“There will be no white satin, no morning suits and no orange blossoms,” Eve announced.

“Also, no bridesmaids, no wedding cake, no romantic first waltz and no guest list of thousands,” she continued.

“You didn’t mention a ring in this catalogue of traditions you don’t plan to indulge in,” David said.

“I just want a platinum band. A plain platinum band. No diamond. No decoration.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then he said, sounding grim, “Purely utilitarian. Just like the marriage. I’m beginning to get the picture.”

“Good,” she said. “Because then we understand each other.”

A wedding dilemma:

What should a sexy, successful bachelor do if he’s too busy making millions to find a wife? Or if he finds the perfect woman, and just has to strike a bridal bargain…

The perfect proposal:

The solution? For better, for worse, these grooms in a hurry have decided to sign, seal and deliver the ultimate marriage contract…to buy a bride!

Will these paper marriages blossom into wedded bliss?

Bride by Design
Leigh Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

HE WAS used to glitter, for it surrounded him always. He had grown accustomed to the iridescent mystery of opals, the sullen fire of rubies, the icy brilliance of diamonds, the chilly gleam of platinum and the quick warmth of gold.

But he had never seen anything like this jewelry store—a store so well known that its formal title didn’t bother to specify exactly what it was. Instead, it was simply known as Birmingham on State. The proprietor’s name and the street, that was all—for nothing else was needed. Everyone knew that Birmingham on State was the place to go for jewelry—if one wanted the beautiful, the unique, the costly, or the innovative.

It didn’t look like the usual jewelry store, either, but more like a fashion salon. There were no display windows in front, facing onto Chicago’s famous State Street. Inside, instead of rows of display cases, there were only half a dozen individual glass boxes, each perched atop a gray marble pillar at perfect viewing height and each containing only a few items. The boxes were scattered seemingly at random across an expanse of plain blue-gray plush carpet. Nearest the door, the only case he could really see held an inch-wide diamond choker draped across a velvet display board so that it looked like a waterfall of fire under the spotlight above it.

A man in a dark suit approached him, his steps hushed on the thick carpet. “May I help you, sir?”

David was still looking at the choker. There was something unusual about the way those stones were set. Even from several feet away, he knew it as clearly as if the necklace had spoken to him. But he didn’t know exactly what made it different. His fingertips itched to get hold of the necklace, to take a closer look at the workmanship, to see if he could figure out precisely how it had been done.

But he hadn’t been invited to fly out here from Atlanta to inspect Henry Birmingham’s merchandise and learn all the old man’s tricks. At least, he didn’t think that was why he was here—but the truth was, he really didn’t know why he’d been summoned, out of the blue.

“David Elliot to see Mr. Birmingham,” he said.

“Oh, yes. He’s expecting you.” The man led the way across the acre of carpet and around the artfully designed end of a wall into a tiny room which hadn’t even been visible from the main entrance. It contained three small but comfortable-looking armchairs and—between the chairs—a small table with the top half draped in velvet the same color as the carpet. In one of the armchairs was Henry Birmingham. At the moment, the old man looked as if he was playing tiddledywinks with a dozen diamond rings.

David stopped in the doorway. Henry pushed the rings aside into a careless heap and stood up.

David had seen Henry Birmingham from a distance, of course, at jewelers’ conventions and seminars, but he’d never before come face-to-face with the king of jewelry design. He was startled to see that the man was smaller than he’d expected—both shorter and slighter, his spine slightly stooped with age. But his hair, though it was iron-gray, was still thick and unruly, and his eyes were as brilliant as the stones he worked with.

The old man’s gaze focused narrowly on David. For nearly ten seconds he simply looked, and when at last he smiled and held out a hand, David felt as if he’d just finished running a quarter-mile high-hurdle race blindfolded, and still managed to come in the winner.

“Welcome to Birmingham on State,” Henry said. “And thank you for coming all the way out here to see me. Have a chair.” He sat again himself and looked contemplatively at the rings spread in front of him. “A most unusual request, this one. The lady gathered up all the rings she’s acquired through the years—family pieces that have been handed down, her own wedding rings from her first couple of marriages, that sort of thing. Not a valuable one among them, really—the gold is all right, but they’re of ordinary design, set with undistinguished stones. Certainly there’s nothing here she’ll ever wear again. But instead of leaving them at the bottom of her jewelry case to gather dust for even more years, she brought them here and asked me to make them into a piece she will enjoy.” He looked up. “Any ideas?”

David smiled slightly. “I don’t think you invited me to Chicago because you need my advice on how to design a piece of jewelry, Mr. Birmingham. You’ve been in the business fifty years longer than I have.”

“Call me Henry. Everyone else does.” Henry Birmingham sat back in his chair. “No, I didn’t invite you because I was stumped over this project. But I would like your opinion.”

David leaned forward and picked up the nearest ring. The shank was worn thin, and the brushed-gold pattern which had once surrounded the stone had been almost rubbed away through daily wear. The small diamond was, as Henry had said, ordinary in cut and color and clarity, and one of the prongs that held it was almost worn through. He put it down and picked up another. Even without getting his loupe out of his pocket so he could take a closer look, he could see that this diamond was chipped along the girdle.

A quick glance told him that the rest of the assortment was much the same—the cuts of the stones were old-fashioned, the workmanship both commonplace and well-worn. “There’s not much here to work with. What does she want? A brooch? A pendant?”

“She left the matter completely up to me.”

“So if she doesn’t like the finished product she can blame you.”

“Perhaps.” Henry leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands tented under his chin. “What would you do?”

“Take the stones out. Melt each ring separately, and pour the gold into water so as it cools it will form a random-shaped nugget. Then I’d reset the stones into the nuggets and string them together with a nice heavy chain to make either a bracelet or a necklace. If she’d rather have a showier piece, then I’d make one big nugget.” David tossed the ring back into the pile. “So do I pass your test?”

“Test?”

“Does that suggestion make the cost of my plane ticket worthwhile to you?”

Henry sat silent, while—too late—David thought better of the flippant question. Of all the stupid things to say…He didn’t even know the man, much less have an idea of why Henry Birmingham had asked him to visit his store. It was no time to be making wisecracks.

“If I hadn’t already concluded that the plane ticket was money well spent,” Henry said finally, “I wouldn’t have asked your opinion about the rings. Let’s get out of here so we can talk. It’s a little early for lunch, perhaps, but we can have a drink.” He left the rings scattered on the velvet, picked up a gold-topped ebony cane that had been leaning against the end of the table, and led the way out of the little consultation room.

David hesitated. “Shouldn’t these be put away securely before you leave? Even if they’re not collector’s items, they have value.”

“One of the clerks will do it.” Henry’s smile was quick. “That’s the good thing about being the boss, and—even more—being thought to be a genius. I’ve got my staff convinced that I’m too busy creating to be bothered with details like picking up after myself.”

