Читать книгу Beyond Business - Elizabeth Harbison, Allison Leigh - Страница 15

Once Lenny Doss was gone, Evan and Meredith looked at each other and smiled with triumph.

“That was brilliant,” Evan said, reaching for what had to be a warm beer by now. He took a gulp and set it down on the table with a bang. “Acting like at the last minute you were uncertain of the wisdom of hiring him?” He smiled, and his smile melted her heart. Or her libido. Or something deep inside her. “That, Ms. Waters, was genius. Pure genius.”

She took just a fraction of a moment to bask in his praise before saying, “I didn’t mean to do that.” Why was she confessing? Evan was impressed with her performance. She’d made a Hanson executive feel she was doing a good job. Why blow it by admitting it had almost ruined everything by a misstep? “But I’m glad it worked out.”

“We make a good team,” Evan said, still smiling at her. His eyes met hers and his smile faded slightly at the corners. “We always did,” he added earnestly.

It would have been easy for her to come up with a smart-aleck retort but they’d fought about the past enough already. It was foolish of her to keep holding on to that when it was so long ago. She’d lived through it, grown up, finished her education, gotten a life. It wasn’t the end of her life and she shouldn’t act as if it was.

“That is assuming Lenny Doss is a good acquisition,” she pointed out. “We may have just put a nail in Hanson Media Group’s coffin.”

Evan shook his head. “No way. Your instincts told you the same thing mine told me—this guy’s a blowhard, but he’s a blowhard with an audience. And he wants to keep his job this time.” He finished his beer and put the bottle down with a hollow clatter. “Do you want anything else?” he asked, gesturing at her half-consumed wine.

“No, thanks.”

It was clear he was wrapping the meeting up, and that gave Meredith a strange feeling of disappointment. She watched him gesture toward the waitress and indicate he wanted the bill.

Meredith sat back in her chair, a little unsure what to do with herself. Part of her wanted to stay with him for just a few more minutes, looking at that handsome face by the flattering light in the restaurant, but logic finally prevailed. “I’d better get going,” she said, standing up and picking up her purse.

“Got a date?” Evan asked uneasily.

She smiled, without committing. “I just need to get some sleep, Evan.”

“Alone?” That half smile was on his face, making her wonder if he actually cared a little or not at all.

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Take it however you want,” she said, trying to sound flip but failing miserably.

“Then how about I at least walk you to your car?” he suggested.

By then they were both standing, and he put his hand on her elbow to guide her out of the restaurant.

It would have been difficult for her to deny him that, since all he was asking was to take her to the car. It wasn’t as if she could claim that an escort would slow her down so much she’d miss out on her imaginary date.

“Fine,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Look,” Evan said, as they walked outside into the muggy summer air. Navy Pier was alive with activity, and high above them the clear night sky shone with diamondlike stars. “I know this isn’t the ideal situation for you, working with me. And, truthfully, I never thought I’d be back here at all, much less asking you to help me save the company. Nevertheless, I think we did a good job together tonight. Maybe Helen was on to something when she asked you to work with me.”

Meredith took a short breath inward. “Do you think she knew about our history? Did you tell her anything?”

Evan scoffed. “I hadn’t talked to my father since—” he hesitated “—well, since I left, all those years ago. And probably not for a couple of weeks before that. I definitely didn’t talk to Helen. Hell, she didn’t show up until after I was gone.”

That was true. All of Meredith’s research confirmed that. Evan was merely a family member, called in at the last moment to try to salvage a company that wasn’t entirely salvageable.

At least, not under its current administration.

“Do you think it was to her advantage or her disadvantage that you and I were … previously acquainted?” she couldn’t resist asking. But she shouldn’t have asked. She knew that from years ago: never ask a question you’re not willing to hear the honest answer to.

