“My God, you don’t only look like the ice queen, you’re frozen all the way through.”
The words were out before he’d stopped to think, and for an instant he thought he saw the glint of tears in Eve’s eyes before she looked away. Regret surged through him. It wasn’t like him to be carelessly rude.
But before he could speak, she’d faced him again, and her gaze was resolute. “Of course, you should also understand that Henry is looking to the future of Birmingham on State. Beyond his lifetime—but also beyond yours and mine. A legal partnership can’t create an heir for the business, but a marriage could.”
The woman was obviously serious. Along with being crazy as a loon, he thought. He set his cup down with a click. “And you still don’t think he’s a little twisted?”
Eve’s voice was cool. “I think that what Henry doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“In other words,” David said slowly, “whatever Henry has in mind, you’re planning on a marriage in name only.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
Her composure seemed to slip. “You mean why don’t I want to…to—”
“No, I’m not asking why you don’t want to sleep with me. I want to know why you’d settle for a marriage that isn’t a marriage.”
Her fingers tightened on her cup till her knuckles were white. But her voice was once more steady. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Let’s just say that I have my reasons for wanting the protection of a wedding ring, without emotional entanglements.”
You poor deluded darling, he thought. To think that a ring will keep men from hitting on you, the way you look…Of course, once a man actually got close enough to realize that underneath the gorgeous, intriguing exterior lay the soul of a glacier, he probably wouldn’t come back for more. But there would always be another man in line…
Then her words echoed oddly through his mind. I have my reasons for wanting the protection of a wedding ring.
“I think I see,” he said gently. “You may as well tell me, Eve. Do you know that you’re pregnant or are you just afraid you might be?”
She drew in a sharp breath and for a moment he thought she was going to throw her teacup at him. He watched with fascination as the color rose in her cheeks, as she fought for and regained self-control. So she wasn’t quite as chilly as she’d seemed; the glacier appeared to have a crack or two.
“Neither,” she snapped.
“That’s good. I’ve never given much thought to the idea of raising kids, but I guess if I was stuck with a couple of rug rats I’d rather they be mine.”
He could almost hear the tinkle of ice in her voice. “You certainly won’t have to worry about rug rats.”
“You’re pretty certain I’m going to agree to this crazy plan.”
“It would be very foolish of you to walk away. To be Henry Birmingham’s hand-picked successor is a solid-gold opportunity.”
“I wonder what he’d do if I turned him down,” David mused.
Eve shrugged. “Probably work his way on through his list.”
“What list?” He recalled a comment Henry had made almost carelessly. At the time David had been too flattered by the idea that the king of jewelry design had noticed him at all to pay much attention to the details. But suddenly he remembered the remark all too well. Henry hadn’t just told David he was talented. He’d said something about him being one of the three best young designers in the country. So Henry had a list of three…at least.
Eve’s gaze flicked over him. “Don’t take it personally. You can’t think you’re the only gifted young man in the country. Or that Henry would gamble the future of his business on the first man who seemed to meet his specifications, without looking any further.”
“How far down his list was I?”
“I don’t know exactly.” Her voice was calm and level.
“I see. That’s one of the few things he didn’t share with you.”
“Quite right. If it makes you feel any better, you’re the first one he’s asked me to meet.”
So if there had been others higher on Henry’s list, they hadn’t passed all the hidden tests along the way. “That’s a relief. I think.”
“Anyway, now that he’s made the offer, it doesn’t matter where you ranked. Any designer with sense wouldn’t worry about how his number happened to come up, he’d gladly give an arm for this opportunity.”
“Actually,” David mused, “you’re wrong about that. Henry isn’t asking for an arm—just a rib.”
She fidgeted with her teacup, turning it ’round and ’round on the saucer. “As far as that goes,” she said. Her voice was different, almost hesitant, and he was intrigued. “I don’t expect there would be much contact, really. We’d have to share a house, I suppose.”
“I think Henry would notice if we were living in separate suburbs, yes.”
“But I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t be civil about it.”
“Roommates,” he said thoughtfully.
“If you want to put it that way. And what he’s asking is nothing, really, weighed against Birmingham on State.”
It all came back to the business, David knew. Eve was absolutely right. Henry Birmingham’s offer presented a chance he could never have achieved on his own. It was an opportunity he could not refuse, whatever the cost—because to turn it down would be to sacrifice his dreams and throw away his talent. There would never be another opening like this.
He looked across the table at her and felt his future shift—as if he had slid into some kind of time warp—and settle into a new pattern. A pattern that included Birmingham on State. And Eve.
“Let’s have lunch,” he said, “and plan a wedding.”
Not that there was much to plan as far as the wedding went, and Eve thought it best to make that clear from the beginning. “I don’t intend to play silly games,” she said. “There will be no white satin beaded with pearls, no train-bearers, no morning suits and spats, no orange blossoms, and no—”
“No illusion.”
She looked at him sharply, studying him for the first time. He was good-looking enough, though perhaps his face was just a little too roughly cut to be considered exactly handsome. He had ordinary brown hair and anything-but-ordinary brown eyes, flecked with gold and surrounded by long, curly lashes. And the air of self-confidence he projected gave him a certain presence.
“Isn’t that what they call the stuff they make veils out of? Illusion?” He sounded quite innocent, but there was more of an Atlanta drawl in his voice than Eve had detected before. “I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere.”
No illusions…. That was what he’d meant, of course. But since it was exactly what she’d been getting at, Eve could hardly take offense. “None. Also no bridesmaids, no wedding cake in little decorated boxes for guests to take home, no romantic first waltz, no garter to remove and throw to the bachelors in the crowd—”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me,” he said.
It obviously hadn’t been a question, but Eve thought she saw puzzlement as well as a tinge of relief in his eyes. The puzzlement annoyed her just a little. Did he really believe that the height of every young woman’s ambition was an elaborate wedding ceremony, no matter what circumstances lay behind the marriage?
The relief he displayed, however, she had no trouble understanding. She didn’t