David glanced back over his shoulder as they crossed to the main entrance and saw a woman in a black dress going into the small room.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if Henry had taken him to the fanciest private club in town—he was sure the man must belong to them all, since that was where his clients were to be found. So he was startled when instead of hailing a cab, Henry strode down the block to a side street and turned into a little tavern that looked as if it had been there for a hundred years.

Henry shot him a look. “Not much atmosphere here. But the food’s good, the beer’s reasonably priced, and the staff doesn’t hassle you to hurry, which is more than you can say for most of the fancy spots.” He headed toward a booth in the far corner. “What would you like, David?”

“Coffee, please.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a problem with drinking a beer? Or something stronger?”

“Not at all, under the right circumstances. Today I think I’d be wise to keep a very level head.”

To his surprise, Henry laughed. “Not a bad idea, that.” He waved a waitress over and asked her to bring a pot of coffee and two cups. “Then we can sit as long as we like and not be disturbed at all. So—I imagine you’re wondering why I invited you to fly out here today, and why I suggested you not tell your boss where you were going.”

“Both of those questions have occurred to me,” David said dryly.

The waitress brought their coffee, filled the cups, and went away without a word. Henry stirred sugar into his cup. “You’re a very talented young designer.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“In fact, you’re probably one of the three most talented of your age and experience in the country right now.”

“I’m honored that you noticed me.”

“I probably wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t decided to enter your own designs in that contest last spring, instead of the stuff you’ve been doing for your employer.” Henry leaned forward. “The fact is, David, as long as you stay in the job you’re in, you’re going nowhere, because the firm you work for is too staid and conservative to let you spread your wings.”

He hit that one right on the nose, David thought. But he said levelly, “My employer has never been unfair to me.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “You’re too loyal to say anything bad about them?”

“Yes, I am, as long as I’m drawing a paycheck. I’ve always believed if I wanted to bad-mouth a boss I should resign first.”

“I’d heard that about you,” Henry murmured. “Loyal to the core. Well, the situation with your employer is neither here nor there. You know they’re hide-bound, and I know it—so there’s no further need to discuss it. Let’s talk about you instead. Are you content to spend the rest of your life creating infinite tiny variations on a theme that was boring to start with?”

Cruel-sounding as the statement was, David had to admit that it fitted his job description uncomfortably well. “When you put it that way, no—of course I’m not content. And I’m open to other possibilities. However, any employer will place certain restrictions—”

Henry interrupted. “Then why haven’t you struck out on your own?”

“Started my own firm, you mean? With all due respect, sir, even you didn’t do that. You didn’t have much of a base to build on, I grant, but you did have your father’s tiny storefront and a few customers already established.”

Henry chuckled. “I see you’ve done your homework.”

“Everybody in the industry knows all about Birmingham on State. In contrast, I’d be starting from scratch—zero. Today the capital required to start up a new firm and carry it through until it developed a solid customer base would be immense, far larger than you needed fifty years ago.”

“So you have thought of it.”

“Of course I have.”

“Ambition’s a good thing.” Henry refilled his cup. “Did you like what you saw of Birmingham on State?”

David nodded, a bit puzzled. “If I had the money to take off on my own, your business would be the model I’d use. Why?”

“How would you like to have it?”

David’s ears began to buzz. Had he possibly heard what he thought he had? “Have it?” he asked cautiously. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Have it.” Henry’s tone was impatient. “Run it. Own it.”

David stared at him. Had the man gone mad? He hadn’t heard any rumors about Henry Birmingham having lost his marbles. Of course, if it had been obvious that he’d blown his circuits, someone would have done something about it, and he wouldn’t be running around loose. But if he was just quietly going kooky…

David kept his voice very calm, as if he were talking to a child. “I’ve already told you I can’t scrape up money to start on my own. It might be a little easier to convince a bank or a venture capital firm to lend me money to buy an established business somewhere, but not Birmingham on State. The amounts we’re talking about would be astronomical. I don’t think I have the backing to borrow that sort of—”

“My business is not for sale,” Henry said.

“But then—” David shook his head. “Then I really don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I’m offering to give it to you, David. Half of it, I should say—but you’d have complete freedom where your designs are concerned. Of course, there are a few…conditions. Want to hear about them?”

Henry had been gone for a full quarter of an hour when David’s head finally stopped thrumming and he could begin to think straight again.

It isn’t Henry Birmingham who’s gone around the bend, Elliot—it’s you.

What in hell had he agreed to do? he asked himself in despair. And why?—though that was a foolish question. Dangling Birmingham on State in front of him had been like tantalizing a shark with a big chunk of raw tuna, and Henry had known it. Though it actually wasn’t the business itself that David had snapped at, tempting though it was. It was the freedom Henry had offered, a freedom that he chafed for and knew that he would never find unless he could be his own boss.

The man was a mesmerist, that was the only explanation. Henry had hypnotized him into thinking that the offer he had made was feasible, when in fact…

He should get out right now, while he still could. Stand up and walk out of the little tavern. Hail the first cab he saw and get himself to O’Hare and onto the next plane back to Atlanta. Shake the dust of the Windy City off his feet and never look back.

But he didn’t move.

Birmingham on State. Handed to him on a platter…with a few conditions, of course.

Conditions that she—Henry’s granddaughter—would never agree to.

An odd mixture of disappointment and relief trickled through him. He didn’t have to walk out, he thought. He could sit here and wait for half an hour, just as he’d promised Henry he would. And when she didn’t show up…well, he’d have done his best—wouldn’t he?—and Henry couldn’t blame him.

David checked his watch. Twenty minutes had gone already. All he had to do was wait another ten, and it would be over.

But he had to admit to a pang. Birmingham on State…For a few brief, brilliant moments he had hoped. He had seen a vision of the wonders he could create—if only he had the freedom and the opportunity and the backing.

A low voice spoke beside him. “David Elliot?”

He looked up almost hopefully, expecting the waitress. Perhaps Henry’s granddaughter had at least called the tavern and sent him a message to say she wasn’t coming. It would be the decent thing to do, instead of leaving him dangling. It wasn’t as if he was to blame for her grandfather’s crazy ideas, after all.

But the woman who stood beside the booth wasn’t wearing the tavern’s uniform. She was dressed in a dark green suit that hugged her in all the right spots, and a string of perfectly matched pearls peeked out from inside the high collar of her jacket, right at the base of her throat. She was small-boned and petite. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes as green as the suit and fringed with the darkest lashes he’d ever seen, and her pure-black hair was drawn back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck.

“My grandfather sent me,” she said.

David felt as if someone had plunged a very sharp, very thin knife into the sensitive spot just beneath his ribs. He didn’t know what he’d expected Henry Birmingham’s granddaughter to be like—in fact, he’d had no expectations, for he hadn’t given the matter an instant’s conscious thought. He only knew that this woman wasn’t anything like he would have anticipated. This woman would turn heads in a morgue.

She said, “He suggested we chat over lunch.”

