Читать книгу The One That Got Away - Kelly Hunter - Страница 7

‘YOU could marry me,’ said Max Carmichael as he stared at the civic centre drawings on Evie’s drawing table. The drawings were his, and very fine they were indeed. The calculations and costings were Evie’s doing, and those costings were higher—far higher—than anything she’d ever worked on before.

Evie stopped chewing over the financials long enough to spare her business partner of six years a glance. Max was an architect, and a visionary one at that. Evie was the engineer—wet blanket to Max’s more fanciful notions. Put them together and good things happened.

Though not always. ‘Are you talking to me?’

‘Yes, I’m talking to you,’ said Max with what he clearly thought was the patience of a saint. ‘I need access to my trust fund. To get access to my trust fund I either have to turn thirty or get married. I don’t turn thirty for another two years.’

‘I have two questions for you, Max. Why me and why now?’

‘The “why you” question is easy: (a), I don’t love you and you don’t love me—’

Evie studied him through narrowed eyes.

‘—which will make divorcing you in two years’ time a lot easier. And (b), It’s in MEP’s best interest that you marry me.’ MEP stood for Max and Evangeline Partnership, the construction company they’d formed six years ago. ‘We’re going to need deep pockets for this one, Evie.’ Max tapped the plans spread out before them.

She’d been telling him this for the past week. The civic centre build was a gem of a project and Max’s latest obsession. High-profile, progressive design brief, reputation-enhancing. But the project was situated on the waterfront, which meant pier drilling and extensive foundation work, and MEP would have to foot the bills until the first payment at the end of stage one. ‘This job’s too big for us, Max.’

‘You’re thinking too small.’

‘I’m thinking within our means.’ They were a small and nimble company with a permanent staff of six, a reliable pool of good subcontractors, and the business was on solid financial footing. If they landed the civic centre job they’d need to expand the business in every respect. If they got caught with a cash-flow problem, they’d be bankrupt within months. ‘We need ten million dollars cash in reserve in order to take on this project, Max. I keep telling you that.’

‘Marry me and we’ll have it.’

Evie blinked.

‘Shut your mouth, Evie,’ murmured Max, and Evie brought her teeth together with a snap.

And opened them again just as quickly. ‘You have a ten-million-dollar trust fund?’

‘Fifty.’

‘Fif—And you never thought to mention it?’

‘Yeah, well, it seemed a long way off.’

He didn’t look like a fifty-million-dollar man. Tall, rangy frame, brown eyes and hair, casual dresser, hard worker. Excellent architect. ‘Why do you even need to work?’

‘I like to work. I want this project, Evie,’ he said with understated intensity. ‘I don’t want to wait ten years for us to build the resources to take on a project this size. This is the one.’

‘Maybe,’ she said cautiously. ‘But we started this business as equal partners. What happens when you drop ten million dollars into kitty and I put in none?’

‘We treat it as a loan. The money goes in at the beginning of the job, buffers us against the unexpected and comes out again at the end. And we’d need a pre-nup.’

‘Oh, the romance of it all,’ she murmured dryly.

‘So you’ll think about it?’

‘The money or the marriage?’

‘I’ve found that it helps a great deal to think about them together,’ said Max. ‘What are you doing Friday?’

‘I am not marrying you on Friday,’ said Evie.

‘Of course not,’ said Max. ‘We have to wait for the paperwork. I was thinking I could take my fiancée home to Melbourne to meet my mother on Friday. We stay a couple of nights, put on a happy show, return Sunday and get married some time next week. It’s a good solution, Evie. I’ve thought about it a lot.’

‘Yeah, well, I haven’t thought about it at all.’

‘Take all day,’ said Max. ‘Take two.’

Evie just looked at him.

‘Okay, three.’

It took them a week to work through all the ramifications, but eventually Evie said yes. There were provisos, of course. They only went through with the wedding if MEP’s tender for the civic centre was looking good. The marriage would end when Max turned thirty. They’d have to share a house but there would be no sharing of beds. And no sex with anyone else either.

Max had balked at that last stipulation.

Discretion regarding others had been his counter offer. Two years was a long time, he’d argued. She didn’t want him all tense and surly for the next two years, did she?

Evie did not, but the role of betrayed wife held little appeal.

Eventually they had settled on extreme discretion regarding others, with a two-hundred-thousand-dollar penalty clause for the innocent party every time an extramarital affair became public.

