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Reece had been right. His life was a quagmire indeed—and Ethan Devereux’s playboy status was well-documented. His older brother Abe’s was too, although he seemed to have settled down a touch of late. As for his father...
Goodness!
It would seem that all the Devereux men dated and discarded with ease. It was Ethan she wanted to find out more about. Yet they all seemed inextricably linked.
Merida clicked on a recent news article:Twenty-Five Years On.
There was a photo of the Devereux men in dark suits and ties at what appeared to be a memorial service. Merida read that a quarter-century ago his mother had been involved in an accident in the Caribbean. She had been flown back to New York, but had died two days later.
The country had mourned—particularly here in New York City—and there had been accusations against her husband.
Merida topped up her glass as she read about the rumours that Jobe Devereux had been embroiled in a salacious affair, rumoured to be with the nanny, and that that was the reason poor Elizabeth had fled.
Merida raised her eyebrows.
Certainly if she found outherhusband was sleeping with the nanny she’d be kicking him out, rather than running off.
Still, it made good reading.
There were photos of the two Devereux children, accompanied by nannies, arriving at the hospital to say goodbye.
How awful, Merida thought, but how riveting!
So engrossed was she that she barely looked up when the gallery door opened.
‘We’re actually closed,’ Merida said—and then promptly wanted to die when she turned. Because there were few things more embarrassing than looking up to see the object of your desire at the very same time you were looking him up online.
He now had on a long dark coat, worn open over his suit. There was an emergency button under the desk and Merida was rather tempted to push it. Not because she felt threatened—not in the least. Just because every cell in her body had moved to high alert.
‘Hi,’ Merida said, and probably undid all the changes she had made to the website as she frantically clicked the mouse in an attempt to delete him from the screen. ‘Did you forget something?’
‘You know I did.’
Merida swallowed, and though she could have cast her eyes around for his keys, or a forgotten tablet, or anything else that might have forced his return, deep down she knew what he was about to ask.
And he didn’t disappoint. ‘How about dinner?’
There were many reasons that she should say no to his offer. Merida had been warned about his reputation—not just by his terrible press, but also by Reece. And possibly the hairs that stood up on her bare arms should have served as another reason to decline.
Yet that shiver was borne of awareness rather than nervousness, Merida was certain.
He made herawareof her own body.
Ethan Devereux reminded her, without a word or even a gaze in that direction, that she was not wearing a bra, because suddenly her small breasts felt tight and heavy, and her legs, even though she was sitting, felt weak.
He made her want to throw caution to the wind and say yes.
‘I have to close up first.’
‘Of course.’
Her legs felt as if they might give way as she stepped down from the stool.
Everything that she usually did so easily suddenly felt new and unfamiliar.
From walking to breathing, she had to focus anew over and over again.
She tidied up the gallery as he wandered around, looking again at the exhibitions.