Evan looked at her, considering. His brown eyes were warm, like melted chocolate, and Meredith figured it was the result of the beer he’d had rather than his proximity to her. “I think it was to her advantage,” he said at last. “Our advantage, the entire company,” he clarified. “You and I have a certain shorthand between us, I think. It helps in a situation like tonight’s.”

“Shorthand?” she repeated dumbly, though she thought she knew what he meant.

“We understand each other.” He must have seen something in her that resisted that idea because he added, “Just a little bit. A little better than strangers would, anyway.”

Meredith wasn’t ready to agree with any of this, so instead she just let out a long sigh and said, “Maybe. I guess whatever works, we shouldn’t justify it one way or the other.”

Evan appeared taken aback by this, but after just a fraction of a moment, he nodded. “Yup, whatever works.”

They were outside the restaurant now, close enough to hear the raucous music inside, yet far enough to feel distance from the merriment it brought most of the patrons.

Meredith turned her most confident smile on Evan. “I can get to my car myself,” she said. “But thanks for thinking to walk me out, I really appre—”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence before a small, thin man—maybe a teenager—rushed past her like a cartoon villain, grabbing her purse and yanking it off her arm with such force that she actually fell to the ground.

“Meredith!” Evan was at her side in a moment. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but—” she panted “—he took my bag. My license, credit cards …” The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. “He has my address.”

“Wait here,” Evan instructed, immediately on guard. “Or go back in the restaurant. I’ll come back and find you.”

“No, Evan, don’t try to catch him,” Meredith objected. “He might have friends, accomplices—”

“I don’t care if he’s got Tony Soprano himself waiting in the wings, he’s not getting away with this.”

Before she could object—and she was ready to—he had taken off, running like a thoroughbred into the night, so fast that she only saw him for a moment before he literally disappeared into the darkness.

Evan Hanson had failed her before, back when it really mattered, but now—at a time when she was at war with her memories—suddenly he was a knight in shining armor.

As soon as he was back safely and she could stop worrying that he was going to get hurt, she’d have to figure out what to think about that.

And whether she wanted to do anything about it.

It was a cheap shot.

Evan almost had him, his hand was just inches away from at least grabbing Meredith’s purse back, if not actually clobbering the guy who took it, but apparently the mugger had an accomplice waiting for him. As he approached an alleyway he shouted something that sounded like “Yo, Carmen!” and another guy—much bigger than the first—stepped out of the shadows and sank his fist into Evan’s cheekbone.

The impact stunned Evan, and he was pretty sure that for a few minutes he looked like a cartoon character, wobbling around, disoriented.

Then the guy grabbed him by the shirt—Evan heard a loud rip—and head-butted him just for good measure.

By the time he righted himself, the two assailants were long gone.

His pride might as well have been in Meredith’s stolen purse as he went back to where she still stood, wringing her hands and waiting for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding his arms out to the side as he approached her. “They got away.”

“They?”

Evan nodded as he approached. “Our pal had a friend waiting for him back by some trash dumpsters behind Melville’s.”

She looked at him in horror. “Oh, Evan—”

“The guy got me when I wasn’t looking,” he said, shaking his head. “Turns out I’m not as young or as fast as I used to be.” In truth the shock on her face made him feel that much more ashamed. He should have been able to overtake one guy and get her bag back. “I’m sorry, Meredith.”

Her eyes were still wide. “We’ve got to get you cleaned up, quick.”

“Nah.” He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a ripped shirt.” He looked down, expecting to see his shirt torn open to the navel, but instead he saw his light-blue shirt had a large dark stain down the front.

Blood.

Reflexively he lifted his hand to his cheek. As soon as he did, he felt the wide gash and the slick, warm, sticky blood running from it.

That was when it really started to hurt.

He swore under his breath.

“You can say that again,” Meredith said, moving toward him and hooking her arm through his. “My car’s just in the lot over there. Do you think you can make it?”

Her touch felt nice on him, and part of him really wanted to go with her, but it wasn’t necessary. “My car’s just a couple of blocks away,” he said. “I can get to it, don’t worry.”