‘If I were a cunning woman, I’d employ a handful of women to throw themselves at you to the point where you couldn’t resist,’ said Evie as they headed down to Circular Quay for lunch.

‘If you were that cunning I wouldn’t be marrying you,’ said Max as they stepped from the shadow of a Sydney skyscraper into a sunny summer’s day. ‘What do you want for lunch? Seafood?’

‘Yep. You don’t look like a man who’s about to inherit fifty million dollars, by the way.’

‘How about now?’ Max stopped, lifted his chin, narrowed his eyes and stared at the nearest skyscraper as if he were considering taking ownership of it.

‘It’d help if your work boots weren’t a hundred years old,’ she said gravely.

‘They’re comfortable.’

‘And your watch didn’t come from the two-dollar shop.’

‘It still tells the time. You know, you and my mother are going to get on just fine,’ said Max. ‘That’s a useful quality in a wife.’

‘If you say so.’

‘Dear,’ said Max. ‘If you say so, dear.’

‘Oh, you poor, deluded man.’

Max grinned and stopped mid pavement. He drew Evie to his side, held his phone out at arm’s length and took a picture.

‘Tell me about your family, again,’ she said.

‘Mother. Older brother. Assorted relatives. You’ll be meeting them soon enough.’

She’d be meeting his mother this weekend; it was all arranged. Max showed her the photo he’d just taken. ‘What do you reckon? Tell her now?’

‘Yes.’ They’d had this discussion before. ‘Now would be good.’

Max returned his attention to the phone, texting some kind of message to go with the photo. ‘Done,’ he muttered. ‘Now I feel woozy.’

‘Probably hunger,’ said Evie.

‘Don’t you feel woozy?’

‘Not yet. For that to happen there would need to be champagne.’

So when they got to the restaurant and ordered the seafood platter for lunch, Max also ordered champagne, and they toasted the business, the civic centre project and finally themselves.

‘How come it doesn’t bother you?’ asked Max, when the food was gone and the first bottle of champagne had been replaced by another. ‘Marrying for mercenary reasons?’

‘With my family history?’ she said. ‘It’s perfectly normal.’ Her father was on his fifth wife in as many decades; her mother was on her third husband. She could count the love matches on one finger.

‘Haven’t you ever been in love?’ he asked.

‘Have you?’ Evie countered.

‘Not yet,’ said Max as he signed for the meal, and his answer fitted him well enough. Max went through girlfriends aplenty. Most of them were lovely. None of them lasted longer than a couple of months.

‘I was in love once,’ said Evie as she stood and came to the rapid realisation that she wasn’t wholly sober any more. ‘Best week of my life.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Tall, dark and perfect. He ruined me for all other men.’

‘Bastard.’

‘That too,’ said Evie with a wistful sigh. ‘I was very young. He was very experienced. Worst week of my life.’

‘You said best.’

‘It was both,’ she said with solemn gravity, and then went and spoiled it with a sloppy sucker’s grin. ‘Let’s just call it memorable. Did I mention that he ruined me for all other men?’

‘Yes.’ Max put his hand to her elbow to steady her and steered her towards the stairs and guided her down them, one by one, until they stood on the pavement outside. ‘You’re tipsy.’

‘You’re right.’

‘How about we find a taxi and get you home? I promise to see you inside, pour you a glass of water, find your aspirin and then find my way home. Don’t say I’m not a good fiancé.’

‘Vitamin B,’ said Evie. ‘Find that too.’

Max’s phone beeped and he looked at it and grinned. ‘Logan wants to know if you’re pregnant.’

‘Who’s Logan?’ Even the name was enough to cut through her foggy senses and give her pause. The devil’s name had been Logan too. Logan Black.

‘Logan’s my brother. He’s got a very weird sense of humour.’

‘I hate him already.’

‘I’ll tell him no,’ said Max cheerfully.

Minutes later, Max’s phone beeped again. ‘He says congratulations.’

It couldn’t be her. Logan looked at the image on his phone again, at the photo Max had just sent through. Max looked happy, his wide grin and the smile in his eyes telegraphing a pleasurable moment in time. But it was the face of the bride-to-be that held and kept Logan’s attention. The glossy fall of raven-black hair and the almond-shaped eyes—the tilt of them and the burnt-butter colour. She reminded him of another woman … a woman he’d worked hellishly hard to forget.

