Never Close Your Eyes (21 page)

‘I'm afraid it's—' Evie started to say, but Nic was already beating on the door.

‘Hurry up in there,' she shouted, crossing her legs theatrically. ‘I'm bursting.' She grinned, revealing her turquoise train tracks.

She sounded drunk. Evie wished she wouldn't drink so much. She could hear the chain being flushed and decided to try her luck on the first floor instead. Nic's need was clearly greater than hers.

‘You a'right, darling?' Nic slurred after her.

Evie hoped she'd switch to soft drinks soon, though she didn't think it likely. ‘Yes thanks,' she said, starting to climb the stairs. ‘I'll use the one up there.' She pointed. ‘Lovely party.'

She was nearly at the top when she spotted Alan coming out of a room opposite what she knew to be Nic's bedroom. Perhaps that was his study. Nic said he spent a lot of time in there. She was always surprised by how small and slight he was. He was wearing a crisp, pale-pink shirt which was open at the neck, and navy-blue trousers that seemed to hang on him.

His body language was quiet and timid; he gave the impression of someone who felt that he needed to apologise for being there. Yet when he spoke, he sounded intelligent, confident, in control. Appearances can be deceptive, Evie thought.

‘Hi!' she said brightly.

He closed the door behind him and glanced to the left and right; probably didn't want Nic to know that he'd been checking work emails or something. She'd be furious. ‘I had to take an important call,' he explained unnecessarily and smiled thinly. ‘To tell you the truth, I'm not mad about parties,' he went on, lowering his voice. ‘Nic's the social animal. What about you?'

‘I do find it quite difficult talking to strangers,' Evie admitted. Then she remembered the tall man – she realised that she didn't even know his name – waiting for her downstairs. ‘But I'm having a lovely time tonight,' she added quickly. ‘Great crowd.'

‘Good,' Alan said. He cleared his throat. ‘How's Freya?'

Evie was surprised, and then she remembered that they'd met when she and Freya had come to collect Michael after shoe shopping.

‘Fine,' she said. ‘Well, a bit sulky and teenagerish sometimes but she'll grow out of it.'

He smiled. ‘I'm sure she will. I hope you've had some food?'

‘Just about to.'

‘Excellent. You make yourself at home. I'll see you later.'

Evie quickly checked her make-up in the bathroom mirror and combed her hair. She had an awful lot of cleavage showing. She pulled the V of her top up but it didn't make much difference. Too bad, she thought, it's the way I'm made.

She peeped into the sitting room to see if Becca had arrived yet. She hadn't. The man was waiting for her in more or less the same spot in the kitchen where she'd left him. He grinned when he saw her.

‘I don't know your name,' he said, stooping again so that he could talk in her ear. ‘Mine's Steve.'

The kitchen was much busier now and several people were helping themselves to food. They needn't worry about being the first any more. But Evie was glad there had been an excuse for them to strike up a conversation. She took a white porcelain plate and chose some salmon and several spoonfuls of salad. Normally she'd have grabbed a chunk of bread, too, but she didn't want him to think her greedy.

‘That's rather a dainty selection you've got there,' he said, joining her. He looked uncomfortable. His own plate was piled high. ‘I feel bad now.'

She laughed, taking a chunk of French bread after all. ‘There, happier?'

There was nowhere to sit in the kitchen. Evie didn't fancy standing so she suggested the TV room. She'd always envied Nic's TV room. It was where Dominic and his friends could hang out and make a mess without disturbing the rest of the house. There was a piano in there, too, for him to practise on.

They squeezed past the other guests and started to cross the hall. The doorbell rang and Evie could make out two figures through the stained-glass panels. She rested her knife and fork on the plate so that she had a free hand and went to open the door. Becca was standing there with a face like thunder. Tom seemed to be hovering slightly behind.

‘He went to a rugby match with his mates and only just got back,' she hissed, jerking her head back in Tom's direction to signify whom she meant, as if there were any doubt.

Evie made a sympathetic face. ‘Come in, come in,' she said, smiling at Tom, too, who flashed his dimples. ‘This is Steve. Steve, this is my great friend Becca and her husband, Tom.'

Steve smiled, a little coolly Evie thought.

‘We were about to have something to eat,' she went on. She was keen to get away. She didn't want to leave Steve standing there with a plate of food any longer than necessary. Becca started to take off her coat. She looked handsome and statuesque in a dazzling cream woollen dress, fitted to the waist, with a tie at the back and long, slightly puffy sleeves.

Nic appeared from the kitchen and tottered past Steve, nearly knocking him over. He moved to one side quickly. ‘Darling!' she said, throwing her arms around Becca. ‘How lovely to see you. I thought you were never going to make it.'

There were five of them in the hall now. It was a bit of a squeeze. Nic grabbed Tom by the arm. He hadn't even taken off his coat yet.

‘Come and say hello to Alan,' she insisted, pulling him with her. ‘He's standing in a corner on his own refusing to talk to anyone. He hates parties, you know.' She giggled. ‘He's been abroad on business all week and all he wants to do is catch up on boring old emails. He keeps trying to sneak off to his study but I'm on his case.' She tapped her nose knowingly.

‘Abroad all week?' Becca repeated. She frowned. She seemed to be processing something. ‘But I saw him—'

Nic gave her a strange look. ‘It's ridiculous standing here in the hall,' she interrupted. ‘For goodness' sake, come and have a drink.' She half pushed, half pulled Tom and Becca forward.

‘I'll come and find you in a minute,' Evie called as the three of them disappeared into the kitchen.

The TV-room door was pulled to, presumably to discourage people from going in, but Evie decided to ignore it. ‘What do you think?' she asked, looking gratefully at the empty sofa and chairs. Her boots really were uncomfortable.

