Change of Heart (The Flanagan Sisters, #2) (21 page)

Wasn’t that ironic?

He got to his feet. He had more painting to do.

I
t was Saturday before Carly had the energy to get out of bed. She woke up early and Evan was asleep next to her. He’d been by her side constantly throughout the past three days and she’d worried he hadn’t slept, but here was proof. Carefully, she got out of bed and stood for a moment to make sure she didn’t get dizzy. She crept out of the room to the kitchen and opened the cupboard. She was definitely hungry today.

Inside, there was a veritable array of food, including her favorite raspberry and white chocolate muffins. She grabbed one and took a bite, before switching on the kettle. She’d have a cup of tea, because she wasn’t sure her stomach would handle something as strong as coffee yet. While waiting for the kettle to boil she turned to look out of the window and stared.

Carly’s living room had been transformed into a studio. There were three easels lined up, and multiple canvases spread out across the floor, and the dining room table was covered in a collection of different paints.

So this is what Evan had been doing.

She was glad. She’d been worried he wasn’t going to have the time to paint while he was nursing her. She strolled over to peek at the paintings. The first was of the Day of the Dead celebrations; there was color and laughter and community. The next was of an office lobby with a doorman who looked suspiciously like Harold, and the third took her breath away. It was her mother in her garden, looking as content as Carly had ever seen her. It was beautiful. It was as if she could reach out and touch her.

“Carly, are you OK?” Evan was rubbing his eyes, dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts. Her heart gave a thud. He looked so tired, but so sexy.

He frowned at her standing by the paintings. Surely he didn’t mind her looking at his work?

“Evan, these are magnificent.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks. How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” She walked across to him and gave him a hug. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re most welcome. You were a pretty easy patient, what with all the sleeping.”

The kettle clicked off. “Do you want a drink?”

“I’ll get it. You sit down.” He accompanied her to the bar stool and she sat.

Carly had never been fussed over by a man before and it was kind of nice.

“Hayden called last night,” Evan said as he made her a cup of tea. “He said everything is fine and wanted to check how you are. I told him I’d call him if you weren’t going to be at work on Monday.”

Work. Hell, she hadn’t even thought about it. Had been too sick to even contemplate it. “I should check my emails,” she said starting to rise.

“You should drink your tea,” he said, putting a mug in front of her. “You can check them after you’ve eaten.”

Irritation rose. Who was he to tell her what to do?

Carly sighed. He was the person who’d taken care of her when she’d been at her worse. She should listen to him, although now that work had entered her mind, she was anxious to check what had been happening while she was gone. She’d never been away from her company for so long. What meetings had she had missed? And she’d had dinners scheduled all week.

“Oh for goodness’ sakes, Carly,” Evan said, plonking her laptop in front of her. “Check in. I can practically hear you fretting.”

Carly blinked and looked up at his frowning face. No. She could wait. She could have a nice breakfast with him without bringing work into it. She was sure of it.

She smiled at him and pushed the laptop away. “How many more paintings do you need for your exhibition?”

“I haven’t decided. They gave me a range, depending on the size of the canvases. I need to go through what I’ve done and confirm which ones I want to use.”

“So you get to choose what they display?”

“Yes.”

It was a different world to what Carly was used to. “What about pricing? Who decides that?”

“I do, but the gallery will give me some advice on how they compare to similar artists.”

“Are they expecting many people to attend?”

“It’s one of the most popular galleries in New York. I used to go there on weekends and dream of having an exhibition there.” He smiled, obviously remembering.

This was a
huge
deal. Carly hadn’t quite realized. She’d been so busy with work, and Evan wasn’t one to blow his own trumpet. She had to remember that, had to make sure she asked more questions about what he did.

“How is the game art going?”

“Really great. Basil’s happy with my work so far. We had a meeting on Wednesday, which was when I discovered you were sick.”

She only had vague memories of Hayden helping her home and then everything was fairly foggy until Evan arrived. She reached out and took his hand.

“I appreciate you taking care of me. You really put yourself out.”

He growled. “You should have called me when you got sick. I would have come right away.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. All I knew was that I didn’t want Mama coming because she tends to smother me in love, and besides, she and the girls all have to work.” Carly shrugged. “I’m not used to having anyone else I can call.”

“Well, you do now, so don’t forget.” He said it with an intensity that warmed her.

“I won’t.” Her stomach grumbled.

He chuckled. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“I had a muffin.”

He grinned. “Hayden said they were your favorite.” He got up.

“Hayden?”

“Yeah. He was so worried about you. After I found you, he brought over medication and food.”

“I must thank him.”

“You’ve got a loyal friend there.”

Friend. No, she couldn’t call him a friend. They were colleagues, she was his employer. “He’s just taking care of his boss.”

“That’s crap, Carly. I saw how worried he was.”

“Evan, he works for me. How can we be friends?”

He sat back. “Is that what you really think?”

She nodded. “No matter what happens, I hold his job in my hands, and that creates an imbalance of power.”

Evan shook his head. “I’m not sure he’d agree with you. Have you ever been out for a drink?”

“There’s the Christmas party each year.”

“No, I mean a random, ‘let’s go for drinks’.”

“I’ve always got meetings after work.”

“Perhaps you should get a better work/life balance.”

It wasn’t possible – she was the CEO, she had so much responsibility. But she didn’t want to argue with Evan.

She ate her breakfast and afterward had a long soak in the shower. The water felt incredible on her skin.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Are you all right in there?” Evan called.

“Yes.” She shut off the taps and dried herself. She was feeling better, but still a little tired. Slipping into her footie pajamas, she then opened the door to Evan. She grabbed her hair dryer.

“Let me help,” Evan said. He took the hair dryer from her and made her sit at the dressing table.