It wasn’t the same woman, of course. Max’s fiancée was far more angular of face and her eyes weren’t quite the right shade of brown. Her mouth was more sculpted, less vulnerable … but they were of a type. A little bit fey. A whole lot of beautiful.

Entirely capable of stealing a man’s mind.

Logan hadn’t even known that Max was in a serious relationship, though, with the way Max’s trust was set up and Max’s recent desire to get his hands on it, he should have suspected that matrimony would be his younger half-brother’s next move.

Evie, Max had called her. Pretty name.

The woman he’d known had been called Angie.

Evie. Angie. Evangeline? What were the odds?

Logan studied the photo again, wishing the background weren’t so bright and their faces weren’t quite so shadowed. The woman he’d known as Angie had spent the best part of a week with him. In bed, on their way to bed, in the shower after getting out of bed … She’d been young. Curious. Frighteningly uninhibited. There’d been role play. Bondage play. Too much play, and he’d instigated most of it. Crazy days and sweat-slicked nights and the stripping back of his self-control until there’d been barely enough left to walk away.

At a dead run.

He’d been twenty-five at the time, he was thirty-six now and he doubted he’d fare any better with Angie now than he had all those years ago.

He squinted. Looked at the photo again. Could it be Angie? They were very long odds. He’d never kept in contact with her; had no idea where she was in the world or what she was doing now.

No, he decided for the second time in as many minutes. It wasn’t her. It couldn’t be her.

‘She pregnant?’ he texted his brother.

‘Hell, no,’ came Max’s all-caps reply, and Logan grinned and sent through his all-caps congratulations. And then deleted the picture so that he wouldn’t keep staring at it and wondering what Angie—his Angie—would look like now.

Evangeline Jones felt decidedly nervous as Max helped her out of the taxi and followed her up the garden path to his mother’s front door. It was one thing to agree to a marriage of convenience. It was another thing altogether to play the love-smitten fiancée in front of Max’s family.

‘Whose idea was this?’ she muttered to Max as she stared at the elegant two-storey Victorian in front of them. ‘And why did I ever imagine it was a good one?’

‘Relax,’ said Max. ‘Even if my mother doesn’t believe we’re marrying for love, she won’t mention it.’

‘Maybe not to you,’ said Evie, and then the door opened, and an elegantly dressed woman opened her arms and Max stepped into them.

Max’s mother was everything a wealthy Toorak widow should be. Coiffed to perfection, her grey-blonde hair was swept up in an elegant roll and her make-up made her look ten years younger than she was. Her perfume was subtle, her jewellery exquisite. Her hands were warm and dry and her kisses were airy as she greeted Evie and then retreated a step to study her like a specimen under glass.

‘Welcome to the family, Evangeline,’ said Caroline, and there was no censure in that controlled and cultured voice. ‘Max has spoken of you often over the years, though I don’t believe we’ve ever met.’

‘Different cities,’ said Evie awkwardly. ‘Please, call me Evie. Max has mentioned you too.’

‘All good, I hope.’

‘Always,’ said Evie and Max together.

Points for harmony.

In truth, in the six years she’d known him, Max had barely mentioned his mother other than to say she’d never been the maternal type and that she set exceptionally high standards for everything; be it a manicure or the behaviour of her husbands or her sons.

‘No engagement ring?’ queried Caroline with the lift of an elegant eyebrow.

‘Ah, no,’ said Evie. ‘Not yet. There was so much choice I, ah … couldn’t decide.’

‘Indeed,’ said Caroline, before turning to Max. ‘I can, of course, make an appointment for you with my jeweller this afternoon. I’m sure he’ll have something more than suitable. That way Evie will have a ring on her finger when she attends the cocktail party I’m hosting for the pair of you tonight.’

‘You didn’t have to fuss,’ said Max as he set their overnight cases just inside the door beside a wide staircase.

‘Introducing my soon-to-be daughter-in-law to family and friends is not fuss,’ said Max’s mother reprovingly. ‘It’s expected, and so is a ring. Your brother’s here, by the way.’

‘You summoned him home as well?’

‘He came of his own accord,’ she said dryly. ‘No one makes your brother do anything.’

‘He’s my role model,’ whispered Max as they followed the doyenne of the house down the hall.

‘I need a cocktail dress,’ Evie whispered back.

‘Get it when I go ring hunting. What kind of stone do you want?’

‘Diamond.’

‘Colour?’

‘White.’

