Authors: Flame Arden
He signed the last one, "
Nick. 711-3736
."
He placed the messages and a hefty tip in Rex's outstretched hand. "Please take these back down to the florist shop and ask Alicia to call me as soon as she has anything to report."
While Nick waited for the phone to ring, he paced the length of the room. Beneath the crystal chandelier, he turned and paced back.
He should devise another plan to put in motion. This one might fail, but dammit, he couldn't think clearly yet. The time spent with Sweet Eve had scrambled his brain more than his fall.
What a hellacious mess. Here, I've finally found a woman capable of turning forever into my favorite word, and Eve probably considers the name Nick and never again the same word.
He
had
to change that, using whatever method it took.
His phone rang. "Alicia? Good."
"I was able to line up eight dozen yellow roses for you, Nick, and a few spares."
"Great. You have the cards? Let's start with a dozen. Please have the box delivered to the address on the first card. The lady is at home, I checked. Wait no more than thirty minutes, then send the driver back, this time with the roses arranged in a pretty bouquet, and attach the second envelope. Keep making deliveries until there's only one envelope left. Enclose the last one with the largest arrangement you can make out of the remaining roses, except those spares. If things work out, I'll need those tomorrow night."
"Consider it done."
"Let's see..." Nick glanced at his watch. "It's after one now, so you don't have much time. Put everything on my account."
"Right. This lady must be special."
Far more special than I realized
.
"You might say that."
When Nick ended the conversation his panic began to subside. Even so, he rubbed his palms together. If things worked out as he hoped, Eve would be in his arms again tomorrow night. He sure had a lot to do before then.
Chapter Twenty-One
Every year Nick invited the high rollers who gambled in his casino during the year to a private New Year's Eve celebration, and spent the afternoon of December thirtieth making sure the ingredients for the buffet dinner were all ordered. He wanted this party to be one his guests would not soon forget.
He wanted this gala to be an event talked about long after it came to an end. For it to be the grandest party ever, each detail required careful planning.
At seven o'clock that evening he was still at his desk when his private line rang.
"Hello," he said, glancing at his watch, his thoughts on the buffet menu. The proposed list of entrees made his mouth water. No surprise there. He hadn't eaten since noon.
"Nick? It's Eve," she said softly, a smile in her voice.
He grinned.
"I'm crying uncle," she said, laughing. "How did you know I like yellow roses? There are enough here to decorate a float."
"A calculated guess." And a good memory for details. "An armful of yellow roses should bring out those lovely golden highlights in your hair," he murmured and held his breath, waiting for her response.
"They're beautiful. Thanks."
"And—"
"Yes. I will have dinner with you." Her voice broke and she cleared her throat. "So we can say a proper goodbye."
Not if things go the way I plan
. "Is eight all right? I'll pick you up."
"Eight is fine. You already know my address."
He glanced over where Eve's sweet face smiled back at him from his laptop. "Yes. Oh, and Eve..." His heart thumped like an adolescent teen. "... I'm really looking forward to seeing you. Have a good night."
As soon as he hung up the phone, arrangements for a more private, penthouse rendezvous on New Year's Eve began to take shape in Nick's head. A quiet dinner, the best champagne, flowers, of course. A midnight repast might be a good idea, too, assuming Eve forgave him and stayed to enjoy it with him.
Across town, Eve cradled the phone, her earlier cheerful mood spoiled by hearing Nick's deep voice. Oh, yeah. He had her address, and by now a fairly good idea of her net worth, she'd bet.
The fantasy bubble she'd shared with the man she'd almost fallen in love with had finally burst. Like all her other suitors, Nick would now begin a full-fledged assault aimed at meeting her at the altar with the goal of increasing his personal fortune tenfold. He'd already managed the first step, getting her into his bed, and from the abundance of roses, he'd launched the second stage of his assault today.
Well, she'd show
him
.
She had an agenda of her own, one guaranteed to raise Nick's hopes, then watch his expression shift when she dashed them.
After
he took her to bed one last time.
She wanted — no needed — that final memory. Then, sharing just enough sensual delights to whet his lusty appetite, she'd smash his plans to smithereens by telling him, "That's it. Never again will we share a bed.
Adios
and goodbye." Then she'd walk right out of his life.
Wrecking all her chances for happiness when she did.
So be it. She couldn't help it if Nick's dreams were shattered. Hers already were. She was strong and would survive the heartache, although at the moment, she wasn't sure how.
Eve picked up the phone, suddenly anxious to get through the next day and move on with her life.
"Abbie," she said to her hair stylist and long time friend. "Can you fit me in tomorrow afternoon? I need the works."
As she hung up the phone she glanced in her dressing table mirror and picked up her hair brush. It would serve Nick right if she had Abbie whack off all this long hair he took such pleasure in running his fingers through.
She thoughtfully brushed her hair, trying to picture it short, then dropped the brush.
No
.
She
was the offended party
.
Cutting her hair would punish her, too. Nick's preferences no longer mattered, even if he had called her long auburn tresses "
her crowning glory
."
She
preferred her hair long.
She'd find some other way to change her looks. Go blonde? Acrylic nails painted blood red? No matter what Abbie suggested, she'd agree.
Now to find the right dress in her closet, a garment guaranteed to make Nick drool.
* * * * *
The following morning Eve slipped one party dress after another over her head, then stepped carefully out of each one, certain she'd know the right one when she found it. Something drop dead gorgeous. Sophisticated, yet daring enough to show some cleavage, too.
She found the perfect dress, a fiery-red, curve-skimming number she'd worn to the grand opening of the newest casino on the Strip. The dress left nothing to the imagination.
Thigh-high silk stockings? Even though one front seam of the gown was split to well above her knee, their sheer elastic tops wouldn't show. Besides, she had nice ankles, the only part of her body she could truthfully describe as trim.
