The Care and Feeding of Unmarried Men (28 page)

The room went dead silent. Her pulse started racing as she saw Nash turn fully around and cross his arms over his chest. He did not look amused.

That was all right. It wasn't funny to her, either.

It was terrifying.

She glanced down at Téa again, who was smiling. “If this goes bad…”

“I'll still be here,” her big sister assured her. “Always.”

Eve forced in another deep breath. Then she looked past the beautifully dressed guests and the sparkling champagne and the sophisticated floral arrangements to the man in blue jeans and cowboy boots. A real man. The real thing.

“Nash Cargill,” she said from her position on the pedestal she'd created from table and chair, the pedestal that had always kept her safe from heartbreak. And away from the real thing. “Nash Cargill, in front of all these witnesses I'm telling you that I…I…I love you.”

The walls of the room seemed to revolve crazily, but she focused hard on his face and saw his eyes narrow. The crowd spun away too now, and it was just the two of them, Nash and Eve. “You're in love with me?” he echoed.

She swallowed. “Uh-huh. Yes. Absolutely.”

“So what does that mean you want from me, Eve?” He gestured at the table and chair setup. “To be another worshiper at your feet?”

He didn't believe her. But she was prepared for that. It was why she was on top of the table to begin with. “I don't want your worship. I just want you to love me
back. And…and I think you do.” Oh, God, she hoped he did. He'd said so and she was strong enough to believe him now. Ready to be vulnerable enough to act open to the idea.

“I trust you, Nash, with everything, but most of all with my heart. To prove it to you I'm going to close my eyes and jump off this table and trust that you'll be there for me.” Nash would catch her when she fell.

His mouth dropped. She didn't let his incredulity deter her. Instead, she looked over at the bandleader, who seemed almost as surprised as Nash. “Drumroll, please.”

Then she dropped the microphone and closed her eyes.
Okay, Party Girl, you can do this
. Drumsticks started a rolling rhythm. She inhaled a final deep breath in preparation for her leap.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her thighs and hauled her off the table. The steady drumroll petered out to an embarrassed trickle, then died altogether. “Jesus Christ, Eve,” a voice growled in her ear. “Are you nuts?”

It was Nash, his expression furious. He let her slide down his body until they were face-to-face, her feet dangling.

Now it was her turn to frown. “You ruined my grand gesture.”

“You ruined my fucking day.” He dropped her to the floor.

“But—”

“Grand gestures are just like your beautiful face, Party Girl,” he said, his light gray eyes as hard as mirrors. He was angrier that she'd ever seen him, but this was an icy, controlled passion. “All style and no substance. I don't want that.”

Was he saying he didn't want her now?

This wasn't right! This wasn't the way it was supposed to go! She'd climbed on top of a table for him, willingly making a fool of herself to make a point to him. He was supposed to want her forever!

“I love you, Eve, but I wish like hell I didn't, because I don't want just your surface.” Stepping back, he crossed his arms over his chest again. “If you love me, if you want me, you have to prove it by showing me what's on the
inside
.”

Eve swallowed, hard. So he did love her. Fine. But maybe she didn't love a man who was so damn picky. Maybe she wanted someone who was a little more appreciative of grand gestures and beautiful appearances. Maybe…

…maybe she was still that coward, shrinking in the darkness of her closet.

“Nash…” she heard herself whisper.

His expression didn't soften. “I don't want just the pretty, polished parts you show everyone else, Eve. I want the whole, real you.”

Oh, God, he was still challenging her. He was still the only man who had ever insisted on seeing more than her face value. It was what she loved about him the most. It was what she never wanted to do without.

It was the most exciting, yet frightening, thing she'd ever confronted in her life.

She flattened her damp palms against the sides of her dress. “I cheated through four years of high-school French,” she said quickly, before she lost her nerve.

A little gasp off to her right reminded her that their high-school languages instructor had been invited to the wedding.

“I write poetry and have an accordion file folder of rejections from publishers across the country.”

Now it was Joey who gasped. Or maybe it was a giggle. Brat.

Nash wasn't laughing, though. Nash was still staring down at her with those mirror-clear eyes of his. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

Her nervous gaze darted away from him and around the room, stopping on one particular face that wouldn't let her forget the widest crack in her beauty. The ugliest secret she held. Sharing it would show Nash the real Eve Caruso—and probably drive him away from her too.

But she'd come this far. In the past months her life had been shattered, then her identity had been shattered, but now it felt as if she was on the verge of putting the pieces back together. Ironic, that by breaking her silence she was going to make herself whole. She might lose Nash over it, but it had to be done if she was ever going to be more than what people saw on the outside.

Looking down, she took a breath. “Three months ago I invested every dollar I had based on an illegal insider stock tip. A bad stock tip. As it stands, I have no money left, I'm being investigated by the SEC, and my next known address could very well be federal prison.”

Instead of assessing how Nash was handling the news, she glanced over at Téa, then Joey, then Bianca, then Cosimo. Her family. The ones who had always loved her, no matter what. She needed them now, and she could finally let it show.

“I need help.” The tight locks on her heart burst open with the words, filling up all her lonely, empty spaces with warmth. “I need all of you.”

The four of them started toward her.

But Nash already had her. His arms closed around Eve, and she shut her eyes tight as tears leaked out against his chest. He was always squeezing the emotions out of her, wasn't he? Always getting to her insides.

“Here I am, Nash,” she said. “This is me, warts and all.”

“And they say you can't make a pillbox hat out of a possum's hide.”

She looked up at him, her one man, her real thing. If he thought he could get away now, he didn't know how ruthless and determined this whole, new woman could be. This Caruso. This mob boss's daughter. “Once again, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“It means I'm relieved, grateful, happier than a moth in a mitten.” He gave her his slow, country boy grin, and in it Eve saw the brightness of their future. “It means I love you and I want you, darlin' Eve. Warts and all.”