‘An excellent choice,’ said Caroline from up ahead and Max grinned ruefully.

‘Ears like a bat,’ he said in his normal deep baritone.

‘Whisper like a foghorn,’ his mother cut back, and surprised Evie by following up with a deliciously warm chuckle.

The house was a beauty. Twenty-foot ceilings and a modern renovation that complemented the building’s Victorian bones. The wood glowed with beeswax shine and the air carried the scent of old-English roses. ‘Did you do the renovation?’ asked Evie and her dutiful fiancé nodded.

‘My first project after graduating.’

‘Nice work,’ she said as Caroline ushered them into a large sitting room that fed seamlessly through to a wide, paved garden patio. The table there was set for four. Perfumed roses filled several large vases, their colours haphazard enough to make Evie smile.

‘I had a very demanding client who knew exactly what she wanted,’ said Max. ‘My ego took such a beating. These days I only wish all our clients could be that specific.’

‘Max tells me you’re a civil engineer,’ said Caroline. ‘Do you enjoy your work?’

‘I love it,’ said Evie.

‘And this new project you’re quoting on? You’re as enthusiastic about it as Max?’

‘You mean the civic centre? Yes. It’s the perfect stepping stone for us.’ Us being the business. ‘The right opportunity at exactly the right time.’

‘So I hear,’ said Caroline, with an enigmatic glance for her son. ‘I hope it’s worth it. Let me just go and tell Amelia we’re ready for lunch,’ she said smoothly, and swanned out of the room before anyone could reply.

‘She’s not buying it,’ said Evie. ‘The whirlwind engagement.’

‘Not so,’ said Max. ‘She’s undecided. Different beast altogether.’

‘You don’t take after her in looks.’

‘No,’ said Max. ‘I take after my father.’

‘You mean tall, dark, handsome and rich?’ Evie teased.

‘He’s not rich,’ said a deep voice from behind them. ‘Yet.’

That voice. Such a deep, raspy baritone. Max had a deep voice too, but it wasn’t like this one.

‘Logan,’ said Max turning around, and Evie forced herself to relax. Max had a brother called Logan; Evie knew this already. It was just a name—nothing to worry about. Plenty of Logans in this world.

And then Evie turned towards the sound of that voice too and the world as she lived in it ceased to exist, because she knew this man, this Logan who was Max’s brother.

And he knew her.

‘Evie, this is my brother,’ said Max as he headed towards the older man. ‘Logan, meet Evie.’

Manners made Evie walk puppet-like to Max’s side and wait while the two men embraced. Masochism made her lift her chin and hold out her hand for Logan to shake once they were finished with the brotherly affection. He looked older. Harder. The lines on his face were more deeply etched and his bleak, black gaze was as hard as agate. But it was him.

Logan ignored her outstretched hand and shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets instead. The movement made her memory kick. Same movement. Another time and place.

‘Pretty name,’ he rumbled as Evie let her arm fall to her side.

He’d known her as Angie—a name she’d once gone by. A name she’d worked hard to forget, because Angie had been needy and greedy and far too malleable beneath Logan Black’s all-consuming touch.

‘It’s short for Evangeline,’ she murmured, and met his gaze and wished she hadn’t, for a fine fury had set up shop beneath his barely pleasant façade. So he’d been duped by a name. Well, so had she. She’d been expecting Logan Carmichael, brother to Max Carmichael.

Not Logan Black.

Logan’s gaze flicked down over her pretty little designer dress, all the way to her pink-painted toenails peeking out from strappy summer sandals. ‘Welcome to the family, Evangeline.’

Max wasn’t stupid. He could sense the discord and he slid his arm around Evie’s waist and encouraged her to tuck into his side, which she did, every bit the small, sinking ship, finding harbour.

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, restricting her gaze to the buttons of Logan’s casual white shirt. It wasn’t the first time she’d taken shelter in Max’s arms and it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just … wrong.

‘How long are you staying?’ Max asked his brother.

‘Not long.’

Logan ran a hand through his short cropped hair and the seams of his shirt-sleeve strained over bulging triceps. Evie shifted restlessly within Max’s embrace, every nerve sensitised and for all the wrong reasons.

‘Did you have to travel far to get here?’ she asked Logan. Not a throwaway question. She needed him to be based far, far away.

‘Perth. I have a company office there. Head office is based in London. Have you ever been to London, Evangeline?’

