The Surprise of Her Life

“Happy New Year,” Derek murmured, his gaze roaming over her face.

“And to you,” Eve whispered. She grew sad as she felt this sweet, unexpected moment coming to an end.

But instead of releasing her, Derek slowly lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. The caress was warm and gentle. He made her feel delicate and special. Before she could reason herself out of the impulse, Eve kissed him back.

With a sigh of relief or gratitude, he slid his arms around her again, only this time he brought her closer. Nevertheless, it felt as right as when they were dancing. Then he slanted his mouth over hers, seeking a deeper connection …

Dear Reader,

One of my favorite approaches to use for a story is when the hero and heroine are already acquainted, but have some wrong perceptions about each other. Enter Eve Easton and Derek Roland, former neighbors in Texas, who find themselves at the same New Year’s Eve party in Colorado. Eve remembered FBI Special Agent-In-Charge Roland as professional, serious to the point of intimidating, and virtually oblivious of her existence, although they share a simpatico for being the rejected parties after their spouses have an affair and marry each other!

The surprise of Eve’s life isn’t just learning that they’re neighbors again, or that neither she nor Derek are done dealing with their respective divorces, but that she’s finally met the man of her dreams—and that Derek hasn’t been quite as oblivious of her existence as she’d believed. Now, as the youngest sibling in her family, she has to figure out if she’s gained the independence and maturity to be the ever-after love of a man like Derek.

As always, I’m mixing some real locations with some created just for the story. JW Marriott Cherry Creek, and the boutiques at Cherry Creek North, as well as the restaurants at Larimer Square actually do exist, and if you check online, you can enjoy more visuals to help you enjoy Eve and Derek’s romance.

Thank you for your continued support, and know that you can always contact me through my website, www.helenrmyers.com.

With warm regards,

Helen

About the Author

HELEN R. MYERS is a collector of two- and four-legged strays, and lives deep in the Piney Woods of East Texas. She cites cello music and bonsai gardening as favorite relaxation pastimes, and still edits in her sleep—an accident, learned while writing her first book. A bestselling author of diverse themes and focus, she is a three-time RITA® Award nominee, winning for Navarrone in 1993.

The Surprise

of Her Life

Helen R. Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For dear friend, writer, horsewoman

M. Gail Reed

who lost her beloved husband during

the writing of this book.

“Doc Mike”

one of the finest, most respected veterinarians

Texas A&M ever produced.

“Death be not proud …”

Chapter One

“Oh, no—Help!”

Of course, she didn’t expect any. Eve Easton had come alone into the kitchen and was reaching into the commercial-size refrigerator with its double, glass doors to pull out the carved-crystal punch bowl, made heavier by pounds of chipped ice and boiled shrimp. But just when she turned toward the counter, the unwieldy thing had started slipping from her grasp.

Miracle of miracles, strong arms wrapped around hers in support, and a mellow, male voice assured her, “Got it.”

Too relieved to have avoided catastrophe to yelp from surprise that someone had actually heard her, Eve held her breath as, together, she and her mystery hero jointly hoisted the thing to the counter. Unfortunately, their combined momentum made it land with a sharp thud.

“Don’t shatter,” she entreated the bowl. “Glass shards aren’t a digestible garnish.” That was the problem with helping out here; everything in the place was genuine, gorgeous and breakable.

“Do you always reprimand inanimate objects?”

As her foolishness sunk in, she chuckled self-consciously—feeling increasingly so for their awkward positioning. “Oh, ignore me. I’ve spent most of my life either swimming upstream, ignoring logic, or otherwise trying to defy physics.”

“Eve? Eve Prescott … It is you.”

Already remaining stiff enough to shatter herself, Eve willed herself to faint. She was 99.99 percent sure she wasn’t dreaming, so there was no other escape from this moment. And the man who held her against the counter so tightly that they were as close as two people could get—short of sexual intimacy—sounded eerily similar to one of three people she’d hoped never to see again in this lifetime. The fact that he addressed her by her married name confirmed the impossible had happened.

