Page 45 of Tempting Eden

She stood and then leaned again, as if unsure of what to do. She chewed her bottom lip. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she put a hand on my shoulder.

“You should come. Adele would love it. I told you she won’t shut up about you. It’s gotten to the point that Mother has been demanding she see you to make sure you’re real. And there’s nothing wrong with having my assistant over for dinner.”

She glanced around the office furtively. Most of the cubicle workers were out to lunch. She grazed a quick kiss on my cheek.

She was about to leave when her eyes lit up, as if the contact had given her an idea.

“Oh, and ask Ms. Temple if she’ll come. I’m curious to see what sort of dust that might kick up.” She smiled and rubbed her hands together like a cartoon villain.

I nodded in agreement.

“Good.” She went back to her office, clearly elated at the thought of catching her mother off guard.

Despite her invitation, the sting of pain was still there. Of all the reasons she gave for me to come to dinner, the one I wanted to hear most was absent.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EDEN

FOR THE REST OFthe afternoon, I tried not to think about Jack coming to the house. During my decade of dating, I had never brought anyone home. Jack, of course, wasn’t just anyone, but I wasn’t ready for him to meet my mother. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready for anyone I cared about to meet my mother.

Georgiana Rochester was an acquired taste. She was stiff and regimented, a member of the old guard through and through. She assiduously attended her philanthropy meetings, ran her home with an iron fist, and never broke from the ideals of being a genteel Southern belle. I’d rarely ever seen her without makeup, and only saw her cry once—at my father’s funeral.

Though Georgiana had grown up during the time of hippies and acid trips, she acted like she was straight out of the antebellum South. She wasn’t without warmth toward me, but she doled out any affection in efficiently measured spoonfuls, careful lest she overdo it somehow. Our relationship fractured when she discovered my pregnancy, and almost shattered completely when I refused to name the father. The only thing that had broken our impasse was Adele’s arrival. No one, not even Mother, could stand against the enchanting golden-haired child.

I arrived home late from work, still talking to a broker on one of the Belle Mar condos as I walked in the front door. I stopped in on Adele in the library before freshening up in my bedroom. Jack would arrive in no time, and dinner was in fifteen minutes. I found myself worrying over my hair and my makeup more than usual, though I couldn’t tell if I was doing it for Jack’s benefit or Mother’s. It was only then that I realized what a truly bad idea this whole thing was.

The doorbell rang.

I hurried down the stairs, but I had no hope of beating Adele. She slid into the foyer and swung the door inward. I suspected she sprinted from her spot in the library.

“Come in, Jack! Oh, and who’s this?”

“This is my friend, Ms. Temple.”

“Hi, Ms. Temple.”

Adele shook Maria’s hand before giving Jack a too-warm hug.

“Good to see you, too.” His smile, full and genuine, drew me to him.

I gave Jack the full up and down since he’d changed from his earlier attire. In black pants and a forest green button-up, he was a lady-killer. Maybe I’d get lucky and my mother would be said lady.

“Eden.” He said and gave me a nod.

“Good to see you, young lady.” Maria said. She looked particularly fetching in a heather colored sweater dress with tall brown boots. Her hair hung in loose waves, dark punctuated by the shock of white. She was a babe at any age.

Maria gave me a strong hug as I squeaked out, “Glad you both could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Jack said. He took my hand in greeting once Maria released me. His palm was warm and sent little tingles up my arm. Looking into his eyes still made my stomach do the same flip it did the first moment I saw him.

“It looks just the same as I remember it, right down to this rug.” Maria inspected the Persian design beneath our feet.

I dropped Jack’s hand and turned to Maria. “I wanted to ask you about how you knew Georgian—”

“Maria?” My mother stood at the top of the stairs. She was tall and willowy, her back always straight and her chin in a permanent upward tilt. At least I’d thought it was permanent. Now, her mouth hung slightly open as she gaped at Maria.

I couldn’t hide the thrill of delight that shot through me to see her so taken aback. More than that, her reaction confirmed my suspicions about her long lostfriendshipwith Maria.

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