Elusive as the Unicorn
Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHY did you let him do that to you?’

The smile that had curved Eve’s lips faded, as she turned to face the owner of that intrusive voice, and was replaced by a puzzled frown. She didn’t know the man who stood in front of her; in fact, she was sure she had never even seen him before, for she would never have forgotten such ruggedly perfect features on any man. He didn’t have that pretty-pretty type of male looks that such a lot of women seemed to find so attractive nowadays, but a craggily stamped handsomeness that even her male-critical grandmother would have acknowledged as being ‘all man’. But still, Eve was sure she had never seen him before.

‘I’m sorry?’ She looked at him enquiringly.

Dark brown eyes snapped with impatience as the man towered over her diminutive five feet two inches in height in her three-inch-high sandals, the man’s dark blond hair brushing the collar of his white evening shirt. ‘Why the hell did you take such a load of chauvinistic bull from the guy who just left you?’ he demanded disgustedly, shaking his head, as if her behaviour utterly amazed him.

Eve gave an exasperated smile; after all, who was this man, to have been eavesdropping on her conversation with Paul in the first place? The fact that he was an American in no way excused his incredible rudeness in talking to her in this way, even if this was a party.

‘I’m sorry, Mr …?’ She paused deliberately, giving him the opportunity to introduce himself to her at least.

An opportunity he didn’t feel it necessary to take. ‘So you keep saying,’ he rasped in that husky drawl that had annoyed her the first time she’d heard it—and done little to endear itself to her since! ‘But it’s time someone told you that you can’t go through life apologising for being alive.’

Enough was enough, even from a man who obviously had no idea how offensive he was being, his dark gaze raking over her with impatient demand. ‘Obviously no one could ever accuse you of that.’ Sarcasm dripped icily off her voice, her expression one of haughty disdain—her ‘Little Miss Aloof look’, as her grandmother called it.

Humour lightened the darkness of the man’s gaze. ‘You can bet your sweet—— No, no one ever has yet,’ he amended mockingly, making no apology for the language he had been about to use. ‘And I don’t intend they ever should, either!’ he added grimly.

Eve gave a quizzical smile. This really was too ridiculous, a man she had never seen before verbally attacking her in this way, and so personally too. ‘I’ll bear your advice in mind, Mr …?’

‘You’ll have to do more than that if you intend seeing that guy again.’ He sipped the alcohol—probably whisky—from the glass in his hand, glancing across the room to where Paul now stood engaged in conversation with a group of other guests, again making no effort to take up her very obvious opening for him to introduce himself. ‘At the moment you’re nothing more than a walking doormat!’

This conversation had been far from amusing from the first; now it was positively insulting! ‘Since I didn’t ask for your advice—or your opinion—I’ll thank you to keep them both to yourself.’ Blue eyes flashed her irritation.

The man grinned, a hugely appreciative grin. ‘I see the mouse can roar if she wants to,’ he drawled derisively, his gaze openly challenging.

‘This mouse happens to be going to marry the “guy” across the room!’ she informed him caustically.

She stood stiffly, deeply resentful of his personal remarks about Paul and herself. How on earth had he got an invitation to one of Lady Daphne Graves’s parties? Heaven knew, Daphne was far from being a snob, but Eve just couldn’t believe the other woman would have given an invitation to such a socially destructive man.

His grin had faded the moment she made her announcement. ‘You’re marrying him?’ He gave a pained wince at the idea. ‘Why?’ His eyes narrowed.

Eve’s own triumphant smile at having momentarily disconcerted him instantly disappeared at his bluntly put question. ‘Why?’ she echoed exasperatedly. ‘You ask the strangest questions.’ She shook her head. ‘Questions that obviously need no answer.’

‘This one sure does,’ the man scorned. ‘Why would you want to tie yourself for life to a man who orders you to wait for him here—and obviously expects you to obey him without question—while he circulates among the other guests, enjoying himself?’

‘Paul didn’t order me to stay here!’ Eve’s cheeks were flushed with indignant anger.