God, leaving Texas wasn’t enough? In case you’ve forgotten, you don’t let Southwest fly to Mars yet.

Lifting her gaze to stare at their reflection in the glass cabinets at the end of the kitchen counter, she managed to eke out on a thin breath, “It’s Easton now, Mr. Roland. I took back my maiden name.” She didn’t dare turn her head what with him being so close, his breath already a lover’s caress against her ear and cheek.

“Of course. Sorry.”

It was then that his gaze lifted, seeming to follow hers, and they were staring at each other in the glass. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

“I was invited—well—by a friend of an invited guest. Then by our hostess herself when my friend checked with her.”

Responding literally to her question also confirmed her conclusion—like she needed that. Derek Roland was nothing if not a stick-to-the-facts guy. What else would you expect from a government man? “I meant what are you doing in Colorado? Wait. First, would you mind—?” She bobbed her head to the right, signaling him to let go and give her some space. “If we get any closer, you’ll be able to describe my birthmark.”

With an understated clearing of his throat, he did exactly that, stepping around the kitchen bar to grasp the back of a brass-and-wood chair instead. “I live here now. Apparently you do, as well, or are you visiting relatives? You don’t resemble either of the Graingers.”

Wearing a new champagne-colored cashmere dress that felt like a second skin—something she intended to let Rae Grainger know was not her best wardrobe recommendation to date—Eve ran her hands over her hips where she could still feel his body heat. Yes, it was him—Derek Roland. Mr. Tall, Groomed and Stern. Even the perpetual frown between his eyebrows was exactly as she remembered; nevertheless, he was an attractive man, and she didn’t actually hold any resentment toward him. To be fair, she’d concluded him to be as much an injured party to what had occurred as she was. His offense was simply to be here and, therefore, was a reminder of the humiliation she’d fled Texas to forget.

“I’m not related to either Rae or Gus,” she replied, acutely aware of the visual study he was conducting of her. “Rae is my boss. Denver Events Planning.”

“From PTA fairy godmother and Booster Club organizer to events planner. That makes all the sense in the world and probably keeps you as busy as ever. You have to love the wardrobe upgrade?”

“It’s … different.” And keeping busy was the idea. She’d needed to stay as active as possible during her awake hours so she didn’t drown in a pity party for one when she should be sleeping. The paycheck was the other motivator to keep at this. “You’re absolutely right, though, I’m not qualified for much else,” she admitted ruefully.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Did you transfer to the Denver office, Mr. Roland?” she asked before he could finish. Back in Texas he’d been the most whispered-about person on their block. It wasn’t every day you had an FBI agent as a neighbor.

“Please, make that Derek, and, yes, something like that. I’m the S.A.C. here.”

“Excuse me, I’m terrible with abbreviations.”

“Special Agent-in-Charge.”

“Oh. Oh. Wow. Congratulations.” Without trying, he’d succeeded in making her feel even younger and less accomplished than she already did.

The stereotype continued to hold true; even in his gray suit and two-tone silver tie, he looked “government,” just as he had back in Texas when he and his then-wife Sam had moved in next door to her and Wes. It was when she brought over a peach cobbler she’d baked herself that Samantha Roland confided that her Derek was with “the Agency.” Derek had always struck Eve as a serious man, and you’d have to be obtuse not to notice that his job demanded much of his time. He’d almost never been around for small talk, even when outside mowing the lawn or cleaning up the branch-littered yard after a strong storm. Every chore or project was achieved at a brisk pace that suggested he had more important things to do and places to be. They were speaking more now than they had in all of the time that they’d been neighbors.

Eve doubted that she could bring herself to call him by his first name. He might only be five or so years her senior, but his whole bearing made her feel a full decade deficit in experience. “Rae will be thrilled,” she assured him, with a death hold on her role as assistant to one of the most talked-about women in Denver. “I think you’ve managed to put a new feather in her cap. With the weather as unrelenting as it is, I know she’s grateful if the D.A. or a judge will come up here. It’s usually the show business and sports people who are brave enough to take on the mountains in these conditions.”

