Elusive As The Unicorn. Кэрол Мортимер

to him. The man Adam just didn’t understand that, didn’t understand the nature of their relationship.

      Paul dismissed the other man with effort, and they did begin to circulate together among the other guests.

      But two of the people she and Paul did avoid during the next hour, as they moved among the chattering groups about the room, were Sophy and Patrick O’Donnell. If Paul saw the two couples were about to meet, then he neatly avoided it without being too obvious. And that suited Eve too, mainly because the man Adam was with the other couple for the majority of the evening, a fact Paul didn’t seem to have realised. Thank goodness!

      But Sophy wasn’t about to take that sort of treatment all evening; she was much more forcefully direct than her amiably friendly husband, and Eve wasn’t at all surprised to see the beautiful redhead determinedly crossing the room towards them after an hour of being avoided in that way, Patrick resignedly following in her wake. To Eve’s relief, it was one of the occasions the man Adam had briefly wandered away from them. Probably in search of his living ‘legend’!

      ‘Eve, Paul——’ She gave the latter a brittle smile, standing almost as tall as him at five feet ten inches in her high-heeled shoes, her model-thin body shown to advantage in the black glittering evening dress. ‘I thought it was time we came over and said hello.’ The smile she bestowed on Eve was much warmer, even the cynicism that usually hardened her green eyes lessening momentarily as she looked at her. ‘Or did you intend the dodging game to continue all evening?’ Her eyes hardened once again as her gaze returned to Paul, her stance challenging.

      Paul coldly met that gaze. ‘I don’t play games, Sophy,’ he bit out.

      ‘No,’ her red-painted mouth tightened, ‘you’re too damned arrogant for that. You——’

      ‘Darling,’ Patrick stepped in with his usual easy self-control, a tall, loose-limbed man with untidy dark hair, his casual appearance hiding a very great talent. Sophy was the businesswoman in their marriage-partnership, while Patrick was the experienced art dealer and collector.

      On the surface they were an unlikely-looking couple—Sophy so worldly and cynical, Patrick bordering on the absent-minded genius—and yet their differing personalities complemented each other, softening Sophy’s more brittle nature, while Patrick’s love and admiration for his wife drew him more out into the world than he might otherwise have been.

      Sophy glanced at her husband, and at his warning look she brushed off her irritation with a sigh, relaxing slightly. ‘Are you both having a good time?’ she enquired lightly.

      ‘Not bad, thanks,’ Paul answered for them stiltedly, completely unbending in his own resentment.

      Green eyes flashed angrily. ‘I gather you haven’t reconsidered my suggestion about the showing at the gallery for the winter?’ she snapped, completely impervious to Patrick’s warning for caution now, her quick-fire temper getting the better of her in the face of Paul’s bloody-mindedness.

      Paul returned her gaze coldly. ‘Have you?’

      ‘Come on, you two,’ Patrick interrupted lightly, shooting Eve an apologetic smile. ‘This is no place to be discussing business.’

      Sophy continued to glare at Paul for several tension-filled seconds before slowly relaxing, putting her arm warmly through the crook of Patrick’s. ‘Sorry, Eve,’ she grimaced ruefully. ‘I’ll call you in the week, shall I, and the four of us can have dinner together one evening?’

      Eve glanced up uncertainly at Paul, knowing by the remoteness of his expression that the suggestion didn’t please him at all. He and Sophy just didn’t get on; the other woman epitomised everything he disliked in a woman: independent even in marriage, totally self-confident in her own capabilities and, worst of all in his eyes, she was a businesswoman.

      But Eve didn’t have it in her to be rude to the other couple. ‘That would be lovely,’ she awkwardly accepted.

      Sophy couldn’t resist giving Paul a triumphant smile before turning away. ‘I’ll be in touch,’ she promised before moving off, Patrick talking to her quietly as they crossed the room.

      ‘Damned woman,’ Paul muttered, not caring whether or not the other couple were out of earshot. ‘I can’t stand pushy women who——’

      ‘Darling, we can’t avoid seeing them forever; Sophy is right about that,’ she cajoled.

      His eyes narrowed with dislike. ‘They aren’t the only gallery in town.’

      She gave him a reproving look. ‘They’re the best in their field,’ she reminded softly.

      He gave a disgruntled snort. ‘We’ll see.’

      Eve felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sophy and Patrick were highly respected in the art world—by the artists themselves, other dealers, and buyers alike—and Paul had to realise the importance, without losing any of his stiff-backed pride, of remaining politely friendly with them, even if he chose not to make them his friends.

      ‘I have something I need to finish discussing with Dudley Graves before we leave,’ he informed her abruptly, before she could voice any of her misgivings.

      Eve frowned her disappointment. ‘Oh, but——’

      ‘I shouldn’t be too long,’ he added dismissively, before walking away without a second glance.

      It was just her luck—bad luck!—that Paul should have to leave her side just at a time when the man Adam was on his own a few feet away. Her attempt to put some distance between them was thwarted as she saw him make a determined move towards her.

      ‘I thought he was never going to leave—Eve,’ he murmured conspiratorially behind her when she hastily turned away.

      Her mouth was set in disapproving lines as she turned back to face him. ‘I thought your complaint was that Paul left me alone too much?’ she derided drily, her brows arched mockingly.

      Adam looked more rakish than ever, the gentle early summer breeze outside obviously having ruffled his dark blond hair, but only adding to his attraction in the process. ‘That was my first school of thought,’ he replied, coming to stand in front of her, effectively blocking out the rest of the room with his height and the width of his shoulders, shoulders that had no trouble at all filling out the jacket of the black evening suit he wore. ‘We both know what my second one was,’ he added tauntingly. ‘And I haven’t changed my mind about that one.’

      Her impatience increased. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she snapped, annoyed that an evening she had thought would at least be pleasantly enjoyable had turned into a complete farce.

      ‘OK.’ He held up his hands defensively. ‘Whatever you say. I don’t feel like arguing with you on the subject again just now, anyway.’

      She looked at him curiously. ‘You aren’t enjoying the party?’

      ‘The party is just fine.’ He shrugged disinterestedly. ‘As parties go,’ he added in a bored voice. ‘But as far as meeting The Unicorn goes, it seems to have been a waste of my time.’ He sighed heavily.

      The Unicorn. Eve had known the last time they spoke to which ‘legend’ he referred, of course, and in this case The Unicorn was an artist of ethereal beauty, who had come to the notice of the general public a little over three years ago, the paintings now collector’s pieces, every one worth thousands rather than hundreds. And what added to the interest in the artist was the anonymity of the signature at the bottom of all the paintings; very few people were actually in on the secret of the real identity of The Unicorn.

      Obviously Adam had come to the party this evening intending to be added to their number. And Sophy had encouraged him to believe that could happen.

      ‘After wandering around myself for a while—which was how I first came to speak to you,’ he said drily, ‘I started to follow Sophy and Patrick around instead,’ he muttered, obviously far from happy. ‘No