Never Too Late (41 page)

‘Ace’ was the word of the moment, Evie thought,

shuffling back into the bathroom for her shower. She felt

anything but ace at that precise moment.

Sitting at her desk at nine on the dot, she still felt

spectacularly aceless. She felt terrible, in fact, and she was

damn’ sure that she looked it too, particularly as she’d

been too tired to wash her hair. Greasy hair, a ‘safe’ black

suit and a pale, exhausted face meant she looked as if she’d

just arrived from a funeral, a fact Lorraine remarked upon.

‘Lord, Evie, what were you up to last night?’ she

demanded, resplendent in an eye-catching red mini in

honour of the auditors’ visit. The last time they had been

at Wentworth Alarms, she’d spent three thrilling days

flirting with the junior member of the team, a Diet-Coke

guy lookalike.

‘Nothing exciting,’ sighed Evie, who wasn’t looking

forward to a day of the auditors’ demands combined with

Davis in the inevitable bad temper. Since he’d been

diagnosed with ME, he was only in the office on rare

occasions and then he was like a hungover JCB driver:

cross and determined to take it out on everyone.

‘You can tell me what you were doing,’ Lorraine said

saucily. ‘Your Simon doesn’t look like he’s a goer but he

must be. The silent ones are always the worst, that’s what

my mam says.’

The thought of placid Simon being described as a goer

brought a wry grin to Evie’s face.

‘I couldn’t sleep, that’s all.’

Lorraine winked. ‘I bet.’

The morning passed with interminable slowness. Davis

failed to arrive at work and when Evie rang him at home

the answer machine switched on every time. The financial

director, Davis’s nephew and proof positive that nepotism

was generally a mistake, did his best to help but only

succeeded in looking bewildered most of the time, and

asking Evie where everything was.

‘I wish I’d studied bloody accountancy,’ she hissed at

Lorraine finally.

‘I wish I’d stayed at home today,’ the girl answered

wretchedly. The Diet Coke guy from the previous year

hadn’t turned up. His replacement had the sort of bad

breath that could knock you out at fifty yards.

Neither of them had got anywhere near either the kettle

or the ladies’ loo all morning and when lunchtime arrived,

they were both shattered. At one o’clock, Evie leaned back

in her chair and decided for once to ignore her phone as it

rang incessantly.

‘I’m too tired to put on my lipstick,’ Lorraine said,

lolling in her swivel chair, her feet on the desk. ‘Will I

order us a pizza so we don’t have to go out?’

Evie was about to say ‘yes’ when the sales department’s

secretary stuck her head around the door.

‘Evie,’ she said, round-eyed, ‘your lunch date is in

reception. And he’s gorgeous. Who is he? We’re all dying to

know.’

Evie’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t have a lunch date.

But she could think of only one person who’d have the

female staff of Wentworth Alarms in such a tizzy: Max

Stewart.

‘I can’t imagine,’ she said, trying to look nonchalant, and

picked up her still-buzzing phone.

It was the receptionist.

‘There’s someone waiting for me?’ Evie asked coolly.

‘Max Stewart,’ breathed the receptionist, with the same

reverence she reserved for speaking about Mel Gibson.

‘Tell him I’ll be down in ten minutes.’

‘Who is it?’ squeaked Lorraine, knowing something was

up from the way Evie’s eyes shone.

‘My stepbrother,’ she said as calmly as possible.

‘Stepbrother?’ Lorraine repeated incredulously. ‘You

never mentioned him.’

‘Didn’t I?’ Evie scooped up her handbag and wondered

if it would be a complete giveaway if she asked Lorraine

for a squirt of her perfume and a lend of some concealer to

hide the suitcases under her eyes. It probably would, but

who cared?