“You are not driving yourself,” Meredith said firmly.

“Well, I’m not bleeding all over your car.”

“I’ve got tissues in my glove box.”

Evan laughed. “That ought to take care of it.”

Meredith gave him a stern look. “It will until we get you to the hospital.”

“Oh, no. No way. I’m not going to the hospital. This is just—” he touched his cheek again and winced at the pain “—it’s just a flesh wound. By tomorrow it will be invisible.”

Meredith snorted and pushed him along toward her car. “Yeah, because it will probably be under more bandages than Boris Karloff had in The Mummy.”

“That was Brendan Fraser,” Evan joked.

“No, I mean the original, and anyway, Brendan Fraser wasn’t the mummy in that movie, he was—” She stopped, seeing the look on his face. “Okay, you got me.”

“You’re so easy.”

She halted in front of a small green Japanese economy car. “Yeah, well, you’ll be sorry when I clean that gaping wound up with hydrogen peroxide. I may need to go over it a couple of times, just to be sure, you understand.”

He groaned and got into the passenger seat where she’d pretty much pushed him. “I understand.”

She shut the door and hurried over to the driver’s side, her quick steps betraying her nervousness at the whole situation. Blood. Wounds. It was horrible.

“Evan, I really think we should go to the emergency room. That looks like it might need stitches.”

He shook his aching head. “No, Meredith. I’m not going to wait in some overcrowded waiting room all night for treatment I could give myself.”

She started the car and drove to the intersection with the main road. “Where do you live?”

It was a question he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Evan?” she prompted, when several seconds had passed and he hadn’t answered yet.

How could he tell her he was sleeping in his office without sounding like a pitiful loser? Even though it made perfect sense to him because he wasn’t sure he’d be sticking around long and he didn’t want to commit to a yearlong lease of an apartment or condo when he might be gone in a month, saying the truth right out loud to Meredith was embarrassing at best.

But there was no way around it without sounding as if he didn’t want her to know where he lived.

Which, of course, he didn’t.

“If you drop me on the next corner I can just take the El.”

Meredith slowed the car and turned to look at him, her left eyebrow raised. “You want me to drop you off so you, looking like that—” she made a point of looking him over “—can simply get on public transportation, frightening old ladies and small children and possibly passing out and spending the night riding aimlessly from station to station until you finally bleed to death.”

He gave a half smile. “You make that sound like it’s a bad idea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Evan, pony up. What’s the address?”

He hesitated a moment, then gave it.

She started to drive, then stopped, pulled the car over and put the transmission in park. “That’s the office.”

He nodded. “That’s true.”

“Are you trying to avoid telling me where you live, for some reason?”

He shook his head. “No, I was trying to avoid telling you where I live, for the simple reason that I know it sounds odd, but now you’ve forced it out of me.”

“You live at the office.”

“At the moment, yes.”

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t I look serious?”

“You look frightening.”

He gave a concessionary nod. “That’s serious.”

She gripped the wheel and looked straight ahead without moving. Finally she said, “I’m going to have to take you to my house.”

Evan gave a laugh. “You are taking this way, way too seriously. Look, just take me back to the office. I’ll go clean up, slap a bandage on and be fine. Honestly, Mer, I’ve been in worse condition than this before. I know what I’m talking about.”

Something passed between them. Whether it was surprise at his use of the old nickname, Mer, or horror at having to deal with such an indelicate situation, or simply irritation at realizing how many calls she was going to have to make to cancel credit cards, checks and so on, Evan wasn’t sure.

But it sure felt. familiar.

“Evan,” she said. “I think I can actually see your cheekbone through that cut.”

“Oh, come on.”

“God knows what I’ll see in good light.” She took a short breath, put the car back in gear and merged into the traffic on Lake Shore Drive. “We can clean you up at my place,” she said. “If it still looks as awful as I think it’s going to, I’m going to make you go to the hospital.”

