Beyond Business: Falling for the Boss / Her Best-Kept Secret / Mergers & Matrimony

As soon as he was back safely and she could stop worrying that he was going to get hurt, she’d have to figure out what to think about that.

And whether she wanted to do anything about it.

It was a cheap shot.

Evan almost had him, his hand was just inches away from at least grabbing Meredith’s purse back, if not actually clobbering the guy who took it, but apparently the mugger had an accomplice waiting for him. As he approached an alleyway he shouted something that sounded like “Yo, Carmen!” and another guy—much bigger than the first—stepped out of the shadows and sank his fist into Evan’s cheekbone.

The impact stunned Evan, and he was pretty sure that for a few minutes he looked like a cartoon character, wobbling around, disoriented.

Then the guy grabbed him by the shirt—Evan heard a loud rip—and head-butted him just for good measure.

By the time he righted himself, the two assailants were long gone.

His pride might as well have been in Meredith’s stolen purse as he went back to where she still stood, wringing her hands and waiting for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding his arms out to the side as he approached her. “They got away.”

“They?”

Evan nodded as he approached. “Our pal had a friend waiting for him back by some trash dumpsters behind Melville’s.”

She looked at him in horror. “Oh, Evan—”

“The guy got me when I wasn’t looking,” he said, shaking his head. “Turns out I’m not as young or as fast as I used to be.” In truth the shock on her face made him feel that much more ashamed. He should have been able to overtake one guy and get her bag back. “I’m sorry, Meredith.”

Her eyes were still wide. “We’ve got to get you cleaned up, quick.”

“Nah.” He waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a ripped shirt.” He looked down, expecting to see his shirt torn open to the navel, but instead he saw his light-blue shirt had a large dark stain down the front.

Blood.

Reflexively he lifted his hand to his cheek. As soon as he did, he felt the wide gash and the slick, warm, sticky blood running from it.

That was when it really started to hurt.

He swore under his breath.

“You can say that again,” Meredith said, moving toward him and hooking her arm through his. “My car’s just in the lot over there. Do you think you can make it?”

Her touch felt nice on him, and part of him really wanted to go with her, but it wasn’t necessary. “My car’s just a couple of blocks away,” he said. “I can get to it, don’t worry.”

“You are not driving yourself,” Meredith said firmly.

“Well, I’m not bleeding all over your car.”

“I’ve got tissues in my glove box.”

Evan laughed. “That ought to take care of it.”

Meredith gave him a stern look. “It will until we get you to the hospital.”

“Oh, no. No way. I’m not going to the hospital. This is just—” he touched his cheek again and winced at the pain “—it’s just a flesh wound. By tomorrow it will be invisible.”

Meredith snorted and pushed him along toward her car. “Yeah, because it will probably be under more bandages than Boris Karloff had in The Mummy.”

“That was Brendan Fraser,” Evan joked.

“No, I mean the original, and anyway, Brendan Fraser wasn’t the mummy in that movie, he was—” She stopped, seeing the look on his face. “Okay, you got me.”

“You’re so easy.”

She halted in front of a small green Japanese economy car. “Yeah, well, you’ll be sorry when I clean that gaping wound up with hydrogen peroxide. I may need to go over it a couple of times, just to be sure, you understand.”

He groaned and got into the passenger seat where she’d pretty much pushed him. “I understand.”

She shut the door and hurried over to the driver’s side, her quick steps betraying her nervousness at the whole situation. Blood. Wounds. It was horrible.

“Evan, I really think we should go to the emergency room. That looks like it might need stitches.”

He shook his aching head. “No, Meredith. I’m not going to wait in some overcrowded waiting room all night for treatment I could give myself.”

She started the car and drove to the intersection with the main road. “Where do you live?”

It was a question he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Evan?” she prompted, when several seconds had passed and he hadn’t answered yet.

How could he tell her he was sleeping in his office without sounding like a pitiful loser? Even though it made perfect sense to him because he wasn’t sure he’d be sticking around long and he didn’t want to commit to a yearlong lease of an apartment or condo when he might be gone in a month, saying the truth right out loud to Meredith was embarrassing at best.

But there was no way around it without sounding as if he didn’t want her to know where he lived.

Which, of course, he didn’t.

“If you drop me on the next corner I can just take the El.”

Meredith slowed the car and turned to look at him, her left eyebrow raised. “You want me to drop you off so you, looking like that—” she made a point of looking him over “—can simply get on public transportation, frightening old ladies and small children and possibly passing out and spending the night riding aimlessly from station to station until you finally bleed to death.”

He gave a half smile. “You make that sound like it’s a bad idea.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Evan, pony up. What’s the address?”

He hesitated a moment, then gave it.

She started to drive, then stopped, pulled the car over and put the transmission in park. “That’s the office.”

He nodded. “That’s true.”

“Are you trying to avoid telling me where you live, for some reason?”