“I’m glad I could make it. The place is spectacular.” As he spoke, Derek gave the state-of-the-art yet creative room a more thorough and admiring look. “I actually came with D.A. Maines.”

She literally bit her tongue to avoid saying, “Oh,” and spread her hands in a well-there-you-have-it gesture. If D.A. Maines remembered her, it would be as the coat check girl, when she’d actually handed him a program and glass of champagne at the pre-party to the opening of the theater’s yearly premiere of The Nutcracker ballet.

“His wife is with their daughter on a school-related trip to Italy, and he wasn’t up for ringing in the New Year with a TV dinner and case files.”

Never mind trying to picture the district attorney eating a frozen dinner, Eve had to force her gaze from Derek’s mouth. Slightly curved into a smile, his lips weren’t as thin as she used to believe, now that they weren’t fixed in that tight, white line they usually were back in Texas. In fact they seemed kind, and—tempting.

“You cut your hair.”

The unexpected observation had her self-consciously smoothing the short wisps at her nape. A year ago, her naturally blond locks had almost reached her waist. “There’s an understatement if I ever heard one. My ex—and probably yours—would say that I look scalped.”

“You look … great. Very chic, or is that an archaic expression these days?”

At first, she’d worried that the style made her look like a street urchin out of Oliver Twist, but heartened by his seemingly sincere admiration a bit of her impish humor surfaced. “Full disclosure? All I was doing was indulging a little immature spite. Typical southern male, Wes would complain at the slightest trimming I’d do to get rid of split ends.”

The truth was, once past her high school cheerleading years, she felt the weight of her hair too much for her slight frame. The first thing she did, after finding the apartment in Denver, was to walk into a full-service salon and ask for it all to be cut off. It not only felt liberating in ways she hadn’t imagined, but donating her shorn locks to an organization that would turn it into a wig for a child with cancer gave her a quiet joy. Interestingly, her migraine-size headaches soon stopped, too.

“I can top that.” Derek pretended to glance around before sliding her a conspiratorial look. “As I was moving out, I came upon Samantha’s engagement ring in the bathroom. I ‘accidentally’ flipped it into the commode.”

Eve couldn’t keep from sucking in her breath at the image. Sam’s ring was only half the size of Rae’s, but it was one hundred percent more than Eve had ever worn. Too grateful for this moment to resist, she asked, “Did she notice before … you know?”

With a negligent shrug, he replied, “She must have, she signed the divorce papers.”

Eve laughed with relief. Incredible, she thought, they were actually making small talk—and it was fun. The few times they’d exchanged greetings back in Texas, she’d hesitated and stuttered like a nine-year-old, finding herself in front of the school principal.

“Are you liking Colorado?” she ventured.

“So far, so good, although it took me a while to adjust to the altitude.”

“As physically fit as you people have to be?” Eve didn’t hide her surprise. “I thought I was going to have to buy my own personal oxygen tank. And it was a good thing I wasn’t wearing a ring anymore because my fingers swelled like sausages on a grill.”

Derek’s answering glance exposed his amusement but disbelief. “I knew you’d moved, Eve. I just had no idea it was here. I hope this isn’t too awkward for you, but I was merely looking for a secluded spot to check my BlackBerry for calls without appearing rude or attracting too much attention.”

Sensing he was turning back into FBI Agent Roland, Eve pointed to the sunroom at the back of the kitchen. It was a rather romantic nook with the outdoor lights from the patio twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Consider me gone. If you need more light, there’s a switch to your left as soon as you enter. You’ll have the kitchen to yourself. I’m off to deliver this,” she said, gesturing to the bowl that had started their conversation.

Frowning, he reached out to stay her retreat. “Give me a second and I’ll carry that beast for you.”

With that he removed the BlackBerry from its belt clip, exposing his badge, and focused on the small screen. After only a few seconds and fewer clicks, he replaced it.

“Lead the way,” he said, reaching for the heavy receptacle.

