‘A married couple,’ Adam supplied in a mocking tone, as if he had guessed the direction of her thoughts—as he probably had! ‘They aren’t going to be in the least concerned by my disappearance; they know I’m here to meet someone.’
Her eyes widened, large blue pools lightened almost to turquoise by naturally thick, dark lashes. ‘I don’t think Daphne throws those sort of parties,’ she derided.
‘Someone special,’ he added softly.
Her brows quirked. ‘Even so …’
‘Someone very special,’ he mocked.
He sounded so positive, as if he had someone definite in mind. Or as if, once he had found the woman he was interested in, he would have no trouble whatsoever in convincing her she was interested in him too! And, probably, he usually didn’t.
‘Then I hope you succeed in meeting her,’ Eve told him briskly, ash-blonde hair moving silkily about her shoulders as she straightened dismissively.
‘Daphne doesn’t throw those sort of parties,’ he reminded drily.
A delicate blush brightened her cheeks. ‘I know that,’ she said sharply, wishing once again that Paul would forget those ‘vital contacts to his career’ for once and rejoin her.
He was deep in conversation with Lord Graves at the moment, although to give him his due she could see Lord Graves was doing most of the talking, Paul’s attention distracted, as his mind was half on the fact that a complete stranger had engaged Eve in conversation for the last ten minutes or so.
‘So do I,’ Adam derided softly. ‘I’m here to meet a legend.’
Eve gave a puzzled frown at the announcement. There were some very important and internationally renowned people here tonight, titled people, politicians, others from the world of theatre and music, all of them mingling as equals, specifically invited for their ability to make this yet another social triumph for Lady Daphne; it wouldn’t be a Lady Daphne party if it weren’t a social success. But, as far as Eve was aware, famous as some of these people were, or were going to be, none of them merited being called a legend. Not yet, anyway!
‘Are you sure you have the right party?’ she taunted wryly.
Some of the confidence left him as he too glanced around the elegantly furnished drawing-room of the Graveses’ at the assortment of people gathered there. ‘I hope so,’ he finally frowned. ‘Sophy assured me——’
‘Sophy?’ Eve echoed sharply, shooting Paul a worried glance, relieved to see he still couldn’t escape Dudley Graves, a complete contradiction of her thoughts of a few moments ago. Her gaze returned to Adam. ‘Do you mean Sophy O’Donnell?’ she put the question casually.
He nodded, a frown still marring his perfectly sculpted brow. ‘She and her husband are the couple that brought me here tonight.’
She had already guessed as much, just as she could now realise to which ‘legend’ he referred. Paul wasn’t going to like it one little bit when he found out what Sophy had been up to.
Not that it was too difficult to work out the reason for the other woman’s bloody-mindedness; she hadn’t liked it one bit when Paul had proved difficult about the ‘showing’ at her gallery this winter, and had obviously decided to be a little awkward herself by bringing this man Adam to this party, a man intent on meeting a ‘legend’, even if that legend didn’t want to be met—or recognised.
Sophy and Patrick O’Donnell owned and ran one of the most prestigious art galleries in London; Sophy was a shrewd businesswoman who hated to be told no, and let no one forget it. Even a ‘legend’ who she knew chose to remain anonymous.
Eve fixed a bright smile on her pastel-pink painted lips. ‘Then I really shouldn’t keep you any longer. I have to go and talk to Paul anyway,’ she added quickly, as it seemed Adam might begin to protest.
The mockery returned to dark brown eyes. ‘That’s allowed, is it?’
Her mouth tightened, but she forced the smile to remain on her lips; she wanted to get away from him, and stay away from him, and engaging in another verbal exchange with him wouldn’t achieve that. ‘I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Adam.’ She nodded dismissively before turning away.
She wasn’t too surprised by the light grip on her arm that followed, having half expected a man like Adam was proving to be wouldn’t just meekly accept being dismissed. But she intended keeping this as brief as possible.
The warmth in his dark brown eyes as she turned back to face him unnerved her a little, though. And he made no effort to remove the warmth of his hand from her arm, either—long, tapered fingers very deeply tanned against her much paler skin.
‘You really shouldn’t marry that guy, you know.’ His voice was huskily intimate, giving the impression that they were the only two people in the room.
Irritation snapped in her eyes. She had waited a long time for Paul to notice her, and now that he had she wasn’t about to listen to the uninformed opinion of a complete stranger concerning the two of them. What did this man really know about them?
‘You’ll bear my advice in mind, right?’ he derided with a shake of his head. ‘But it’s more than advice, Miss Whoever-you-are,’ he added with serious intent, his eyes narrowed. ‘If you marry Paul with your relationship the way it is, then the marriage—or you—is doomed for disaster, depending which breaks down first.’
Eve felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine, and then instantly dismissed it. She had known and loved Paul most of her life; what could this man, who didn’t know Paul at all, possibly know of that love? He certainly had no right to pass an opinion on it on such short acquaintance!
‘Paul and I will be very happy together,’ she told the man at her side stiffly.
His mouth twisted. ‘Is that what he told you?’ he countered.