‘Yes.’ She’d met him in London. Lost herself in him in London. ‘A long time ago.’

‘And did it meet expectations?’ he asked silkily.

‘Yes and no. Some of the people I met there left me cold.’

Logan’s eyes narrowed warningly.

‘So what is it that you do, Logan? What’s your history?’ Rude now, and she knew it, but curiosity would have her know what he did for a living. She’d never asked. It hadn’t been that kind of relationship.

‘I buy things, break them down, and repackage them for profit.’

‘How gratifying,’ said Evie. ‘I build things.’

No mistaking the silent challenge that passed between them, or Max’s silent bafflement as he stared from one to the other.

‘Max, do you think your mother would mind if I took my bag up to the room?’ she asked. ‘I wouldn’t mind freshening up.’

‘Your luggage is already in your suite,’ said Caroline from the doorway. ‘And of course you’d like to freshen up. Come, I’ll show you the way.’

Five minutes ago, Evie wouldn’t have wanted to be alone with Caroline Carmichael.

Right now, it seemed like the perfect escape.

Logan watched her go, he couldn’t stop himself. He remembered that walk, those legs, remembered her broken entreaties as she lay on his bed, naked and waiting. He remembered how he was with her; his breathing harsh and his brain burning. No matter how many times he’d taken her it had never been enough. Whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it, and he hadn’t recognised the danger in giving her whatever she asked for until the table had given way beneath them and Angie had cut her head on the broken table leg on the way down. ‘I’m okay,’ she’d said, over and over again. ‘Logan, it’s okay.’

Eleven years later and he could still remember the warm, sticky blood running down Angie’s face, running over his hands and hers as he’d tried to determine the damage done. That particular memory was engraved on his soul.

‘An accident,’ she’d told the doctor at the hospital as he’d stitched her up and handed her over to the nurses to clean up her face. ‘I fell.’

And then one of the nurses had eased Angie’s shirt collar to one side so that she could mop up more of the blood, and there’d been bruises on Angie’s skin, old ones and new, and the nurse’s compassionate eyes had turned icy as she’d turned to him and said, ‘I’m sorry. Could you please wait outside?’

He’d lost his lunch in the gutter on the way to get the car; still reeling from the blood on his hands and the sure knowledge that accident or not, this was his fault, all of it.

Like father, like son.

No goddamn control.

Angie hadn’t known he was Max’s brother, just now.

Logan didn’t think anyone could conjure up that level of horrified dismay on cue. Or the hostility that had followed.

‘So what was that all about?’ asked Max, his easy-going nature taking a back seat to thinly veiled accusation. ‘You and Evie.’

‘Do you really intend to marry her?’

Do you love her, was what he meant.

Do you bed her? Does she scream for you the way she did for me?

‘Yes,’ said Max, and Logan headed for the sideboard and the decanter of Scotch that always stood ready there. He poured himself a glass and didn’t stint when it came to quantity. Didn’t hesitate to down the lot.

‘I’m guessing that wasn’t a toast,’ said Max, and his voice was dry but his eyes were sharply assessing. ‘What is wrong with you?’

‘Did you protect your money? Has she signed a pre-nup?’

‘Yes. And, yes. We also restructured our business partnership to reflect proportional investment. Evie’s no gold-digger, Logan, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

‘You’re in business with her too?’

‘For the past six years. She’s the other half of MEP. You know this already. At least, you would if you’d been paying attention.’

‘I did pay attention. I knew you had a business partner.’ He’d known it was a woman. ‘I just …’ Didn’t know it was Angie. ‘So this marriage … is it just a way to get your hands on your trust money?’

A simple no was all it would take. A simple no from Max, and Logan would dredge up congratulations from somewhere and be on his way. All Max had to do was say no.

But Max hesitated.

And Logan set up a litany of swear words in his brain and reached for the decanter again.

Leave it alone, an inner voice urged him. It’s past. It’s done. Plenty of other women in the world. Available women. Willing women.

Angie had been willing.

‘Does she know you’re marrying her to gain access to your trust money?’ he asked next.

‘She knows.’

‘She in love with you?’

‘No. I’d never have suggested it if she was. It’s only for two years. And we’ll be working flat out for most of it.’

‘Right. So it’s just a marriage of convenience. No broken hearts to worry about at all.’

‘Exactly,’ said Max.

Leave it alone, Logan. Keep your big mouth shut.

But he couldn’t.

