Something About Eve Page 7

  “Wednesday. The twentieth.”

  “Of December?” Panic grabbed her by the throat, cutting off her breath. She’d lost more than a month of her life.

  “Let it go, Eve.” His stern tone cut through her rising hysteria. “When you’re sick or laid up, there’s nothing you can do about lost time. Believe me. That’s just the way it is.”

  The old Eve would have argued, but the old Eve hadn’t been around for months. The new Eve lacked the energy even to consider why Matt knew such truths so intimately. Sighing, she closed her eyes.

  “I don’t remember much since I left New York on November first,” she said. “I know I was sick the whole way here,” she said. Images of the trip appeared like frames from a 1950s B movie. A big car with a chrome nude on the hood. Barry—smoking a cigar in the front seat. Eve shivering under piles of blankets in the back. Nauseated.

  She’d thrown up all over his precious car, and Barry had complained about it to the movers when they arrived here with her stuff. “If I’d known she was the type to get car sick, I’d have made her ride in the back of the moving van,” he’d joked.

  Or maybe he was serious. He’d never displayed a single iota of concern for her health and well-being. Unlike this man, this stranger.

  Matt Ross.

  Eve was sure she’d never known a man as kind and caring. His actions could be considered motherly, yet he pulled them off without sacrificing an ounce of masculinity. In fact, there was something incredibly sexy about the way he fed her soup.

  “It’s kind of quiet in there,” Matt said from the doorway. “You’re not going to pass out or fall asleep, are you?”

  Eve shook her head from side to side, but it was an effort to say, “I’ll try not to.”

  “Maybe I should keep you talking. Just in case.” He paused a second then asked, “Why were your shoes all over your bed?”

  “Barry. He has a short fuse.”

  “Barry LaPointer?”

  Eve concentrated on washing her legs. She truly didn’t want to talk about Barry. Who knew what kind of mischief he might come up with before she could find the energy to defend herself?

  “I met him this afternoon,” Matt said when she failed to respond. “And I hate to say it, Eve, but I wasn’t impressed.”

  “You saw him?”

  “At Communitex. I told them I was there to interview you.”

  “How did you find out about Communitex? I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Barry wanted to pull a big publicity coup.”

  “It wasn’t easy, but that’s what I do. I told them I was there to interview you. Rumors were thick, but no one seemed to know what happened to you—not even Barry.”

  Eve closed her eyes. “He knows. He says it’s my fault I’m sick.”

  There was a dull thud, as if a fist had collided with the wall. “He knows you’re sick? And he just left you here? Alone in a strange city?” Matt’s scorn was nothing compared to the contempt she felt for herself for getting involved with Barry in the first place.

  Eve closed her eyes. What a fool! Why did I let myself…?

  She hadn’t intended to give voice to her anguish, but Matt’s reply proved she’d done just that.

  “Who knows why any of us make bad choices when it comes to our love life?” He made a sound of disgust. “If we were smarter, there’d be a lot less divorce, right?”

  “My parents have been married for thirty-six years,” Eve said, trying to recall when she’d last seen them. They’d stopped in New York in July on their way to…somewhere. Her energy was dwindling fast. She should get out of the tub while she still could, but the water was so warm, so pacifying.

  “Mine just celebrated their forty-third,” Matt said. “My older sister threw a big party for them. She says they’re the reason she’s so happily married.” He laughed bitterly. “I don’t know…it didn’t help me.”

  “Why not?” Eve asked, curious about why any woman would give up a man like Matt. So caring, so real.

  “My ex-wife wanted a different kind of life from the one I was capable of providing.”

  “‘Capable’? You seem capable of anything.”

  “I guess maybe she wanted something other than what I chose to provide. I chose to be a cop. She opted to be a doctor’s wife.”

  Suddenly, a wave of fatigue overwhelmed Eve. She sank back; her butt sliding against the porcelain made a squeaking sound.

  “Eve? Are you okay?”

  The concern in his voice made her focus. “I’m going to try to get out now,” she said, gathering her strength to lift her body from the tub.

