’ll fall in love yourself one day, lose all sense of purpose, struggle mightily to keep your life on track and probably fail miserably, but trust me; I will be there to point it out to you. It’ll be my pleasure.’
‘Must be catching,’ said Logan.
‘What?’
‘PMS.’
‘Just for that I’m not bringing you back any lunch.’
‘I’ll remember that when I’m rich and you want lunch. No champagne. No caviar. No lobster.’
‘No problem. I’ve lived on tuna sandwiches before. I can do it again.’
‘Maybe I should reassure Logan that you’re not interested in his money,’ said Max. ‘Might help.’
‘Tell him whatever the hell you like,’ said Evie, doing an about turn and heading for the door. ‘Maybe I could be flying fighter jets next time he calls. Stunt biplanes.’
‘Get me a tuna sandwich,’ Max called after her. ‘And I won’t tell him how much you’re missing him.’
‘Thank you.’
Evie heard the catch in her voice, but she kept on going because if she turned around and saw sympathy in Max’s eyes, her carefully constructed world without Logan in it would probably come tumbling down. ‘For that I’ll bring you two.’
Logan called her that night, at her apartment rather than at work, and for that Evie was grateful. Eight-thirty p.m. her time and eleven-thirty a.m. in London. Middle of a businessman’s day and she wondered where he was calling from, whether he’d squeezed her in between meetings, and most of all she clutched the phone and closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of his voice saying her name. Some time soon she was going to have to speak, but not yet. Not until he said her name again.
Which he did.
‘Hey,’ she said. Best she could do—she was fresh out of amiable greetings.
‘Max tells me you bought a Ducati.’ Guess Logan was all out of pleasant small talk too.
‘So I heard,’ offered Evie.
‘Which one?’
‘The red one that goes really, really fast.’ And there ended Evie’s knowledge of motorbikes and her taste for silly lies. ‘I didn’t buy a Ducati, Logan. Your brother’s messing with you.’
‘He’s not the only one.’
‘Could be you bring it on yourself,’ she murmured. ‘Best guess.’
‘I should have called you a week ago,’ he said.
‘Only if you wanted me to feel valued.’ She let her comment hang for a moment, because she was nobody’s pushover and he needed to know that. ‘If, on the other hand, you were sorting out a few issues, like, say, the difference between wanting to stay in touch with someone and being so unhealthily obsessed with someone that you couldn’t live without them … If a little bit of thinking time bought you some clarity on that issue … I’d call that time well spent.’
She could almost hear his brain churning.
‘Generous of you,’ he said finally, his voice sounding as if he’d just eaten a mile of gravel road.
‘For you I can be generous.’
‘So how’ve you been?’ More gravel. Filler conversation.
‘Okay.’ Wasn’t as if he was going to call her a liar. ‘Work’s been slow and I’m thinking of painting the ceiling of my apartment dark red.’
‘Evangeline, parts of your ceiling are three storeys high.’
‘I own half a construction company, Logan. There’s this equipment called scaffolding.’
‘I’m assuming you have people called employees as well?’
‘So speaks the multimillionaire.’ Evie rolled her eyes. ‘I like painting. It’s therapeutic. Besides, if you want something done right, do it yourself.’
‘Don’t say that,’ he said with what Evie could have sworn was an underlying note of panic.
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ve just created two new senior operations manager positions and filled them and I’m now on the hunt for a senior finance manager.’
‘So … you’re expanding?’
‘Restructuring. I was causing bottlenecks. I needed to let go of some of the decision making. We’ll see how it goes.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
‘If you want something done right, do it yourself.’
‘So I hear,’ she said with a grin. ‘Just think of all the bold new projects you’ll be able to put your mark on before handing over the boring bits.’
‘There is that,’ he said. ‘I want another week with you.’
‘Before you hand over the boring bits?’
‘You’re not boring, Evangeline. You’re challenging and wise and I’m a little bit terrified of you, but I wouldn’t call you boring.’
‘Would you call me submissive?’
A long pause from Logan; as if he knew he’d be judged on his answer. ‘Not in general,’ he said finally. ‘Although on occasion you’re willing to relinquish control to a more dominant sexual partner.’
‘Good answer,’ she said softly.
‘Come to London, Evie. Come visit me. Same deal as I had with you. A hotel room for when and if you need it and an invitation to join me at my house should you so choose.’
‘Logan—’
‘Don’t say no. It won’t cost you anything but your time. First-class travel, with a stopover at, say, a landmark hotel in Dubai?’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Do you feel valued yet?’
‘Remind me to tell you the difference between being valued and being bought.’
‘Does that mean you don’t want to experience the delights of a seven-star hotel?’
‘Wash your mouth out,’ she said. ‘It could mean I never actually reach London.’
‘Now who’s feeling undervalued?’
‘Hey, you started this,’ she reminded him. ‘Will you join me at the hotel in Dubai?’
