The Surprise of Her Life. Helen Myers R.
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‘Hello.’”
“I should hope so.” Taken aback, Derek couldn’t decide what was more astonishing, that she wanted to pretend that the too-brief, but wholly romantic interlude they’d shared earlier was easier for her to brush aside than it was for him, or that he was somehow tainted by Sam’s behavior? Hindsight being the ugly pill that it was had made him accept that Samantha had always shown the impulses of an alley cat. He supposed it was a combination of his patience and voluntary myopia that had allowed the marriage to last as long as it did. No doubt Eve had engaged in her own survival tactics, but she couldn’t still be in love with Wes—or was she so angry she was going to judge all men by her two-timing ex’s character flaws?
With a sigh, Derek gestured toward her apartment. “I’ll wait for you to get inside.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand. “Humor me. Accept that I’m old school and want to see a lady safe and secure for the evening.”
“Okay. Thanks. Sorry.” She flapped her arms hopelessly. “I’m just no good at this.”
“No, you’re not.”
But he said it with a smile, and she laughed softly, and finally continued her way to her place.
In truth, she was a pain in places he didn’t want to think about. He ached to follow her to her door and kiss away what was left of her lipstick. Some competitive or hungry something compelled him to talk her into agreeing to see him tomorrow or the next day for coffee, lunch, or whatever. If she looked over her shoulder, he would do it.
She didn’t look back again until she had her door unlocked. Then she waved and locked up, leaving him to grimly stride to his own apartment. After bolting up behind himself, he stood in the nearly dark, too impersonal living room and felt fatigue descend upon him.
“Note to self,” he muttered, pulling at his tie. “Let it go … or move.”
“This is the winner of the Best Use of Spices float,” the female commentator for the Rose Bowl Parade said on the television.
“And I’m going nuts pretending this is what I want to be doing.”
Eve put the last of her meager Christmas ornaments into their box before reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. It was a shame considering that she’d enjoyed this ritual for years, but she just couldn’t get into watching today. What’s more, she’d already transcribed important dates onto her new calendar—birthdays, anniversaries and appointments—and removed the lights in the window and around her front door. The wreath was neatly tucked in a large trash bag in the coat closet, and the tree was about to go back into its box and join it. She was completely caught up, yet the microwave clock in the kitchen read only 10:57 a.m.
All that remained now was to call her family. But she suddenly dreaded it, despite missing them terribly. How was she going to explain last night without mentioning Derek? They’d known about the party, so there was no avoiding the subject. In fact, they’d be expecting a full recap—mostly in the hopes of discerning that she’d met someone “worthy of her” to quote her father. As good as her parents were at reading her moods and state of mind, her siblings were better than card sharks at reading her. That vetoed any idea about using her computer’s Skype application.
With the last items in the closet, she reached for her BlackBerry and scrolled down the contact list keying the number for her parents. Maybe she’d bought herself some time and would only get their answering machine. This was close to the time that they’d be heading to the retirement community where her father and maternal grandfather were likely to squeeze in a round of golf while her mother and the rest of her grandparents discussed who had been wearing the least last night on the evening TV specials. Then they would all head back to the house to wait for the arrival of her siblings, nieces and nephews.
“Eve! Happy New Year, dearest! How was your night?”
Just dive in, Eve thought. “Fine, Mom. Ho-ho to you and Dad. Everything okay down there?”
“Lovely. It’s sixty-two degrees, sparkling sunshine and we’re about to head out the door.”
“Okay, I won’t keep you. Give the Grands my love.”
“We can talk a minute. But you should call back in the afternoon and visit with everyone else. Your brother and sister say that you’ve been avoiding them.”
“They have busier schedules than I do. It’s hard to synchronize a good time to call.”
“That’s true enough, but they are worried about you, as are the rest of us. Now how was the party? Did you meet anyone interesting?”
“Tons of people,” Eve assured her. “The D.A., our congressman, the lady who hosts our local morning talk show up here …”
“Any noteworthy bachelors?”
“A sheik-in-training—some big oil guy’s nephew. But he came with a Playboy bunny,” she drawled, “and my humble little B-cup chest can’t compete with that.”
“I’m going to assume you’re teasing me the way you always do to stop me from prying.” Her mother paused to talk to someone in the background. “Your father sends his love and wants to know when you’re coming down for a visit. We discussed your situation over Christmas dinner, and your sister and brother want you to reconsider letting them arrange for some introductions.”
Eve could just imagine. She’d deferred the subject last time by simply telling them she wasn’t ready. The second time she pointed out that she would need a Bachelors and Masters to understand half of what their coworkers and friends were talking about. “I’m not exactly where I can talk, Mom. We’ll see, okay?”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you were still working. Of course, dear. But what will you do after you’ve finished up there? Are you getting together with friends? I so hope you’re not spending the rest of the day sitting in that tiny, dark apartment by yourself.”
Eve cringed as she glanced around her spick and span, almost empty and dark apartment. “Who, me? No way. There’s a skiing party at one of the lodges. I’ll grab a hot toddy and strike a sexy pose at the fireplace, until the risk takers get frostbite and rejoin me.”
“That sounds more like it. Do watch that no one slips something into your drink. I saw on the news last week—”
“Here’s my boss, Mom. Gotta go. Love you.”
As soon as she disconnected, Eve grimaced for having deceived her mother, but she simply didn’t want to worry her family. What was the point of putting hundreds of miles between herself and them if she wasn’t going to finally be independent and be responsible for her own decisions and actions?
She put down the phone and went to peer through the mini blinds. As usual, she saw no one out there, and Derek’s black SUV was still parked in the lot, but his mini blinds were shut tight. Lucky him if he was still asleep, she thought with envy. Lucky him if he had any sleep.
“And you actually thought you might be preoccupying his mind the way he is yours,” she muttered to herself in disgust.
The quiet surroundings did give her the perfect opportunity to get her trash to the Dumpster. She quickly slipped her parka over her oversize, black, V-necked sweater and jeans, grabbed her stuffed trash bag and made her way to the far corner of the property. Although the parking lot was two-thirds full, she didn’t see anyone or hear anything, except for the minimal traffic on the two streets that bordered their complex. With the sun shining at full force, the snow sparkled and stung her eyes, making her wish she’d thought to don sunglasses before venturing outside.
After flinging her offering up into the steel bin, she began to retrace her steps. Then she heard a sound that had her glancing up from her diligent navigation of slush piles and puddles. Derek was emerging from his apartment and locking his door.
“Really?” she asked, with a look toward the heavens.
There was no doubt that he