David scrambled to get to his feet, belatedly trying to at least look like a gentleman. “You’re…Eve,” he said, and felt as foolish as he must have sounded.

“Yes. Eve Birmingham.” Her gaze was as direct and intent as Henry’s, her eyes as bright and searching. But her face was curiously still. “May I?” Without waiting for an answer, she slid into the seat across from him.

David was glad he could sit down again himself, for his knees had gone a little weak. He had never dreamed she would actually come…

Just because she’s here doesn’t mean she’s agreeable, he reminded himself. She might just be too polite to leave me stranded. Or maybe she doesn’t even suspect what Henry’s got in mind.

Eve asked the waitress to bring her a pot of tea, and David used the interval to collect himself.

“I understand you and Henry have had a heart-to-heart talk,” she said as she filled her cup.

“He had some interesting proposals,” David said, and caught himself. Bad choice of words, Elliot. “I mean…Look, I don’t know if he’s told you what this is all about.”

Eve set the teapot down. “Henry keeps very few secrets from me.”

“This may be one of them.”

“I’ve known for quite a while that he was thinking about retiring, and that he didn’t want to sell the business and take the chance that it would become something less than what he’s worked so hard to maintain. He told me some time ago that he was looking for a young designer, an artisan who shared his vision of what jewelry could be, to carry on for him.”

“What about you?” David didn’t realize until the words were out that the question had been nagging at him ever since Henry had made his crazy offer. “Don’t you want the job?”

Eve shrugged. “I know good design when I see it, but I could no more produce it myself than I can fly to the moon. Those genes passed me by.”

“You sound very calm about it.”

“I’ve had years to come to terms with the idea that my talents run in other directions. So has Henry, as a matter of fact—he realized long since that I wasn’t able to be quite what he needed.”

“But you must have feelings about him bringing a stranger in.”

“Of course I do. As a matter of fact, I’m very involved in the business—I manage the staff, I handle customer service, I watch the bottom line. But I have to agree with Henry. Much as it would hurt me to close down Birmingham on State, I’d rather see that happen than have it be merged into one of the companies that mass produces jewelry for the lowest common denominator.” She looked at him across her teacup. “If he thinks you’re the right man, then I’m quite happy to endorse his choice.”

David rubbed his knuckles against his jaw. “If you’re serious about that, then he can’t have told you his whole plan.” He poured himself more coffee. He’d had too much already, he knew. His nerves were jangling. On the other hand, that would probably be happening even if he hadn’t consumed any caffeine at all.

Her voice was calm. “If you’re asking whether he’s confided in me that he wants me to marry his chosen successor—”

David dropped his spoon. “You know about that, too?”

The look she gave him was almost sad. “I did tell you that he keeps very few things from me.”

“You can say that again. You must think it’s a little medieval of him.”

She looked as if she was thinking it over. “He has his reasons,” she said finally. “His own marriage was arranged by his family, and it was successful—so of course the idea occurred to him when he began thinking of the future of Birmingham on State. Legal partnerships have their shortcomings, while a marriage would be safer for the business. A stranger who marries into the family isn’t a stranger anymore. I couldn’t toss you out on your ear if you displeased me, but you couldn’t take over the firm and cut me out, either.”

“He obviously hasn’t heard about this thing called divorce.”

“He sees no reason why a marriage which is arranged to achieve good and sensible goals, and entered into with both parties’ full knowledge and agreement, should ever dissolve. And I must say I agree.”

“My God, you don’t only look like the ice queen, you’re frozen all the way through.”

The words were out before he’d stopped to think, and for an instant he thought he saw the glint of tears in Eve’s eyes before she looked away. Regret surged through him. It wasn’t like him to be carelessly rude.

But before he could speak, she’d faced him again, and her gaze was resolute. “Of course, you should also understand that Henry is looking to the future of Birmingham on State. Beyond his lifetime—but also beyond yours and mine. A legal partnership can’t create an heir for the business, but a marriage could.”

The woman was obviously serious. Along with being crazy as a loon, he thought. He set his cup down with a click. “And you still don’t think he’s a little twisted?”

Eve’s voice was cool. “I think that what Henry doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“In other words,” David said slowly, “whatever Henry has in mind, you’re planning on a marriage in name only.”

She nodded.

“Why?”

Her composure seemed to slip. “You mean why don’t I want to…to—”

“No, I’m not asking why you don’t want to sleep with me. I want to know why you’d settle for a marriage that isn’t a marriage.”

Her fingers tightened on her cup till her knuckles were white. But her voice was once more steady. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Let’s just say that I have my reasons for wanting the protection of a wedding ring, without emotional entanglements.”

You poor deluded darling, he thought. To think that a ring will keep men from hitting on you, the way you look…Of course, once a man actually got close enough to realize that underneath the gorgeous, intriguing exterior lay the soul of a glacier, he probably wouldn’t come back for more. But there would always be another man in line…

Then her words echoed oddly through his mind. I have my reasons for wanting the protection of a wedding ring.

“I think I see,” he said gently. “You may as well tell me, Eve. Do you know that you’re pregnant or are you just afraid you might be?”

She drew in a sharp breath and for a moment he thought she was going to throw her teacup at him. He watched with fascination as the color rose in her cheeks, as she fought for and regained self-control. So she wasn’t quite as chilly as she’d seemed; the glacier appeared to have a crack or two.

“Neither,” she snapped.

“That’s good. I’ve never given much thought to the idea of raising kids, but I guess if I was stuck with a couple of rug rats I’d rather they be mine.”

He could almost hear the tinkle of ice in her voice. “You certainly won’t have to worry about rug rats.”

“You’re pretty certain I’m going to agree to this crazy plan.”

“It would be very foolish of you to walk away. To be Henry Birmingham’s hand-picked successor is a solid-gold opportunity.”

“I wonder what he’d do if I turned him down,” David mused.

Eve shrugged. “Probably work his way on through his list.”

“What list?” He recalled a comment Henry had made almost carelessly. At the time David had been too flattered by the idea that the king of jewelry design had noticed him at all to pay much attention to the details. But suddenly he remembered the remark all too well. Henry hadn’t just told David he was talented. He’d said something about him being one of the three best young designers in the country. So Henry had a list of three…at least.

Eve’s gaze flicked over him. “Don’t take it personally. You can’t think you’re the only gifted young man in the country. Or that Henry would gamble the future of his business on the first man who seemed to meet his specifications, without looking any further.”

“How far down his list was I?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Her voice was calm and level.

“I see. That’s one of the few things he didn’t share with you.”

“Quite right. If it makes you feel any better, you’re the first one he’s asked me to meet.”

So if there had been others higher on Henry’s list, they hadn’t passed all the hidden tests along the way. “That’s a relief. I think.”

“Anyway, now that he’s made the offer, it doesn’t matter where you ranked. Any designer with sense wouldn’t worry about how his number happened to come up, he’d gladly give an arm for this opportunity.”

“Actually,” David mused, “you’re wrong about that. Henry isn’t asking for an arm—just a rib.”