He knew it wouldn’t, so it was an easy thing to agree to. “Fair enough.”

“Okay.” She drove on, and he watched her from his convenient vantage point beside her. She had to keep her eyes on the road, so he could study her profile as closely as he wanted, for as long as he wanted.

So he did.

“What are you looking at?” she asked almost immediately, glancing sideways at him.

“You,” he answered softly.

“I know that. Why?”

He shifted his weight in the seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Why do you think? Because I used to know your face better than I knew my own and seeing it again after all these years is fascinating.”

She shook her head. “The aging process in action.”

“You’re not aging, you’re maturing—”

She scoffed.

“Now, wait a minute, you didn’t let me finish. You’ve matured from a cute girl into a really beautiful woman,” he said, meaning every single word of it.

In fact, he meant it more than he could say. And the realization of what he’d missed the past twelve years hit him fully, like a blow to the gut. He should have been with her through all the changes. He should have been the shoulder she cried on when her father died; he should have seen her blow out the candles on her twenty-first birthday cake; he should have been the one to put those first faint smile lines around her eyes.

There was so much he should have done for her. And with her.

So much that could never be regained.

“You’re a really, seriously beautiful woman, Meredith,” he found himself saying. “In every way.”

Even in the dark of the car, he could tell her pale Irish skin had pinkened several shades. She tipped her head down—a gesture he’d seen her make a thousand times—so her veil of chestnut hair hid her face, at least from where he was sitting now.

“I don’t know what to say, Evan.”

“It’s a pretty standard compliment,” he said. “‘Thanks’ would do. Or nothing. Nothing would do, too.”

She gave a half laugh. “Thanks.”

He smiled to himself. A few weeks ago, he’d had no idea he’d ever see Meredith Waters again. Then, when he first did, their interaction had filled him with dread and residual adolescent awkwardness.

But tonight something had changed.

Or maybe something had clicked into place.

Because until he’d gotten punched in the face, he’d thought he and Meredith were going to be these strange semiacquainted former lovers—until he left and she would thank the good Lord he was finally gone.

Now … it was hard to describe. But now he felt like something inside him was complete again.

Evan stayed lost in his thoughts as they drove through the familiar-yet-unfamiliar streets of his childhood. It was odd, but he still knew the timing exactly. Left on Travilia Road, left again onto Denton, bear right onto Farm Ridge, then turn left onto.

Village Crest Avenue.

Was he hallucinating?

“Meredith, where are you going?” he asked, feeling the beginnings of alarm in his chest.

“My house.”

Well, yeah. Her house. Sure. He’d been there hundreds of times. He’d known the answer even before he asked the question. But the thing was, he knew it wasn’t her house anymore. She’d grown up, graduated from high school, graduated from college, moved on with her life.

So clearly, either she meant something else or he was dreaming.

For a crazy second he actually wondered what year it was. The song on the radio was an old one, so that didn’t help. The houses, well, they all looked the same. So that didn’t help, either.

“Who’s the president?” he asked stupidly.

“The president of what?”

“The United States?”

“What?”

He swallowed. It was a dumb question. He wasn’t time traveling. She was just driving to her parents’ house for some reason that would make sense in a few minutes.

Maybe she was driving him there because she didn’t want him to know where she really lived. Or maybe she felt as if she needed help. Hell, she might have just been afraid to be alone with him. The way he probably looked, he couldn’t blame her.

But now she was looking at him with something more than concern. “Okay, that’s it, we need to go to the hospital now. I think you have a concussion.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately, though of course he couldn’t be sure.

“Then you’re crazy and in need of psychiatric help. Evan, you’re asking me who the president is!”

“I know, I was kidding. Sort of. It’s just that I could swear you’re driving me to …” He didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. She’d pulled up right in front of it.

Her parents’ house.

Looking exactly as it had the last time he’d seen it, twelve and a half years ago.

Prom night.

The night he’d left Chicago and the girl of his heart, and thought it was for good.