Trying to calm the excitement that bubbled up inside

her, Evie did her best to hide the ravages of a sleepless

night. At least she didn’t need blusher, she thought wryly;

her cheeks were already rosy from a mixture of pleasure

and embarrassment. Then she began to worry. What if

Simon rang and was told she was seeing Max Stewart for

lunch? What if he drove past unexpectedly and discovered

them in the pub?

Well, Evie decided firmly, she wouldn’t go out to lunch

with Max, it was that simple. He hadn’t made an appointment,

so she wouldn’t go with him. She’d make an excuse.

Squinting as she zigzagged her dark brown mascara

wand up her lashes, she realised that it wasn’t so simple.

She wanted to go. It would all be perfectly innocent, she

told herself. He was her stepbrother after all. What could

possibly be wrong with meeting him for lunch?

But as she hurried to the stairs, eyes shining and a

bounce in her step for the first time that day, Evie knew in

her heart of hearts there was nothing innocent about

Max’s visit - or about her reaction to it.

At the bottom of the stairs, she peered into reception

through the glass fire doors. Her heart swelled instinctively

at the sight of him. Max was sitting in one of the squashy

chairs, a giant thing she could never sit in comfortably

because she was too short.

He dwarfed it, long denim-clad legs sticking out across

the room. He looked casual today, wearing a tan suede

jacket with suede workmen’s boots. She could see that

much from behind the paper he was reading, his face set in

concentration.

Like a child gazing at a spaniel puppy in a pet shop

window, Evie stared at Max. The rock-breaker jaw was set

firm as he read, dark brows hid his eyes. He looked

different out of his elegant suit: less formidable, younger.

Then he saw her.

He unfurled himself and got to his feet. Evie shoved the

fire door open and hoped he didn’t realise she’d been

watching him for a few moments.

The receptionist and her lunchtime replacement were

staring at Max with unabashed curiosity.

‘Evie, your … guest,’ the receptionist said, her lip-glossed smile on full beam, obviously dying to be introduced.

‘Thanks,’ Evie said politely, equally determined not to

introduce her. She stood in front of Max but didn’t make a

move to hold out her hand.

‘Evie, how nice to see you.’ He smiled at her, a warm,

glinting smile that lit up his cobalt eyes as if somebody had

flicked on a button inside him.

Evie blinked. She hadn’t imagined how attractive he

was. He was devastating in the flesh, better than she’d

remembered, better than in her bizarre wedding dream.

‘I was in the area on business and thought I’d see if you

were free for lunch,’ he said.

‘Well, I wasn’t going to …’ began Evie, suddenly

remembering how she’d meant to tell Max where to go if ever she saw him again. ‘I have a lot of work to do this afternoon.’

‘Please, I’d like to talk to you.’

The way he said ‘please’ did it. A low, soft caressing

sound that slithered up her spine as if he’d just asked her

to take all her clothes off and get into a Jacuzzi with him

to play doctors and nurses.

She couldn’t resist. ‘OK.’

Max pushed the front door open and they went outside.

Evie could feel fascinated eyes burning into her back as

they walked towards Max’s car. She half-turned to look at

the office and saw Lorraine, the receptionist and the sales

secretary all peering out past the reception blinds like

spectators at a tennis match eagerly waiting for the umpire

to call a shot.

‘Do they always do that?’ Max asked innocently, looking

back too.

‘They’re waiting for the sandwich delivery man,’ Evie

fibbed. ‘He’s late and they’re ravenous.’

‘They’re probably wondering who I am,’ he remarked.

Evie laughed at his perceptive reading of the situation.

‘You have no idea,’ she said, shaking her head ruefully. ‘I’ll

probably be on the six o’clock news for going off with a strange man at lunch. Nearly-married woman seen getting into flash car with stranger - police alert!’

‘But I’m your stepbrother,’ he pointed out in a mock

innocent voice, opening the passenger door of the sports

car for Evie.

‘So you are,’ she replied sweetly, shutting her door with

a resounding bang.

‘Where’s a good spot for lunch round here?’ he asked,

driving out the gate.