She fidgeted with her teacup, turning it ’round and ’round on the saucer. “As far as that goes,” she said. Her voice was different, almost hesitant, and he was intrigued. “I don’t expect there would be much contact, really. We’d have to share a house, I suppose.”

“I think Henry would notice if we were living in separate suburbs, yes.”

“But I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t be civil about it.”

“Roommates,” he said thoughtfully.

“If you want to put it that way. And what he’s asking is nothing, really, weighed against Birmingham on State.”

It all came back to the business, David knew. Eve was absolutely right. Henry Birmingham’s offer presented a chance he could never have achieved on his own. It was an opportunity he could not refuse, whatever the cost—because to turn it down would be to sacrifice his dreams and throw away his talent. There would never be another opening like this.

He looked across the table at her and felt his future shift—as if he had slid into some kind of time warp—and settle into a new pattern. A pattern that included Birmingham on State. And Eve.

“Let’s have lunch,” he said, “and plan a wedding.”

Not that there was much to plan as far as the wedding went, and Eve thought it best to make that clear from the beginning. “I don’t intend to play silly games,” she said. “There will be no white satin beaded with pearls, no train-bearers, no morning suits and spats, no orange blossoms, and no—”

“No illusion.”

She looked at him sharply, studying him for the first time. He was good-looking enough, though perhaps his face was just a little too roughly cut to be considered exactly handsome. He had ordinary brown hair and anything-but-ordinary brown eyes, flecked with gold and surrounded by long, curly lashes. And the air of self-confidence he projected gave him a certain presence.

“Isn’t that what they call the stuff they make veils out of? Illusion?” He sounded quite innocent, but there was more of an Atlanta drawl in his voice than Eve had detected before. “I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere.”

No illusions…. That was what he’d meant, of course. But since it was exactly what she’d been getting at, Eve could hardly take offense. “None. Also no bridesmaids, no wedding cake in little decorated boxes for guests to take home, no romantic first waltz, no garter to remove and throw to the bachelors in the crowd—”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me,” he said.

It obviously hadn’t been a question, but Eve thought she saw puzzlement as well as a tinge of relief in his eyes. The puzzlement annoyed her just a little. Did he really believe that the height of every young woman’s ambition was an elaborate wedding ceremony, no matter what circumstances lay behind the marriage?

The relief he displayed, however, she had no trouble understanding. She didn’t doubt that if she insisted he would have agreed to the most formal wedding ever organized —even if he’d had to grit his teeth and get half smashed to make it through the ceremony—for no price would be too high in return for what he was getting. A wedding was only one day. Birmingham on State would be forever.

But Eve was glad that she’d thought it all through ahead of time and made her decision. Their reasons for marrying were perfectly good ones, but the world would never understand them. And standing in front of an altar, making solemn religious vows and pretending starry-eyed love—or even fondness—that they didn’t feel, would be sheer hypocrisy. Far better to have a low key and private civil ceremony, and let the world think what it liked.

“And, of course, no guest lists of thousands,” she finished. “So if your mother is the managing type who’ll be disappointed that she isn’t the general in charge of an extravaganza, you can tell her from me that it isn’t going to happen.”

“She died when I was eighteen,” David said quietly.

Eve caught her breath with a painful gulp. “I’m sorry. I let myself get carried away, and I never stopped to think…”

“You couldn’t have known.” He toyed with a bread stick. “You didn’t mention a ring in that catalog of traditions you don’t plan to indulge in.” He was looking appraisingly at her left hand, which was lying cupped on the red-checked tablecloth.

She looked down at her bare fingers and summoned all her self-control to keep from moving her hand out of sight. “If you’re already turning over designs in your head for some stunning engagement ring, don’t bother.”

He frowned. “You don’t want a ring? Henry Birmingham’s granddaughter not wear an engagement ring? Besides, it’s what I do, Eve. People would expect—” He stopped suddenly.

“Exactly. And while you were creating it you’d be thinking not of what I liked or wanted, because you don’t even know that. You’d be thinking of the impression it would make on the people who saw it. Thanks, but I’d just as soon not be a walking billboard.”

“Dammit, Eve, you’re making some pretty big assumptions here—such as concluding that I wouldn’t even ask what you’d like to wear.”

“You want to know? Fine, I’ll tell you. I want a platinum band.”

“Much better for your coloring than gold. What about a stone? A diamond, or would you rather have color?”

“Just a band. A plain platinum band. No diamond, no decoration.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then he said, sounding grim, “Purely utilitarian. Just like the marriage. I’m beginning to get the picture.”

“Good,” she said. “Because then we understand each other.” And, with her hand shaking only a very little, she picked up her cup and sipped her lukewarm tea.

CHAPTER TWO

EVE arrived at the airport a full hour before David’s plane was due to land.

A whole hour to kill, she thought as she settled into the area set aside for greeting incoming passengers. It was just a good thing David would never know how early she was. He might conclude that she’d been in a rush because she was anxious to see him, when the truth was that she had merely been escaping from Henry—and spending an hour in a lounge at O’Hare was a small price to pay if it meant she didn’t have to deal with her grandfather for a while.

The fifth time this afternoon that Henry had put his head into her office to ask if she’d heard from David yet today, Eve had lost her temper. “He’s a grown man, Henry. He can get himself onto a plane without directions from me. I’ve ordered a limo to meet him at O’Hare, and the driver has full instructions to take him to the hotel so he can drop off his luggage, then bring him to the store. What else do you want?”

“That just doesn’t seem very friendly, somehow,” Henry said. “I mean, the boy’s making a big change by coming out here. Giving up a lot.”

“I’m sure he feels quite comfortable about the sacrifice he’s making.” Eve didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“We want him to feel good about the decision.”

“That’s why I called the limo service instead of suggesting the hotel shuttle or a cab. If you don’t think that’s enough, why don’t you go meet him?”

“Well, I could, I suppose. But what about you? It’s been a whole month since you’ve seen him, Eve. Greeting him here on the sales floor—in front of the staff and all—just doesn’t seem right.”

“You needn’t worry about a public display of affection embarrassing the staff.” Eve shuffled papers and bent her head over her desk once more.

Henry ignored the hint. “Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and go meet him? And don’t worry about bringing him back here. Tomorrow will be soon enough for him to start getting acquainted with the details.”

“I’m busy, Henry.”

“Too busy to greet your fiancé? All right, my dear. If you can’t break away, you can’t.”

Eve folded her arms and looked at him suspiciously. When Henry started sounding saintly, it was generally time to duck for cover.

He sat down opposite her desk and gestured at the papers scattered across her desk. “So tell me about this ad campaign we’re going to be running.” His eyes were bright and expectant.

Eve was stuck, and she knew it. The truth was that if she’d had to take a quiz on the new slogans which the ad agency had suggested to promote Birmingham on State, she would have flunked, despite the fact that she’d been looking at the ad mockups all afternoon.

