“You’re talking to Brett?”
“We’re in business together,” he pointed out, with a twist to his lips, “so yes. And Deanna’s using Cary’s attack as a bluff. You and I both know there’s nothing there.”
I considered all that. “You think she’s yanking my chain? Why?”
“Because I’m yours, and if she had a press pass to any event we attended together, she knows it.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “I can’t hide how I feel around you, which is what’s made you a target.”
“You hid it well enough from me.”
“Your insecurity made you blind.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “So she freaks me out with the threat of the story. What does she achieve?”
He leaned back. “Think about it. The lid is about to blow on a scandal involving you and me. What’s the swiftest way to defuse it?”
“Stay away from me. That’s what you’d be advised to do. Distancing yourself from the source of a scandal is Crisis Management 101.”
“Or do the opposite and marry you,” he said softly.
I froze. “Is that—? Are you—?” Swallowing hard, I whispered, “Not now. Not like this.”
“No, not like this,” Gideon agreed, rubbing his lips back and forth over mine. “When I propose, angel, trust me, you’ll know it.”
My throat was tight. I could only nod.
“Breathe,” he ordered gently. “One more time. Now, reassure me that’s not panic.”
“Not really. No.”
“Talk to me, Eva.”
“I just …” I blurted it out in a rush. “I want you to ask me when I can say yes.”
Tension gripped his body. He leaned back, his eyes wounded beneath his frown. “You couldn’t say yes now?”
I shook my head.
His mouth thinned into a determined line. “Lay out what you need from me to make that happen.”
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, so that he’d feel the connection between us. “There’s so much I don’t know. And it’s not that I need to know more in order to make up my mind, because nothing could make me stop loving you. Nothing. I just feel like your hesitance to share things with me means that you’re not ready.”
“I think I followed that,” he muttered.
“I can’t take the risk that you won’t want forever with me. I won’t survive you, either, Gideon.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
He made a frustrated noise. “Be specific. Start with something.”
The first thing that came to mind was what came out of my mouth, because I’d been buried in his business all morning. “Vidal Records. Why are you in control of your stepfather’s company?”
“Because it was going under.” His jaw hardened. “My mother had already suffered through one financial meltdown; I wasn’t going to let it happen to her again.”
“What did you do?”
“I was able to convince her to talk them—Chris and Christopher—into taking the company public, then she sold Ireland’s shares to me. In addition to what I acquired, I had the majority.”
“Wow.” I squeezed his hand. I’d met both Christopher Vidal Sr.—Chris—and Christopher Vidal Jr. As alike as father and son were in appearance, with their dark copper waves and grayish-green eyes, I suspected they were very different men. Certainly I knew Christopher was a douche. I didn’t think his father was. At least I hoped he wasn’t. “How did that go over?”
Gideon’s arch look was all the answer I needed. “Chris would ask for my advice, but Christopher always refused to take it and my stepdad wouldn’t choose sides.”
“So you did what had to be done.” I kissed his jaw. “Thank you for telling me.”
“That’s it?”
I smiled. “No.”
I was about to ask him more when I heard my phone ringing with my mother’s ring tone. I was surprised it had taken her so long to call; I’d taken my smartphone off mute around ten o’clock. Groaning, I said, “I have to get that.”
He let me up, his hand stroking over my butt as I walked away. When I turned at the doorway to look back, he was poring over my notes and suggestions. I smiled.
By the time I reached my phone on the breakfast bar, it had stopped ringing, but it immediately started up again. “Mom,” I answered, jumping in before she started flipping out. “I’m going to come over today, okay? And we’ll talk.”
“Eva. You have no idea how worried I’ve been! You can’t do this to me!”
“I’ll be over in an hour,” I interjected. “I just need to get dressed.”“I couldn’t sleep last night, I was so upset.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep much, either,” I retorted. “It’s not just about you all the time, Mom. I’m the one who had her privacy violated. You’re just the one who got caught doing it.”
Silence.
