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