And it was apparent Henry knew it, too. Something about the solid way he was occupying the chair said he’d planted himself for the rest of the afternoon—or as long as it took to drive her out.

“Fine,” she said, pushing her papers away. “I’ll go to the airport. I don’t know why I’m going, as I’m fairly sure David will be able to recognize his own name on the sign the limo driver will be holding up. But since you insist—”

“Don’t hurry back,” Henry suggested. “Show him around the city a little, introduce him to his new home.”

“I am not a tour guide.”

“Then take him out for dinner. Everybody’s got to eat.”

After that, Eve couldn’t wait to get out of the store before Henry could add to his list. And just in case he had afterthoughts, she turned off her cell phone as she went out the door.

Unfortunately, the cab she hailed just outside the store made record time on the freeway, and so here she was—sitting in a lounge at O’Hare with sixty minutes to waste. She hadn’t even had the sense to bundle the ad campaign into a briefcase to bring along, so she had nothing to do but think.

And thinking too much, she had long ago discovered, could be a dangerous activity. She had tried not to think about David in the last month, since he’d caught his plane back to Atlanta after their fateful lunch. The idea that in less than a week she was going to commit herself for life to a total stranger was just too much to contemplate.

Well, not quite a total stranger, she reflected. They’d talked on the phone several times.

Though it might be more accurate to say a few times.

“As long as you’re being truthful,” she muttered, “you might as well admit you’ve only exchanged words with him three times since you agreed to marry him.”

And those occasions had been when Henry had handed her the phone. Neither Eve nor David had initiated the contacts, and the conversations had been terse and stilted. The fact was that they didn’t know each other any better now than they had when they’d struck their bargain.

Not that it mattered much how well they knew each other, she reminded herself. Even though the actual wedding was still a few days off, they were committed. The legal papers regarding Birmingham on State were drawn, waiting only to be signed. The marriage license was ready.

David wouldn’t back out, that was certain. Once the business had been placed within his reach, he would have married a boa constrictor rather than let the business slip away.

And as for Eve…

She had made up her mind months ago, when Henry had first hinted at his plan. Long before she’d ever met David Elliot. Since it didn’t matter to her anymore who she married, she might as well please her grandfather and preserve the business which meant so much to both of them. So she had made a conscious decision to trust Henry’s judgment.

Not that it had been such an enormous leap of faith to believe in her grandfather’s wisdom, because one thing was dead certain: the man Henry had selected for her couldn’t possibly turn out to be a more unfortunate choice than her own had.

Travis...

Allowing herself to think about Travis Tate was like probing a sensitive spot on a tooth. The pain was no longer constant, as it had been in the beginning. But the agony of grief and loss could flare up—as it had today—at the slightest reminder, without warning and without giving her any chance to brace herself against it.

Still, it was a little easier to bear now. With time, Eve told herself, perhaps it would recede even more, until someday it might be nothing more than a low-level but ever-present heartache. And it was a little comfort—though very little—to know that she had done the right thing. As much as the decision had hurt, she couldn’t have lived with herself had she done anything else.

A woman sitting nearby tossed a magazine toward the wastebasket—but missed—as she went to greet a passenger. Eve watched them walk toward the door, then picked up the discarded magazine and began to flip through the pages, hardly seeing the articles. Every few minutes a new gush of passengers came down the concourse, and she glanced up not at them but at the monitor overhead, where the flight from Atlanta was still listed as expected to arrive on time.

There was no question in her mind that she had made the right choice—the only choice—where Travis was concerned. But that didn’t mean she could ever put it all behind her.

A woman couldn’t stop loving someone simply because he was out of her reach. Caring wasn’t like a faucet, to be turned on and off at will. It was more like an artesian spring bubbling up when and where it willed, unstopping and unstoppable.

Of course, the fact that she had given her heart so completely to Travis meant there was no chance of another love in her life. Eve had accepted that, but it wasn’t something she cared to explain. Even Henry didn’t know the entire story, and she wasn’t about to tell every man who invited her out for dinner that she could never be interested in him because she was permanently and forever in love with someone else.

As a matter of fact, in the months since she had made her decision about Travis, it had been even more difficult than usual for her to remain aloof from other men. The male of the species seemed to find the world-weary and obviously uninterested Eve more attractive—or perhaps just more of a challenge—than ever before.

I have my reasons, she had told David, for wanting the protection of a wedding ring. Once married, she would no longer have to be on guard every instant for fear that some man would think she was flirting, leading him on, indicating an interest she was far from feeling.

The possibility that she was interested in him would never occur to David, of course, because he knew better. That was why he would make such an ideal husband. The bargain they had struck certainly wasn’t doing him any harm—the benefits he was getting from the marriage were immense. And since neither of them was under any illusion that their marriage would ever be anything verging on romance, there would be no need to pretend or to be on guard against a slip of the tongue or an action that might be misinterpreted.

Not even Henry was unrealistic enough to hope that they had fallen in love at first sight. Or that they’d do so any other time along the way, either. And though he’d no doubt be saddened when he realized, somewhere down the road, that the heir he hoped for wasn’t going to materialize—well, even the most intimate of marriages didn’t always produce offspring. Being childless didn’t prove anything.

The arrangement was perfect, Eve told herself. And the case of nerves that she was suffering was nothing more than any woman felt on taking such an irrevocable action. It didn’t indicate doubt.

In fact, she wished that she’d been able to convince Henry to hold the wedding tonight and have it over with. What was the sense of waiting any longer?

Another stream of passengers strode by, but Eve was paying no attention. She was watching a man in a dark blue uniform who had just taken up his stance at the edge of the waiting area, holding a sign that said Elliot. The limo driver, right on time.

It would be pretty funny, Eve thought, if David spotted the driver but walked right past her. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of staying where she was, her magazine hiding her face, and waiting until they’d gone. She could always tell Henry that she’d missed David in all the airport traffic….

A passenger stopped abruptly beside her, momentarily blocking the man behind him and making him dodge and swear, but Eve didn’t notice him at all until he spoke softly. “Eve?”

She jerked around to face him. That voice, she thought. It can’t be— “Travis?”

“Eve,” he said, and there was a tremor in his usually smooth voice. “My darling Eve. How did you know…from my secretary, of course. That’s how you found out I’d be coming in today. I didn’t know you were keeping in touch with her.”

She shook her head. But she couldn’t keep herself from looking at him, drinking in the sight of him. He looked more elegant than ever, she thought, his tailoring perfect and every white-blond hair in place, with a trench coat slung casually over his arm and a slim alligator-skin sample case in one hand.

“I didn’t dare to hope,” he said, and his voice cracked. “I’ve longed for you so, my darling. I’ve tried to do as you asked. I’ve tried so hard, but it simply hasn’t worked. I can’t stop thinking of you, dreaming of you, wanting you. And you obviously can’t forget me either, or you wouldn’t be here to meet me.” He sounded triumphant. “Let me hear you say it, Eve. Tell me you’re here because you’ve changed your mind.”