No way he could have Evangeline Jones for a sister-in-law and stay sane. It was as simple as that.

‘And if I said I already know your soon-to-be wife? That I met her a long time ago, long before she ever knew you? That for a week or so we were lovers?’ Logan’s voice sounded rough; the firewater was not, so he drank some more of it before turning to face his brother. ‘What then?’

Max stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. And then turned and strode from the room without another word.

Caroline Carmichael lingered once they reached the suite; a glorious eastern-facing bedroom with en suite, bay windows overlooking the garden and a sweet little alcove stuffed with a day-bed, and alongside that a bookcase full of surprisingly well-worn books.

‘It’s very feminine, isn’t it?’ murmured Caroline. ‘I’ve never put Max in this room before. Then again, he’s never brought a fiancée home either.’

‘I’m sure we’ll be fine.’ One big bed, one day-bed. Evie couldn’t have asked for a more suitable room.

Logan Black was Max’s brother. Everything was just fine.

‘Because I can put you in the adjoining room if you’d rather not be together before the wedding.’

‘Whatever you’re comfortable with, Mrs Carmichael.’ Evie made no false claim to virginity. She doubted she could have pulled it off. Besides, she could only manage one lie at a time, maybe two.

‘Please, call me Caroline,’ said Max’s mother easily. ‘It’s just that it occurs to me—as Max must have known it would—that your upcoming union might be a marriage in name only. A way for Max to access the money his father left him.’

‘Yes, Max warned me you might think that.’

‘Oh, there’s affection between you, anyone can see that,’ continued Caroline as she tugged at the curtains to make them absolutely even. ‘But I’m not seeing love.’

Evie eyed the other woman steadily. ‘What does love look like?’

‘Depends on the type,’ said Caroline Carmichael. ‘My first great love was Logan’s father and by the time we’d left the battlefield, love looked like a wasteland. But there was passion between us, passion to burn by. My second husband knew how to coax forth a steady flame, one that warmed me through and I thanked him for it every day of his life. But you and Max … Forgive me for being so blunt, but do you really intend to share this bed?’

‘None of your business, Mother,’ said Max from the doorway, determination in his voice and something else. Tightness. Anger. Max so rarely got angry. ‘I need to speak to Evangeline alone.’

Caroline left with a concerned glance for her son and Max shut the door behind her. Evie stayed by the bookshelf, arms crossed in front of her and her chin held high.

Surely Logan would have kept his sinner’s mouth shut.

Wouldn’t he?

‘Logan tells me he’s met you before,’ said Max.

Guess not. ‘Yes.’

‘When?’

‘Ten years ago, maybe more. I haven’t kept count. We met in passing. I was on a study exchange programme at the University of Greenwich. Your brother was doing something or other in London. I never did ask what.’

‘He’s the one, isn’t he?’ said Max. ‘The one who ruined you for all other men.’

‘I’m thinking ruined is too strong a word,’ said Evie. ‘I was definitely exaggerating and possibly maudlin when I mentioned that to you. I’m not ruined. I don’t feel ruined. Do I look ruined?’

Max took his time looking her over.

‘You look flustered,’ he said grimly. ‘You never get flustered.’

‘Not true. C’mon, Max. I had a fling with a man called Logan Black more than ten years ago. Five minutes ago you introduced him to me as your brother. I’m calling that one fluster-worthy.’ Heat flooded Evie’s cheeks and distress fuelled her temper. ‘I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry my past has come back into play. It was a pretty tepid past.’ With one notable exception. ‘It doesn’t have to impact the present.’

‘It just did.’

Hard to argue with that.

‘Do you still want him?’ asked Max.

‘No.’ And as if saying it louder would somehow make it true, ‘NO.’

‘Because he sure as hell still wants you.’

‘If your brother had wanted me, Max, he’d have found me. That much I do remember about him.’

But Max just shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t look much like Logan except for his dark hair and olive skin. Their features were quite different. Their mannerisms not similar at all. No way she could have known.

‘I can’t believe he even told you,’ she muttered. ‘Why would he do that? What could he possibly hope to gain? Does he not like you? Is that it?’

‘We get on well enough,’ said Max.

‘Then why?’

‘Maybe he thought you were going to say something.’

‘Yeah, well, he got that wrong.’

Max cut her a level glance. ‘Honesty not really your strong suit these days, is it?’