  “Eve?” He sounded poised to rush to her aid, but Eve was determined to salvage at least one shred of dignity. Hand over hand, elbow over elbow, she slowly clawed her way to a shaky stance in front of the vanity. Her reflection was obscured by the misty condensation on the mirror.

  “I left a bunch of towels on the toilet,” Matt volunteered.

  She looked at the door again, but it faced away from the vanity, so she knew he couldn’t see her. After wrapping herself in a fluffy sea-foam green towel, she said, “I need a clean nightgown.”

  “You’re right. I should have thought of that. Tell me where to look.”

  “Oh, dear. I don’t have any idea. Wasn’t there anything in my suitcase?

  A couple of minutes later a hand shot through the open crack. “Uh…will this do?”

  Eve looked up from brushing her teeth. A frilly black silk and lace number she didn’t even remember buying dangled from the end of Matt’s fingertip. Eve felt her face flush.

  “No,” she sputtered, sending toothpaste froth everywhere.

  The scrap of fluff disappeared.

  Drawing on her innermost strength, Eve managed to complete her ablutions. By the time she finished, she’d resorted to leaning on one elbow. The clean mint taste in her mouth made her smile, but the sight of her hairbrush—thick with tangled black hair—wiped it from her lips.

  She used the hand towel to clear away a spot on the mirror. She stared at the unfamiliar image peering back at her a moment then averted her gaze. All her adult life, Eve had traded on her feminine appeal. Without her looks, who was she? Eve Nobody.

  Choking back tears, she dropped her head, wavering to keep her balance.

  “Matt…I can’t…stand up any…” The words were barely past her lips before the door rocketed open and he was at her side.

  “Lean on me,” Matt said gruffly. He looped one arm around her shoulders to keep her steady.

  “Thankyouforthis.” Her words ran together as a wave of gray passed across her line of vision.

  “Damn,” Matt muttered. Anchored by his strong grip, Eve’s toes barely touched the floor. Rotating her one hundred and eighty degrees, he kept his hands on her arms then hoisted her up. Her bottom sank into the eiderdown-feather mattress.

  “Nice,” she said with a sigh. He’d turned down the covers. Her fingers flattened against the smooth, clean bedding. Somehow he’d found her Neiman-Marcus sheets. Four hundred–thread count. Better than silk.

  Sleep beckoned like an old friend, but she couldn’t fall over sideways and curl up—not wrapped in a damp towel. Without warning, tears spurted from her eyes.

  “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Matt asked, bending over to see her face. Even given the height of the bed, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

  Ashamed of her helplessness, she kept her chin down. “Can you help me with the towel?”

  He gulped. Loudly. “Sure. I can do that.” She heard him take a deep breath. “This is probably pretty awkward for you, Eve, but just think of me as a nurse. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  In the end—thanks to him—the whole maneuver was fast and effortless. Almost before she knew what had happened, she was lying beneath her silky sheets, the down comforter pillowed at her chin.

  Eve wanted to express her thanks—tell him that she appreciated his kindness and respectful manner. She me
ant to offer him the guest bedroom for the night, but her goodwill faded beneath the pressing urgency of sleep. Fatigue hit like a tornado and whisked her into a black abyss.

  MATT CLOSED Eve’s bedroom door with a low, long sigh. He’d been called upon to do many odd, unimaginable tasks in his years on the force, but if anyone had ever suggested he might one day be asked to remove Eve Masterson’s wet towel and help her to bed, he’d have laughed in their face.

  And even sick, she was lovely. Pale as a marble statue but beautiful.

  Matt smacked the heel of his hand against his forehead. As his nervous tension began to dissipate, he tried to focus on a plan of action. Pushing off from the wall, he made an effort to shake off his edginess. Why the hell couldn’t I find a nightgown? Something in flannel.

  While hunting through one box, he’d run across what his sister used to call “unmentionables” of all shades and fabrics—from red silk thongs to leopard-print bras. His fingers tingled, imagining Eve wearing the frilly underthings.

  “This is nuts,” Matt muttered, stomping past the kitchen to the living room. “She needs a doctor, and I need a psychiatrist.”

  Glancing at his watch, he detoured to the couch. It was three hours earlier on the West Coast. He wanted to speak to Bo, but first he had to give his mother an update.