If only I could change my mind, she thought, but I can’t—because nothing is different. She summoned every ounce of courage and self-control she possessed. “I’m not here to meet you, Travis.”

He seemed to falter for an instant before regaining his conviction. “But of course you are. Why else would you be sitting here?” He put out an arm as if to draw her against him. “It’s not exactly the hot spot of the city.”

The agony and the uncertainty and the self-questioning that had haunted Eve in the days while she was making her decision swept over her again in waves. It was all starting over again, she thought in despair. She felt herself wavering, moved by the way his voice had trembled with earnestness. Perhaps she’d been wrong after all to turn her back on what they’d shared, to deny them the chance at a life together….

No, she told herself firmly. Her decision, made with such grief and pain and logic, could not have been wrong. This momentary vacillation was the madness.

But how was she going to convince Travis of that, when she was having trouble persuading herself?

Something beyond Travis caught her eye, and she looked over his shoulder at a passenger who was coming down the concourse. A tall, broad-shouldered, ever-so-slightly rumpled passenger—but then David wasn’t in the habit, as Travis was, of spending hours every day on airliners.

David, she thought, and relief surged through her.

She tossed aside the magazine she’d been holding, ducked past Travis, and ran to meet David. She saw his eyebrows go up slightly just as she flung herself against him with her face lifted to his. “Kiss me,” she said in an urgent undertone.

He dropped his briefcase, his arms closed around her, and his mouth came down, hard and demanding, on hers.

This is a good man to have around in an emergency, Eve thought. No questions, no hesitation, just prompt and effective action.

His first kiss was long and deep and hot, the assured embrace of a lover who hadn’t the slightest doubt that his caress would be welcomed and encouraged. Very effective action, in fact. Eve was feeling a little shaky herself, and she couldn’t begin to imagine what this must look like to a casual observer.

David ended the kiss, held her a fraction of an inch away from him for a moment, and then, as if she had stirred a hunger that wouldn’t allow him to let her go, pulled her even closer, wrapping her more tightly in his arms, and kissed her as if the first caress had been only a casual greeting.

By the time he finally raised his head, Eve’s brain was as full of static as a badly tuned radio. She could hear bits of conversation from people in the concourse, but she was having trouble making sense of the words. “Lucky guy,” one man observed in a low tone. “That’s quite a welcome home, buddy.” And a woman sniffed and said to her companion, “Really! Did you see where he’d put his hands? These young people—don’t they realize others aren’t interested in watching their bedroom acrobatics in public?”

That at least answered her question about how their display had appeared to bystanders, Eve thought philosophically.

Trying not to be obvious about it, she glanced over her shoulder, but she couldn’t catch sight of Travis.

“If you’re looking for the guy you were talking to,” David said, “he stuck around to watch for a bit, then he just melted away. I’m assuming, of course, that was the desired effect.”

He sounded as calm as if he’d just given her a peck on the cheek. And he still had hold of her arm, as if he was afraid she’d collapse if he let go.

“I’m perfectly capable of standing up on my own,” Eve said.

He immediately let go of her and stooped to pick up the thick, well-worn briefcase he’d dropped when she flung herself against him. “Don’t forget your magazine.”

“What? Oh, it’s not mine.”

“Really? When I first caught sight of you, you were holding it as if you were defending it with your life. Or maybe more like it was a shield to protect you. I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what that little scene was all about.”

No, Eve thought, and almost said so before she realized that it was absolutely necessary to give him some kind of explanation. “It was just…” She stopped. “He was just somebody that I thought shouldn’t know about our…our…”

“Our little agreement,” David said helpfully. “You know, I was already starting to wonder whether you weren’t being too optimistic about how much of a public image we’ll have to maintain in order to be convincing as a married couple. Merely sharing living space might satisfy Henry for the moment, but what about other people? Like…whoever it was you were impressing there.”

He was obviously waiting for a name. Let him wait, Eve thought. “As far as public image is concerned, we do have to talk about it. I suppose we need to go claim your bags?” She signaled the driver, who touched his cap and led the way toward baggage claim.

Eve looked doubtfully at the two suitcases David pointed out as they came down the conveyer belt. “You travel awfully light.”

Without a word, the driver picked up the two bags.

“I shipped a few things.” David’s hand came to rest easily on the small of Eve’s back, guiding her toward the exit.

She could feel shivers rushing both up and down her spine from the place where his fingertips rested, and told herself briskly not to be silly. There was no reason a mere polite touch should make her body quiver all over again as that kiss had.

“Oh, of course,” she said. “I’d forgotten I gave you the address. Well, if there’s anything you need in the meantime, I’m sure the hotel will have it.”

“Hotel?”

“Henry made a reservation for you at the Englin.” She felt color rising in her cheeks. “He thought it wouldn’t be quite the thing for you to move into my place till after the wedding, and his penthouse isn’t much more than an efficiency—there’s no room for a guest. But the Englin is one of the city’s better hotels.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“It’s only for a few days, anyway, until the wedding.” She took a deep breath. “I should warn you about the wedding, I suppose.”

He helped her into the back of the limousine and settled into the leather seat beside her. “What about it?”

“Well, I thought the sensible thing would be to have it today and get it over with, and I had the arrangements almost completed when Henry got hold of the whole thing.”

David’s eyebrows went up. “Are we having white satin and orange blossom in the local cathedral after all?”

“No, thank heaven he was reasonable about all of that. But he thinks a private ceremony with just us and a judge looks like we’re hiding something, so he’s insisting that we have a few guests and a small reception.”

He didn’t answer immediately, and she looked at him quizzically.

“That’s not quite true,” David said finally. “It’s nice of Henry to take the responsibility, and I know he thinks it’s a good idea because he told me so. But he isn’t the one who’s insisting. I am.”

The shock of his announcement caused Eve to lose her balance as the limousine pulled away from the terminal. David slid an arm around her shoulders to steady her.

She pulled away from him, staring. “What do you mean, you’re insisting?”

“Don’t panic. I’m not any wilder about six-foot-tall wedding cakes and organs pounding out wedding marches than you are.”

“Then why—”

“Because all this is going to be difficult enough to pull off. Let’s not make it harder by appearing too ashamed of ourselves to stand up in public.”

“Oh.” Eve felt a little flattened. “Well, I suppose that makes sense. But we could still have had the wedding today.”

“I also think it would be a good idea for us all to have a few days to check out how we fit together before we do anything irrevocable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eve scoffed. “You wouldn’t back out now. You’d embrace an alligator before you’d let this chance go by. And speaking of embraces—”

“Let me guess,” he said without looking at her. “You want to be certain I didn’t interpret that little demonstration in the airport as any kind of an invitation.”

She tried to be unobtrusive about her sigh of relief. “Exactly. It’s not that I really expected you’d misunderstand, but—”

“Well, it’ll be easy enough to avoid any problems in the future. We can work up some regular plays, like a football team, and then you can just signal me with the numbers.”

