‘What are you thinking about…?’ Markos had watched Eva’s expressions during the last few minutes of silence between them.
Had seen the dismay. The confusion. Followed by the doubt. And then what had looked like pained anguish. All of them emotions he would never previously have associated with the prickly and confident Eva.
She shook herself out of that mood of despondency with obvious effort. ‘I was just… Obviously if Kirsty recommended me—perhaps we could reschedule another meeting for later in the week?’ She gave a tight smile as she saw his sceptical expression. ‘I promise not to cancel this time.’
Markos regarded her through narrowed lids. ‘You never did say what the emergency was last Monday.’
Her smile turned to a look of exasperation. ‘A client was having hysterics when the curtain material I had ordered, which I duly took round for her to approve before the curtains were made up, turned out not to be exactly the same colour as her husband’s eyes after all.’
Markos’s eyes widened. ‘People really do things like that?’
She laughed softly. ‘You would be surprised. I had a client a couple of years ago who matched the colour of her carpet to her Golden Labrador.’
‘Must have made it difficult to find him when it came time to go for a walk!’ Markos murmured—only to watch in satisfaction as Eva’s laughter deepened, causing her eyes to glow a deep gold. ‘Have dinner with me tomorrow evening,’ he prompted abruptly.
‘To discuss the changes you’d like in your apartment?’
‘To discuss any damn thing you please.’
‘I was trying to tell you earlier…’ Eva frowned. ‘I make a point of never mixing my professional life with my personal one.’
‘So it’s one or the other?’
Eva instantly added stubborn determination to the list of things she was rapidly discovering about Markos Lyonedes. ‘I believe I’ve already taken you on as a client by agreeing to look at your apartment.’
‘And if I would prefer to have dinner with you tomorrow evening instead?’
Eva’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes widened. ‘Would you…?’
He frowned darkly. ‘Why don’t we compromise and make our next appointment in my apartment tomorrow evening at seven-thirty? That way I can arrange for us to have dinner together immediately afterwards, so that we can discuss any suggestions you might have.’
Manipulative determination. Eva wryly corrected that earlier addition to her ever-growing list of Markos’s character attributes. ‘I’m starting to see how you gave your Aunt Karelia grey hair!’
Markos gave a grin. ‘Does that mean you accept my invitation?’
Did it? There were so many reasons why Eva shouldn’t have dinner with Markos tomorrow evening—this man’s callous treatment of her cousin being only one of them. But—and she inwardly apologised to Donna—that certainly wasn’t the main reason Eva would prefer not to have dinner with Markos—tomorrow evening or any other time.
She straightened briskly. ‘I don’t think so, but thank you for asking.’
Markos eyed her frustratedly, knowing it wasn’t just the desire to have Eva in his bed that made him so determined. He also enjoyed her company. He appreciated the spirited way she stood up to him. The way her dry sense of humour was more than a match for his own. And he couldn’t help feeling curious as to what Eva had been thinking about earlier when she’d looked so wistful.
He raised dark brows. ‘And if I intend to keep on asking…?’
She shrugged. ‘Then I’ll just have to keep on refusing.’
‘And if I manage to wear you down…?’
‘You won’t.’ She smiled.
‘You sound very sure,’ Markos said knowingly.
‘I am.’ She nodded.
Had any woman turned him down so emphatically before? Markos wondered with a frown. Not that he could ever remember, no. And, again, that wasn’t arrogance talking—it was just a fact. Nor did he believe it was only Eva’s reluctance to see him again that made her so attractive to him.
Everything about Eva intrigued him. Even her obvious boredom on Saturday evening with the other guests at the cocktail party—including him—as if she had attended one too many parties just like it and met one too many arrogant men to be impressed by yet another one.
That behaviour had been completely nullified by her heated response to him a few minutes ago—before she had shut down that response with the finality of a steel trapdoor closing about her emotions.
And what had seemed like an expression of sadness, even anguish, only added to the mystery and contradiction that was fast becoming Evangeline Grey.
Markos sensed Eva had secrets hidden behind those beautiful golden eyes. Several of them. Secrets he was longing for Eva to share with him.
‘Okay.’ He straightened to move and check the diary on his desktop. ‘I’m busy tomorrow and Wednesday, but six o’clock on Thursday evening looks good.’ He looked up at her enquiringly, wondering if it was wishful thinking on his part or if that really was a look of disappointment on her face because he was seeming to back off.
And he was only seeming to back off. Markos had no intention of giving up where Eva was concerned.
‘Thursday at six is fine with me too,’ Eva accepted abruptly, pretty sure that if she designed a colour scheme of pink and white, and ultra-feminine, it would ensure that Markos no longer wished to employ her. It would do absolutely nothing for her professional reputation, of course, but it might be worth it just to see the look on Markos’s face when she presented the sketches to him!
‘I’m learning to be wary of that particular look of amusement…’ He eyed her suspiciously as he straightened.
Eva laughed softly. ‘Just a private joke.’
‘Design-wise, you should know that a harem theme or an explosion of pink ruffles is definitely out,’ he commented dryly.
How had he guessed what she was thinking? ‘Now you’re ruining all my fun!’
‘When I would so love to be the cause of it…’ he came back huskily.
Eva gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Do you ever give up?’
‘Where you’re concerned? No.’
Now it was Eva’s turn to look wary as she heard the finality in his tone. A warning, perhaps, that Markos’s lazy good humour was merely a front, an illusion. As if she needed any warning!
‘Why are you even continuing to bother pursuing me when there are dozens of women in New York who would be only too flattered to receive the attentions of Markos Lyonedes?’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Because it doesn’t work that way.’
She frowned. ‘What doesn’t?’
He shrugged those broad shoulders. ‘I can’t speak for other men, of course, but as far as I’m concerned, desire is exclusive to one woman at a time.’
Eva moistened lips that had become suddenly dry. ‘That isn’t what I’ve heard…’
Markos scowled. ‘Just who the hell have you been listening to, Eva?’ he prompted impatiently.
Her gaze avoided meeting that