  Irene picked up as though she’d been waiting for the phone to ring.

  “Hi, Mom, I got her to bed. I think she was asleep before her head hit the pillow,” he said.

  “Good,” his mother said in a hoarse whisper.

  “Are you in bed?”

  “Of course. You need to get some sleep, too. Does she have a couch you can sleep on, honey? You really can’t leave her alone, you know. Not until we get her checked out by a doctor.”

  Matt had surmised as much, but it surprised him to hear his mother suggest the same. His suspicions began to percolate anew. Did his mother see Eve’s situation as an opportunity for a little long-distance matchmaking?

  Sighing, he closed his eyes. He loved his mother dearly, but she didn’t understand how hard it was to go from a long-term marriage to being a bachelor again. Matt was nowhere near ready to get involved again. And even on her worst day, Eve Masterson was miles out of his reach.

  But that didn’t change the concern he felt for her. Tomorrow, he would take her to see a doctor. More than likely, she would need hospitalization. After that, Matt would be free to book a flight for home. For the holidays. Without Ashley.

  After wishing his mother good night, he dialed a memorized number. As he listened to the phone’s muted ring, he idly picked up a pair of discarded slippers. Leopard-print scruffs made of fuzzy material, like a stuffed animal.

  After just two rings, a female voice answered, “Hello?”

  Matt recognized the voice of his cousin’s fiancée’s. “Hi, Claudie, it’s Matt.”

  “Hiya, Matthew, long time no talk. How’s the Great Eve Hunt going? My money’s on you, big guy.”

  Claudie sounded jovial. “Smart pick. I’m at Eve’s now. Didn’t Ren or Sara call you?”

  “Dunno. I just got home from a county supervisors’ meeting. Did Bo tell you we’re starting to lay the groundwork—budgetwise—for a second halfway house?”

  Claudie’s renovated Victorian home in Folsom, California, known as One Wish House, was where she helped prostitutes find new lives off the streets.

  “Very ambitious. I thought you were holding off until after the holidays. And don’t you have a wedding to plan, too?”

  Claudie snorted. “Nag, nag, nag. You sound just like Bo. He should be home any minute by the way. Meanwhile, what’s the deal with Eve?” Claudie asked. “The girls at One Wish House are betting alien abduction.”

  Matt’s lips twitched. “We haven’t ruled that out.” He tried to keep his tone light. “I found her, but she’s not exactly the same old Eve.”

  “Really?” Claudie’s voice went low and serious.

  Matt regretted his jest. “She’s sick, Claudie. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong, but I plan to take her to see a doctor tomorrow. Mom says it sounds like she’s suffering from malnutrition and dehydration. What brought it on is anybody’s guess.”

  Claudie was silent a moment. “God, Matt, I feel like such a schmuck. Sara’s been upset about this for weeks, but I kept telling her it was some kind of publicity gimmick.”

  Matt felt the same way. “Hey, you’re not the only one. Remember how much I fought coming here?”

  “We call that hindsight, Matt.” She paused. “Hold on a sec. I think I hear your cousin.” She set the phone down with a clanking sound.

  Matt heard the low murmur of voices in the background then Bo came on the line. “You found her?”

  “Yup. Wasn’t all that tough. By the looks of it, she’s been in her apartment the whole time. Sicker than a dog.”

  “Wow. That’s a shame. Must be bad if she couldn’t even call her family or Sara. Didn’t she get any of our phone messages?”

  Matt had glanced at the answering machine. A readout showed the number: thirty-four. “I’d bet yes, but she’s pretty much out of it, Bo. At first, I thought drugs, but it’s not that. My impulse was to call 911, but she flat-out refused, so Mom’s been holding my hand long distance.”

  “What does Aunt Irene think it is?”

  “Hard to diagnose over the phone. I should have the name of a reliable—discreet—doctor in the morning, then I’m taking Eve to see him no matter what.”

  Somehow, Matt doubted Eve would protest. That little episode in the bedroom couldn’t have been too pleasant for her. Matt knew how humiliating it was to ask for help undressing.

  “So where are you now?” Bo asked.

  Matt frowned. “I’m staying here—just in case she needs anything.”

