Entwined with You(104)

Sucking in a deep breath, I straightened in my chair. I couldn’t let Cary and Trey fall apart. Now that Gideon and I were good, it was time to fix all the other areas of my life I’d been neglecting. “We’ll take it a step at a time. Figure things out as we go. We’ll get through this.”


He swallowed hard. “I need you.”


“I need you, too. We’ll stick together and work it out.” I managed a smile. “I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Except to San Diego this weekend,” I amended hastily, reminding myself to talk to Gideon about that.


“Thank God.” Cary sat forward again. “What I wouldn’t give to shoot hoops at Dr. Travis’s right now.”


“Yeah.” I didn’t play basketball, but I knew I could use a one-on-one with Dr. Travis myself.


What would he say when he learned how far off the rails we’d slid in the few months we’d been in New York? We had spun some big dreams the last time we’d all sat down together. Cary had wanted to star in a Super Bowl ad and I’d wanted to be the one behind the scenes of that ad. Now he was facing the possibility of a baby and I was married to the most complicated man I had ever met.


“Dr. Trav’s gonna flip,” Cary muttered, reading my mind.


For some reason, that made us both laugh ’til we cried.


WHEN I got back to my desk, I found another small pile of interoffice envelopes. Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I searched each one until I found the one I was hoping for.


I CAN THINK OF MANY USES FOR THAT CHAIN,


MRS. X.


YOU WILL ENJOY THEM ALL IMMENSELY.


YOURS,


X


Some of the dark clouds from lunch floated away.


AFTER Cary’s mind-blowing revelation, meeting Giroux after work barely registered on my what-else-could-possibly-go-wrong-next scale.


He was already at the wine bar when I arrived. Dressed in perfectly pressed khakis and white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and open at the throat, he looked good. Casual. But that didn’t make him seem more relaxed. The man was strung tight as a bow, vibrating with tension and whatever else was eating at him.


“Eva,” he greeted me. With that overt friendliness I hadn’t liked the first time, he kissed me on both cheeks again. “Enchanté.”


“Not too blond for you today, I take it?”


“Ah.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I deserved that.”


I joined him at his table by the window and we were served shortly after.


The place had the look of an establishment that had been around a long time. Tin tiles covered the ceiling, while the aged hardwood floors and intricately carved bar suggested the place had been a pub at some point in its history. It had been modernized with chrome fixtures and a wine rack behind the bar that could have been an abstract sculpture.


Giroux openly studied me as the server poured our wine. I had no idea what he was looking for, but he was definitely searching for something.


As I took a sip of a lovely shiraz, he settled comfortably in his chair and swirled his wine around in his glass. “You’ve met my wife.”


“I have, yes. She’s very beautiful.”


“Yes, she is.” His gaze dropped to his wine. “What else did you think of her?”


“Why does it matter what I think?”


He looked at me again. “Do you see her as a rival? Or a threat?”


“Neither.” I took another drink and noticed a black Bentley SUV easing into a tight spot at the curb just outside the window I sat beside. Angus was behind the wheel and apparently uncaring of the No PARKING sign he was camping out in front of.


“You are that certain of Cross?”


My attention returned to Giroux. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you would pack up your wife and take her back to France with you.”


His mouth quirked on one side in a grim smile. “You are in love with Cross, yes?”


“Yes.”


“Why?”


That made me smile. “If you think you can figure out what Corinne sees in him by what I see in him, forget it. He and I, we’re … different with each other than we are with other people.”


“I saw that. With him.” Giroux took a drink, savoring it before swallowing.


“Forgive me, but I don’t know why we’re sitting here. What do you want from me?”


“Are you always so direct?”


“Yes.” I shrugged. “I get impatient with being confused.”


“Then I will be direct as well.” He reached out and caught my left hand. “You have a tan line from a ring. A sizable one, it appears. An engagement ring, perhaps?”


I looked at my hand and saw he was right. There was a square-sized spot on my ring finger that was a few shades lighter than the rest of my skin. Unlike my mother, who was pale, I’d inherited my father’s warm skin tone and I tanned easily.


“You’re very perceptive. But I would appreciate you keeping your speculations to yourself.”