“Hello, Eve.”
It was the last voice in the world she wanted to hear, the last voice she’d ever thought to hear again. For an instant, she was too shocked to react.
“It’s Zach.”
“I know who it is. What do you want?”
“I left a message on your machine a little while ago. Didn’t you get it?”
“No. And I’m not interested in getting it. I’ve nothing to say to you.”
“Look, I know we didn’t part amicably——”
Eve laughed.
“All right, dammit, so we parted badly.”
“Badly?” Eve shook her head. “You have a talent for understatement.”
“Eve, we have to talk.”
“We are talking, much to my regret. In fact, I don’t see any reason for this conversation, so good——”
“Wait! Don’t hang up, dammit. I…I…” His breath rasped sharply through the phone. “Listen, have you had breakfast yet?”
“Have I what?” she said, and laughed.
“Do us both a favor, okay? I haven’t had much sleep, my stomach’s growling, and my disposition’s shot to hell.”
“What a pity.”
“Just answer the question. Have you eaten yet?”
“No. And now I probably won’t. Hearing your voice has just about ruined my appetite.”
“For whatever it’s worth, Eve, this isn’t easy for me.”
“You’re breaking my heart.”
“I’ll pick you up in half an hour. Where shall I make a reservation? The Polo Lounge?”
Eve took a deep breath. “Let me say this in words of one syllable, so there’s no danger of you not understanding. I do not like you. In fact, it would not be over-stating things if I said I hated your guts. Is that clear?”
He gave a sharp laugh. “As glass.”
“Good. I’m glad we agree on something.”
“We can agree on more than that, if you give me the chance.” There was a silence, and then Zach cleared his throat. “I was wrong. About you not being capable——”
“You’re repeating yourself, Zach. I heard this speech before.”
“No. You never heard me say that—that I was wrong about why my old man put you in charge of Triad.”
Eve knew it was a moment for some clever, biting retort but she was speechless. Say something, she told herself fiercely. She swallowed hard, took a breath and spoke.
“If you’re waiting to hear the sound of my knees hitting the floor in gratitude——”
“Look, I know you think this is too little, too late, but at least hear me out.”
“Why should I?”
Because Triad needs you, Zach thought, but he knew there was more to it than that. He wanted Eve beside him. He didn’t entirely trust her, she could infuriate him with a look or a word—but like the yin and the yang of the world, she could also make him feel more alive than he had in a long, long time.
“Because I need your help.” There was silence on the phone, and he spoke quickly, afraid she was going to hang up. “Eve.” His voice took on a softer tone. “Have breakfast with me. Please.”
Eve hesitated. What could be more harmless than breakfast?
“All right,” she said. “Pick a place and I’ll meet you.”
Zach let out his breath. “How about the Polo Lounge?”
The Polo Lounge? It was the place for power breakfasts, where Hollywood’s elite drank their decaf, buttered their toast and agreed to multimillion-dollar deals.
No, Eve thought, not the lounge. If he’d set out to confuse her, he’d more than succeeded. She’d meet him someplace simple and down-to-earth, someplace where his brand of bull wouldn’t mean a thing.
“There’s a place just a couple of blocks north of my apartment,” she said. “You can’t miss it.”
“What’s it called?”
Eve smiled. “El Mirador,” she said, and hung up.
* * *
He was waiting for her when she got there, leaning against his Porsche with his arms crossed over his chest, and she knew right away that if she’d thought to put him in his place by meeting him at a taco stand, she’d made a mistake.
Zach was a man who’d dominate any setting, and that was what he was doing now. Dressed casually, in chinos and a navy blazer over a white shirt worn open at the throat, he looked more handsome and masculine than any man had a right to look.
Her heart did a quick two-step that sent it knocking against her ribs.
He smiled as she walked toward him, his green eyes reflecting as much amusement as irritation. He straightened up and came toward her, his gaze flickering over her, and she almost regretted that she hadn’t bothered changing out of her sweatsuit or that she hadn’t at least brushed out her hair and put on some makeup.
But then she remembered exactly what kind of man Zach Landon was and that they’d played this game before, and her regrets faded away.
He jerked his chin toward the pink and purple flowered awning behind her.
“El Mirador, hmm?” he said.
Eve shrugged. “Rumor has it that Michelin’s about to give the place a gold star.”
To her surprise, he laughed. “Well, the food can’t be any worse than the stuff my hotel serves.” He took her arm, his grasp just tight enough to keep her from jerking away, and led her to the counter. “What do you recommend?”
“Arsenic,” she said sweetly.
Zach ignored her and scanned the hand-printed menu wall. “We’ll have the mangoes,” he told the counterman, “and then the ranchos huevos. Oh, and two large coffees.” He shot Eve a smile as he paid for their meal. “We can have champagne later, to celebrate.”
“Don’t talk like a fool, Zach. I can’t imagine we’d ever have anything to celebrate.”
Zach laughed, but he didn’t answer. It was safer that way, because the thought occurred to him that she was probably right, he was a fool—a fool to involve himself with Eve again.
She had not taken any pains at all for this meeting, that was obvious. She was dressed in an outfit as sexily stylish as a paper bag, her face was shiny and untouched by makeup, her hair was yanked back in a ponytail, and she was treating him as if he was the bearer of bubonic plague.
In short, everything about her said she hated him. But none of it made her any less desirable.
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The baggy pants only made a man wonder at the long length of the legs hidden inside. The oversize shirt lent an air of sweet mystery to the faint, high thrust of her breasts. As for makeup—why would she need it? Her eyes couldn’t be more blue, and her mouth was already the soft pink of dawn.
She didn’t need any artifice at all, not even perfume. Her own scent, clean and fragrant as a flower, rose to his nostrils and dazzled him. He wanted to pull her closer and bury his nose in her hair to inhale her essence, lift her face to his and taste her mouth…
“Señnor?”
Zach looked up. The counterman was shoving a tray toward him. He hefted it in one hand, kept a grip on Eve’s elbow with the other and led her to a wooden table sporting a Corona beer umbrella.
Eve yanked free and settled herself on the bench. Zach sat down opposite her.
“What is it you want, Zach?”
“First we eat, then we talk.”
She watched in stony silence as he stabbed a plastic fork into the eggs and lifted it to his mouth. “Mmm,” he said. “Hey, that’s not bad.” He took another bite, then took a sip of coffee. “Not bad at all.”
Eve swallowed. Zach was tackling his breakfast with gusto, and she was sitting here and listening to her stomach growl? Not accepting Zach’s check had been stupid enough, but wasting perfectly good food was even worse.
She scowled, reached for her fork and dug in.
When she had finished, she took a final sip of coffee, wiped her lips with a paper napkin and sat forward.
“Well?” she said brusquely. “What’s this all about?”
Zach pushed away the tray, propped his elbows on the table and locked his fingers together beneath his chin.
“The past week’s been—I guess the word I’m looking for is interesting.”
She gave him a honeyed smile. “How fortunate for you.”
Zach sighed. “Maybe what I really mean is that it’s been difficult.”
“Difficult?” She laughed. “How could anything be difficult for the man who knows everything?”
“We finished The Ghost Stallion.“
Eve’s left eyebrow rose. “How nice,” she said politely.