Without a Net (8 page)

She nodded. “When are you going back to work?”

“In about a month.”

“And your work hours…?”

“Three or four twelve
hour shifts a week. Eventually.”

“Are you going to continue writing?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I guess between the
hospital, the writing, and doing your own publicity, you won’t have much time for a social life.” Her lips curved up. “So, I’m off the hook.”

“Not so fast,” he said.
“I didn’t say I planned to do the marketing myself.”

“Oh?”

“Fine, you win. I need to hire it done.”

“I thought so.”
She nodded. “And like I said, I’m the best.”

“Which leaves us at something of an impasse,” he said.
“But I’m willing to risk the book’s success if that’s what it takes for you to go out with me.”

It was a gamble. She might resent being boxed in, and decide to say no regardless of what he did.
And then he’d be in the unenviable position of either backing down in order to retain her expertise, or carrying through on his threat and starting over with someone new, and in the process possibly losing contact with Eva completely. He didn’t relish either scenario.

But he was counting on the fact that their attraction was mutual.
Why she was playing hard to get he didn’t know, but he hoped it had nothing to do with him personally.

The longer the silence lasted, the more nervous he became.
He wished he knew what she was thinking. Had she even dated after her husband’s death? Or was he being a total insensitive brute, pushing when she might very well still be in mourning?

He should have listened more carefully to what Nina said about the husband over the years.
He should have asked more questions.

Just as he decided to back off and give Eva some more time, she slowed to a stop.
“I’m free this Saturday.”

He blinked.

“Seven o’clock,” she said, turning up the walk toward her front door.

He hadn’t even noticed that they’d arrived at her house.
A slow grin bloomed. “Seven it is.”

She shut the door in his face, but he didn’t take it personally.
After all, he was going to see her in another three days.

Sitting in traffic on the 101 North on the way to her parents’ house, Eva had plenty of time to consider the last few days.
On the surface, things were going well.

With her sister’s help, Eva was optimistic about resolving the legal and financial problems that weighed so heavily on her since Roger’s death.
Next week she was meeting Angie’s colleague to go over their “good faith” affirmative defense strategy, in anticipation of their court date three weeks later.

The house was in escrow, and closing was set for mid-June.
Nina had bought them additional time for apartment hunting and moving by including a two-month leaseback provision.

Her friend Ian
was happy with her redesign of the menu and website for the Honey Rose Café. Not only that, but he’d retained Eva’s services for future promotions and web updates.

And the pre-publication campaign for Max’s book was gathering momentum.
He’d approved the website yesterday with minimal changes, which meant she could now pick a web hosting company and register a domain name. He’d also okayed a short press release and email blast to various book bloggers, looking for anyone interested in reading and reviewing an advance reader copy. It would help to have a few glowing reviews and quotable sound bites to accompany the actual release of the book.

So why did she feel like her life was spiraling out of control?

She tapped a finger on the steering wheel and checked the rear-view mirror. Ben sat strapped into his booster seat, oblivious to her anxiety, his head bent over the latest installment of the
Diary of a Wimpy Kid
.

She turned her attention back to the road and sighed.
She knew the answer to her question.

Max.

The man was a menace to her equilibrium. Good-looking, cocky, and too charming to stay mad at for long.

Yes, she resented the way he’d blackmailed her into a date.
He’d boxed her in, leaving her with little choice. If she hadn’t agreed, would he really have taken his business elsewhere? No way to know for sure. But she couldn’t take the risk. If her idea for a one-stop shop for indie writers had any chance of success, getting fired by the first author she’d ever worked with wasn’t the smartest career move. Even if the reason for that firing had nothing to do with the quality of her work.

There was a tiny part of her, though, that was also relieved.
Not that she’d ever admit it. But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Max since the day they’d bumped into each other at the market. She didn’t know if it was because she was single again after so many years of marriage, or because she’d gone so long without sex, or because she couldn’t resist being the object of such focused male attention. The fact remained, she had the hots for Max, and his strong-arm tactics provided her the excuse she needed to give in to that attraction.

The key was to keep things in perspective.
She wasn’t angling for another husband, nor did she need a replacement father for her son. She was an independent woman, and determined to remain that way. Besides, Max was the archetypal commitment-phobe. She had only to look at the long string of women who littered his wake to know that this was not a man interested in long term relationships.

Men had been compartmentalizing sex for millennia.
No reason Eva couldn’t do the same. Short, hot, and purely physical—that was the way to go.

Whatever Max had in mind for the evening, Eva had no doubt about how the night would end. She took a deep breath and turned up the air conditioning.

###

Eva’s mother enveloped her in a lavender-scented hug before turning her attention to Ben.

“I’m making some
brownies. You want to help?”

He dumped his backpack
on the floor and grinned. “Do I get to lick the bowl?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Grandma!”

“Fine,” she laughed.
“Go wash your hands first.”

Eva trailed her mother into the kitchen.
It was a large, sun-filled room with rustic Mediterranean tile, distressed cupboards, gleaming pots suspended from a massive overhead copper rack, and a ton of memories.