The limo driver’s voice came over the intercom, sounding tinny. “Excuse me, Miss. Is the plan still to go to the Englin first?”

Eve looked out the window. She hadn’t realized they were already in the Loop. “Yes, please.” She glanced at David. “Henry suggested I give you a tour of the city and take you out for dinner. He seemed to think we needed a little privacy.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“I couldn’t agree more, but I suppose—”

He interrupted. “Thank you very much, but no. I’m a little tired.”

Eve frowned, puzzled. He didn’t sound tired; he sounded as if he were an amateur actor reciting a brand-new set of lines. What was going on?

It wasn’t late, but the autumn afternoon had already faded and in the caverns of the city, between the skyscrapers, it was rapidly growing dark. Inside the car, it was dim enough that she had trouble reading David’s expression.

He was watching her just as intently. “What’s the matter?” he asked gently. “Isn’t that what you wanted me to say, so you can go home and tell Henry you’d done your best?” There was no animosity in his voice.

She thought back over what she’d said. Henry made a reservation…Henry suggested…He seemed to think we needed privacy…Get the wedding over with...

It must have sounded to David as though she was willing to associate with him only because Henry had issued orders. What an insufferable prig I must sound like.

The limo had pulled up under the hotel’s canopied front entrance, and the driver came around the car to open the door. The sudden light inside the car made Eve want to fling up a hand to protect her eyes—or perhaps to keep David from looking even more closely at her.

The driver walked around to the rear of the car to get the luggage. David made no move to get out. “You’re afraid,” he said. “That’s why you wanted to rush the wedding, isn’t it, Eve? Because you’ve given your word and now you can’t back out, no matter how much you might want to—so you’d just as soon not find out what you really think of me till after it’s too late for regrets.”

Eve bit her lip. “That’s awfully harsh.”

“But it’s true. That’s why you’re so eager to get away.”

“No,” she said slowly. “I’m not. Spending the evening together was Henry’s idea, yes. But I’d like to have dinner, David.”

Did he believe her? She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, for she was a little startled herself, not only by what she’d said but by the realization that she meant it.

He looked at her for a long moment, then slid out of the car. A moment later she felt the car rock just a little as the suitcases were lifted out of the trunk, and she heard the hearty voice of the Englin’s doorman welcoming David.

Eve closed her eyes. Now what?

Before she could make up her mind what to do, David reappeared, leaning into the car. “The doorman’s sending my luggage up to the room, and I can register later. Are we having dinner here or somewhere else?”

She was too startled to reply.

Behind him, the doorman suggested, “The Captain’s Table has a lovely steak on the menu tonight, I understand.”

“Sounds good to me. Eve?”

She scrambled out of the car and glanced at the uniformed driver. “That will be all, thank you.” She saw David’s eyebrow quirk upward and added coolly, “There’s no sense in keeping the car waiting for an hour or two when I can easily take a cab home later. So you needn’t worry that I’ll accuse you of expecting a simple dinner together at your hotel to turn into anything more.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to,” Eve muttered. “You have the most sarcastic eyebrows I’ve ever encountered.”

It was, she realized, the first time she had ever seen him smile. The flecks of gold in his eyes seemed to turn to sparks, and a dimple appeared at one corner of his mouth. The effect on Eve was something like reaching for a coat hanger only to find it wired into the electrical system. Which was utterly silly, of course, when all the man had done was grin at her.

The maître d’ greeted Eve by name and showed them to a small table in a cozy corner. Eve slid onto the upholstered bench which curved around the table and made a quick survey of the room.

“Who are you looking for?” David asked.

“Nobody in particular. Customers or acquaintances. There are usually half a dozen of them in here, but tonight I don’t see any. And since we’re in an inconspicuous corner maybe we’ll be left alone.” She picked up her menu so she didn’t have to look at him. “I don’t quite know what to say, David. I must have come across like—”

“An alligator,” David said agreeably. “Forget it. Let’s start from scratch. Hi, nice to see you again, tell me about the wedding.”

“I thought you already knew all about it. Seeing that it was your idea to have one—” She stopped and bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

The wine steward approached, carrying a bottle. “Good evening, Miss Birmingham. And sir. The general manager of the hotel asked me to bring you one of our best wines, with her compliments.”

“I ought to have known we couldn’t sneak in here without being seen,” Eve said. “But I didn’t even spot her.”

“She called down from her office,” the wine steward said. “I believe the doorman keeps her informed about the comings and goings of her guests.” He expertly popped the cork and presented it to David.

Eve held her breath, but David was obviously no stranger to the ritual. As the wine steward withdrew, she fixed her gaze on the deep red liquid in her glass. Once more she had underestimated him.

“That was thoughtful of her,” David said. “Does she do this for all your dates?”

“Of course not. And it’s not just thoughtful, it’s also good business. The wedding’s going to be here, in one of the smaller ballrooms upstairs. What shall we drink to?”

“I suppose To us isn’t quite what you have in mind, so how about ‘Here’s to keeping Henry happy’?”

“Up to a point, I can agree with that.” Eve raised her glass, but she couldn’t quite meet David’s eyes. Instead her gaze focused on his hand. Long, tanned fingers, the nails short and square-cut so they wouldn’t get in his way as he worked with tiny gems and minuscule bits of metal. There was a small scar on one knuckle; it looked as if long ago a tool had slipped and gouged him. His hand curved around the glass, holding it gently, but she could see the strength in his fingers. The stemmed crystal glass he held wasn’t particularly delicate, but she knew he could smash it in his fist as easily as he’d crush a grape.

Beside her, a woman’s sultry soprano said, “My goodness, if it isn’t little Eve. And who is this, my dear? A new face, surely.”

Eve recognized the voice. Of all the people they could have run into in the Captain’s Table, it would have to be Estella Morgan. She forced a smile as she turned to face a hard-faced woman in her late fifties, who stood beside the table with one hand raised as if to hold her mink stole in place—as well as to display the inch-wide band of diamonds that surrounded her wrist. “Mrs. Morgan, I’d like to present David Elliot, who’s joining Birmingham on State.”

Mrs. Morgan’s interest had obviously faded. “In sales, I suppose?” she said dismissively.

Irritation stabbed through Eve. “Without our sales staff,” she said crisply, “we’d find it hard to keep our doors open. But as a matter of fact, David is the most gifted young jewelry designer in the nation. He’ll be working directly with Henry and eventually taking over.”

Mrs. Morgan’s expression warmed. “A designer?” she purred. “Working with Henry? I wonder if he’ll turn over my new project to you.”

“Perhaps,” David agreed. “I hope that wouldn’t disturb you. Henry would of course still be in charge.”

“Well, as long as Henry’s supervising…” The woman’s gaze slid across Eve’s bare left hand and raised limpidly to meet David’s. “It might actually be better to have you do the project. It’s to be a family heirloom for my daughter, you understand. Not that there’s anything wrong with Henry’s style, but a younger man might be more in touch with what a girl in her twenties likes.”

