Christmas Eve (23 page)

Nick grinned, a plan to show Ruth she didn't know everything forming in his mind.

The orderly wheeled in the chair. "Your chariot awaits."

Meekly, Nick sat. "Let's go."

Ruth had to run to keep up, but Nick decided it would be good for her.

In the car, she kept up a constant chatter. He'd once taken her to the airport and to lunch a number of times. She'd talked a lot then, too.

Feeling benevolent, Nick held his tongue, although he longed to tell her to be quiet. After the hushed quiet of his hospital room, her non-stop talking was hard to take.

As they neared the casino, Nick asked, "Would you mind letting me out at the back door?"

Ruth studied him with a puzzled frown. It slowly cleared. "If that's what you want..."

"I do. It wouldn't be good for business, to be seen in the lobby dressed like this."

She skirted the hotel, let him out in the back and drove away, heading for the employee's parking lot and the space he'd personally painted her name on for her birthday last year.

Ah... blessed quiet.

He stepped inside. The freight elevator only went to the nineteenth floor, leaving him one flight of stairs to climb, but his plan worked. He was able to slip into the penthouse without running into anyone.

He'd been away for nearly a week, and went straight to the refrigerator, removed the last can of soda. Empty calories sounded good. Nick popped the top and strolled over to the answering machine, planning to review his messages while sipping the contents of the can.

Before he could, the phone rang. He answered with a cheery, "Hello."

"Nick? I'm dreadfully sorry to hear Angie stood you up on Christmas Eve. What can I do to make amends?"

"Priscilla? What the devil are you talking about?"

"I've only just returned to my office. I told you we were to be closed for a few days. Remember?"

"Yes." He hoped she would get around to whatever she was trying to tell him soon. He had things to do. Important things. Like finding Eve. Priscilla would know how, and he intended to ask her, as soon as she paused for breath.

"...Well, I was just now reviewing my messages, and the first recording was from Angie, the escort I promised would keep you company on Christmas Eve. Her car couldn't make it up the mountain without chains, she said, and the Highway Patrol insisted she turn back. Since she had no way to contact you, she called the office, but no one was here to take her call."

Angie?
Not Eve
?

Damn
.

"I'm terribly sorry," Priscilla continued. "I can imagine how disappointed you were, but..."

Disappointed
? No, that's not the right word.

Attracted
?

To Eve? Yes.

Intrigued
?

By Eve? Damn straight.

In love
?

With Eve?

Quite likely.

He tuned back in to Priscilla to hear her say, "I intend to make this up to you, Nick. Your next two engagements are on the house. How's that?"

Hit by a sudden thought, Nick rocked back on his heels.

Who the Hell
is
Eve
?

Priscilla rambled on for a few more minutes before Nick could bring their conversation to an end and try to sort everything out.

Eve had showed up at his door. Apparently
not
invited, as he'd thought, but nevertheless welcome.

Oh, yes.

And definitely
not
one of Priscilla's girls.

Oh, lord.

What Eve claimed must have been true. She
was
a real estate agent sent to show the house next door.

Which meant Eve was definitely
not
a call girl.

Then why in Hell had she gone to bed with him?

The mix up
did
explain her sweet innocence. He'd been convinced that was an act.

True, she had looked as unspoiled as the new-fallen snow. But once he got her going...

Man, oh man. Rev Eve's engines and she purred like his well-tuned Ferrari.

Wait a minute. Even though she was
not
a call girl, he'd offered money to her. And she'd accepted it.

Why hadn't she thrown it back in his face?

The implications of this mix up were only now sinking in.

The things he'd said.

The things they'd done.

The money he'd forced on Eve, assuring her she'd earned it.

It's a wonder she hadn't slapped his face.

He would have to take back those words.

He didn't want to consider what Eve must think of him, but knew he must. She would be...

A quiet knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened it to find Rex, his most trusted bellhop, standing there.

"A courier just delivered this for you, Mr. St. Clair."

"Thanks."

Nick exchanged a tip for the envelope in Rex's hand, and the grinning bellhop stepped back inside the elevator just as the door slid shut, leaving Nick once again alone. He closed the door to the penthouse, tore open the envelope and turned it upside down.

Ten crisp, large-denomination bills slid out into his outstretched hand.

Eve
! The sudden sharp pain in Nick's stomach made him wonder if his nausea had returned. The intense ache made him hurt to suck in a breath.

Slumping onto the sofa, he cradled his head in his hands while the reality of what he'd done to Eve washed over him.

How could he right this unforgivable wrong? He'd insulted the woman he loved.

Find her and apologize, of course
.

But how?

He didn't even know her last name.

She sells real estate
.

Maybe she left one of her cards at the cabin. He needed to retrieve his laptop and his Ferrari, so why not go up there and have a look?

Rather than call a taxi, he called a friend. Bill Resner, a lawyer, was not one to pry and he knew Bill would not complain when Nick had little to say on the twenty minute drive. Too many regrets cluttered Nick's mind to indulge in small talk with him.

Later, he couldn't recall saying goodbye to Bill and sending him on his way, but would never forget walking into the cabin and inhaling Eve's distinctive fragrance still lingering in his cabin as he moved from one empty room to the next. His clothes were negligently tossed over a chair, his boots by the back door, but nowhere did he find a reminder of Eve's presence, other than in the air he hungrily gulped into his lungs.

With a set jaw and a heavy heart, he emptied the refrigerator of the uneaten food André had prepared, did away with the tray of snacks left out prior to his fall, then washed and dried the plates and containers before putting everything away. His housekeeper was curious enough about his lifestyle without giving her even more reason to be suspicious of him.

