Elusive As The Unicorn

‘I only told him The Unicorn would be at the party; it was up to him to discover who that was. Besides,’ the other woman gave a wicked grin, ‘he was so relieved to learn that Paul wasn’t The Unicorn that I didn’t need to placate him at all!’

‘Sophy——’ Eve chided wryly.

‘Well, it’s true,’ Sophy insisted with wide-eyed innocence. ‘He almost got down and kissed my feet when I assured him Paul was telling the truth.’

She couldn’t help smiling; Sophy really was outrageous! ‘Who is he, anyway?’ she queried lightly, deciding she might just as well ignore the other woman’s sarcasm at Paul’s expense; Sophy took no notice of her reproof, anyway!

‘A successful entrepreneur, worth millions,’ Sophy confided. ‘And he also owns one of the most prestigious galleries in New York,’ she added excitedly, her veneer of bored cynicism slipping in her genuine enthusiasm for the subject.

It was when Sophy was like this that Eve could see the side of her that Patrick obviously knew and loved so well. A confirmed, single-minded career-woman until Patrick had come into her life, there was obviously something within him that was able to reach into the softer core of her, some quality that only Patrick possessed; this more endearing side of Sophy was certainly never in evidence when Paul was around. If it were, they possibly wouldn’t argue quite so much!

‘And he’s very interested in the The Unicorn paintings the gallery owns,’ Sophy continued triumphantly. ‘Informed me that he has his own private collection back in New York.’

His admiration for Eve’s work had been more than obvious a couple of evenings ago, but nevertheless it shook her slightly to think of him owning any of her work; the paintings were, after all, private pieces of herself she had put on to canvas. He had been right when he’d said her work came from her heart and soul, and each painting was a labour of love.

‘Apparently he always has at least two pieces of your work on display at his gallery,’ Sophy confided with enthusiasm. ‘In fact, he wanted me to approach you about taking your winter exhibition over to New York. With Patrick and me working on a commission and overseeing the project, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Eve said drily.

But she couldn’t help feeling pleasure in the compliment she had just been given. Each painting she did was a labour of love, and when it left her studio to be sold at Sophy’s gallery it went with great reluctance on Eve’s part to let that part of herself go. She had often wondered what sort of person, just who, would claim her latest and most precious ‘child’; each successive painting had always become the most precious.

Much as it made her feel slightly uncomfortable to think of the man Adam owning several parts of her inner self in that way, she also knew instinctively that the paintings would be cherished by him, that despite being a businessman he was able to appreciate the emotional value of her work and not just the financial; and so many of the buyers seemed to be concerned purely with the financial nowadays.

‘And there’s more,’ Sophy added, with a gleam of laughter in her eyes.

Eve instinctively distrusted that gleam. ‘Oh?’ she prompted warily.

‘Mm,’ the other woman said teasingly. ‘He told me the two of you never had got around to introducing yourselves properly the other evening.’

‘It didn’t seem necessary, the fact that we’re called Adam and Eve amused him enough,’ she recalled with a heavy sigh.

Sophy chuckled. ‘That’s because he had the added insight of knowing his full name is Adam Gardener!’ she announced with great enjoyment.

‘It couldn’t be!’ Eve groaned, briefly closing her eyes, shaking her head as if to shut out the awful coincidence of that name.

‘It is,’ the other woman laughed softly. ‘Think how much more amused he would have been if he had known he was talking to Eve Eden!’

It didn’t even bear thinking about!

‘What on earth were our parents thinking of when they named the two of us?’ she gasped.

‘Well, certainly not that you would ever meet each other!’ Sophy was obviously enjoying herself immensely—at their expense.

And why shouldn’t she? Good heavens, Adam Gardener and Eve Eden—it was too ridiculous to even think about!

‘Well, at least that isn’t likely to happen again.’ Thank goodness. What a topic for conversation they would be if the people she knew should ever realise Adam’s full name and its significance to hers. Goodness knew, her name alone had been a source of amusement for years; the two together would be just too much.

‘If we do go into collaboration with him over an exhibition in New York, he will obviously want to meet you,’ Sophy pointed out practically.

Eve shook her head very firmly. ‘You know very well that I never travel.’

Sophy’s mouth tightened. ‘That’s only because you’ve allowed——’

‘Besides,’ she cut in determinedly, wanting to avoid Sophy saying anything further that was detrimental to Paul, knowing the other woman usually lost no opportunity to criticise him, even if it wasn’t always valid.

She simply didn’t want to travel, it certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with Paul’s aversion to her becoming involved with the artistic set that could become such a threat to their privacy.

‘I’m just too busy working with my grandmother on the arrangements for the wedding in September.’ Not that that was really taking up so much of her time; it was only going to be a small affair, with close family and a few friends.

And, if there was still this animosity between Paul and Sophy at that time, she had the feeling he was going to insist Sophy and Patrick not be included in the latter. It was going to be a serious bone of contention between them.

Sophy arched mocking brows. ‘Is September when Paul has decided the wedding is to be?’

She gave a weary sigh. ‘That’s when we have decided it’s to be, yes.’

The other woman gave a sceptical snort. ‘But I have no doubt the date fits in very nicely with Paul’s schedule.’

‘Well, of course it does.’ Eve was becoming more than a little irritable now. ‘As the wedding can really be at any time, there would be no point in arranging it for when it’s completely inconvenient for everyone involved.’

‘September suits you too, does it?’ Sophy derided drily.

‘Sophy, I know you and Paul don’t get on, but——’

‘That has to be the understatement of the year!’ the other woman scorned.

‘—but he is the man I love and intend to marry,’ Eve finished firmly, glaring fiercely.

Sophy was unaffected by that glare. ‘More’s the pity.’ She looked totally disheartened by the prospect, even lacking her usual grace of movement as she dropped down into an armchair. ‘OK, I’m sorry.’ She waved an elegantly long hand dismissively. ‘But the man can be so bloody-minded.’

Eve smiled without rancour at this familiar accusation. ‘You just don’t like him because he doesn’t readily agree with what you want.’

Sophy drew in a ragged breath, raising sleepy lids. ‘Is that what you think?’ she frowned.

‘I know it,’ she chided indulgently.

Her friend just looked at her for several seconds. ‘If you say so,’ she finally sighed. ‘So what are the chances of the two of you coming to dinner this week?’ she drawled in a bored voice.

Eve smiled. ‘You didn’t have to come all the way over here to ask me that; a telephone call would have sufficed,’ she said tauntingly.

Sophy had too much self-confidence and outright nerve to look even the slightest bit disconcerted by the sarcasm. ‘I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity to talk to you about the exhibition we want to set up for you this winter——’

‘I didn’t think you needed an excuse to do that,’ she teased, moving to look out of the huge studio window, loving, as always, the utter peace and tranquillity that met her gaze. The work she had been able to have done on this old family house was the biggest reward she had received from her painting, and from the legacy she had had from her parents on her twenty-first birthday that had allowed her to concentrate fully on that career that had brought so many rewards.

Her gaze softened with love as her grandmother glanced up from where she was working on her rose garden to see her standing at the third-floor window, and the old lady straightened to wave happily in the sunshine.

Her grandmother had been the most important person in Eve’s life after the death of her parents twenty years ago, when Eve was only six and Evelyn Ashton was already in her early fifties.

The elderly woman hadn’t hesitated about taking over the care of both of her young granddaughters after the road accident that had robbed her of her only two children, her son and his wife, and her daughter and her husband, the four returning from a weekend in the country when their car had lost control and gone over the side of a bridge. Four-year-old Marina and six-year-old Eve had been left orphaned after the crash.