Despite some residual annoyance over her little hiccough with Marshall the other day, the morning had started with such promise. No surprise puddles from the puppies too anxious to wait for Eva to rise and set them loose in the yard. The girls woke in high spirits-even Hailey had a smile on her face.

Now that right there should have set the warning bells in her head to fire.

With Hailey heading out the door for Drama Camp, Eva checked in the backyard to find Payton and Lucy working with the puppies through a series of simple commands the obedience instructor down at the pet shop had shown them last night.

Roll over. Sit. Stay. Simple, easy commands. Not that they were making much progress, but watching the fit of giggles and laughter made her smile. In her bliss and content to enjoy a quiet morning of emails and edits, Eva booted up her laptop, opened her email.

And that's where the day decided to go horribly, horribly wrong.

Thank you for expressing an interest in Lavender Cottage, Ms. Turner. Unfortunately, I have no inclination or desire to sell up at this juncture and am, therefore, turning down your proposal.

Sincerest regards,

DM.

Scowling at the correspondence she'd received, Eva rummaged around for her cell and dialled the gallery. Jenelle answered in a smoky but professional voice.

"Hey, are you busy?"

"Not incredibly, no. We had a bit of rush, but things are simmering down."

"Good." First things first. "Why didn't you tell me that your brother's been snooping around the gallery?"

The line quietened and Eva could hear both Jenelle's faint breathing and the soft music wafting through the gallery speakers. "He wasn't snooping. Just looking to speak with you."

"And you didn't tell me because...?"

"Because you've been playing the hermit all week.

No, Eva thought. Not good enough. "All you needed to do was make a simple phone call, Jen. I should have been told. Warned."

"Jesus, Dolce and Gabbana, okay. I'm sorry. Why are you so snippy? Everything alright?"

"Yeah." Turning around in her seat, Eva clicked back over to the laptop, the words from the email glaring back at her. "Truth is I called to discuss something else. I want you to tell me what you know about Declan MacKenzie. What's his connection to this place? To Haven?"

"Declan? Why are you asking me?"

"Because the Mackenzie's and Davies are close family friends, aren't they?" Feeling a bit peckish, Eva moved in to the kitchen, rooting around in her cupboards until she found a bag of marshmallows she saved for making the girls Rice Krispy Squares. Digging it, she popped two large sugary pillows into her mouth.

"Our mothers, perhaps..." Jenelle sighed, and a squeak of a shutting door told Eva that she'd sequestered herself inside of Eva's office for their call. The new and expensive addition of the wireless headset allowed Jenelle the ability to move about with phone calls seemed to be coming in handy. "Okay. Um, well he grew up in that house, though I don't think he cares awfully much about it."

"Why do you say that?" Eva asked, licking sticky sugar off her fingers. Dammit, she was stress eating. Securing the clasp back on the bag, she returned it to the cupboard and slapped it shut.

"Because he'd moved off island about the same time as Marshall, his mom moved shortly thereafter once his father died. Declan inherited Lavender Cottage ten years ago when his grandmother passed and barely stayed long enough to see her in the ground and read the will. Two weeks later he'd rented it out. That place has seen a long string of tenants since then. You and your girls being the longest to live under its roof."

Eva had suspected as much, given the state of the place when they'd first moved in. But through the air of neglect, she'd felt those threads of possibility. Promise. And she wasn't about to give up. Not yet.

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Jenelle asked, bringing her back around.

"Nothing. I just needed to know what sort of man he is. Who I'm dealing with," Eva said, sitting back down at the table. "We've never met in person. Not even when I'd found the place to rent from him. It's only ever been through phone or email or his assistant, Fatima."

"Not surprised," Jenelle scoffed. "You know, Marshall was pretty tight with Declan back in high school," she added. "I doubt they've really kept in touch with Marsh globetrotting to the far and remote, but if you want a way in with Declan you could ask him to-"

"No. No, it's fine. I'll handle this myself." She would sooner pull out her eyeteeth before turning to him for help. "Thanks Jen. I'll let you get back to work. I've got a few calls to make."

Hanging up, Eva thumbed through her contacts until she located On Call Nannies and emailed out a service request for caregiver coverage this afternoon. When a confirmation came through, she marched upstairs and ducked into the shower.

She had one hour to dress and catch the ferry heading out for the mainland. And would go toe to toe with the devil himself.