She did, acutely aware of his gaze following her every step. Although she thought she looked the best she had in a year, she would have passed on this glove of a dress if not for Rae’s insistence when they’d gone on a shopping spree together. Granted, she’d admitted that she was frustrated with her harmless, girl-next-door image, but blatant-vamp persona felt a ridiculous reach. Angelina Jolie in The Tourist, she wasn’t. But the knee-length dress was a contradiction, as well. It had a demure, high front, but Derek had the real view—a seriously low, cowl neck in back exposing just about every inch of her from nape to waist, all of which was prickling—and not because the temperature in the house was too low. She wasn’t a gambler, but she could feel Derek’s gaze contemplating what she was and wasn’t wearing beneath the thing.

At the long buffet in the dining room, Eve indicated the spot where the bowl should go and stepped aside for him to put his hefty load in its place. “I do appreciate this,” she said as discreetly as she could, counting how many pairs of eyes had noticed.

“My pleasure. Besides, that dress doesn’t look like anything you can machine wash and I’m fast concluding that eau de shrimp isn’t the right fragrance for you.”

She heard a few chuckles from people overhearing the exchange and felt a betraying heat creep into her face. Special Agent Roland was flirting … with her. The man whom she last saw angry enough to bite inch-thick bolts in two when he’d come to confront Wes about his affair with Samantha. She couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around that idea.

“Eve, introduce me to this gallant gentleman,” Rae said, joining them. “I thought I’d greeted all of our guests, but I’m obviously remiss in welcoming you,” she added to Derek. She extended her beautifully manicured hand in a way that best displayed her French-tipped fingernails and several carats of diamonds.

Almost as tall as Derek and luscious in a silver-sequined, full-length gown, Rae’s personality was cranked tonight to radiate mach charm. Her reputation in Denver was at once admired and resented due to her ambition and fearlessness. She never questioned her taste or decisions and if a client did, they didn’t need to hire Rae Grainger for their function. That matched her bold appearance—flaming red hair and matching lips, permanent liner and eyebrows, and teeth that any TV personality would kill for.

With wry circumspection that played well to her brashness, Derek picked up a napkin, wiped his right hand and took hers. “Mrs. Grainger. Thank you for allowing me to join you.”

“You don’t look like a golfing buddy or business associate of my husband’s. And you have better manners.”

“More like an associate of D.A. Maines, who is taking pity on someone relatively new in town. Derek Roland.”

Rae’s face radiated her recognition and she nodded approvingly, which almost ended suspiciously like a royal bow. “I remember now. How lovely to have you, Special Agent-in-Charge Roland.”

Eve resisted the urge to roll her eyes by respecting her incredible memory. Rae could recite event quotes, guest lists and her daily phone log from a month back.

“Call me Derek, please … unless I come bearing a warrant.”

With a throaty laugh, Rae replied, “Well, Derek, you are obviously blessed with as much good taste as you are with chivalry and wit. I’ve about given myself an ulcer at the idea of all this loveliness going to waste.” As she spoke, she swept her hand toward Eve.

For the briefest moment, Eve thought the groan in her mind actually burst from her lips. But unable to stay silent out of fear total humiliation was forthcoming, she stage-whispered, “This was my former neighbor, Rae. My ex and his are now married.”

Rarely rattled, the resilient redhead muttered a brief, “Crap” through a frozen smile.

“Or something to that effect,” Eve muttered, wishing for a glass of anything to swig down. Crawling under the twenty-thousand-dollar dining table was out of the question. “I’m going to get the last of the sushi now,” she said to the room at large. “With luck, I’ll trip along the way, knock myself out and come to with amnesia.”

Once back in the kitchen, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the refrigerator. What had she done to deserve this? Even though Derek was being an absolute gentleman, he was a reminder of everything she’d been trying to put behind her, namely her failure as a wife and as a woman.

Hearing the door creak open behind her, she quickly made her way to the sink where she pumped soap into her palm and then ran water to wash her hands before setting to work again. She wasn’t surprised to see Derek’s image suddenly reflected beside hers in the sink window.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Sure. This happens to me every day.”

