The One That Got Away (8 page)

‘In house or out?’ she asked lightly. ‘Because if you’re fussy,
there’s a place on the corner that does fancy coffee.’

‘Not fussy,’ he rumbled as his eyes closed once more. Not quite
awake either. ‘Just need something to wake me up. Evie?’ he murmured.

‘What?’

‘Morning.’

* * *

Logan
gave himself over to a few more minutes
of shut-eye before rolling onto his back and setting the heels of his hands to
his face in an attempt to make his eyes stay open. He shouldn’t be jet-lagged;
he’d only flown in from PNG. No, the tiredness came from not being able to leave
Evie alone last night. Of reaching for her one last time, and then another. Of
going slow and savouring every caress.

Last night he’d been given a gift. A chance to make amends for
all that had gone before, and he’d done it, replaced old memories with new.
Better memories that he could examine without shame. Memories he could hold on
to without feeling the stain on his soul.

He looked around the room, looking for clues as to the type of
person Evie was at home and finding it in the rough concrete finish of the walls
and the exposed plumbing and air-con. No hiding of mechanics behind pretty
painted walls for Evie. She seemed to want to strip life back to basics so she
could keep an eye on it—everything exposed, even the clothes cupboard, or what
there was of it, for her clothes hung on hangers over a long stretch of metal
bar, not a cupboard wall in sight. The clothes were colour co-ordinated—sort
of—and clearly some thought had gone into the mix and matchability of them. Lots
of black and grey, and what colours there were had a vividness about them. No
pretty pastels for Evie. Clearly that wasn’t her style.

He was contemplating getting out of bed but hadn’t quite got
there yet when Evie returned with the coffee, robe on and hair gathered casually
atop her head. The robe slid off one shoulder as she set the tray down on the
bed and she raised her arm to slide the robe back into place with the
absent-mindedness of someone who repeated that particular action often.

‘Lot of space up here,’ he said as she settled down carefully
on the other side of the tray.

‘I know,’ said Evie. ‘It bothers some people. They’d rather
sleep in a cave with the ceiling and walls tucked in close.’ She eyed him
curiously. ‘Does it bother you?’

‘No.’ But parts of her statement did. ‘What people?’

‘The one or two people who’ve been invited up here over the
past half a dozen years,’ she said evenly, lifting her coffee to her lips and
taking a tiny sip. ‘Are you asking me how many men I’ve had in this bed?’

‘No.’ None of his business.

She looked at him and her eyebrow rose just a fraction.

‘Maybe,’ he admitted gruffly.

‘How many would you think?’

‘Not going near that one, Evie.’

‘Six,’ she said sweetly. ‘Though not all at once.’

Six was okay. Given Evangeline’s charm and enjoyment when it
came to the pleasures of the flesh, six lovers in as many years was downright
picky.

‘Anything else you’d like to know?’ she offered.

‘
Really
don’t want to know,’ he
said quickly. Only a madman would ask her for details and he had no intention of
doing so, and besides...he’d
wanted
her to explore
her sexuality after he’d left her, hadn’t he? Wanted her to be sure of her
preferences and to know her own mind.

Still did.

He looked around the room again and thought of the woman-child
he’d once known and the woman Evie was now. ‘Tough profession, engineering,’ he
said mildly.

Evie nodded, letting him change the subject.

‘Why’d you choose it?’

‘I wanted in on a highly paid and flexible profession that had
the potential to take me anywhere. No relying on anyone else for my financial
well-being or my status in society.’

That need
hadn’t
started with him.
At least, Logan didn’t think it had. ‘Why the overwhelming need for
independence?’

‘My mother’s been a trophy wife all her life. It’s hard work.
Soul-destroying, at times. I guess I simply grew up
not
wanting it.’

‘Is that why your bedroom’s so spartan? Because you’re
rebelling against the perfect-homemaker label?’

‘I hope not,’ she murmured. ‘Because that’d be stupid,
considering I made this home for me. No, I just really like the minimalist
aesthetic. Which is not to say I’m totally against a lavish touch at times,
because I guarantee you’ll find one in the bathroom. Bubble bath, scented
candles, fluffy towels...’

