Entwined with You(86)




His lips touched my forehead. “We’re hanging in pretty good, I’d say. But I can’t wait to take you away tomorrow. Get out of here for a while, away from everyone, and just have you all to myself.”


I smiled, delighted by the thought. “I can’t wait, either.”


I woke when Gideon slipped out of my bed.


Blinking, I noted that the television was still on, though muted. I’d fallen asleep curled up with him, enjoying our time alone together after all the hours and days we’d been forced to spend apart.


“Where are you going?” I whispered.


“To bed.” He touched my cheek. “I’m crashing hard.”


“Don’t go.”


“Don’t ask me to stay.”


I sighed, understanding his fear. “I love you.”


Bending over me, Gideon pressed his lips to mine. “Don’t forget to put your passport in your purse.”


“I won’t forget. Are you sure I shouldn’t pack something?”


“Nothing.” He kissed me again, his lips clinging to mine.


Then he was gone.


I wore a light jersey wrap dress to work on Friday, something that could go from work to a long flight easily. I had no idea how far Gideon was taking me, but knew I’d be comfortable no matter what.


When I got to work, I found Megumi on the phone, so we waved at each other and I headed straight to my cubicle. Ms. Field stopped by just as I settled into my chair.


The executive chairman of Waters Field & Leaman looked powerful and confident in a soft gray pantsuit.


“Good morning, Eva,” she said. “Have Mark stop by my office when he gets in.”


I nodded, admiring her triple-strand black pearl necklace. “Will do.”


When I passed along the request to Mark five minutes later, he shook his head. “Betcha we didn’t get the Adrianna Vineyards account.”


“You think?”


“I hate those damned cattle-call RFPs. They’re not looking for quality and experience. They just want someone who’s hungry enough to give their services away.”


We’d dropped everything to meet the deadline for the request for proposal, which had been given to Mark to spearhead because he’d done such an amazing job with the Kingsman Vodka account.


“Their loss,” I told him.


“I know, but still … I want to win ’em all. Wish me luck that I’m wrong.”


I gave him a thumbs-up and he headed to Christine Field’s office. My desk phone rang as I was pushing to my feet to grab a cup of coffee from the break room.


“Mark Garrity’s office,” I answered, “Eva Tramell speaking.”


“Eva, honey.”


I exhaled at the sound of my mother’s watery voice. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”


“Will you see me? Maybe we could have lunch?”


“Sure. Today?”


“If you could.” She took a breath that sounded like a sob. “I really need to see you.”


“Okay.” My stomach knotted with concern. I hated hearing my mother so upset. “Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”


“Clancy and I will come get you. You take lunch at noon, right?”


“Yes. I’ll meet you at the curb.”


“Good.” She paused. “I love you.”


“I know, Mom. I love you, too.”


We hung up and I stared down at the phone.


How was our family going to move forward from here?


I sent a quick text to Gideon, letting him know I’d have to take a rain check on lunch. I needed to get my relationship with my mom back on track.


Knowing I needed more coffee to tackle the day ahead, I set off to fill up.


I left my desk exactly at noon and headed down to the lobby. As the hours passed, I grew more and more excited about getting away with Gideon. Away from Corinne, and Deanna, and Brett.


I’d just passed through the security turnstiles when I saw him.


Jean-Fran?ois Giroux stood at the security desk, looking distinctly European and very attractive. His wavy dark hair was longer than it had been in the pictures I’d seen of him, his face less tan and his mouth harder, framed by a goatee. The pale green of his eyes was even more striking in person, even though they were red with weariness. From the small carry-on at his feet, I suspected he’d come straight to the Crossfire from the airport.


“Mon Dieu. How slow are the elevators in this building?” he asked the security guard in a clipped French accent. “It’s impossible that it should take twenty minutes to come down from the top.”


“Mr. Cross is on his way,” the guard replied staunchly, remaining in his chair.


As if he sensed my gaze, Giroux’s head swiveled toward me and his gaze narrowed. He pushed away from the counter, striding toward me. The cut of his suit was tighter than Gideon’s, narrower at the waist and calves. The impression I got of him was too neat and rigid, a man who assumed power by enforcing rules.

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