Honestly, Eve fumed. She couldn’t be any more obvious if she hit him with a brick.

“My first task, however,” David said pleasantly, “will be a wedding ring.” He reached for Eve’s hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her ring finger.

Mrs. Morgan’s lip curled. “What a good catch for you, Eve. Just how did the two of you happen to meet?”

Eve could feel a cavern opening under her toes. She wasn’t ready for that kind of question—at least not when asked in that particularly insinuating tone—and her brain felt absolutely vacant.

“Through Henry, of course,” David said. “How else?”

“How else indeed,” Mrs. Morgan sniffed. “How very convenient for you both.” She pulled her stole higher around her throat and turned toward the door.

Eve let herself sag in her chair.

David sat down again, smiling. “Most gifted? Eve, honey, even Henry said I was only one of the top three.”

Eve ignored him. “How odd that Mrs. Morgan never said anything about wanting an heirloom for her daughter when she talked to Henry about that project.”

“What kind of project is it?”

Eve rolled her eyes. “She’s got all these worn-out old rings—”

“Oh, yes. Henry told me about that one.”

“Well, she only gathered them up in the first place so she’d have an excuse to call him twice a week for the last two months.”

He looked startled. “You mean she’s chasing after Henry?”

“Ludicrous, isn’t it? She must have gotten the message that he’s not interested, so she shifted her attention.”

“Lucky me,” David murmured. “But the old darling did us one good turn.”

Eve’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“She made it clear that we’d better start playing Twenty Questions, and fast. Do you want to start, or shall I?”

CHAPTER THREE

THE doorman had been right. The steak was good, though David might have enjoyed it even more if he hadn’t been trying to commit to memory nearly every word Eve said. Attempting to absorb in a single evening what an ordinary couple would casually share over the course of months was a herculean task. But as the intrusive Mrs. Morgan had made plain, there were going to be lots of questions—and they’d better make a stab at having the right answers.

“How many people are coming to this wedding, anyway?” David asked as the busboy removed their plates.

Eve looked a little disconcerted, as if the question hadn’t occurred to her. “It sounds silly, I suppose, but I really don’t know. Henry assured me he’d keep it small, but I figured since the whole thing was his idea in the first place—or at least I thought it was—he could take care of the invitations. Why?”

“Just that Mrs. Morgan struck me as the sort who would know all the gossip. It surprised me that she apparently hadn’t heard the news. But if Henry was keeping a lid on things, that explains it. Would you like dessert?”

Eve shook her head.

David noticed faint shadows under her eyes. “You’re worn out.”

“I’ve just got a bit of a headache.”

“You, too?” he said lightly. “I suppose it’s no wonder, with everything we’ve tried to stuff in our brains tonight.”

Eve smiled a little. “It makes me think of cramming for final exams in college, that’s sure. No, don’t remind me. You went to the University of—”

“Enough for one night,” he said, and signaled the waiter. “We’ll start with a quiz tomorrow.” The waiter slid a leather folder under David’s hand. He opened it and glanced at the total.

Eve sat up straighter. “Give that to me, David. I invited you.”

He took his wallet out of his breast pocket. “No, you didn’t. You said it was Henry’s idea.”

“And it was, but…” She smiled suddenly.

Watching her eyes fill with mischief gave him a jolt, and a mild case of foreboding.

“Let’s sign Henry’s name to the ticket,” she said. “It would serve him right to find this on his bill.”

“No doubt it would. But I owe Henry enough as it is.” He handed the folder back to the waiter and stood to hold Eve’s chair. “I’ll see you home.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s only a few blocks, and the doorman will get me a cab. I do it all the time, David.”

Not when I’m available. But he didn’t argue the point, just strolled beside her across the lobby to the main entrance.

As the doorman whistled for a taxi, Eve turned to face him. “Thank you for dinner, and everything.” She sounded a little uncertain.

He helped her into the cab and slid in beside her.

Her eyes had gone big and dark. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—”

“What I think I’m doing isn’t the point,” David murmured. “It’s what the doorman thinks I’m doing that’s important. He’s the one who reports everything he sees to the general manager, remember?”

“So what?” Eve scoffed.

“And sometimes, I suspect, he tells her what he doesn’t see. So you can either kiss me right here while he pretends not to watch, or you can let me take you home so he can allow his imagination to roam on the subject of lovers’ farewells. What you can’t do is shake my hand politely and say goodnight. Not here.”

“Oh,” Eve said blankly. “I suppose you’re right.”

“You suppose?”

“Okay, okay.” She gave the cabbie her address. “But I draw the line at being mauled in the back seat of a cab to convince the driver.”

“Funny. Nobody was talking about mauling at the airport this afternoon.” Which, he thought, was one of the questions they had passed by tonight. Who was the too handsome dude at the airport, and why had Eve been so desperate to convince him that she was head over heels about David?

It really was only a few blocks from the hotel to where Eve lived, and at this hour of the night the drive was a fast one. David told the cabbie to wait for him and walked her to the main door.

While she dug out her key, he looked up at the building—a solid brick structure a dozen stories high and neither new nor particularly stylish.

“You’re surprised I live here,” she said. “And don’t bother to deny it, because I can see it in the tilt of your eyebrows. Why are you shocked? Because it isn’t sleek and glamorous?”

“I’m not shocked, exactly,” he said. “But you said something about sharing a house.”

She frowned as if she was trying to remember. “Well, I suppose we’ll want one someday. And I thought you’d like a say in where we live.”

“Considerate of you,” David said wryly. “See you tomorrow at the store.”

He was silent on the ride back to the hotel, thinking of all the things they’d talked about…and all the things they hadn’t. Remembering the way she had snapped at him, and the way she had smiled.

This adjustment was clearly going to take some time, because the month he’d spent back in Atlanta hadn’t been nearly the shock absorber he’d expected it would be. Even while he’d been resigning his job, cleaning out his apartment, selling his car, closing down his bank accounts, and tying up the loose ends of his life, the arrangement waiting for him in Chicago hadn’t seemed quite real.

Only today, when he walked down the concourse at O’Hare and saw Eve, had the reality finally hit. And then, barely an instant later, he’d been socked with a second blow when she’d thrown herself at him with that fiercely whispered, “Kiss me!”—and things had really started to get interesting.

Forget it, he ordered himself. That’s the last thing you need to be thinking about right now.

Tomorrow—his first day at Birmingham on State—would be a much better subject for contemplation than the little episode at O’Hare….

He hadn’t even realized that his hands had slipped so easily and confidently from Eve’s shoulders to her waist, and then on down—not until the old cat walking by had made a nasty remark, and he’d abruptly come to his senses and discovered he was standing in the middle of O’Hare Airport with his palms firmly cupping Eve’s derriere. No wonder one of the guys in the concourse had muttered something about a nice welcome—he’d probably been picturing himself in David’s shoes.

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