‘Sensualist,’ he murmured and Evie shot him a slow smile.

‘Rich, coming from you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never known anyone who
savours sensuality the way you do. Who cherishes touch the way you do. Anyone
would think you’d been starved of it as a child.’

‘My mother wasn’t demonstrative,’ he offered blandly. Evie had
seen for herself what kind of relationship he had with his mother. His father’s
hand had usually been hard and punishing, but those memories he kept to himself.
Better a fist than no touch at all—that was the way the crazy ran for him at
times. The reason why he’d taken so instinctively to pain play during
lovemaking. He hadn’t needed a psychologist to tell him the why of that.

But not last night. Last night’s lovemaking with Evie had been
positively, effortlessly normal.

‘Do you have any plans for today?’ he asked, and Evie shook her
head and the vivid red silk robe slid from her shoulder again.

Pretty.

He bit into the cinnamon roll Evie had brought up with the
coffee and it tasted sweet and flaky and sticky on his tongue.

‘I could show you round Sydney if you feel like playing
tourist,’ she offered.

‘Can there be jet boats on the harbour involved?’

‘Yes.’

‘With me at the wheel?’

‘No.’ Evie rolled her eyes at him. ‘For that you’d have to buy
the boat. Bridge climb?’

‘Too slow.’

‘Skydiving?’ she offered next. ‘I’m in a club.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Because you’re getting to know me,’ she offered dulcetly. ‘But
in the interests of full disclosure, we could also head for the Botanic Gardens
this morning and lie on the grass and listen to buskers play lazy Sunday-morning
songs. That’d work for me too. I guess it all depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether you plan to stick around and slay a few more demons
this week or whether after last night you already consider them vanquished, in
which case my money’s on you leaving some time in the next ten minutes.’

Not only did this woman know her own mind, Logan thought
uncomfortably, she also had a fair and accurate reading of his. ‘Do you want me
to leave?’

‘No.’ She was breaking the other cinnamon roll into bits and he
couldn’t see her eyes for eyelashes, but the steadiness of that no was
reassuring.

‘You said you’d give me a week,’ he said.

‘And I will, if that’s what you want.’

She still wouldn’t look at him.

‘I do want,’ he said and leaned forward and snaked his hand
through her hair and kissed her gently, and then a whole lot more thoroughly, on
the lips. ‘But with wanting comes fear—of my nature and of yours and of the path
we took last time. You scared me, Evie. With your compliance and with what you
were prepared to give. You have no idea how much I wanted to take it
all
. And then demand more.’

‘You’re right,’ she said quietly and the gaze she pinned on him
was dark and knowing. ‘I didn’t know the dangers of that particular road we were
on. But I do now.’

‘If I break you I’ll never forgive myself.’

Truth.

‘You won’t break me, Logan. I know what I’m doing. I’ve got
your back.’ As the gentle touch of her tongue to the corner of his mouth
threatened to undo him. ‘And your front.’ Her hand slid slowly down his stomach,
searching for stiffness and finding it. ‘Your measure.’

And he prayed to God that she did.

SIX

Sunday passed in a blur of tangled limbs and bed sheets
and Monday morning came around way too fast. Up at six, with Logan up and ready
to head back to his serviced apartment for the day. Scalding-hot coffee and
marmalade on sourdough toast as Evie slipped into her work clothes and scowled
at the clock. Not a morning person after a night chock-full of Logan. Not a
sensible thought left in her head other than she was determined to show him what
her life was like, and that her life—on the whole—involved generous quantities
of work.

Evie was a good business partner to Max and she needed Logan to
see that. She lived a busy life and she wanted Logan to see that too. She
wouldn’t be derailed by him the way she had been before.

Half six and out of the door, locking it behind her while Logan
stood at her side and waited. She’d see him tonight for dinner. His choice of
restaurant this time and he’d let her know exactly what that choice was some
time during the day. Not to be controlling or to keep her unsure of his plans
for the evening; he just didn’t know yet—this wasn’t his city.

