His pulse kicked up.
She was wearing a black cigar girl's outfit. The tiny skirt reached to midthigh on her, revealing a set of shapely legs that went on forever. Fishnet stockings and platform peep-toe heels complemented the outfit.
She carried a small tray in front of her, suspended from a ribbon around her neck.
Clever, Griffin thought, even as desire heated his blood.
This was the first party he'd ever attended that had been organized by Eva. He wondered now whether he'd been too quick to judge and dismiss her business—and how good she was at it.
Absently he gave his wineglass to a passing waiter. Then he made his way toward her.
She was oblivious to his approach, but he reached her just as she began to move in the opposite direction.
"Making sure everything is going smoothly?" he asked before she could move out of earshot.
She whirled around.
Her eyes widened, and then narrowed. "In my work life you mean? Because as you know, my personal life is a mess at the moment."
He gave a curt nod, and she pretended to look him over.
"What? No more shocking photos?" she baited him. "No more sensational evidence?"
"I heard you gave Carter the boot."
"From my father, no doubt."
"You didn't completely explain to him why, though."
She tilted her head. "Disappointed that I've been spared the ultimate humiliation?"
"I wouldn't say that. I can think of worse things—"
"—than telling my father he was more than right?" she finished for him mockingly. "That Carter was cheating on me?"
"Your father does care about you, Eva."
He glimpsed sudden and unexpected emotion in her eyes.
"Yes, I know, but sometimes that doesn't help," she responded finally. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a job to do."
He reached out and captured her elbow. "The party's winding down."
She glanced down at his hand on her elbow, then back up at him. "Take your hand off me."
He ignored her. "We both know you're as much a guest here as anything, and at this point in the evening, your job is basically done. You can spare a few minutes."
She looked exasperated. "You don't quit, do you?"
His lips quirked. "Someday, you may come to appreciate that as one of my finer qualities."
"I doubt it. Though considering how few fine qualities you possess, on second thought, maybe the idea isn't so far-fetched."
"Are you going to stand there throwing verbal poisoned darts at me, or can we step aside and talk for a few minutes?"
She lifted her brows. "I'm surprised it's taken you this long to catch up with me."
"You're a difficult woman to get hold of."
He'd purposely shown up late to the party, because he was here for one purpose only.
"Fine," she responded. "Follow me."
Following her entailed winding their way past assorted guests. Some of them attempted to get Eva's attention or his, but Eva was determined not to be detained for more than a few moments, and he, likewise, was set on not having their progress halted.
Eva stopped when they made it inside to the kitchen. She removed the tray from around her neck as various employees hustled past them, bearing food in and out of the kitchen.
Griffin counted gangsters, chorus girls, office girls and, yes, cigar girls.
Eva folded her arms. "Shoot."
He glanced around. "I was thinking of some place more private."
"Too bad. This is all I have time for."
On closer inspection, he noticed her face looked strained. As if she hadn't been sleeping well.
He silently cursed Carter Newell—and for good measure, damned his own role in bringing Newell's transgressions to Eva's attention.
His lips tightened. "I created this problem."
Eva frowned. "What problem?"
"Your broken engagement."
She spread her hands. "Look, Griffin, I know what I said last week, but I'm an adult. Now that the initial shock has passed, I know enough not to blame the messenger—"
"I'm not talking about Carter," he interrupted.
"Well, good—but what are you talking about then?"
"I'm talking about throwing a wrench in your plans to beat the biological clock."
She tilted her head. "Yes, well…that was an unintended consequence, wasn't it?"
"What are you going to do?" he asked bluntly. The issue had been bothering him since last week. A lot.
She sighed, looking weary and vulnerable. "I don't know yet."
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night," he offered without preamble.
Her eyes widened a fraction, pools of golden-amber. "I can't."
"Why not? Do you have to work?"
"No…tonight is the only time I have to work this weekend."
"Then have dinner with me."
"Why?" she asked, suspicion darkening her tone. "So you can ambush me with more disturbing news?"
"Unfair. You know better."
"Then why?"
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Maybe I'm interested in stepping up to the plate."
Her eyes widened for real this time. "What?"
"You want a baby, and I'm the guy who created your present problem," he said evenly.
A half laugh escaped her, her expression disbelieving.
"Don't you think your boss would frown on your knocking up his daughter?" she asked tartly.
He felt a smile tug at his lips. "In the first place, your father is really no longer my employer. In the second, I'm offering to do this right. Marriage."
She looked stunned, but she recovered quickly. "Isn't it a bit much to be volunteering to fix things this way?"
"Why don't you let me worry about that part?"
Her lips parted. "There's no spark between us."
"I disagree."
The words hung in the air between them, and he could tell she was remembering the kiss they'd shared at her apartment, just as he hadn't been able to forget it, either.
She laughed again, but it came out a trifle forced. Then she moved to step by him. "Griffin, be serious."
"I am," he said, blocking her with his arm when she was very close.
She looked up at him mutely.
"Why don't we kiss and put it to the test?"
A flash of alarm crossed her face.
"I don't think—"
"That's right, don't think," he parried.
And before she could say anything more, he swept her into his arms.