It was rare for me to be assertive with my mother because she always seemed so fragile, but it was time to redefine our relationship or we’d end up not having one. I looked to my wrist for the time, remembered I didn’t have a watch anymore, and glanced at the cable box by the television instead. “I’ll be over around one.”
“I’ll send a car for you,” she said quietly.
“Thank you. See you soon.” I hung up.
I was about to drop my phone back into my purse when it beeped with a text from Shawna: What r u wearing 2nite?
A number of ideas ran through my mind, from casual to outrageous. Even though I was inclined toward outrageous, I was checked by thoughts of Deanna. I had to think about what I’d look like in the tabloids. LBD, I replied, thinking the little black dress was a classic for a reason. Wild heels. Too much jewelry.
Got it! See u at 7, she texted back.
On the way to the bedroom, I paused by Gideon’s office and lounged against the doorjamb to watch him. I could watch him for hours; he was such a joy to look at. And I found him very sexy when he was focused.
He glanced up at me with a soft curve to his lips, and I knew he’d been aware of my staring. “This is all very good,” he praised, gesturing at his desktop. “Especially considering you pulled this together in a matter of hours.”
I preened a little, thrilled to have impressed a businessman whose acumen had made him one of the most successful individuals in the world.
“I want you at Cross Industries, Eva.”
My body reacted to the unwavering determination in his voice, which reminded me of when he’d said, I want to fuck you, Eva, when he’d first come on to me.
“I want you there, too,” I said. “On your desk.”
His eyes gleamed. “We can celebrate that way.”
“I like my job. I like my co-workers. I like knowing I’ve earned every milestone I reach.”
“I can give you that and more.” His fingers tapped against the side of his coffee mug. “I’m guessing you went with advertising because you like the spin. Why not public relations?”
“Too much like propaganda. At least with advertising, you know the bias right away.”
“You mentioned crisis management this morning. And clearly”—he gestured at his desk—“you have an aptitude for it. Let me exploit it.”
I crossed my arms. “Crisis management is PR and you know it.”
“You’re a problem solver. I can make you a fixer. Give you real, time-sensitive problems to solve. Keep you challenged and active.”
“Seriously.” I tapped my foot. “How many crises do you have in a given week?”
“Several,” he said cheerfully. “Come on, you’re intrigued. I can see it on your face.”
Straightening, I pointed out, “You have people to handle that kind of stuff already.”
Gideon leaned back in his chair and smiled. “I want more. So do you. Let’s have it together.”
“You’re like the devil himself, you know that? And you’re stubborn as hell. I’m telling you, working together would be a bad idea.”
“We’re working together just fine now.”
I shook my head. “Because you agreed with my assessment and suggestions, plus you had me sitting in your lap and you copped a feel of my ass. It’s not going to be the same when we’re not on the same page and arguing about it in your office in front of other people. Then we’ll have to bring that irritation home and deal with it here, too.”
“We can agree to leave work at the door.” His eyes slid over me, lingering on my legs, which were mostly bared by my silk robe. “I won’t have any problem thinking of more enjoyable things.”
Rolling my eyes, I backed out of the room. “Sex maniac.”
“I love making love with you.”
“That’s not fair,” I complained, having no defense against that. No defense against him.
Gideon grinned. “I never said I play fair.”
WHEN I entered my apartment fifteen minutes later, it felt weird. The floor plan was identical to Gideon’s next door, but reversed. The blending of his furniture and mine had helped to make his space feel like ours but had the side effect of making me feel like my home was … alien.
“Hey, Eva.”
I looked around and saw Trey in the kitchen, pouring milk into two glasses. “Hey,” I greeted him back. “How are you?”
“Better.”
He looked it. His blond hair, which was usually unruly, had been nicely styled—one of Cary’s talents. Trey’s hazel eyes were bright, his smile charming beneath his once-broken nose.
“It’s good to see you around more,” I told him.
“I rearranged my schedule a bit.” He held up the milk and I shook my head, so he put it away. “How are you?”