Never Too Late (63 page)

the house was silent.

Evie curled herself back into the curve of Max’s body,

not wanting to leave and yet wondering if she should.

His strong arm stilled her. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’

he said. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight.’

Feeling more comfortable in her nakedness than she ever

had in her entire life, Evie wriggled up against his warm

body and let herself drift off into sleep.

As if she wanted to remind herself where she really was,

she found she woke up every hour to touch Max, just to

make sure he was there and that she wasn’t dreaming.

Each time she woke up, he seemed to wake with her,

stroking her softly and murmuring: ‘Go back to sleep.’

Finally, she slipped into a deep slumber and woke to the

sound of next door’s lawnmower.

‘Jesus!’ She sat up abruptly, realised she was stark naked

and, for one terrified moment, wondered where she was.

Then she felt Max’s arm lazily moving over her thigh and

she remembered. Evie’s face curved into a giant smile until

she glanced at her watch.

Half-eight! Vida would be up soon. She always woke

early and would undoubtedly peek into Evie’s room to see

how she was. A couple of pillows squashed under the

covers might pass muster at half-three in the morning

when everyone had a bottle of wine inside them, but it

wouldn’t fool the sharp-eyed Vida in the cool light of

morning.

‘Max.’ hissed Evie, trying to be quiet but feeling nervous.

His response was to drag her down into the bed, pull her

under him and kiss her in such an indolently sensual way

that she forgot all about Vida, the pillows and why she was

nervous about anyone discovering she’d just spent the

night with Max.

By nine, the nerves were back.

Max was lying in such post-coital stillness that she

thought he’d dropped off She wanted to sneak back into

her own room but couldn’t bear just to leave him, not

without talking to him anyway.

Evie stared up at the ceiling and fretted. What could she

say to everyone? She was bursting with the news that she

and Max were in love but she could hardly tell Vida, her

father and the girls that she wasn’t going to marry Simon.

Not without telling him first. That would be unfair and

cowardly. But she didn’t know how she was going to tell

Simon. How did you start a conversation like that?

‘What are you going to say to them?’ asked Max.

Evie, who’d been convinced he was dozing, jumped in

shock. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said guiltily. ‘We shouldn’t have to

tell anyone anything - except the truth. It’s just Simon, I

have to tell him first …’

She paused. After all, Max hadn’t actually said he

wanted her not to marry Simon. But he must mean that,

surely?

‘I love you, Evie, I told you that and I meant it,’ he said,

interrupting her nightmarish thoughts. ‘But I know you

have to do what you have to do. Just don’t take forever, please. I want you with me and I don’t want to hide it. He grinned, stroking the delicate skin of her collarbone. ‘I’d

never make a spy, I’m no good at lying.’

She smiled at him. ‘Neither am I.’

Something banged against the door and Evie gasped,

shooting out of the bed and into the bathroom like a

rocket. Inside, she stuffed a bit of towel into her mouth to

stop herself from giggling with a combination of nerves

and lust.

She quivered when the door was wrenched open a

moment later by a grinning Max.

‘My mother tripped over the laundry basket going

downstairs in the search for mineral water,’ he said. She’s

dying of a hangover and even if you hung a sign over your

bed saying “pillows - not a person. Owner bonking elsewhere”,

I doubt if she’d notice.’

They clutched each other, laughing as quietly as they

could. Finally, Max kissed Evie’s bare shoulder reluctantly.

‘Get out of here,’ he said, ‘before I have to ravish you

again.’

‘I don’t know if I could manage another time,’ she said

ruefully, her body aching in the cold light of day.

‘You and me both.’ He smiled. ‘I’m afraid I’m no toyboy,

Ms Fraser.’

‘No?’ She pouted. ‘Why else do you think I came in

here?’

With her copper dress wrapped in one towel and herself

enveloped in another, so she could say she’d been having a

shower if anyone spotted her, Evie slipped across the

landing to her own bedroom.

She shut the door and raced into the bathroom to see if she looked different. Surely her eyes were shining and her skin glowing with love? The sight that greeted her made

Evie grimace ruefully. Her hair looked like a bird’s nest,

her eyes were ringed with smudged mascara like a ring

tailed lemur’s and her face was deathly pale from no sleep.

But she hugged herself gleefully. Max loved her.

Vida and Cara, both sporting the lemur look around the

eyes, were sitting at the kitchen table looking like death

microwaved up when Evie ventured downstairs.

‘How are you?’ she asked brightly, then remembering

she was supposed to have been sick the night before,

added: ‘I’m feeling much better now.’

‘Good for you,’ groaned Cara, resting her head on her

hands. ‘We’re dying. Hand us out the orange juice.’

‘There’s none left.’

“I had the last of it,’ confessed Vida, who looked no

better than Cara. ‘I’m never going on a hen night again.’

‘Look at the state of the pair of you,’ Andrew said,

arriving at the front door with Rosie, who looked the

picture of health and was carrying a container of orange

juice. He plonked the groceries on the table. ‘You’re a right

couple of boozers. If you’re not careful, I’m sending you pair into a clinic to dry out when we get home.’

‘Morning,’ said Rosie cheerily.

Cara and Vida both winced at the loudness of her voice.

‘Have mercy on the afflicted,’ Vida said, ‘or I’ll make

you suffer next time you have a pain in your head. And

there’s nothing wrong with the odd night out, Andrew.’

‘Do you think you could both manage another night

out?’ Max said, coming down the stairs.

‘I’ll be fine when I’ve had my first coffee,’ Vida

remarked, ruffling her husband’s hair before going over to

the coffee maker.

Max hugged his mother. ‘Good, because I met some pals

in the port yesterday and they’re having a party tonight.

We’re all invited.’

