Maybe it was because she was nothing like his wife. Sallyanne had been tall and willowy. In heels, she’d matched his height. Physically, Eva was as different from Sallyanne as it was possible for a woman to be. He knew instinctively that losing himself in Eva’s soft curves would be a whole new experience, with no flashbacks or reminders, but he knew that for a man like him to get involved with a woman like her would definitely be a crime, just not the sort he wrote about.
“You won’t even know I’m here.”
“You’re not the type of woman who blends into the background.”
“You don’t need to worry about me disturbing you,” she said quickly. “I understand that creative genius needs space to work. Also there’s the fact that I don’t find your company that thrilling, Mr. Blade.”
The kitten had claws. “Tell my grandmother you changed your mind about the job.”
“No. I’m being paid to decorate your apartment and stock your freezer in your absence. That’s what I intend to do.”
“I’m not absent.”
“Which is inconvenient for both of us, particularly as you’re not allowing me to disclose that fact to the person who gave me thi
s job. I don’t like lying.”
He discovered that those soft blue eyes and mermaid-like hair concealed a woman with a stubborn streak a mile wide.
The thought that his grandmother might finally have met her match almost compensated for the irritation of failing to shift her from his apartment.
Almost, but not quite.
“Leave, and I’ll match whatever she’s paying you.”
“It’s not about the money, Mr. Blade. It’s about my professional reputation. I take pride in my work.”
“And what is your work, exactly? You’re a Christmas elf? You decorate the apartments of unsuspecting Scrooge-like individuals, thus intensifying their loathing of this time of year?” His sarcasm seemed to slide right off her.
“I’m part of Urban Genie. We’re an events and concierge company.”
“Decorating my apartment is an event?”
“Your grandmother is one of our clients and this request came through her. We can do pretty much anything that’s requested of us.”
He bit back the obvious comment. He told himself that he didn’t want to make cheap jokes at her expense, but the truth was he was trying hard not to think of her that way. “Anything, it seems, except leave when you’re asked to.”
“I’d leave if requested to do so by my client. You’re not my client.”
“Give me the name of your boss, and I’ll call and explain that I no longer need your services.”
“I am the boss. I run the business with two of my friends.”
“How do you know my grandmother?”
“I met Mitzy earlier in the year when she requested a birthday cake. She was one of our first clients. We got talking, and since then she’s used us a few times. When the weather is cold I walk her little dog, and sometimes we just talk.”
No one but his grandfather had ever called his grandmother Mitzy. To everyone else she was Mary, or Gran. Clearly this girl was more to his grandmother than the face of an efficient concierge service. “What do you talk about?”
“Everything. She’s an interesting woman.”
“She pays you to chat? You charge an old lady for company?”
“No. I chat because I like her.” She was patient. “She reminds me of my grandmother. She’s a little lonely, I think.”
Even though there was no accusation in her eyes or in her voice, he felt another stab of guilt.
“She calls you?”