A twenty-minute walk to work for Evie, with Logan heading in
the opposite direction. They parted with little fuss, no kisses to spare.

Businesslike.

Until Logan turned back and claimed her mouth with ruthless
efficiency before heading off once more, this time wearing a devil’s grin.

They did this for three days and three predominantly sleepless
nights.

On the fourth day Max asked Evie where his brother was and
whether he’d taken Evie’s brain with him.

‘My brain’s right here in my head,’ she said, and looked at the
invoices that covered her desk. Ordering the materials for the various jobs they
had on wasn’t her pleasure, which was why she’d given the job to Carlo in the
first place, but he’d made a mess of it and she’d taken the job back in the
interest of straightening things out. ‘What haven’t I done?’

‘You forgot to order the additional tie wire for the Henderson
job.’

Evie groaned. ‘You know what I want more than anything in this
world?’

‘Your brain back?’ asked Max.

‘A proper project manager. A really, really good one.’

‘If the civic centre job comes through you can have one,’
offered Max.

Evie just looked at him through her fringe. ‘Who went and got
the tie wire?’

‘Carlo. He put it on the account. Said to tell you
“Checkmate”.’

‘Carlo wants a proper project manager too,’ said Evie. ‘I’ll
grovel to him later.’

‘That’s my girl,’ said Max.

‘Anything else?’ Evie glanced down at her desk once more and
sighed. ‘Don’t answer that. I’ll have this sorted by the end of the day.’

‘You seeing Logan again tonight?’ asked Max, with not quite the
right amount of disinterest.

‘He’s coming over, yes.’ Assuming he’d left her apartment today
at all. He’d discovered her home office and she’d said he could use it. He had
his own computer but he was in love with her scanner and fax and her big shiny
desk.

‘Do you know what he’s been doing with his days while he’s
here?’

‘I think he sleeps.’ How else did a man get to be so
inexhaustible throughout the night?

‘Did you know he blew off a face-to-face meeting with a soviet
steel baron yesterday? Told him they could reschedule in two weeks’ time or have
a conference call, and that it was all the same to him.’

‘You don’t think Logan knows what he’s doing when it comes to
big business?’ Evie leaned back in her chair and eyed Max steadily. ‘Maybe he
just doesn’t want to work with this man.’

‘Maybe he’s off his game.’

‘You don’t like that he’s spending time with me?’

‘I didn’t say that. I just happen to think that he’s keeping
his real life at bay at the moment. Which is hardly conducive to an ongoing
functional relationship.’

‘Your brother doesn’t want an ongoing functional relationship,
Max. He wants to prove to himself that he’s over me. That he has no need to be
scared of me. The minute he does that he’ll be gone.’

Max eyed her narrowly. ‘So what’s in it for you?’

Evie shrugged. ‘A fascinating house guest, for a while.’ Max
probably wouldn’t want to know this next reason but it was a definite plus to
Evie’s way of thinking. ‘Exceptionally good sex.’

Max winced. ‘Is that it?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’ countered Evie.

‘Cold, Evie.’

‘Maybe,’ she murmured. ‘But I’ve decided that I can’t be in
love with your brother, Max. Infatuated, yes. Willing to help him overcome a few
demons, yes. But I can’t fall in love with him. That’d be beyond stupid.’

‘You know, I had this vision in my head that if I cut you free
to be with Logan that your romance would progress in somewhat traditional
fashion. Dating. Getting engaged. Marriage. What about marriage?’

‘Marriage is overrated.’

‘You’re selling yourself short, Evie. And my mother’s in town
as of last night and she wants to have lunch with you.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Consider yourself forewarned. She’ll be here in about...’ Max
glanced at his two-dollar watch. ‘Now.’

‘She’s coming
here
?’ Evie had a
sudden and irresistible urge to be not here. ‘I won’t be here. I’m heading out
on site. Now. Right now. I’m already running late.’

‘Which site?’

‘The Rogers site.’

‘Mick’s already there.’

‘He needs help.’