To avoid underwear lines, she'd have to leave all her undies in her lingerie drawer tonight.
Eve smiled, pleased with her plan.
Later, at Abbie's insistence, she allowed the talented stylist to sweep her hair up and back in a sophisticated style softened by three long curls secured above one ear with a diamond-studded butterfly.
While getting dressed, Eve glanced in the mirror. Her hairstyle looked fragile, but Abbie had assured her she could even take a nap without mussing those curls.
She'd been too keyed-up to nap and now, fully made up and awaiting Nick's arrival, she watched from a curtained window as a white stretch limo came up her drive. Just as she'd expected, her escort for the evening was pulling out all the stops.
Always predictable, the men she went out with were as boring as the miles and miles of desert sand stretching to the west.
Unless the viewer loved the desert
. She did.
The door bell rang.
"Shall I get that, Miss Eve?" her maid asked.
"Please, Lucy, and show the gentleman in here." Eve casually rested her arm on the white baby grand piano and awaited Nick's entrance.
She heard Lucy say, "Miss Adohr is in the music room," and turned slightly, so that the scarlet dress flowed provocatively over every curve of her body when Nick entered the room.
Her breath caught. He looked marvelous in evening clothes. Tall. Elegant. And very much at home in what he wore.
He saw her and his steps faltered, his gaze never once straying from hers.
She smiled. Round one to Eve Adohr, just as she'd planned. Now to get her runaway heart under control.
She'd thought she was prepared to see Nick again.
She was
not.
His eyes gleamed as he strode across the spacious room and up to her, his usually confident demeanor restored. Eve wished she could say the same. Her heart raced.
The man knew how to make an entrance, she'd give him that. He took her hand.
No, don't
.
Brought her fingertips to his warm lips.
Please stop. I can't
...
She swayed toward him, caught herself and lifted her chin.
It would be nearly impossible to turn her back on this man.
Then she recalled him forcing those ten crisp bills into her hand.
She
could
and
would
turn her back on Nick.
"Thank you for agreeing to see me this evening," he murmured, and pressed tender butterfly kisses across her knuckles before releasing her fingertips, his eyes never leaving her face. When her heart skipped wildly, her gaze darted away.
Don't forget, this dog insulted you. Practically called you a whore
.
There. Controlled anger slowed her heartbeat's wild race. "You look fantastic," he again murmured in the seductive voice she'd come to know so well. "I have a weakness for red."
Just as I have a weakness for you, but after tonight, neither one of us is going to get what we want
.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked, returning her hand to the piano, needing its support.
"I don't think so. Traffic is a bear. You know how it is with the Strip closed to traffic on New Year's Eve. We had a devil of a time getting here, and I don't want us to be delayed."
"Then maybe we should get started. Where did you say we were going to eat?"
"Someplace new, but quiet, where we can talk."
The Rendezvous? The restaurant that had just opened? Everyone was raving about it.
Maybe that's where he's taking me.
Trying for extra points?
New Year's Eve had sold out long before The Rendezvous opened its doors for business. On such short notice Nick would have had to pull some important strings to get a reservation there.
More of his campaign to get his hands on my savings accounts?
Her father always said the higher the climb, the greater the fall. She looked forward to Nick's downfall with no regrets.
Eve's stomach somersaulted. Make that few regrets.
Even though it would devastate her to hurt Nick, she intended to. But she could never wound his pride as deeply as he had wounded hers.
With renewed determination, she picked up her evening bag and reached for her wrap. Nick slipped the velvet cape lined with luxurious fur around her shoulders. It had warmed her grandmother on many a cold desert night and what Animal Rights activists failed to notice, Eve was not about to advertise.
She seldom wore the wrap, but was not above using the garment as part of her campaign to bring Nick down, hard. Just one glimpse of the mink lining was guaranteed to have a money-hungry man panting after her like a male dog on the trail of a bitch in heat.
To her newly-opened eyes Nick fit that description all too well.
Still, everything she planned to do to him was totally foreign to her. She sent up a silent prayer for fortitude.
Especially when Nick kissed her bare nape, scattering her thoughts. A moment filled with intense longing forced her steps to falter. For an even longer moment her legs refused to respond to her silent command to move.
Then she walked toward the door, the precarious high heels of her backless sandals causing her to take two steps to Nick's one until he noticed and slowed. His hand, warm on her elbow, promised to protect as well as to guide.
Yes, yes, possess
.
She leaned into Nick as she walked out to the limo, needing to feel those gentle hands stroking every inch of her body one last time, all part of her plan.
His chauffeur, obviously hired for the evening along with the car, helped her in. A string of miniature lights strung above the doors turned the interior into a fairy land and the darkly-tinted windows shut out the rest of the world. Feeling sinfully wanton in such intimate surroundings, Eve removed her coat.
Without waiting for directions, the driver got in and pulled out into the busy street. While Nick removed the cork from a chilled bottle of champagne, the privacy window silently closed. He filled a glass, gave it to her with a knowing smile.
"Thank you," she whispered, watching him.
He filled a second glass and turned to her, the flute held high. "To unresolved misunderstandings and healed wounds," he murmured, touching his glass to hers.
Eve raised an eyebrow, but thought it best not to respond.
"About Priscilla..."
"Look, Nick. You don't have to explain. I don't know what got into me that night. I can't begin to justify my behavior, other than to say the woman you met
was not
the real me. I had just broken up with my current suitor. I was upset and went a little wild. I'm sorry."
He emptied his glass and set it aside. "You sure know how to hurt a fella. I was hoping my skill as a lover had sparked the passion we discovered in each other's arms."
Oh, it did, but admitting that to you would reopen the door I'm desperately trying to slam shut
.
Despite all her efforts, she was still drawn to Nick.