Evie's Bombshell - By Amy Andrews Page 0,42

demanded.

Ava looked up from the mail she’d been opening. He was in his usual work attire of a carelessly worn suit, his tie pulled askew. ‘And good morning to you too, Finn.’

Finn waved his hand dismissively. ‘I bought her a house—a goddamn house—and she still turned me down.’

‘You bought her a house because … you love her?’

He shoved his hand on his hip. ‘This has nothing to do with love. I bought her a house so our son has a roof over his head.’

‘Right … so you bought her a house but you don’t love her? Goodness.’ Ava tsked. ‘That’s a tad ungrateful.’

Finn glared at her. ‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’

Ava sighed as Finn prowled back and forth in front of her desk. ‘Okay. Did she say why she turned you down?’

Finn stopped pacing. ‘She said she could buy her own house.’ He shot her an incredulous look. ‘Like I’d offended her feminist principles.’

Ava nodded patiently. Of course Evie Lockheart could buy her own house. With or without the Lockheart fortune behind her. But years of being a psychologist told her there was a lot more to Evie’s refusal than an affront to feminism.

‘What else?’

‘What?’

‘Did she say anything else?’

Finn took up prowling again and Ava leaned back in her chair to wait him out.

‘She wants me to open up to her,’ he said eventually.

Ava suppressed a smile. Opening up was not something that Finn was known for. He made it sound as if Evie had asked for a sparkly unicorn or some other such nonsense.

‘And you don’t want to do that?’

‘How does talking about my past have anything to do with raising our son together?’ he demanded.

Ava swung slightly in her chair, watching Finn pace. ‘Because it’s what couples do?’ she suggested.

‘We’re not a couple,’ he snapped, coming to an abrupt halt.

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘And yet you want her to marry you …?’

‘None of that stuff is important to a successful future together.’

Ava knew he was dead wrong and she suspected that somewhere beneath all the injury and barriers he knew it too. But it wasn’t her job to tell him he was wrong. ‘Is it important what you think or what she needs?’

He glared at her. ‘Goddamn it. Can’t you just give me one piece of useful advice instead of answering every question with another question? You’re a sex therapist, aren’t you supposed to be full of practical ideas about making relationships work?’

Ava sighed. He was far from ready for practical exercises and she should be annoyed that he wanted her to give him a magic wand without doing any of the hard yards he obviously needed. But this was Finn, who wasn’t a client, and for Evie’s sake maybe she could help.

‘Fine.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Woo her, Finn.’

He frowned. ‘Woo her? Are we living in Shakespearian England all of a sudden?’ he scoffed.

Ava knew that good wooing took time and if Evie was smart she’d use it to her advantage. ‘You wanted my advice.’ She shrugged. ‘You got it.’

‘I’ve already got her pregnant—don’t you think it’s a little late for the wooing?’

Ava shook her head. ‘It’s never too late for wooing.’

Finn shut his eyes. Bloody hell. He’d bought her a house and now he was going to have to woo her as well?

He opened his eyes. ‘Gee, thanks.’

Ava grinned at Finn’s look of distaste. ‘Don’t mention it.’

Finn knocked on Evie’s door that night in his suit, juggling some flowers and a bag of Indian takeaway. He knew she was on days off because he’d checked the emergency department’s medical roster at lunchtime.

He’d been brooding about Ava’s advice all day and by the time he’d finished his afternoon theatre list he’d decided it might be a worth a try. He had time, after all, and instead of rushing like a bull at a gate, which was what he had been doing, maybe a little subtlety was called for.

But it had better show dividends pretty quickly because, come hell or high water, they would be married by the time the baby was born.

The door opened and he suddenly felt awkward and unsure of himself standing there with flowers. Women usually came to him—flowers and that kind of thing weren’t his style.

Evie blinked. ‘Finn?’

‘I have flowers,’ he said, pushing them into her arms. He lifted up the plastic bag in his other hand. ‘And Indian takeaway. Have you eaten?’

Evie shook her head, the aroma of yellow roses and oriental lilies enveloping her. ‘I was just doing