Evie glared at him from narrowed eyes. Why hadn’t he

mentioned this to her? They’d had at least eight solid

hours of constant companionship and at no point had he

alluded to a party given by friends of his. Was she suitable

for bonking his brains out but not for hearing intimate

little details of his life?

‘Really?’ she said crossly. ‘Where’s the party and who are

the friends?’

Max took over spooning coffee into the filter as Vida

looked too worn out to do it. ‘Franz Lieber, a German

director I worked with on a mini-series about Strauss. He

and his wife have just bought a ranch down the road from

here and it seems a lorryload of actors and crew decamped

from his latest production the other day for the grand

opening.’

Anyone famous?’ asked Rosie excitedly.

‘Not really,’ Max said, still fiddling with the coffee

machine. ‘Franz mainly pals around with the technical

people on a production, although he says Ted Livingstone

and Mia Koen are there.’

‘Oh,’ said Rosie, not interested in Ted, an American

character actor, and not knowing who Mia Koen was.

The name ‘Mia’ flickered like a lightbulb above Evie’s

head, however. ‘Who’s she?’ she asked, recognising the

name but not remembering from where.

Max turned around but didn’t meet her eyes. ‘An

actress,’ he said casually. Too casually.

‘Isn’t that the girl who was crazy about you?’ Vida inquired with a mischievous grin on her lovely face. ‘The one from Atlanta, Queen of the Mini-Series?’

F.vie felt a dart of sheer jealousy rip through her

viciously. Mia … she knew she’d heard the name before.

When she and Max had been surprised having lunch and

she’d dreamed up a phantom, hugely pregnant wife for

him, he’d automatically named her Mia. Not the sort of

thing you would do on the spur of the moment unless the

name meant something to you.

‘We’re all invited, are we?’ she asked in an arch voice.

‘Are you sure they don’t want you on your own?’

Max shook his head and looked at her, amazement on

his face at her caustic tone.

‘We can’t go,’ Rosie said, patting Cara on the shoulder.

‘It’s our night to go out on our own. We’ve found just the

right place to go, haven’t we, Cara?’

She nodded. ‘And I’m drinking water all night, I promise.’

‘I hope you are too, Rosie,’ said Evie, more sharply than

shed intended.

She spent the morning longing to get a quiet word alone

with Max, determined to ask him about Mia. But every

time it seemed as if she had him to herself) someone

wandered in from the pool looking for mineral water or

meandered down the stairs with the sun cream they’d gone

up to find. Open-plan houses were a pain in the rear end,

Evie thought angrily. To add to her temper, it seemed as if Max didn’t want a moment alone with her. He didn’t look at all perturbed by all the interruptions.

Finally, bristling with indignation, Evie grabbed her

book, her sun cream and her bikini, and flung herself into

the lounger beside Rosie, who was determined to spend

their last full day in Spain working on her tan.

When Vida called out from the verandah that they were

driving down to the port for lunch, Evie padded barefoot

into the villa, sleepy from the heat and sorry for being such

a cow to Max. But he’d gone.

‘Off to see his director friend,’ Vida explained.

And Mia. Evie’s heart hardened.

‘Tell me about this Mia person,’ she inquired idly. ‘Do

you think there’s a chance she and Max might get back

together?’ Evie did her best to hide the fact that even saying it was like having heart surgery without an anaesthetic.

‘I never met her but her reputation precedes her,’ Vida

answered. ‘Evidently, she’s beautiful and very demanding, a

real drama queen from Georgia, She’s never made it in the

movies but she’s huge in the sort of shows Max’s company

makes. He loves working with her because her name can

make a show profitable. I’m not sure but I think they had a

thing going together on location once.’

Evie gulped.

‘She was married at the time to this Country and

Western singer, which is why Max never told me what

exactly happened. I think he was afraid I’d be horrified.’

Vida shrugged. ‘They tell me that happens all the time in show business DCOL they say - Doesn’t Count On Location.

I think I read that Mia’s divorced now so maybe she’s

back for a re-match with Max.’

Evie was shocked to her fillings. Max had had an

on-location fling with this woman who was married to

someone else at the time! So, he had a history of running

off with other men’s girlfriends and not even staying

around long enough to see what happened. How dare he

try it on with her? How stupid she was for letting it

happen.

Had stupid Mia believed Max’s litany of lies and

thought he’d stay with her if she dumped her husband?

Like I believed him, Evie thought bitterly. Like she always

believed men. She’d believed Tony and look where that

got her.

Feigning exhaustion, she said she’d skip lunch and lay

down on her bed while everyone else hopped eagerly into

the car for a trip down the port to a cute seafood

restaurant Andrew had discovered.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lay on the bed,

staring blindly at the pretty little balcony outside, where

she and Max had shared breakfast what felt like a thousand

years ago.

At least Simon would never give her reason to doubt

him. Dependable from his sandy hair down to his

sensible lace-up shoes, he was the sort of man you could

rely on never to give you a sleepless night. He didn’t

light fires within her either, but he loved her and she

could trust him. How could she have betrayed him for a

rake of a man who went around collecting women like

Apache Indians collected scalps in old black and white

movies?

And why did she always fall for the sort of man who

didn’t know how to be faithful, who thought monogamy

was a great idea but not for him?

Evie’s tear-filled eyes didn’t see the cloudless blue sky

through the open windows. Instead, she saw herself with

baby Rosie in her arms, staring into her husband’s grave

and wondering why the tears wouldn’t come. Of all the

people standing there beside her, only Olivia knew the whole story. As Tony’s mother wailed and screamed for her dead son, clutching her rosary beads in genuine

anguish, Evie felt nothing but rage that he had left her

with a six-month-old baby to bring up on her own. Rage

at Tony, and rage at herself for having been conned by a