determined to focus on the view. She loved Melbourne. After so many years in Sydney, it was good to be home, not that she got into the city too often these days.
But the annoying, niggling voice in her head refused to be captivated or silenced by the view.
You want to see if he has the same impact on you that he had three years ago.
You want to know if it’s not just his voice that makes your stomach curl.
You want to know if he’ll once again look at you with eyes filled with dark desire and simmering need.
No, no and no! She shuffled restlessly against the leather, adjusting her seat belt so it wasn’t so tight across her chest and she could breathe easier.
Dark desire and simmering need were the last things she needed these days. She had responsibilities now. Achild to provide for. Which was exactly what she was doing by coming tonight, she acknowledged, latching onto the concept with zeal. She was providing for her child. After all, if she didn’t, who would? Not his father, that was for sure.
She bit down on her lip, remembering only then that she was wearing lipstick for a change and that she shouldn’t do that. It had been harder than she’d imagined, leaving Sam for an evening—the first time she’d ever left him at night—and it had been such a wrench she’d been almost tempted to call Leo and tell him she’d changed her mind.
But she hadn’t. And Sam had splashed happily in an early bath and enjoyed dinner. She’d read him a story and he’d already been nodding off when she’d left him with Mrs Willis, his little fist clenched, his thumb firmly wedged between cupid bow lips. But what if he woke up and she wasn’t there? What if he wouldn’t settle back down for Mrs Willis?
God, what the hell had she been thinking, agreeing to this?
Outside the limousine windows the city of Melbourne was lighting up. It wasn’t long after seven, the sky caught in that time between day and night, washed with soft shadows that told of the coming darkness, and buildings were preparing, showing their colours, strutting their stuff.
Just like she was, she thought. She wore a gown of aqua silk, which had cost her the equivalent of a month’s salary in her old office job, but she figured the evening called for something more grand than her usual chain-store purchases. Leo would no doubt expect it, she figured. And she’d loved the dress as she’d slipped it over her head and zipped it up, loved the look of it over herpost-baby curves and the feel of it against her skin, and loved what it did to accentuate the colour of her eyes, but the clincher had been when her eighteen-month-old son had looked up at her from his pram, broken into an enormous grin and clapped his pudgy hands together.
And she must look all right in her new dress and newly highlighted hair because her neighbour had gasped when she’d come to the door to deliver Sam and insisted she cover herself with an apron in case she inadvertently spilled anything on it before she left.
Dear Mrs Willis, who was the closest to a grandparent that Sam would ever know, and who had been delighted to babysit and have Eve go out for a night for a change, no doubt in the hope that Eve would find a nice man to settle down with and provide a father to Sam. And even though Eve had explained it was a work function and she’d no doubt be home early, her neighbour had simply smiled and taken no notice as she’d practically pushed her out the door to the waiting car. ‘Have a lovely evening and don’t rush. If it’s after ten when you get home, I’ll no doubt be asleep, so you can come and pick Sam up in the morning.’
And then they were there. The driver pulled into a turnaround and eased the car to a stop. He passed her a keycard as a doorman stepped forward to open her door. ‘Mr Zamos says to let you know he’s running late and to let yourself in.’ She smiled her thanks as he recited a room number, praying she’d manage to remember it as the doorman
Mandy M. Roth, Michelle M. Pillow