‘No?’ the man beside her derided scoffingly. ‘It sounded like it to me.’

‘It wasn’t like that at all,’ she denied defensively. ‘He simply asked me to wait for him here while he——’

‘Circulated.’ The man’s opinion of that was obvious from his tone.

‘It’s important that Paul meet people like this,’ Eve told him in annoyance, inwardly wondering why she was even bothering to explain herself; her relationship with Paul was none of this man’s business. ‘He makes vital contacts at parties like this one.’

Dark brown eyes levelled derisively on Paul as he continued his conversation across the room. ‘I’m sure he does,’ the man said with obvious distaste. ‘But those contacts might be a little more impressed with him if he paid more attention to the woman he intends to marry!’

Paul had turned to look at them curiously now, a question in his light blue eyes as his gaze met Eve’s, a question Eve didn’t have the answer to; she didn’t even have the benefit of knowing this man’s name, let alone why he should have chosen to single her out for his insulting remarks!

He shook his head now, blonder highlights picked out in the dark blond hair by the illuminated crystal chandelier above them. ‘Most of the women I know would have told that guy to take a hike if he had ordered them to stay put,’ he remarked, implying she should have done the same if she’d had any sense.

Eve held herself stiffly erect at his insistence that Paul had ‘ordered’ her to do anything. ‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet?’ she prompted resentfully, her mouth set in an angry line.

He gave a mocking smile. ‘I’m not allowed to insult you until you know my name, hm?’ he taunted in that slow drawl.

She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I just thought it might be more—polite.’ She couldn’t help wishing that Paul would stop just looking at them with narrowed eyes, and actually come over here and rescue her from this unpleasant conversation.

The man at her side gave a dismissive shrug as she looked at him with steady query. ‘Most people call me Adam. Although I’m sure it isn’t the only name I’ve ever been known as,’ he added with a humorous glint in his eyes.

She could imagine it wasn’t the only name he had ever been called to his face, either; men who could be as personal as this one was, without even the benefit of a proper introduction, must get used to being told a few home truths about themselves!

However, the single name he had given her was enough to make Eve give an inward groan. ‘Well, Adam——’

‘Isn’t it usual to reciprocate?’ Chocolate-coloured eyes openly laughed at her for her deliberate omission, as if he were already in on the joke of their names, although she felt sure he couldn’t be.

Her inward groan became a cry for help; considering how brutally frank he had been about something that was none of his business, she hated to think what comment he was going to make about their two names—Adam and Eve!

Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Oh, during her childhood her friends had done the usual teasing about her name, and how she was ‘waiting for her Adam’, but the man’s name hadn’t been one that was popular at the time of her birth or for several years before that, and so, strange as it might seem, men named Adam had been distinctly missing from her life. Until now.

Why on earth did this man, a man who already found her such a source of amusement and a recipient of his pity, have to be called Adam?

‘Eve,’ she muttered with all the heartfelt reluctance she knew.

Dark blond brows quirked over questioning eyes as he leant down towards her slightly. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.’

She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I really shouldn’t keep you from your companion for the evening any longer,’ she dismissed with light finality.

‘I came with a couple of friends,’ he shrugged, equally dismissively.

Eve’s interest flickered into life in spite of herself; somehow she had half expected him to be in the company of one of the svelte model-types here that would probably be more to his liking than the tiny blonde that she was, her slender figure complemented by the petrol-blue dress she wore rather than the other way around, her shoulder-length hair framing a heart-shaped face that was dominated by dark-lashed blue eyes. And while half of her had believed this man would be accompanied by a woman who was the complete opposite of herself, the other half of her had queried what he was doing talking to her if he had come with a fascinating woman like that? But he had said a couple of friends …

‘A married couple,’ Adam supplied in a mocking tone, as if he had guessed the direction of her thoughts—as he probably had! ‘They aren’t going to be in the least concerned by my disappearance; they know I’m here to meet someone.’

Her eyes widened, large blue pools lightened almost to turquoise by naturally thick, dark lashes. ‘I don’t think Daphne throws those sort of parties,’ she derided.