‘He’s got help.’

‘
My
help.’ And Evie needed to be
gone when Caroline Carmichael arrived. ‘What does your mother want with me? I
mean...if she’s after her ring back, I don’t have it.’

‘I found the ring, Evie. I spent half a day looking for that
bloody rock. I gave it back to her.’

‘Oh.’ Evie digested Max’s words with a frown. ‘What did she do
with it?’

‘I’m guessing she put it back where it came from. I didn’t
ask.’

‘She hurt him.’ Hurt Logan.

‘Sometimes he brings it on himself.’

‘You’re defending her.’

‘No!’ said Max curtly. And with a twisted scowl, ‘Yes. She’s my
mother, Evie. What do you want me to say?’

Good question. ‘Do you know what Logan’s father did to them?
What he did to himself? What he did to his
son
?’

‘Do you?’ asked Max quietly. ‘You know what Logan’s told you,
Evie. That’s not the whole story. If you want another side of the story, best
you get it from my mother. She’s not a bad person. It wouldn’t kill you to hear
what she has to say.’

‘She hurt him, Max. By having you give me that ring she used
you, confused me and stuck a knife in Logan’s heart. Anything she has to say
should be said to Logan, not to me.’

‘He doesn’t listen to her, Evie. Maybe he’ll listen to you.
You’re closer to him than anyone’s ever been.’

‘And yet I’m still so very,
very
far away.’ Evie ran a hand through her hair. ‘Max, I can’t fix this. I can
barely fix what went wrong with Logan and
me
. You’re
asking too much. Your mother is asking too much.’

‘And yet here I am,’ said a cultured, feminine voice and there
stood Max’s mother. Logan’s mother too. Caroline Carmichael in her
well-preserved flesh. ‘Asking for an hour of your time and an open ear. I want
you to listen—I
hope
you will listen to what I have
to say.’

‘This wasn’t fair warning.’ Evie eyed Max darkly. ‘You’re my
business
partner. We don’t bring personal
matters here. Not to work.’

‘We’ve always brought personal matters here, Evie. We tangled
those threads a long time ago.’

Maybe so, but she had never thought Max would ambush her like
this. She glared at him some more and then at Caroline, who stood quietly by the
door, wanting more from Evie than Evie had in her heart to give.

‘You’re here to tell me how you failed to protect your son?’
she asked acidly and felt a flush of shame when Caroline Carmichael looked her
dead in the eye and said yes.

‘Everyone makes mistakes, Evangeline. Mistakes that shatter
your world and lose you everything you love,’ said Caroline with quiet dignity
and Evie felt the sharp sting of tears behind her eyes. ‘Please.’

‘I can’t help you repair your relationship with Logan.’

‘I’m not expecting you to,’ said Caroline. ‘I just want you to
help my son be the best man he can be. I want him to realise what a good man he
is. I want him to be happy.’

As far as manipulation went Caroline had nailed her good—or
maybe Max had. Someone had.

‘One hour. Not a minute more,’ said Evie, and again Logan’s
mother said yes.

* * *

‘Why
did you make Max give me that ring?’
asked Evie when they were seated at a table for two on the shady terrace of a
nearby restaurant. The table wobbled ever so slightly because of the
convict-laid cobblestones beneath its feet, but the water was cold and the
service was speedy, and, as far as Evie was concerned, speedy was good. ‘You
knew Logan would recognise it.’

‘You have to understand,’ said Caroline. ‘Logan was a heartbeat
away from walking out my door that weekend and never coming back. Because of
you. Because of me. Because walking away is easier than staying and dealing and
if there’s one thing Logan knows how to do it’s walk away,’ said Caroline.
‘Logan was about to turn his back on his family. I had nothing to lose.’

‘But why the ring? Why shove those memories in his face?’

‘Because I thought I could goad Logan into finally losing his
temper with me. He never has, you know. He locks it all up inside. I’ve been
thinking for years that if I could just shatter his self-control, just
once
, that he would realise that, no matter how deeply
he feels betrayed, he will
never
raise his hand in
anger. Never be the man his father was.’ Caroline sat back and raised an elegant
hand to her neck, rubbing wearily before seeming to realise what she was doing.
Her hand returned to her lap and she sat up straighter, the perfect image
restored.