‘I assumed you knew this area since you said you were

around on business?’ Evie asked suspiciously.

The laughing eyes crinkled up with amusement. ‘You’ve

caught me out, I’m afraid. I’ve never been in this neck of

the woods before. I came to see you. And not because

you’re my dear stepsister, either,’ he added in a tone that

made Evie feel very hot suddenly.

‘The pub at the roundabout is nice,’ she said, her voice

sounding an octave higher with nerves. ‘Turn left here and

take the next two rights.’

She sank back into her seat, eyes fixed straight ahead.

She didn’t even want to look at Max. What had she got

herself into? She should have sent him away, refused to

meet him, bluntly told him he had a nerve turning up after

she’d told him she was engaged. She’d never handle him,

he wasn’t like Simon: easily dealt with. Max was a whole

different kettle of fish. Piranhas, in fact.

‘Difficult day?’ he asked companionably, maneuvering

the car into a parking space.

Evie, who’d been expecting a different sort of conversation,

shot him a sideways look.

‘Yes,’ she said reluctantly. She was too edgy to be

comfortable.

‘The receptionist said you had the auditors in,’ he said,

still not looking at her as he parked.

‘Just as well she isn’t working for MI5,’ Evie said, raising

her eyes to heaven.

‘She was only making conversation,’ he said mildly.

‘I suppose.’

They joined the soup and sandwiches queue in the pub.

To cover up what she felt was an uneasy silence, Evie

found herself rattling on about the dreaded auditors and

how difficult it was dealing with them when her boss was

out of the office.

At first, her chatter was stilted but as they sat down with

their food, she began to enjoy telling him about her manic day. Max was surprisingly easy to talk to, or maybe it was that he really listened. He asked the right sort of questions

and was interested in her answers.

When she’d finished telling him about Tom, Davis’s

dopey nephew, he told her about a television production

company he’d once worked in where the boss appointed

his four sons as middle managers: ‘Each one more stupid

than the last,’ Max said, grinning. ‘None of them could

make a decision about making programmes and when you

got the four of them together, they just fought. They were

like crabs in a bucket - none would let the others do

anything independently. They’d drag him back in so they

could argue some more about where to get the paper cups

for the water dispenser or what colour to paint tie

conference room. Their father had this happy idea of

letting them take over the company when he retired but

after six months he fired them all.’

‘What happened then?’ asked Evie.

‘My partner and I bought the company and within a year

we’d turned it around so profits were up fifty percent. Then,

the four of them tried to sue us, saying we’d taken away

their birthright and that if their father had given them time,

they’d have turned a profit.’ He laughed at the memory.

Evie swallowed a bite of her sandwich. ‘Is that the

company you have now?’ she asked, eager to know more

about him but not wanting to appear too interested.

He shook his head. ‘I still own shares in it but somebody

else runs it. My new company is called DWS Productions.

We make mini-series. The old company makes technical

videos, there’s a lot of money in that. But producing

mini-series is more fun.’

‘I’d no idea that’s what you did!’ Evie exclaimed. ‘Your

mother never really explained what sort of producing you

did. I had visions of tacky game shows.’

He allowed himself to smile at the comment.

‘Mini-series, huh?’ Evie added. ‘What are you working

on now? What have you done?’

‘We’ve just finished a production about the famine and

now we’re in pre-production for a Gone With The Wind

type series, set in Ireland and Louisiana.’

‘You must travel all the time?’ Evie said, sandwich

forgotten. This was so exciting, far more thrilling than

stories about auditors and alarm companies.

‘I spent six months in Australia for the famine one, The

Wilderness,’ Max explained. ‘We made it primarily for the

American and Australian markets. The new one is more

European. My partner is going to handle most of the

American side of things which means I’ll have more time

to myself. I’ve travelled nine months of every year for the

past ten years. I need a break. I’m thinking of buying a

house in Ireland and putting down some roots.’ He pushed