  “Man,” Bo said with feeling. “How did this happen? Where are her friends? What happened to that guy who wooed her to Atlanta?”

  Matt stretched out, letting his head sink into the cushion. “I can’t tell you, Bo. I met Mr. LaPointer this afternoon, and my first impression was he’s an arrogant SOB who wouldn’t lift a finger to help someone else unless there was something in it for him.”

  Bo was silent a moment. Matt opened one eye and saw he had a chokehold on Eve’s defenseless slipper. Frowning, he tossed it to the floor. “Do me a favor, cuz. Run a check on Barry LaPointer. I didn’t bring my laptop with me.”

  Matt heard Bo scramble for a piece of paper, then Bo said, “Will do, but here’s an idea. Why don’t you bundle Eve up and bring her back here? We’ve got clinics. Hell, Hollywood must have a place that specializes in helping skinny showbiz types.”

  Matt was faintly offended by Bo’s callous attitude. “Well, for starters, Eve threatened to sue my butt off if word of this got out.”

  “Really? Now, that sounds more like the Eve we all know and love. I was just thinking that you could plug her into some hospital then meet Ashley in la la land.”

  Matt’s stomach turned over. “What are you talking about?”

  Bo made a funny noise in his throat. “Please tell me I didn’t just step in a big pile of dog doodoo. You heard about Sonya and Alan’s plans to go to L.A., right? Some job offer with a high-profile clinic.”

  Matt’s stomach wrestled with the burger and fries he’d consumed earlier. “Sort of. How do you know about it?”

  “Your mom told my mom and my mom told Claudie who told me.”

  Matt could imagine the uproar the news had generated. With the exception of Sonya, these women were all on his side. “Hey, cuz, I’m sorry. That bit about seeing Ashley was stupid…” Bo’s voice trailed off, and Matt heard someone in the background. “And insensitive,” he hastily added.

  There was another pause and Matt heard Bo speak to Claudie. “Here,” Bo said loudly. “If I’m such an insensitive jerk, you talk to him.”

  “Matt?”

  “Claudie?”

  “Sorry about that. We haven’t seen each other all day and sometimes
things get mixed up on the phone. When I talked to Bo’s mom, she’d just gotten off the phone with your mom. Apparently, Ashley was pretty upset about missing Christmas with you. Irene said she’d promised Ashley you wouldn’t let that happen.”

  Matt groaned. “Great. A sick celeb and a pissed-off ex-wife I can handle, but not my little girl’s broken heart.”

  “Matt, I haven’t met Ashley, but kids today are smarter than we were at that age. I’m sure she’ll understand no matter what happens. Just be honest with her.” She paused. “She knows you love her, Matt. That’s what really counts.”

  Matt hoped she was right. “Thanks, Claudie. I’m glad Bo’s got you to keep him from making a complete ass of himself.”

  Her light laugh made him smile.

  They said their goodbyes, then Matt decided one more call was in order. To hell with the time. He needed to talk to his daughter.

  ASHLEY POUNCED on the phone on the first ring. Her mother was such a grouch lately. She’d probably have a cow if it rang more than once this late at night. Ashley didn’t know who might be calling—her stepfather’s service probably, but she hoped it was Bethany calling to tell her Neil Brickman would be riding with them Sunday. He was by the far the cutest boy in school and rumor had it he was getting a horse for Christmas. Of course, there was no guarantee her mother was going to let her go to the stables on Christmas Eve since they were flying out West the following morning.

  “Hello,” she said, her voice cracking a bit.

  “Hi, hon, it’s Dad.”

  “Daddy,” she squealed in surprise.

  “Did I wake you?” He sounded serious. Too serious.

  Ashley’s heart rate sped up again. Her stomach tensed. “No. I was writing in my journal. But it’s kinda late. Are you okay? Is anything wrong?”

  “No. Not at all. I had an interesting day. Met Eve Masterson. Remember? You asked me about her.”

  “You met her? In real life? Like face-to-face? Wow!”

  “Yep, face-to-face,” he said, but there was something funny about the way he said it. It made her curious.

  “Do you like her? Is she hot? Are you going to date her?”