‘Someone special,’ he added softly.

Her brows quirked. ‘Even so …’

‘Someone very special,’ he mocked.

He sounded so positive, as if he had someone definite in mind. Or as if, once he had found the woman he was interested in, he would have no trouble whatsoever in convincing her she was interested in him too! And, probably, he usually didn’t.

‘Then I hope you succeed in meeting her,’ Eve told him briskly, ash-blonde hair moving silkily about her shoulders as she straightened dismissively.

‘Daphne doesn’t throw those sort of parties,’ he reminded drily.

A delicate blush brightened her cheeks. ‘I know that,’ she said sharply, wishing once again that Paul would forget those ‘vital contacts to his career’ for once and rejoin her.

He was deep in conversation with Lord Graves at the moment, although to give him his due she could see Lord Graves was doing most of the talking, Paul’s attention distracted, as his mind was half on the fact that a complete stranger had engaged Eve in conversation for the last ten minutes or so.

‘So do I,’ Adam derided softly. ‘I’m here to meet a legend.’

Eve gave a puzzled frown at the announcement. There were some very important and internationally renowned people here tonight, titled people, politicians, others from the world of theatre and music, all of them mingling as equals, specifically invited for their ability to make this yet another social triumph for Lady Daphne; it wouldn’t be a Lady Daphne party if it weren’t a social success. But, as far as Eve was aware, famous as some of these people were, or were going to be, none of them merited being called a legend. Not yet, anyway!

‘Are you sure you have the right party?’ she taunted wryly.

Some of the confidence left him as he too glanced around the elegantly furnished drawing-room of the Graveses’ at the assortment of people gathered there. ‘I hope so,’ he finally frowned. ‘Sophy assured me——’

‘Sophy?’ Eve echoed sharply, shooting Paul a worried glance, relieved to see he still couldn’t escape Dudley Graves, a complete contradiction of her thoughts of a few moments ago. Her gaze returned to Adam. ‘Do you mean Sophy O’Donnell?’ she put the question casually.

He nodded, a frown still marring his perfectly sculpted brow. ‘She and her husband are the couple that brought me here tonight.’

She had already guessed as much, just as she could now realise to which ‘legend’ he referred. Paul wasn’t going to like it one little bit when he found out what Sophy had been up to.

Not that it was too difficult to work out the reason for the other woman’s bloody-mindedness; she hadn’t liked it one bit when Paul had proved difficult about the ‘showing’ at her gallery this winter, and had obviously decided to be a little awkward herself by bringing this man Adam to this party, a man intent on meeting a ‘legend’, even if that legend didn’t want to be met—or recognised.

Sophy and Patrick O’Donnell owned and ran one of the most prestigious art galleries in London; Sophy was a shrewd businesswoman who hated to be told no, and let no one forget it. Even a ‘legend’ who she knew chose to remain anonymous.

Eve fixed a bright smile on her pastel-pink painted lips. ‘Then I really shouldn’t keep you any longer. I have to go and talk to Paul anyway,’ she added quickly, as it seemed Adam might begin to protest.

The mockery returned to dark brown eyes. ‘That’s allowed, is it?’

Her mouth tightened, but she forced the smile to remain on her lips; she wanted to get away from him, and stay away from him, and engaging in another verbal exchange with him wouldn’t achieve that. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Adam.’ She nodded dismissively before turning away.

She wasn’t too surprised by the light grip on her arm that followed, having half expected a man like Adam was proving to be wouldn’t just meekly accept being dismissed. But she intended keeping this as brief as possible.

The warmth in his dark brown eyes as she turned back to face him unnerved her a little, though. And he made no effort to remove the warmth of his hand from her arm, either—long, tapered fingers very deeply tanned against her much paler skin.

‘You really shouldn’t marry that guy, you know.’ His voice was huskily intimate, giving the impression that they were the only two people in the room.