‘Or yours,’ she snapped back. ‘You said you had a brother—I thought I’d be meeting Logan Carmichael. You never told me you had a half-brother named Logan Black,’ she said as her legs threatened to fold and she sat herself down on the day-bed. Think, Evie. Think. But her mind had left the building the moment she’d set eyes on Logan, and it hadn’t yet returned. ‘Your mother’s hosting a cocktail party in our honour in just over seven hours,’ she said, and put her head to her hands and the heels of her hands to her eyes and pressed down hard. ‘What’s the plan here? What do you want to do? Because I can go find her and apologise and tell her the engagement’s off, if that’s what you want.’

‘Evie—’

‘Or we could put in an order for a time machine. I could go back in time, find your half-brother and spurn his advances. Failing that, I could at least wring his neck afterwards. That’d work too.’

‘Evie—’

‘Because after that I’m fresh out of ideas, Max. I don’t know how to fix this without making even more of a mess.’ Evie’s throat felt tight, her eyes started stinging. ‘I didn’t know. I didn’t know he was your brother. I would never … If I’d known. The business…. God.’

The horror in Logan’s eyes that last time they’d been together when she’d cut her head on the too-sharp table leg. The trembling in his hands, the fear and self-loathing in his eyes. He’d taken her to the hospital and by the time they’d arrived Logan had pulled himself together, standing silent and sombre by her side until the nurses had asked him to wait outside.

‘There’s no problem here,’ she’d told concerned nurses firmly. ‘None.’

But they’d given her a business card and on it had been a number to call and she’d shoved it in her handbag rather than argue with them any more.

Logan had taken her home and she’d known something was wrong but she hadn’t been able to reach him. ‘Logan, it was an accident,’ she’d told him as he’d walked her to her door. ‘You know that, right?’ And she’d thought he was going to reach for her then and make everything all right, only he’d shoved his hands in his pockets instead and nodded and looked away.

Last words she’d ever said to him, because the following day Logan Black was gone from her life as if he’d never existed.

‘God,’ she whispered.

And then Max’s hands were circling her wrists and he was crouching before her and pulling her hands away from her face. ‘Hey,’ he said gently. ‘Drama queen. Don’t go to pieces on me now. We can fix this.’

‘How?’

‘We just have to know what everybody’s intentions are, that’s all. Yours. Mine. Logan’s. Because I’ll stand aside if I have to, Evie, but only if there’s a damn good reason for doing so.’

‘That I slept with your brother isn’t good enough?’

‘Well, it’s not ideal …’ Droll, this fake fiancé of hers, when he wanted to be. ‘But I’ve got fifty million good reasons to get over it. Question is, can you and Logan? You need to talk to him, Evie.’

‘We just did. You were there. It didn’t go well.’

‘You need to talk to him again. In private. Minus the element of surprise.’

‘I really don’t.’

‘How else are you going to know if you’re over him?’

‘I’m over him.’

‘Yeah. And he’s over you. That’s why he’s downstairs mainlining Scotch and you’re up here falling apart.’

‘He’s mainlining what?’

‘Says the voice of disinterest. Corner him after lunch. Let him corner you.’

‘He thinks we’re getting married, Max. He’s not going to come anywhere near me.’

‘I think you might be underestimating the effect you have on him, Evie. Besides, he knows this is a marriage of convenience.’

‘He what?’ Evie was having trouble keeping up with who knew what. ‘How?’

‘I may have mentioned it. Before he mentioned knowing you. He was concerned for me. Or possibly for you. Not sure which. He asked me straight whether our marriage was to be one of convenience.’

‘You told him? What happened to the game plan? The “I want to pretend it’s real in front of my family” plan?’

Max had the grace to look discomfited. ‘Couldn’t do it,’ he said finally.

‘You are the worst. Liar. Ever.’

‘Yes, well, now we know that.’ Max was getting surly, a sure sign that he’d been caught wrong-footed. ‘Look, I’ll go and beard my mother, tell her what’s going on. But you have to talk to Logan and find out what he wants. What you want. See if you can imagine him as your brother-in-law.’

She really couldn’t.

‘Just talk to the man, Evie.’

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Okay. But if I need saving, you’d better come save me.’

‘I will.’

‘And I’m still your business partner.’

‘I know.’ Max eyed her steadily. ‘That’s not up for renegotiation, regardless of what happens with the engagement.’

‘You hold that thought,’ Evie said doggedly. ‘No matter what Logan tells you, you hold that thought.’