‘It’s a long story,’ said Evie. ‘Max wanted to marry me for his money but wiser heads prevailed. Besides … that was before I met his big brother.’
‘Impressive?’ asked Kit.
‘Be still my beating heart.’
‘Evie, one more platitude out of you and violence will ensue,’ threatened Max. ‘C’mon phone. Ring.’
‘A watched pot never boils,’ said Kit.
‘I thought it was “kettle”,’ offered Jeremy. ‘A watched kettle never—’
And then the phone rang and shut them all up.
Suddenly it wasn’t so much fun to tease Max any more. He’d thrown everything he had at this job and if they didn’t get it he was going to be gutted. Carlo headed for his office cubicle, taking Jeremy with him. Kit eyed Max warily and then said, ‘Got any biscuits in the tea room?’ and took himself off.
Evie debated heading for her office but Max grabbed her by the wrist and mouthed ‘Stay,’ as he listened intently to whatever the person on the other end of that phone was saying.
Max let her wrist go when she nodded, and then Evie sat on the edge of the table and tucked her hands beneath her legs and waited. Max resumed his pacing. Evie most definitely wanted to land this job. But her heart wasn’t in it the way Max’s was.
‘Yes,’ said Max, and, ‘yes,’ again. All very restrained.
The smile that swept across his handsome features moments later was not so restrained. Max’s smile thought it was Christmas and there was a pony under the tree.
He laughed and said he was looking forward to it. He set up a meeting for tomorrow morning. And then he got the hell off the phone.
‘We got it,’ he said. ‘We got it!’
‘Of course we did,’ said Evie as Max swept her up into a bear hug and swung her around. ‘MEP’s architect is a visionary, the company’s on its way up and the price was right. What time is it in London?’
‘Ah, early morning? Seven-thirty? You calling Logan?’
‘Texting him, to be safe. I’m telling him we’re about to spend his money.’
‘So … you’re talking again?’ asked Max. ‘There’s been contact?’
‘There has. And I didn’t have to instigate it.’
‘That’s good,’ said Max. ‘That’s very good.’ He squeezed her once more before releasing her. ‘Kit,’ he bellowed. ‘Break out the beer.’
The party started at the office and moved to the local bar, where there was more food and a better beverage selection than the one they had at the office. Their concreter turned up with a few of his crew—nothing like the promise of more work and free drinks to raise a man’s spirits. Evie’s spirits too, and who cared if she got ribbed for drinking champagne rather than beer? Not her problem if her co-workers preferred beer. Not her job to tell them to cease with the swearing, although she had a feeling that most of them did try to curb their language around her, which boggled the mind given the curses that still slipped through.
‘How about asking Juliet Grace to come and be our new project manager?’ she said as Max reached past her to put his empty beer glass down and pick up a handful of peanuts. ‘She’s detail oriented, most of us know her, or know of her, and she can handle this lot.’
‘A woman.’ Max eyed her dubiously.
‘Careful, Max. Your biases are showing.’
‘I’m not biased. I’m thinking.’
Evie laughed; she couldn’t help it. ‘Do you think more beer will help?’
Logan stood outside the busy Sydney bar and watched as the slim woman with the raven-black hair and wicked smile signalled the barman for another round of drinks. Max stood with her and so did at least a dozen other men. Labourers half of them, they looked as if they’d come straight from a job. A tight-knit group, intent on celebration, and it was clear that Evie was one of them. Accepted by them. Protected by them, even if she didn’t know it.
Though she probably did.
Evie had texted him that they’d won the contract. That particular message had been waiting for him when he’d got off the plane in Sydney.
He should have texted Evie back. Should have said, ‘I’m in Sydney. Where are you?’
But uncertainty was riding him hard this evening and he’d texted Max instead.
It didn’t look as if Max had told Evie that Logan was on his way. She didn’t look like a woman who was waiting for her lover to walk through the door. Evangeline Jones had a very fine habit of extracting pleasure from the moment—no angst-ing required.
Logan envied her.
The amount of anguish that had gone into Logan’s decision to get on a plane so that he could be with Evie and Max come civic centre decision time could have filled the Pacific. Would Evie find it presumptuous? Would Max? Would they want him there?
All he knew was that for the first time in his life he was reaching out and wanting to be a part of something,
as opposed to keeping everything and everyone at arm’s length.
Arm’s length being the distance whereby he couldn’t inadvertently hurt anyone and they couldn’t hurt him.
Logan watched as some moron bumped Evie in the shoulder as he turned away from the bar with a tray full of drinks in hand. He watched as Max automatically slung his arm around Evie’s shoulder and drew her to his side.
Logan didn’t viciously resent Evie and Max’s camaraderie. He didn’t catch his breath and look down at the concrete beneath his feet in an attempt to manage that part of him that wanted to take Max apart, piece by bloody piece, for daring to touch what was his. Not him.
He looked back and tried to not want to beat his brother bloody.
Nope. Still no luck letting go of that particular desire.
He was so screwed.
Logan watched as Evie moved out from beneath Max’s shoulder and settled herself on a barstool. Men at her back and beside her and the table beneath her elbow now. Protected on all fronts. Also hogging the peanuts.
What if she didn’t want to make room for Logan in her life tonight?
Because it was one thing for Max to know that Logan and Evie were tangling. It was quite another to walk in there and stake his claim on her in front of people she had to work with. God knew he had no desire to undermine her authority.
Maybe if he didn’t stake his claim—just went in there and kept his hands and his mouth off her.
Be Max’s brother rather than Evie’s lover. Keep everything casual and easy—no biting jealousy or had-to-see-you-again obsession here. If he could do that …
It was a pretty big if.
Moments later Logan’s phone beeped.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ the message from his brother read, and he looked up and his brother was fiddling with his phone and Evie was deep in laughing conversation with the giant across the table from her.
Another text from Max. ‘You want a gold-plated invitation?’
The short answer being yes. Either that or a machete to cut through the mess of thoughts and feelings roiling round inside him.
With a shake of his head, Logan pocketed his phone and headed for the open doorway of the bar. He’d know soon enough if he’d done