“I should straighten it,” Carly said. She was always slightly fearful that if she didn’t straighten it each day she’d forget how. She wasn’t naturally good at styling, it took a lot of effort.

“No. You’re not well. It just needs to be dry.” He ran his fingers through her hair as he fluttered the hair dryer over it.

It felt good, so good, so Carly closed her eyes and let him do what he wanted. She wasn’t going out, so it wouldn’t matter for one day.

When he was finished, he kissed her on the forehead and they walked back out into the living room.

“Are you sure you’re up to being out of bed?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’ve spent far too much time there.”

She wanted sunlight and a different view. She settled on her chaise lounge. She couldn’t avoid her responsibilities any longer. She opened her laptop and started to work through her emails.

Hayden had sent a complete summary of what had happened during the week. She smiled. He’d kept her informed. He outlined the appointments he’d rearranged, attached minutes of the meetings she missed, and summarized the issues that had come up while she’d been away. Carly was surprised. There was nothing to worry about. Hayden had even sent a couple of executives to the different lunches and dinners she’d had booked, and they had each emailed her a summary. It didn’t appear as if she’d missed anything at all.

She frowned. Perhaps the world wouldn’t end if she didn’t do everything.

“Something wrong?” Evan asked.

“No. Everything seems to be fine.”

“And that’s a bad thing because . . .?”

“I expected there to be something. I never take time off.”

Evan put down his paintbrush and walked over to her, sitting on the edge of the lounge. “That’s great. It means you’ve set up your company so it doesn’t fall apart when you’re not there.”

She’d always felt like she had to be there, she had to take care of everything. Perhaps she was wrong. Her list of responsibilities seemed less overwhelming, but she’d been in control for so long that the idea of letting go was scary as well. “It’s nice.”

She went back to her emails and the next one she read had her muscles cramping. It was from Softco. Why couldn’t they understand she wasn’t going to sell her company? She growled and set up an auto-forward to Hayden. She wasn’t even going to bother meeting with them again.

“What’s up?”

“I blacklisted Softco, but they keep emailing.”

“Speaking of blacklists, do you want to add Isobella and Desmond to it as well?”

“Why?”

“They tried to get out of writing the proposal by asking Zita to talk with you, and when I told them it wasn’t right, Isobella suggested not everyone was able to sleep with you to get what they wanted.”

The hurt came first, a stabbing pain – the implication that Evan was sleeping with her just to get something. She knew it wasn’t true – he hadn’t asked for anything except her time, but the insecurity was never too far away. That made her angry. Carly’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

He nodded, watching her.

She dashed out an email, adding them both to her blacklist. “I won’t be sponsoring them for anything again, but let me know if the art center needs anything.”

“No.” The word was hard, angry.

“Why not?”

“I’m not dating you for your money. I’m not going to ask you to help, just because you’re rich. You have enough people begging you for money. If the art center needs funds, we’ll raise it on our own.”

“Evan, I’m happy to help.”

“No,” he said again. “There are other people who need your help more. Hell, spend the money on yourself for a change.”

She sat up straighter. “Look around you. Don’t you think this place cost a pretty penny?”

“Yeah, but it’s not
you,
Carly. It’s someone’s perception of the way a billionaire should live. Your apartment, your clothes, your car – none of them represents the true person.”

It was still disconcerting how easily he saw through the trappings. “So what do you think I should do?”

“What do
you
want? If you could live anywhere, where would it be?”

She thought about his painting that was now hanging in her bedroom. She could imagine herself living there. Should she tell him that?

“What kind of car would you drive?” he continued.

“A Mini,” she said instantly. “Small like me.”

He grinned at her. “What color?”

That was hard. Her training told her white or silver, something classic, but her gut said, “Red.”

“There you go. What about a house?”

It was kind of liberating playing the “what if” game. She placed the laptop on the coffee table. “I’ll show you.” She led him into the bedroom and pointed to his painting. “There. I’d live there.”

Evan gaped at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Peace, serenity, away from everything.”

“You’re a closet recluse, you know that?” he said.

“Does that place exist?”

“Only in my imagination.”

She yawned so widely, it felt like her jaw might split in two.

Evan laughed. “You’ve had enough excitement for one morning. Why don’t you go have a nap? You’re still recovering.”

He was right. She wasn’t as worried about work now that she’d checked her email. “Wake me at midday?”

“Sure thing. I’ll have lunch ready.”

“Oh, no. You need to paint. We can order something in.” She climbed into bed, the exhaustion starting to wash over her. The last thing she saw as she closed her eyes was Evan smiling down on her.

And it was then she realized she loved him.

***

B
y Sunday, it was clear to Evan that Carly was almost better. She’d decided not to go to her mother’s for their usual lunch, because she didn’t want to risk giving her family the flu, so they spent a lazy day, chatting and working.

Carly took a sip of her apple cider as she sat curled up on her lounge, watching him paint. “I don’t know much about your family.”

Evan’s hand paused mid stroke. He didn’t look at her as he said, “Not much to tell.” He continued painting, hoping she’d drop the subject.

“There must be. You know pretty much everything about mine. You’ve got a younger brother, right? He’s an electrician?”

“That’s right. Karl. He set up his own business recently.” He was proud of his little brother. He’d broken away from the hand-to-mouth existence his parents were still living and was successful in his own right.

“What about your parents? Are they still working?”

“Yeah. I can’t see them ever retiring.”

“Workaholics like us?” she asked.

The bitter laugh slipped out. “No.”

Silence followed and he looked up. Carly was waiting for him to elaborate. Shit.

“They’ll keep working until they die, because they can’t afford to do anything else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s their own fault. The second they earn anything, they spend it, sometimes before they’ve even got the money in their hands.”

“That must have been hard growing up.”

“Let’s just say I was always ‘sick’ for school excursions.” He didn’t want to talk about it.