Helen Myers - The Surprise of Her Life

“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 would spot her—unless she ducked behind one of the bigger SUVs or pickup trucks. She was feeling very much the coward this morning, but she wasn’t that far gone. Besides, with her luck, someone in another apartment was likely to emerge and ask her what she thought she was doing?

Hoping that Derek was preoccupied and wouldn’t look her way, she pulled her hood over her head, tucked her hands into her pockets and kept her head down, once again focusing on where she stepped. She was halfway home when she came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t remember her jacket from last night. Men didn’t pay attention to women’s clothing, unless it was skin tight or fastened by string.

“Good morning!”

What part of FBI agent don’t you get, Easton? He’s not Wes who, if he wasn’t wearing his contacts, could pass you in your own house and not see you .

Eve stopped and pushed back her hood to find that he’d circled the side way and was almost upon her. He’d remembered his sunglasses and they gave him an air of mystery.

“Hi,” Derek said, coming to a halt not two feet away. He slid his glasses up onto his head.

“Hey.” She immediately cleared her throat because she sounded like she’d been sucking helium out of a balloon.

“Getting rid of some evidence I should know about?”

He posed the question with mock sternness, but as he nodded toward the Dumpster, she saw the smile in his eyes, even though he was squinting. He was dressed in jeans, a russet suede shirt and a black leather bomber jacket that made him every bit as appealing as he’d been in his business suit last night. Despite having wanted to avoid further contact with him, Eve couldn’t deny that he triggered inner turmoil within her, and she was glad that he was in a playful mood.

“What’s left of my counterfeiting operation,” she countered, pretending pride in her crime. “What I couldn’t sell online. Don’t bother looking for prints. I wiped everything clean before I bagged it.”

“Damn. There goes my hopes for making an arrest and getting to frisk you.”

“But we’ll always have last night.” As soon as the words were out, Eve regretted them. She hadn’t meant to send him the wrong signal, he just made it too tempting to play along. “Nice jacket,” she added quickly. “It looks vintage.”

He inclined his head in thanks. “It is. My father had his grandfather’s bomber jacket and I always admired it. Sadly, it didn’t hold up well. I found this one on craigs-list and couldn’t resist.”

“You had flyers in your family?”

“Navy, yes.”

“Do you fly?”

“No, the bug bypassed me. I try to keep both feet on the ground—or in the water if the opportunity comes up.” His expression turned quizzical. “I thought you’d be long gone back up the mountain to resume help with the cleanup?”

Eve shook her head. She wasn’t about to make herself available to Rae for another interrogation, no matter how conscientious she was to help out. “But you’re obviously off to somewhere. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Poker with some cronies,” he said, with a shrug. “I’ve reached my saturation point for reading reports and catching up on paperwork.”

Eve felt a wave of nostalgia and envy. “That’s what my family will do after dinner. Well, cards and dominoes. My grandparents insisted that even we kids learn. It guaranteed that they’d never run short of players.”

“I’ll bet you’re pretty good—except at the poker face.”

Wrinkling her nose, she admitted, “You’ll be astonished to learn that you’re not the first person to have said that.”

“I’d invite you to come along, but it’s stag. I wouldn’t subject your tender ears to that.”

“I’m sure I’m no match to you high rollers anyway.” She took a step to signal her retreat, only to remember something. “D.A. Maines—is he okay? His house?”

“Fine. Perfect. The neighbor’s place has damage, but it’s limited to two rooms.” Derek’s gaze grew concerned. “Are you catching a cold? Your voice sounds different and your nose is getting pinker by the second.”

She should never have mentioned her family; the tears she’d been fighting after calling home were threatening again. “Probably allergies from the dust while taking down Christmas stuff. But just in case, I better keep my distance and not contaminate you.” She took another backward step. “Good luck.”

“Take care of you .”

Eve waved her appreciation for his concern and cut a brisk about-face to increase her pace back to her apartment. Her mood sank with each step as she processed what he’d told her.

He had friends, a life, things to do. How silly and egotistical to hide indoors believing he’d been lying in wait for her!

Note to self—he’s out of your league! Get back to doing what you came up here to do .

“Eve! Will you come in here please?”

Rae had only been in the office a few minutes before that sharp command came. It sent the other five people in the outer room trying to hide behind their laptops. Sitting at a desk that faced the others in their lobby office, Eve gave up on the call she’d been repeatedly attempting without success since arriving two hours ago. A consistent busy signal at a florist the day after New Year’s was an attention-getter. It should be their quiet time, so either someone big had died, or there had been a number of passings over the holiday.

“On my way,” she called back. Wryly noting the other ladies’ reactions, she grabbed her notebook and daily planner, and hurried into Rae’s resplendent copper-and-leopard-skin-wallpapered office and closed the door behind her. “The troops want to know if you need sweetener in your coffee?”

“I’m not being witchy, I’m legitimately upset. Where are the brochures for the historical building fundraiser that were promised first thing this morning? I was going to take some to the luncheon—a good idea, n’est-ce pas? And who decided mud brown napkins were a good color for a formal event?” She pushed the offending item across her desk with her pen as though afraid the color would come off and stain her designer winter-white suit.

Eve recognized the napkin and realized that was a possibility. “Oui, il est si,” she replied obediently, knowing Rae’s penchant for constant self-improvement. But she had the French, Is it not so? Yes, it is so down pat. What she wanted was for something to go smoothly this morning. They were starting January seriously behind. “Lisa expedited the brochures the minute she arrived. We know they’re on the freight carrier’s truck for delivery today. The time is anyone’s guess. I knew Honor had put a report on your desk, but I didn’t realize she’d put a napkin in there, too. I’m guessing that since The Garden Show does include dirt, she thought the City of Denver booth should use a color that was a thematic match. I’m sure when she found that big box of them in the storage room, she also thought she was doing you a huge favor and saving the firm money.” The city planned on serving herbal tea to visitors at the February show, as they handed out maps of the city’s parks.