Irritation snapped in her eyes. She had waited a long time for Paul to notice her, and now that he had she wasn’t about to listen to the uninformed opinion of a complete stranger concerning the two of them. What did this man really know about them?

‘You’ll bear my advice in mind, right?’ he derided with a shake of his head. ‘But it’s more than advice, Miss Whoever-you-are,’ he added with serious intent, his eyes narrowed. ‘If you marry Paul with your relationship the way it is, then the marriage—or you—is doomed for disaster, depending which breaks down first.’

Eve felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine, and then instantly dismissed it. She had known and loved Paul most of her life; what could this man, who didn’t know Paul at all, possibly know of that love? He certainly had no right to pass an opinion on it on such short acquaintance!

‘Paul and I will be very happy together,’ she told the man at her side stiffly.

His mouth twisted. ‘Is that what he told you?’ he countered.

She drew in an indignant breath. ‘You really are the most arrogant——’ She broke off, stunned at her own vehemence, her cheeks fiery red. ‘What I meant to say was——’

‘You were doing just fine before,’ he mocked her distress. ‘Talk to your Paul a few times like that, and I doubt he would order you to stay put for too much longer.’

‘He didn’t—— Oh, really, Adam, I don’t think there’s any point in continuing this conversation.’ She shook off his hand impatiently, slightly disturbed when she could still feel the warm imprint of it against her skin. ‘You simply don’t understand my relationship with Paul.’ And you never will, her tone implied.

How could he possibly understand a love like the one she had for Paul, and Paul had for her? Adam himself seemed to be free of such emotion, and probably always had been.

‘I understand love,’ he told her softly. ‘I’ve witnessed the genuine article between my own parents for the last thirty-eight years.’ And what you have with Paul isn’t it, his tone seemed to imply.

‘You——’

‘Sorry to have left you so long, darling,’ interrupted a dearly familiar voice, Paul’s arm moving lightly about her waist as he came to stand beside her. ‘But you seem to have been kept amused.’ He looked enquiringly at the other man.

Eve turned to him gladly, feeling her heart skip its usual beat as she gazed up into his handsome face.

A little under six feet in height, Paul was possessed of a natural male elegance, had naturally wavy dark hair that was styled just long enough for that natural wave to be apparent, dark lashes surrounding eyes that were that curious colour that was neither blue nor grey, but could be both, or somewhere in between.

At thirty, just four years older than Eve herself, Paul was nevertheless able to meet the older man’s assessing gaze with equal confidence. And why shouldn’t he? No matter who this man Adam turned out to be—and he had to be someone for Sophy to have bothered with him!—Paul was a successful man in his own right.

‘I hope she has,’ the man called Adam replied. ‘You really shouldn’t leave this lovely lady alone for too long.’

Eve could feel the resentment in Paul at the casually made remark as he stiffened at her side. And with just cause!

She shot the man called Adam a quelling glance, frowning her impatience as he blandly returned her gaze with feigned innocence.

‘Eve is perfectly able to—— What on earth!’ Paul said in an astounded voice as the other man began to chuckle at his remark.

Eve understood Adam’s humour only too well, giving a pained wince as the chuckle became a full-throated laugh, causing more than a few people to look their way. Adam’s eyes were full of merriment as he chokingly excused himself when he couldn’t contain the humour, crossing the room to enter the garden through the open patio doors. The sound of his laughter could still be heard coming from outside, causing even more curious looks to be directed at Eve and Paul.

Eve’s face was bright red with embarrassment as Paul looked down at her with angry eyes; he hated having any unnecessary attention drawn to him.

But she couldn’t be held responsible for Adam’s spontaneous humour—at least, not through any deliberate intent on her part. And she very much doubted that Paul would appreciate the ‘Adam and Eve’ significance that had been the cause of the other man’s uncontrollable laughter.

‘What was all that about?’ Paul demanded through gritted teeth, the forced smile to his lips trying to claim that he saw nothing unusual in someone going off into peals of laughter after being spoken to!

She shook her head. ‘I think he must have had a little too much to drink.’ She tried to shrug off the embarrassing episode.