“You don’t sound okay.”

“Well, don’t take this personally, but having all but cried my way through Christmas because I missed my family and we were too busy to get time off to fly down to see them, the last thing I needed was my past hitting me in the face like a tacky pie-throwing joke.”

As she witnessed Derek’s head rear back as though she’d struck him on the chin, Eve grimaced and turned to face him. “I didn’t mean you. I meant the affair and everything. You’ve been all kindness. But you don’t know Rae. She may have appeared apologetic, but she’s taking your consideration to me the wrong way, as she will your presence. Trust me, regardless of what I said, or will say, she’s got an idea in her head and she will Frankenstein monster it into—I don’t want to think what.”

If he was upset at that news, Derek didn’t show it. Instead, he ripped off a sheet from the paper towel roll beside him and handed it to her.

“Oh, good grief, see? I’m dripping all over the hardwood floor and myself.”

“I wish you weren’t so uncomfortable about our reunion,” he said as she dried her hands, blotted her skirt and quickly dabbed at the few drops on the floor.

“You aren’t?”

“Not at all. I remember you as lovely in all ways, and I felt as badly for you as I did for myself. More actually.”

His flattery was as potent as wine and she was grateful for the need to turn her back on him so she could toss the paper towel in the trash compactor. “Why? You don’t know me. Maybe I deserved what happened. Do you realize this is the longest conversation we’ve had in all the time we were neighbors?”

“My work requires me to read people well.”

Thinking of his choice in marriage partners, she spun around. “I have two words for you and her initials are—”

“Resist that one.” Derek came an inch away from touching his index finger to her lips before stopping himself. “I don’t want to be remotely tempted to speak your ex’s name in rebuttal.”

As he continued to be transfixed by her lips, Eve grasped at humor as she always did when finding herself in an uncomfortable moment. “Hey, I never said I’m a good judge of character. I’m always surprised when people don’t mess up or let me down. Take my mother for example—I counted on her to produce another sibling so I wouldn’t be stuck being the baby of the family and forever being treated as if I have packing bubble for brains and shouldn’t be let outside after dark. But did she follow through? Nope.”

His tender smile was a dirty trick. It transformed his face in a way that made her tummy tighten and her heart flutter. In self-defense, Eve circled the island the long way around to take the plastic wrapping off of the last two trays.

“I have to get the rest of this sushi out there,” she told him.

“Let me take it,” Derek said. “No doubt you’ve been going nonstop since before this party started. Sit down. Breathe. I’ll bring us back a glass of something. Do you prefer bubbles or ice?”

He intended to prolong this? After a moment of dread, she had to admit she would be grateful to delay Rae’s inevitable questions. “Neither,” she forced herself to say. “If there’s any Cabernet or Pinot Noir open, that would be nice.”

He left before Eve could change her mind.

If only she could sneak out the back door and leave. However, having arrived early this afternoon, she knew her SUV was undoubtedly blocked in several times over. The plan had been for her to spend the night in one of the guest rooms.

Feeling trapped and so off balance that she was starting to scratch at her wrist, then her neck, she withdrew to the little garden table in the sunroom. “No hives,” she commanded herself. “Please no hives.”

The coolness and darkness enveloped and soothed her. Just these few yards even cut the sound of the revelry going on in the other parts of the house.

Breathe.

“Where did you go?”

He had returned quickly, Eve thought, or else she’d managed to zone out longer than she’d imagined. “Back here,” she called, raising her hand to wave. She hadn’t turned on the sunroom light and knew she was concealed in the shadows.

“Nice,” he said, setting the two fat goblets of dark red wine on the glass table. He eased onto the diminutive iron garden chair that faced her. “Is this thing going to take my weight?”

“It manages Gus’s. He and Rae often have coffee or wine here. Rae made this set herself.” Eve enjoyed Derek’s startled look. “Physically, she may trigger thoughts of a flashy bird-of-paradise blossom, and heaven knows that’s her personality, but she’s as serious a craftsman in her free time as she is a businesswoman.”