She wrapped her arms around him instinctively. Loving the weight of him, the sweat, the thick pulse of his heart against her breast.
"I love you," she whispered.
"Love you, too, babe," he murmured drowsily, pressed a kiss to her shoulder.
Much later, they dressed in between long, slow kisses and finally returned to the party. A little while after that, he drove her home. On the way, they stopped at a convenience store. She sat in the car while he went inside for sodas, then couldn't
stop smiling when he brought her a bag of M&M's.
"How'd you know I like them?" It was the sweetest thing a boy had ever done for her.
He leaned across the seat and kissed her. "I know a lot about you. Come on over here."
She sat close beside him as they pulled to a stop in front of her house. In the shadows of the front seat their fingers entwined. She loved the feel of his long, strong fingers meshed with hers. She loved that she was deeply in love. For the first time in her life. Wow. She was in love. Had made love. Life was a wonder. Sweeter than sweet.
"You're incredible." He kissed her with such tenderness, tears welled up in her eyes.
"When will I see you again?"
"I'll call you tomorrow," he promised.
It was the one and only promise he ever broke. And he broke it right along with her heart.
She never heard from him again.
Chapter 4
Eve woke up Sunday morning stiff and
sore with residual aches and pains from Friday and Saturday nights' adventures. And with vivid memories of her dream. And that night. And the aftermath.
An old and familiar ache set up housekeeping in her chest.
"Get over it," she muttered as she dragged herself out of bed and into the shower.
She'd thought she
had
been over it. Thought that particular wound had been well and truly scarred over. And she didn't like herself much for giving in to self-pity just because she'd seen McClain again.
As the hot water poured over her aching bones, she cut herself some slack. Her anger wasn't just about the fact that he'd pulled a disappearing act all those years ago. It wasn't just about losing her virginity to him because she'd been stupid enough to believe him when he'd told her he loved her. It was about how he'd left her.
And what he'd left her with. An old sadness seeped through her.
He hadn't known. He couldn't have known that she was one of those unbelievable statistics—a virgin who got pregnant the very first time. In fact, McClain had been totally in the dark about her pregnancy, because a few weeks later he'd headed out for parts unknown on a road trip with friends before he would start college out of state in the fall. Except for that day on the beach, she'd never seen him again.
So yeah. He'd been oblivious to the fact that she'd gone through the scare alone, first worrying that she might be pregnant, then dealing with the stunning realization that she was.
She'd never felt so alone. Or so scared. She hadn't wanted to hurt her family, so she'd kept it to herself. Cried alone in her room, agonized over wanting the baby and not knowing how she would raise it by herself.
Then one morning she didn't have to wonder anymore.
She lost the baby. All alone in the bathroom.
She remembered the pain.
She remembered the blood.
She remembered the fear.
Most of all, she remembered the guilt. Maybe if she'd gone to see a doctor. Maybe if she'd confided in someone and hadn't been so emotionally stressed. Maybe if she hadn't been so stupid and young and scared.
Maybe...
Maybe she'd have a beautiful little girl now. Or a little boy.
Don't even go there.
She lathered up her hair with shampoo. It was easier to resent McClain than think about the maybes. He'd stolen the option for her to even tell him about the baby. About what she'd gone through. She hated him for that. Resented him— no matter how unreasonable that resentment was—for not being there to help her through it, for not wanting to be there, for making her think he loved her and had wanted to be a part of her life. For leaving her.
And that resentment had festered for fourteen years.
Rinsing her hair, she tried to pull herself out of her funk. Yet when she stepped out of the shower, she slipped in a little deeper. Because of McClain, she'd gone into every relationship with reservations and low expectations. So far, she hadn't had any reason to make her think all men weren't poured from the same mold.
"And thank you, McClain, for showing up and bringing all those old feelings to a head again." Feelings she'd evidently never completely worked through, because McClain had never been around to help her give them closure.
"And that's what you get for taking one year of psych in college," she sputtered. "Not merely self-pity, highly convoluted self-pity."
Fat lot of good it did her where McClain was concerned. Fat lot of good it would do her when she faced her brothers tomorrow morning. Of course, first she had to make it to the office.
She hadn't strapped on a shoulder holster since she'd been with the Secret Service. Yet today she didn't hesitate to wear one under her lightweight running jacket when she headed out the door for her morning jog.
She stayed out in the open. Took a different route than usual. And was constantly conscious of the possibility of an attack.
The wondering if and the waiting for were almost worse than the not knowing who or why.
And when she finally went to bed that night, she didn't know whether she should feel relief that the day had gone by without an incident or be more worried that he hadn't been waiting in the bushes to hit her with something really big.
"Just one fun possibility after another," she muttered, and with her gun at her bedside turned off the light.
The windowed door with bold black lettering identified the suite of offices in the Forum on Palm Beach Lakes Boulevard as E.D.E.N. Securities, Inc. The meshed glass window rattled in the frame as Eve—who just happened to be the second
E
in
E.D.E.N.
—dug into her purse for her keys early Monday morning.