Paul gazed after the other man, his frown lightening slightly. ‘Perhaps,’ he murmured thoughtfully. ‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ he decided with brisk dismissal, turning back to her. ‘Who was he, anyway?’ he said irritably.

She shrugged, keeping her tone light. ‘I have no idea.’

The heavy frown returned. ‘You weren’t introduced?’

‘No,’ she admitted tightly, reluctantly. ‘And he didn’t chose to introduce himself either,’ she dismissed.

The name Adam couldn’t really be classed as an introduction, and the little else she did know about him—that Sophy O’Donnell had brought him here to meet a ‘legend’—wasn’t guaranteed to endear him to Paul. In fact, the opposite was true. Sophy was one of the least popular people with Paul at the moment.

‘Damned cheek of the man.’ He glared at the open french doors with narrowed eyes. ‘What did he want?’ His gaze returned assessingly to Eve.

Mainly to dissuade her from marrying Paul! And that conversation was laughable now; now that she was with Paul, that brief shiver of apprehension she had felt earlier was completely forgotten. ‘Nothing, really,’ she dismissed brightly, a glowing smile on her lips as she looked lovingly into Paul’s face. ‘I think he was just at a loose end, having come with a married couple.’ She deliberately omitted to mention which married couple it had been. ‘I can’t even remember what we talked about now,’ she assured.

Paul still looked stern. ‘You really shouldn’t engage in conversation with complete strangers, Eve.’ He shook his head reprovingly. ‘I’ve told you before, you’re too trusting.’

‘Darling,’ she placated tenderly, her hand resting lightly on his arm, ‘it was only small talk. And he did realise I was here with you,’ she reminded teasingly, pushing firmly from her mind the other man’s disparaging remarks. ‘Now, why don’t we start to enjoy this party?’

Together. The word popped into her mind without volition, and she frowned her irritation at letting the man Adam’s comments affect her enough to allow even one detrimental thought about Paul to disturb her in this way. Paul had his career to think about and, although she wasn’t really into parties herself, she respected the fact that functions like this were important to him. The man Adam just didn’t understand that, didn’t understand the nature of their relationship.

Paul dismissed the other man with effort, and they did begin to circulate together among the other guests.

But two of the people she and Paul did avoid during the next hour, as they moved among the chattering groups about the room, were Sophy and Patrick O’Donnell. If Paul saw the two couples were about to meet, then he neatly avoided it without being too obvious. And that suited Eve too, mainly because the man Adam was with the other couple for the majority of the evening, a fact Paul didn’t seem to have realised. Thank goodness!

But Sophy wasn’t about to take that sort of treatment all evening; she was much more forcefully direct than her amiably friendly husband, and Eve wasn’t at all surprised to see the beautiful redhead determinedly crossing the room towards them after an hour of being avoided in that way, Patrick resignedly following in her wake. To Eve’s relief, it was one of the occasions the man Adam had briefly wandered away from them. Probably in search of his living ‘legend’!

‘Eve, Paul——’ She gave the latter a brittle smile, standing almost as tall as him at five feet ten inches in her high-heeled shoes, her model-thin body shown to advantage in the black glittering evening dress. ‘I thought it was time we came over and said hello.’ The smile she bestowed on Eve was much warmer, even the cynicism that usually hardened her green eyes lessening momentarily as she looked at her. ‘Or did you intend the dodging game to continue all evening?’ Her eyes hardened once again as her gaze returned to Paul, her stance challenging.

Paul coldly met that gaze. ‘I don’t play games, Sophy,’ he bit out.

‘No,’ her red-painted mouth tightened, ‘you’re too damned arrogant for that. You——’

‘Darling,’ Patrick stepped in with his usual easy self-control, a tall, loose-limbed man with untidy dark hair, his casual appearance hiding a very great talent. Sophy was the businesswoman in their marriage-partnership, while Patrick was the experienced art dealer and collector.

