felt his gaze slide discreetly over my tearstained face.
Smiling as if everything were okay in my world, I rushed into the lobby and headed straight for the elevator, with a brief wave at the front desk staff.
“Eva!”
Turning my head, I discovered a svelte brunette in a stylish skirt-and-blouse ensemble rising to her feet in the lobby seating area. Her dark hair fell in thick waves around her shoulders, and her smile graced full lips that were a glossy pink. I frowned, not recognizing her.
“Yes?” I replied, suddenly wary. There was an avid gleam in her dark eyes that got my back up. Despite how battered I felt and probably looked, I squared my shoulders and faced her directly.
“Deanna Johnson,” she said, thrusting out a well-manicured hand. “Freelance reporter.”
I arched a brow. “Hello.”
She laughed. “You don’t have to be so suspicious. I’d just like to chat with you a few minutes. I’ve got a story I’m working on, and I could use your help.”
“No offense, but I can’t think of anything I want to talk to a reporter about.”
“Not even Gideon Cross?”
The hairs on my nape prickled. “Especially not him.”
As one of the twenty-five richest men in the world, with a New York real estate portfolio so extensive it boggled the mind, Gideon was always news. But it was also news that he’d dumped me and gotten back together with his ex-fiancée.
Deanna crossed her arms, a move that accentuated her cleavage, something I took note of only because I was eyeing her again with more care.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “I can keep your name out of it, Eva. I won’t use anything that identifies you. This is your chance to get a bit of your own back.”
A rock settled in the bottom of my stomach. She was so exactly Gideon’s type—tall, slender, dark-haired, and golden-skinned. So very unlike me.
“Are you sure you want to go down this road?” I asked quietly, intuitively certain she’d fucked my man at some point in the past. “He isn’t someone I’d want to cross.”
“Are you afraid of him?” she shot back. “I’m not. His money doesn’t give him the right to do whatever the hell he wants.”
I took a slow, deep breath and remembered when Dr. Terrence Lucas—someone else who was at odds with Gideon—had said something similar to me. Now that I knew what Gideon was capable of, how far he would go to protect me, I could still answer honestly and without reservation, “No, I’m not afraid. But I’ve learned to pick my battles. Moving on is the best revenge.”
Her chin lifted. “Not all of us have rock stars waiting in the wings.”
“Whatever.” I sighed inwardly at her mention of my ex, Brett Kline, who was front man for a band on the rise and one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. Like Gideon, he radiated sex appeal like a heat wave. Unlike Gideon, he wasn’t the love of my life. I was never going to wade in that pool again.
“Listen”—Deanna pulled a business card out of a pocket of her skirt—“pretty soon you’re going to figure out that Gideon Cross was using you to get Corinne Giroux jealous enough to come back to him. When you smell the coffee, call me. I’ll be waiting.”
I accepted the card. “Why do you think I know anything worth sharing?”
Her lush mouth thinned. “Because whatever Cross’s motivation was for hooking up with you, you got to him. The iceman thawed a bit for you.”
“Maybe he did, but it’s over.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t know something, Eva. I can help you figure out what’s newsworthy.”
“What’s your angle?” I’d be damned if I would sit back while someone took aim at Gideon. If she was determined to be a threat to him, I was determined to head her off at the pass.
“That man has a dark side.”
“Don’t we all?” What had she seen of Gideon? What had he revealed in the course of their … association? If they’d had one.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to the point where thinking of Gideon being intimate with another woman didn’t trigger ferocious jealousy.
“Why don’t we go somewhere and talk?” she cajoled.
I shot a glance at the staffer at the front desk, who made a good show of politely ignoring us. I was too emotionally raw to deal with Deanna, and was still reeling from the conversation with Detective Graves.
“Maybe some other time,” I said, leaving the option open because I intended to keep tabs on her.