The lights were on behind the door; she heard movement inside. On a deep breath she accepted that there was no hope of avoiding her brothers any longer. She'd wanted to beat them in and out this morning so they wouldn't see how rough she still looked on Monday morning after her Friday night run-in with the prince of darkness and her Saturday night bomb fest.
Oh yeah—and her "reunion" with McClain, who'd blasted her back to the past and spawned recurrent dreams slash nightmares that had shaken her up again, too. But McClain was the least of her worries. When she opened the door and the scent of White Shoulders assaulted her, she knew she was in for it.
"Eve! Holy cow. What
happened
to you?" Kim Creighton, their newly hired receptionist and White Shoulders devotee, asked in a voice that could have carried across the Atlantic.
"Shhh. Keep it down. I'm fine," Eve said in a whisper— but too late for damage control. She could already hear footsteps pounding down the hall.
"Jesus H. Christ." This blunt comment from her oldest brother, Ethan—
the first E
in
E.D.E.N.
—as he appeared in the reception area. "What in the hell—"
"It's not as bad as it looks," she assured him, brushing a fall of blond hair back from her eyes. As nonchalantly as possible, she reached up to rifle through her mail cubby, hoping it didn't show that the mere act of lifting her arm still sent a dull, lingering pain through her system.
If she ever caught up with the creep who had put the hurt on her, he was a dead man. At least, he was going to wish he were.
Dallas, brother number two and the
D
that held the
Es
in
E.D.E.N.
together, showed up about that time. He caught her wince of pain when she pivoted toward her office and ran smack into Nolan's broad chest.
"Jeez, you guys. What is this? Pounce on Eve day?"
"Conference room. Now." Nolan—her twin and the
N
in
E.D.E.N.
—took her gently by her arm and steered her in that direction. "Only the bruises excuse you for showing up without doughnuts," he added, in a droll and totally Nolan attempt to lighten things up a bit.
Dallas quickly squashed that idea. "What in the hell happened to you? Have you seen a doctor?"
"I don't need a doctor. I'm just a little bruised." She touched her fingertips gingerly to her temple and wished she'd done a better job with her makeup this morning. It wasn't the only bruise she'd brought out of her weekend encounters; she was covered in glorious color all over her body. But the biggest bruise was still to her ego.
"How many fingers?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Get away from me," she grumbled when Ethan parked himself in front of her.
"Nasty bump," Dallas observed with a grim look as he studied her temple.
"Any chance it knocked some sense into you?"
Nolan again. She smirked at him and shooed Ethan away when he suggested she might have a concussion.
"Look, at the risk of multiple redundancies,
I am fine,
you guys."
"And I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I'll let you have for a song. Now what happened?"
There was no avoiding it. Her brothers didn't just talk tough. They
were
tough. Ethan's uniform may consist of power ties and tailored suits these days, but her superserious eldest brother had separated from the army as a captain in the Special Forces a few years ago. He still ran his life with military precision. So, for that matter, did Dallas, who'd broken the male army tradition their father had started and opted for the marines and Force Recon instead.
Until six months ago, her twin brother, Nolan, had been career U.S. Army, an Airborne Ranger—a squad leader— but he'd ditched any strident military habits he'd picked up in his decorated career like a dirty shirt the minute he'd DXed out.
They may no longer have the might of the U.S. military behind them, but they remained forces to be reckoned with—individually and collectively.
"Call for you on line two, Ethan." Kimmie popped her head into the room. Short brunette curls surrounded her heart-shaped face.
"Tell them I'll call them back."
"It's Goodnight." Dark brown eyes swept the room. "And he wants to talk with all three of you. It's the third time he's called."
Ethan let out a heavy breath. "We've got to take this. Get your story straight while we're gone, little sis, because when we get back, I want information."
Saved by the bell. At least temporarily.
Eve watched them file out of the conference room, thankful for the chance to compose herself. And to worry about her oldest brother. Ethan remained true to form. All work, no sense of humor. Since his divorce five years ago, he never seemed to have any fun anymore. If given any encouragement at all, most of the single women in West Palm Beach—and some of the married ones—would provide him with all the fun he could handle. He maintained that as long as he had his work and his stock of cherry Life Savers, he was good to go.
She could relate—at least to the candy. Speaking of which, she dug around in her purse until she came up with a bag of M&M's. Life without M&M's was not worth living.
Like Nolan and Dallas, who in Eve's opinion was also way too picky when it came to the opposite sex, Ethan was tall, dark, and too gorgeous for his own good. To her eternal amazement, the person who greeted her in the mirror every morning appeared to have evolved from an entirely different gene pool. Unlike her brothers, Eve was petite and blond. In addition, she hadn't been blessed with the poster perfect looks the boys possessed. Oh, she'd do. And when she put her mind and makeup to it, she could turn her share of heads—but not the way
they
did by merely breathing.
She did share some similarities with her brothers, however. Like their blue eyes and the fact that to the last one they were all hopeless overachievers, and that they'd kill for one another if it ever came to that. So far, thankfully, it hadn't. Judging by the looks on each one of their faces when they'd left the conference room just now, however, they were tooling up for battle on her behalf, and they still had no idea what had happened to her.