On the surface they were an unlikely-looking couple—Sophy so worldly and cynical, Patrick bordering on the absent-minded genius—and yet their differing personalities complemented each other, softening Sophy’s more brittle nature, while Patrick’s love and admiration for his wife drew him more out into the world than he might otherwise have been.

Sophy glanced at her husband, and at his warning look she brushed off her irritation with a sigh, relaxing slightly. ‘Are you both having a good time?’ she enquired lightly.

‘Not bad, thanks,’ Paul answered for them stiltedly, completely unbending in his own resentment.

Green eyes flashed angrily. ‘I gather you haven’t reconsidered my suggestion about the showing at the gallery for the winter?’ she snapped, completely impervious to Patrick’s warning for caution now, her quick-fire temper getting the better of her in the face of Paul’s bloody-mindedness.

Paul returned her gaze coldly. ‘Have you?’

‘Come on, you two,’ Patrick interrupted lightly, shooting Eve an apologetic smile. ‘This is no place to be discussing business.’

Sophy continued to glare at Paul for several tension-filled seconds before slowly relaxing, putting her arm warmly through the crook of Patrick’s. ‘Sorry, Eve,’ she grimaced ruefully. ‘I’ll call you in the week, shall I, and the four of us can have dinner together one evening?’

Eve glanced up uncertainly at Paul, knowing by the remoteness of his expression that the suggestion didn’t please him at all. He and Sophy just didn’t get on; the other woman epitomised everything he disliked in a woman: independent even in marriage, totally self-confident in her own capabilities and, worst of all in his eyes, she was a businesswoman.

But Eve didn’t have it in her to be rude to the other couple. ‘That would be lovely,’ she awkwardly accepted.

Sophy couldn’t resist giving Paul a triumphant smile before turning away. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she promised before moving off, Patrick talking to her quietly as they crossed the room.

‘Damned woman,’ Paul muttered, not caring whether or not the other couple were out of earshot. ‘I can’t stand pushy women who——’

‘Darling, we can’t avoid seeing them forever; Sophy is right about that,’ she cajoled.

His eyes narrowed with dislike. ‘They aren’t the only gallery in town.’

She gave him a reproving look. ‘They’re the best in their field,’ she reminded softly.

He gave a disgruntled snort. ‘We’ll see.’

Eve felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sophy and Patrick were highly respected in the art world—by the artists themselves, other dealers, and buyers alike—and Paul had to realise the importance, without losing any of his stiff-backed pride, of remaining politely friendly with them, even if he chose not to make them his friends.

‘I have something I need to finish discussing with Dudley Graves before we leave,’ he informed her abruptly, before she could voice any of her misgivings.

Eve frowned her disappointment. ‘Oh, but——’

‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ he added dismissively, before walking away without a second glance.

It was just her luck—bad luck!—that Paul should have to leave her side just at a time when the man Adam was on his own a few feet away. Her attempt to put some distance between them was thwarted as she saw him make a determined move towards her.

‘I thought he was never going to leave—Eve,’ he murmured conspiratorially behind her when she hastily turned away.

Her mouth was set in disapproving lines as she turned back to face him. ‘I thought your complaint was that Paul left me alone too much?’ she derided drily, her brows arched mockingly.

Adam looked more rakish than ever, the gentle early summer breeze outside obviously having ruffled his dark blond hair, but only adding to his attraction in the process. ‘That was my first school of thought,’ he replied, coming to stand in front of her, effectively blocking out the rest of the room with his height and the width of his shoulders, shoulders that had no trouble at all filling out the jacket of the black evening suit he wore. ‘We both know what my second one was,’ he added tauntingly. ‘And I haven’t changed my mind about that one.’

Her impatience increased. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she snapped, annoyed that an evening she had thought would at least be pleasantly enjoyable had turned into a complete farce.

‘OK.’ He held up his hands defensively. ‘Whatever you say. I don’t feel like arguing with you on the subject again just now, anyway.’

She looked at him curiously. ‘You aren’t enjoying the party?’