#

Compared to Haven Island, the main land of Vancouver was large, noisy and oddly familiar. Comforting. And yet strange. She'd grown acclimated to the quiet and cozy pace of island living. While there were elements about it she lamented, Eva couldn't image giving it all up to return to this sort of sensory chaos.

Cars and people. Exhaust and voices. The air thick with it.

Morgenzaler & Associates dominated in a large, silver glasses spire, rising high over the cityscape. Tugging at her ill-fitting blazer, Eva sighed. It was the one suit she owned and it had spent the last four years buried inside a box. The fabric was musty, the colour somewhere around swamp mud, the cut and style at least a decade out of style, but it was the best she had and she needed to look her best if she was going to have a hope in hell of swaying Declan MacKenzie's mind.

Shooting up to the fifty third floor, Eva managed to fast talk her way past the receptionist but found a more formidable gatekeeper in Fatima Hyder, Declan's savvy Executive Assistant. A sable skinned beauty with dark eyes that carried all the punch of a heat-seeking missile.

"Ms. Turner," she said, brushing a hand over an expertly coiffed chignon. "Contrary to what you have said to our receptionist, you do not have a scheduled appointment with Mr. MacKenzie."

They weren't far off in height, she mused, but Fatima stood head and shoulders over Eva with elegant poise and confidence. From her pressed white blouse, buttoned high on her neck, string of silver pearls to match the grey skirt cut below her knee, and smart black pumps that were both sophisticated and sexy.

The entire ensemble blew Eva's pitiful muddy brown two piece out of the water.

"All I need is five minutes of his time, Fatima," she said, holding out the file with the proposal she'd printed out and brought with her. "Five minutes."

"I can't let you just-"

"You know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't urgent. You can let me see him," Eva said, soft and unthreatening, taking a page out of Marshall's playbook. "Or I wait for him down in the lobby and ambush him there. Your call. Tell me how you want to play this out."

Fatima narrowed her eyes, thickly lashed and rimmed in smoky liner. "You're here about his latest email."

Eva nodded, lips drawn thin. "So you know about my proposal."

"It's my job to know. Who do you think drafted the email?" Her gaze slid over Eva, honed in on her face. "And you think you can turn him around in five minutes?"

Eva nodded again. Fatima smiled.

"If you pull that off, not only will I be impressed, I'll buy you dinner." Holding out an arm, Fatima stepped aside. "He should be on the tail end of a conference call. Follow me."

Eva fell into step with Fatima who moved like she was made for a runway despite being only an average five-five. Working through the heart of the law firm, they crossed to a long stretch of conference rooms encased behind glass walls.

The last of which house Declan MacKenzie.

They found him looking out at the stretch of city below, hands tucked behind his back. Opening the door, Fatima announced her presence and he turned around. Slow and not at all pleased to see her. Younger than Eva had expected.

Probably in the neighbourhood of mid-thirties. All raven hair and dark eyes that probably sliced his opponents to the quick. She felt sorry for any poor idiot that had the temerity to take him on, and then quickly remember-oh yeah, I'm the poor idiot about to do just that.

"We didn't have an appointment," he said, flickering that cold gaze to Fatima who braved it like a warrior seasoned from years of gruelling battles.

"I cleared her," Fatima said, lifting her chin. "Appears I made a mistake and penciled her in."

His dark gaze flickered to his assistant, a subtle tensing in his jaw said he didn't buy that excuse for a second, but for whatever reason decided not to challenge.

"I'd ask you why you're here but I think I can make a safe assumption," he said, rounding the table, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored slacks. "And if I'm wrong, I don't care. Ms. Turner. I've had a hellish week and am clocking in sixteen hours on a jetlagged bender. If you don't mind I would like to get home before-"

"Can't you hear me out? Five minutes. Please." She kept the door at her back. Careful to blockade the way so he'd have to go through her to leave.

As he drew closer, Eva noticed the lines of fatigue etched around his eyes and mouth deepened with impatience. "I'm sorry you came all this way only to be disappointed, but I thought I was quite clear in my email. I'm not interested in selling."

"Did you even look at my offer?" she snapped, stopping him cold.

"I gave it a cursory glance, which is more than I would have given most. Yes." A chill of his temper frosted the air. The AC rendered stifling in contrast. For a moment they stayed that way, locked in a silent battle of the wills. Finally, he conceded.