He'd forgotten to check the bathroom and walked slowly down the hall, remembering how he had carried Eve down this same hall, her soft body warm and trusting in his arms.

Would he be able to find her and restore that trust?

His bed was a mess. Not unexpected. And well within the realm of the housekeeper's duties.

He turned toward his bath, hoping Eve had left something of hers in there. The dark pool of dried blood on the bath mat brought him up short.

Damn
. He'd bled like a stuck hog. Lucky for him Eve hadn't fainted at the sight of so much blood.

He stuck the stained rug in the bag of garbage he'd left in the hall waiting for him to carry out to the trash can.

The distasteful reminder of his fall made Nick queasy and he hurriedly looked around. When satisfied that Eve had not left anything personal behind, be backed out of the room.

What had he hoped to find? Eve left here wearing the same clothing she'd arrived in, he remembered that much. And no matter how much he wanted to find some proof that she'd actually been here, it didn't look like he would.

Not even a business card with her name on it. Not one credit card slip she'd dropped that night in her haste. She had walked out of his life the same way she had walked into it, quietly poised.

A virtual stranger.

But very real to him.

With a disgruntled sigh he strode back up the hall. His laptop sat on the dining room table. He flipped it open and waited for it to boot. Once it did, Eve's sweet face smiled back at him.

His heart constricted and he solemnly ran his fingertips over the screen. She
wasn't
some erotic dream.

"Oh, Eve," he murmured. "How badly I must have hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?"

For a long moment, Nick sat with his elbows on the table, his forehead cradled in his upraised hands.

This is not doing one damn bit of good
.

It would make a lot more sense to collect the things he'd come for and beat it back into town. His computer held the proof that Eve existed. Now all he had to do was put a last name with that appealing face.

How?

Nick wasn't sure, but he'd wasted enough time here and hurried back through the house. He didn't know how soon he would make it back, so he took the trash out to the garbage can and put the can out at the curb for pickup the following day.

While there, he glanced down the street. All trace of the toboggan's tracks were gone as completely as any hint of Eve's presence. The tracks left by the tires on her car had melted, leaving wide bands of bare gravel where he'd parked her car. He'd ridden down the hill in a gull winged Mercedes and couldn't even recall making the drive.

The ritual of locking up the cabin felt too final, as if he were ending an important part of his life. He hoped that was not the case and stopped before closing the back door to breathe deeply, inhaling the remaining proof of Eve's presence, her scent.

I'll find you
, he promised, drawing the door closed.
And when I do, we'll come back
.

That thought kept him going until he was back in his hotel suite. Then he realized his heart ached for Eve so much he couldn't complete a thought. He reached for the house phone and punched in Ruth's extension. His fingers twitched as he waited for her to pick up.

"It's Nick," he growled, then softened his tone to a rumble, needing a favor from her. "If you wanted to know the names of local real estate agents, where would
you
look?"

"Are you thinking of buying another house?"

"Ruth..."

"
I'd
look on the Web." Her superior tone grated.

"Thanks."

He hung up and booted the hotel computer on his desk, typed
housesforsale.com
in the Web search box, and narrowed his parameter to those in the Las Vegas area.

An hour later, he'd learned Eve's last name, Adohr. Had even seen her photograph on her website and discovered she was sole owner of one of the largest real estate agencies in town, with fifteen agents in her employ. Her business earned the kind of income most men only dreamed about, proving she had no earthly need for his money.

No, he could safely envision a long term relationship with Eve. She wouldn't be after his money, and there were a number of presents he'd like to buy for her. A shiny toboggan, first.

The tightly wound spring in his gut began to unwind.

Once he had made amends, he'd have nothing to fear from Eve. The future he hadn't dared to fantasize about could be his.

Theirs
, he amended.

Unless Eve rejected his apology.

On that thought the dreams he'd only just started to build crumbled into dust. He'd liked the one about him and Eve holding hands as they strolled off into a desert sunset best of all. Now the idea of Eve becoming a permanent part of his life might never materialize.

It had felt so right, but there would be no future for them, and certainly no forever in his future if Eve refused to talk to him.

Could a man fall in love in just five short days?

He could, and had, in even less time. But It
had
taken him a while to recognize those feelings. Now he intended to act on them.

He put in a call to Eve's agency, discovered it was closed for the remainder of the holidays. The head of his security obtained her home address from the DMV and with the help of a reverse directory, Nick found Eve's home phone number and called.

"Look, Eve. I—"

A persistent dial tone suddenly buzzed in his ear.

Not that he could blame her, but she'd hung up on him.

Which increased his determination to have his say. And emphasized the need to find some other way to bring Eve around.

How?

Jewelry?

No. Eve would just send it back.

Flowers?

Worth a try. But not just any flowers. Every yellow rose within a hundred miles. Once they were delivered, he could try to explain his mistake and tell Eve how sorry he was.

How?

He'd find
some
way.

Nick grabbed the phone, called down to the florist shop in the hotel lobby. "Would you have Rex bring up a stack of enclosure cards? And see how many yellow roses you can get your hands on in the next hour."

"Are these for a lady friend? Don't you think red roses would—"

"Under other circumstances, yes, but there's too much riding on this. The lady prefers yellow roses. She told me so. Please, see what you can do."

Not long after he hung up, Rex arrived with the cards. Nick asked him to wait, then sat at his desk to write a message for each of the envelopes he'd numbered from one to six, the number of working hours left in a normal day.

When finished, he inserted a carefully worded card in each envelope beginning with number one.

"There's a lot I need to say to you—"

"— that can't be said over the phone."

"I owe you big time for getting me to the hospital as quickly as you did—"

"—without calling attention to my plight."

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night so I can thank you in person."

"It's New Year's Eve. Please give me a chance to make things right."