The big butcher-block central island was where Eva learned to bake, helping her mother roll out home-made crusts for the pies that they delivered every Thanksgiving to a nearby nursing home.
Beside the door from the kitchen to the laundry room, the wall still bore faint traces of the color-coded lines that marked Eva and her sister’s height each year. It was here, at the built-in breakfast nook overlooking a half-acre of landscaped grounds out back, that Eva cried over her first real breakup, with her mother supplying the tissues and her stepfather hovering awkwardly in the background. And here that she sought refuge during some of the darkest days of Roger’s illness, forgetting for a few hours what awaited her at home, while her mother plied her with chocolate and her stepfather shot hoops with Ben.

They would have done more, if she’d let them.
But her independent streak, the same one that made her ignore their initial reservations about Roger when she’d first started dating him, wouldn’t allow her to slink back to her childhood home, son and suitcases in hand. Too much pride, even after Roger’s death, to admit that she’d failed. What bothered her more than the fact that he’d let her down was that she’d let herself down. She was the one who’d chosen to give up a promising career for marriage. And now, with her husband gone, and their marriage revealed for the mockery it had become, Eva found herself scrambling to play catchup.

She hadn’t told her parents the worst of it.
The infidelities, the gnawing fear of what Roger might have brought home and passed along to her from all those anonymous encounters—a worry laid to rest only a few days ago, with an all-clear from her gynecologist.

They did know about the financial and legal problems following Roger’s death.
After much arguing, her sister finally convinced Eva to come clean on that score. True to form, Eva’s parents wanted to swoop in to the rescue, gathering Eva and Ben back into the family fold. She’d resisted. Her mess, she reasoned, her responsibility.

The one thing she did welcome, besides their unflagging moral support, was their willingness to help with childcare.
Last summer, while Eva accompanied Roger to his daily radiation treatments, her mother drove Ben to and from camp. These days, Eva brought Ben to his grandparents’ house every other weekend. He looked forward to these Saturday night sleepovers, when he got to stay up late and watch movies on Netflix, with popcorn that he and his grandma made on the stove.

“Ready,” Ben announced, skidding to a stop and holding his hands up for inspection.

“Then let’s get started.”

Eva sat back and watched her mother guide Ben through the
measuring and mixing, then spreading of the batter in a greased pan.

“How long until
it’s ready?” he asked.

“About half an hour.”

He swiped a finger through the remains of batter inside the bowl and licked his finger clean. “Then we can have some?”

“The
y still have to cool after that. So dinner first.”

“Aw, Grandma.”

“You know the rules,” Eva said.

“Yeah, but…”

Eva’s stepfather joined them, greeting Eva with a kiss on the cheek and Ben with an enthusiastic hug.

Ben promptly forgot about the brownies.
“Guess what, Grandpa! I have my belt test tomorrow!”

“Congratulations.
Are you ready?”

“Oh, yeah.
I’ve been practicing.” He danced backwards on his toes, tugging his grandfather out of the room. “Wanna see how I can get out of a headlock?”

Eva smiled as their voices faded.

“It’s good to see him so fired up about something,” her mother said.

Eva nodded.
“He’s doing better.”

“And you?”

Eva started cleaning up in a bid to escape her mother’s discerning gaze. “I’m fine,” she said. “I was going to bring some chocolate cake today, but I guess it’s a good thing I forgot. I’ll bring it next time. You remember Ian, my friend who’s a pastry chef? He has this to die for new recipe with dark chocolate layers and chocolate ganache filling. You’ll love it.”

“Sounds lovely.
You helped him with marketing a while back, didn’t you?”

“When he first opened his café.
And now he’s expanding, so I redid a bunch of stuff for him. For pay, this time.”

“That’s great.
I’m sure he’ll spread the word about what terrific work you do, and before you know it you’ll be so busy you’ll have to turn business away.”

This was what Eva loved about her mother, the unbridled optimism with which she viewed the world.
And the staunch, unquestioning support she always showed her family. “I hope so. And in the meantime, I’m working on another project.”

She outlined her ideas about a virtual one-stop shop for indie authors, while her mother gathered fresh ingredients from the fridge.

“Did you say you already have a client?”

“Sort of.”
Eva hesitated. “You know my friend Nina?”

“The realtor?”

“Yes. It’s her brother.”

“Oh, that’s nice.
What does he write?”

“Medical thrillers.
This will be his first book.”

“Would you
mind setting the table, sweetheart? I’m making stir-fry.”

Eva started pulling out plates and silverware.
“None for me. I need to head back soon.”

“Are y
ou sure? I bought Sriracha just for you.”

“Next time, I promise.”
She saw the curiosity in her mother’s expression, and barely stifled the impulse to share her anxieties over the situation with Max. What stopped her was the realization that she didn’t want anyone talking her out of what she was planning to do. She
wanted
to sleep with Max. She wanted to feel those large hands exploring her skin, that hot mouth devouring her lips, that hard body pressing her against the sheets. She flushed and cleared her throat. “I’ll pick up Ben tomorrow morning at nine.”

After a beat of silence, her mother said, “We can take Ben to his karate class, if you want.”

“Thanks, Mom, but that won’t be necessary.” She smiled to soften the refusal. Having sex with the man was one thing. Spending the night with him was something else entirely. No point dressing it up in fancy clothes. If men could separate the physical act from its emotional baggage, why couldn’t she do the same? When you got right down to it, sex was just another biologic urge, like eating, or emptying your bladder.

“If you’re sure…?”

Eva nodded. “Positive.”