‘The party is just fine.’ He shrugged disinterestedly. ‘As parties go,’ he added in a bored voice. ‘But as far as meeting The Unicorn goes, it seems to have been a waste of my time.’ He sighed heavily.

The Unicorn. Eve had known the last time they spoke to which ‘legend’ he referred, of course, and in this case The Unicorn was an artist of ethereal beauty, who had come to the notice of the general public a little over three years ago, the paintings now collector’s pieces, every one worth thousands rather than hundreds. And what added to the interest in the artist was the anonymity of the signature at the bottom of all the paintings; very few people were actually in on the secret of the real identity of The Unicorn.

Obviously Adam had come to the party this evening intending to be added to their number. And Sophy had encouraged him to believe that could happen.

‘After wandering around myself for a while—which was how I first came to speak to you,’ he said drily, ‘I started to follow Sophy and Patrick around instead,’ he muttered, obviously far from happy. ‘No one they’ve talked to here could possibly be The Unicorn.’

Eve’s brows arched at his complete certainty. ‘No?’

‘No.’ Adam sighed, the laughter that had been so apparent in him earlier in the evening having faded as he became disillusioned as to his success in finding the person he had come here specifically to see.

‘You sound very certain,’ she prompted lightly, one of those privileged few who did know the identity of the artist, and their desire for privacy. She also knew that the artist was here at the party …

‘I am.’ Adam nodded firmly. ‘The Unicorn is someone who sees the world with a beauty and innocence it couldn’t hope to achieve; most of the people here can’t see past the end of their noses!’ he dismissed with unmistakable disgust.

Eve had to smile at his scorn for these people, who were, after all, just trying to enjoy themselves. ‘You could be completely wrong about your artist, you know. Maybe The Unicorn is someone who paints the world the way he has cynically decided other people would like to see it, not the way he really sees it.’ She couldn’t resist teasing him.

He didn’t look amused, more as if she had struck him. ‘It couldn’t be.’ He shook his head disbelievingly. ‘No,’ he said again, as if trying to convince himself, ‘I’ve dreamt of the moment I would meet The Unicorn …’ he added flatly, his frown pained.

‘You might not even like him if you met him,’ she frowned, moved by the intensity of his emotion; The Unicorn’s paintings obviously meant a lot to him. ‘You could be disillusioned,’ she said slowly. ‘Disappointed.’

‘I—I couldn’t be.’ Adam shook his head. ‘Artists paint from the heart, the soul,’ he insisted, the uncertainty still darkening his eyes.

She shrugged. ‘Some of them just paint for the money.’

‘Not The Unicorn.’ He sounded more firm.

Eve could see that, although she had shaken him slightly with the things she had said, his belief in the artist was complete.

‘You’re right,’ she told him softly. Annoying as this man had been to her all evening, she couldn’t bear for the disillusionment in his eyes to continue a moment longer. ‘The Unicorn doesn’t paint for the money.’

His expression instantly brightened, and he moved a step closer to her. ‘You know who he is!’ he pounced with restrained excitement.

Eve instantly regretted her lapse, looking around the room searchingly for Paul, panic welling up inside her; he would be most displeased if he knew she had revealed even this much to a complete stranger. Especially one that had already irritated him so much!

Narrowed brown eyes moved questioningly over the pale distress of her face, Adam’s head turning as he followed the direction of her frantic gaze.

His loud swallow could be clearly heard. ‘Hell, no …’ he groaned, as if in pain.

Eve turned back to him sharply. ‘What is it?’ she gasped nervously.

He had the look of someone who had just been punched in the stomach and was still reeling from the blow. ‘You were right,’ he said weakly. ‘It would have been better if I’d never tried to find out who The Unicorn was.’

She blinked, paling even more. ‘You know who it is?’ She swallowed hard.

He nodded. ‘And I’ve only spoken to the other man once, briefly, but I disliked him before I even met him,’ he said dully.

Eve continued to look at him frowningly for several dazed seconds before his complete meaning became clear to her. And then she realised that he thought Paul was The Unicorn.

When, in actual fact, she was …

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