‘Perfect,' Steve replied, following her. ‘Nice and quiet. But don't let anyone see,' he whispered, pushing the door almost shut behind them, ‘or they'll all want to join us.'

The thick, floor-length cream curtains were closed, giving the room a warm, cosy feel. There was a silver angle-poise lamp on the piano but it wasn't on. The only light came from the standard lamp with a chocolate-brown shade in one corner, opposite the black flat-screen TV in the other. Soft classical music was coming from a hidden speaker, so Nic must have expected that some people would sneak in here.

Evie perched on an elegant little red chair with her back to the window. Steve sat on the corner of the sofa beside her. He began to eat hungrily. Evie noticed with amusement that he'd taken lots of cold beef, the potato and pasta salads but no green leaves. Typical boy, she thought.

His hair was somewhere below chin-length and every now and again he'd put down his knife and fork and run his hands through it, but it didn't seem to go in his face.

She picked at her salmon. Her appetite seemed to have disappeared. ‘So how do you know Nic and Alan?' she asked. She hadn't heard Nic mention a very tall, delicious, separated man before. There again, Nic had lots of friends that Evie didn't know. She was, as Alan had pointed out, a social animal.

Steve finished his mouthful. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his food. Maybe he wasn't much good at cooking for himself.

‘Through work,' he explained. ‘I'm a journalist like Nic. She and I started out on the same local paper years ago. I hadn't seen her for ages, to be honest, then a mutual acquaintance gave me her email address and I dropped her a line. It was nice of her to invite me tonight. What about you?'

He listened, eating quietly, while Evie explained that their boys were the same age. They'd originally met at ante-natal classes, then they'd been on a creative writing course. She told him about the creative writing group, too.

‘Where do you work now?' she asked when she'd finished her story.

He looked at her. She couldn't help noticing that he had very nice eyes: dark brown, with black lashes and thick – but not too thick – black eyebrows.

‘I'm freelance,' he said. ‘I do mostly celebrity interviews these days, which means I travel a fair bit. I have to go wherever they are. They never come to you, of course.'

Evie froze, replaying his words in her head. ‘Travel a fair bit . . . travel a fair bit.' What had Zelda said about that new man she was going to meet? That he travelled a lot?

Steve was dark, or had been, before the grey crept in, and he had long hair. Zelda had mentioned quite a lot of hair and broad shoulders, too. ‘He's tall, yes, and good-looking,' she'd said. Well, he was certainly both of those.

Evie thought Zelda had insisted that his name began with a T, P or a W, but she could have got it wrong. He'd singled Evie out and here they were having a quiet chat all alone in Nic's TV room. Ohmigod! He must be the man Zelda had told her about. He was The One!

‘Are you all right?' Steve said. ‘You look like you've seen a ghost.'

She snapped back to the present. ‘Yes, yes, I'm fine,' she said quickly. Then: ‘Do you mind if I ask, do you have children?'

Her stomach fluttered. This mattered a lot. This was crucial.

He sighed. ‘Yes, one, a little boy. Jacob. I hardly ever see him though. His mother makes things as difficult as possible.'

‘I knew it,' Evie said, practically jumping off her seat. Zelda had told her that he'd have one or two kids.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I beg your pardon?'

She checked herself. ‘I'm sorry,' she said quickly. ‘It must be terrible not being able to see your child.'

He put his now empty plate down. ‘It is hard,' he agreed. ‘I adore Jacob. He's eighteen months old.' He fished inside his jacket and pulled out a photo of a cute, chubby-cheeked boy.

Evie took it from him and stared. ‘He's gorgeous.'

Steve nodded, putting the photo carefully away again. ‘I miss him so much.'

She felt a rush of sympathy. He was so sensitive, gorgeous – and amusing, too. How could any woman reject him?

She put her plate down at her feet. She'd hardly touched her food but he didn't seem to notice. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She had his full attention. She worried, momentarily, about her cleavage. Was she falling out? She glanced down and pulled on the V of her halter-neck top. When she looked up again, her eyes met his for a second. There was a flash of amused comprehension and he smiled.

‘Now,' he said, ‘tell me all about you, your ex and what happened. I want to know all about you. Absolutely everything.'

Chapter Nineteen

‘Do you want to come in?'

Evie couldn't believe that she was being so brazen. There again, if he was The One it was all right, wasn't it? They clambered out of the taxi, Evie first, followed by Steve.

He hunted in his pockets. ‘Sorry, I've got no . . .'

‘Don't worry, I've plenty of cash,' she said, opening her bag and fishing out her purse.

‘Keep the change,' she told the driver. It was a bigger tip than she'd usually give, but she didn't want to hang about a minute more than necessary.

It had been so steamy in the back seat of the cab. He'd kissed her – gorgeously – on the lips. A proper snog, at first wet and slow, then harder and deeper. The kind that makes your lips burn hot with blood. The kind you remember always.

There was only one place they could go from here, Evie thought: bed. But standing here in the cold, fiddling around in the bottom of her bag for the door key, was a bit of a passion-killer. She was beginning to lose her nerve. She prayed the dodgy door lock wouldn't play up and she'd have to call Freya. That would ruin everything.

At last she managed to open up and they stumbled inside. Evie was pretty tipsy and she guessed Steve must be, too. They'd sat for ages in Nic's TV room discussing their respective marriage break-ups, and she'd felt a strange, powerful connection with this man.

He'd told her that he and his wife had split up six months ago after he discovered that she'd been having an affair with an old boyfriend. He'd tried to persuade her to go for marriage counselling but she wouldn't and in the end he'd felt obliged to leave.