‘Do you have any idea how much courage it takes an abused woman
to pick a fight, Evangeline?
That’s
how much I
believe in the goodness of my son’s heart. That’s how strongly I believe that
Logan’s fear of turning out like his father is misguided. He won’t. He will
never
raise his hand in anger. I believe that
with all that I am.’

Evie ran a hand through her hair and nodded, not trusting
herself to speak.

‘I’m sorry I used you, Evie. I used Max too and I’ve apologised
to him as well. But you have to understand... That weekend was the closest I’ve
ever seen Logan to breaking. I thought that if I pushed him I could finally make
it happen.’

Love wasn’t meant to be this complicated, thought Evie
raggedly. It just wasn’t. ‘But he didn’t break.’

‘Not on me, no. Instead, you threw that ring away and cracked
my son’s heart wide open. I’m calling that a win.’

‘You’re mad,’ said Evie.

‘Been called that before.’ Caroline Carmichael’s smile didn’t
reach her eyes. ‘Mad and useless and pathetic. I used to believe it. I don’t any
more.’

The waiter came with glasses and water and took their lunch
order. Salad for Caroline and a sandwich for Evie. Food that wouldn’t take long
to prepare, food that would get this luncheon finished with fast.

‘If Logan’s father was such a man as you describe...’ Evie
couldn’t believe she was about to ask such an intimate question of a woman she
barely knew ‘...why did you marry him?’

‘If I said I loved him once with all my heart you’d call me a
fool. But it’s the only explanation I’ve got.’

Which was no answer at all and for some reason made Evie want
to cry. Again.

‘Has Logan told you anything about his father?’ asked Caroline
Carmichael after a long, long pause.

‘Very little.’ Evie shrugged and cleared her throat. ‘He told
me that you left him. That you left Logan too. And then his father killed
himself.’

‘Did he mention that he was with his father because I was in a
hospital with two cracked ribs, a broken cheekbone and internal bruising?’

No. Logan hadn’t mentioned that.

‘Hospital,’ echoed Evie.

‘Yes.’

That explained...a lot.

‘When I got out of hospital I went to my sister’s. I stayed
there a week, getting AVO’s and legal advice about how to get Logan away from
his father. How to
keep
him away from his father.
His father was a rich man. He could have the best legal representation money
could buy and I needed to cover my bases. I couldn’t afford not to do everything
right
. I was
always
coming back for my son, Evangeline. Always. I just wasn’t fast enough.’

Evie said nothing. There was nothing to say.

‘Do you know what the ultimate bid for control ends in,
Evangeline?’ asked Caroline Carmichael. ‘Death. And you might think that the
last one standing is the victor, but not always. Sometimes the last ones
standing wear the stain of that death for the rest of our lives. The
helplessness and the guilt. The control issues. The fear of ever letting anyone
get close.’

‘But you married again.’

‘I had the best shrinks money could buy and a very
understanding second husband. He died too, from cancer, and it was fast and
painful. Heartbreaking in its own way. But not my fault.’

There
was the guilt Caroline
Carmichael spoke of. The deeply held scars that coloured her life.

My mother’s not a bad person
, Max
had said.

‘Mrs Carmichael—’

‘Caroline,’ said the older woman. ‘Please.’

‘Caroline.’ The name rolled off Evie’s tongue easily enough. It
was hard to keep hold of her anger when her overwhelming emotion was sadness. ‘I
appreciate you telling me about your past, and Logan’s, but please...don’t pin
any hopes on me and Logan staying together, or on me being able to influence his
relationship with you.
I’m
not pinning any hopes on
me and Logan staying together. He’s here for a week and we’re halfway through it
already, and after that he’s going to go. And while I hope very much that
Logan’s been able to slay a few demons when it comes to him being too dominant
and me being too submissive all those years ago, I’m going to let him go.’