Getting It Right This Time (19 page)

“Mark, come on, you’ve got to lay your shit with him to rest. I know what he did to your dad--”

“This isn’t just about that,” Mark snapped. “Marcia isn’t happy about me and Kate either. If the two of them were joined together in ruining this for me…”

“Has Kate seen the photos?”

“Judging by the conversation I just had with her assistant, yes.”

Liam shook his head. “Shit.”

“I need to find out who’s behind this. And even though I’ve no proof whatsoever, my gut is telling me this has either Marcia or Underwood smeared all over it. And when I get proof…”

“I’ll make sure I’m out the way.”

Mark smiled. “Chicken. Come on, let’s get on with it.”

The two of them worked methodically through the paperwork for the next two hours and just when Mark thought he could breathe easy that nothing was missing, a lead weight dropped into his abdomen.

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“Wait a minute. Wait a minute.” He pushed his thumb and middle finger against his forehead.

“Where’s the fee log for Karen Williams?”

Liam stopped. “What?”

Mark scrambled through the files and pulled out another. He sifted through the papers, looked back at Liam as panic crashed through his bloodstream. “And the log for Simon Scott?”

“They’re missing?” Liam joined Mark at his desk. “But they’re your two biggest clients next to…”

“Marcia. Shit. Why would someone take theirs and not hers? This stinks.” He grabbed his jacket from the back on his chair. “I’m going to see her. Right now.”

Liam gripped his arm. “Wait. Listen. She’s isn’t stupid enough to leave her own stuff here, is she?”

“No. And that’s why I think someone’s either setting her up or she’s doing this to get my attention. Either way, it’s working. Ring Kate, tell her lunch is cancelled. I’m going to see Marcia.”

Forty minutes later, he pulled his Mercedes into the parking lot of Marcia’s apartment building. The plush, overpriced apartments were erected along the Foxton Docks in record-breaking time two years earlier. The river running through Foxton, once famed for its thriving tobacco trade, now stood dormant except for the odd fisherman tug boat or tourist ferry. The apartments bore no respect to days gone-by for which Foxton used to be famous for.

The apartment inhabitants consisted of pretentious city bankers, ambitious entrepreneurs or the young adult children of indulgent millionaires. The non-talking, non-socializing community lacked character and therefore had zero appeal to Mark. He’d take the characteristic Landscape on the outskirts of town over Marcia’s apartment building anytime. He narrowed his eyes. And if he discovered she had anything to do with his current problems, the Quay West apartment building would suit her perfectly. Cold, unfeeling and completely without scruples.

The midday sun burned high in the sky, the July temperature climbing to near eighty-five degrees. He got out of the car and removed his suit jacket. His mind whirled with ways to approach the subject of the break in. It was imperative he treaded carefully if he was going to get the truth out of Marcia, and not risk her quitting on him if his suspicions were wrong.

Throwing his jacket into the back of the car, Mark rolled up his shirt sleeves as though preparing for battle before slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses and looking up at Marcia’s balcony.

She stared down at him, her face an inscrutable mask, hidden beneath the shadow of a straw cowboy hat. No traces of a hangover seemed apparent. Dressed in a black string bikini and matching see-through shirt, she could be ready to strut down a catwalk. He raised his hand even though the hairs at the back of his neck prickled a warning. Her mouth immediately broke into a sunny smile as she gestured for him to come up.

He walked inside.

Two minutes later, she flung open her apartment door with enthusiastic abandon. “Hey you, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Rachel Brimble

97

“Marcia.” Mark strode past her, not trusting himself to look at her, lest she detect the anger and niggling revulsion stirring violently in the pit of his stomach. “No hangover?”

A moment’s pause and the door clicked shut behind him. She laughed. “Not sure what it says about me but if I end the night popping a couple of painkillers, washed down with a pint of water, and grab eight hours sleep, the next day is never a problem.”

He turned. Her eyes danced with happiness, almost hysterically so. “Have you been out today?”

She frowned, wandered into the open plan kitchen. “No, why?”

“You haven’t seen the papers?”

Turning on the tap, she filled a kettle and switched it on. “No. Why? Am I in there? Did they love the play? Oh, God, did they slam me?”

Mark held up his hand and walked to the drinks cabinet. It was barely midday yet he needed something to take the edge off his mood. “Do you mind?” he asked, holding up an expensive bottle of single malt whiskey.

She folded her arms and shrugged. “Help yourself. Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer her, instead selected a glass and poured a measure. He silently eyed her over the rim as he took a mouthful and bit his teeth together against its potency. “The picture,” he said eventually. “The one you told me not to worry about is splashed over three different papers.

The kid obviously knew how to clean up on his investment.”

The smooth skin of her throat shifted as she swallowed. A silent second passed before she waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. It was a silly drunken kiss, no one will think anything of it.”

“Kate will.” Her jaw clenched for an almost imperceptible moment but Mark saw it, noted it and hated it.

Huffing out a theatrical sigh, she pushed away from the kitchen counter and joined him in the living space. Without as much as a sideways glance at him, she walked to the drinks cabinet.

“Maybe I’ll join you in the hair of the dog routine. Clearly you are not here to indulge in any pleasantness.”

Resisting the urge to clamp his hand on her arm and spin her around, Mark took another sip of his drink. “Why would I be? Not only have I dealt with the photo this morning, I got a call from Liam at eight-thirty informing me my office has been ransacked.”

The vodka bottle froze in her hand and when she turned around, her blue eyes wide. “What?

Was anything taken?”

He put his glass down on the coffee table, walked toward her. “Yes, Marcia, something was.”

“Anything of mine?” she demanded.

Mark smiled. “Strangely enough, no.”

She sighed, pressed her hand to her chest. “Thank God. I thought you’d come here to tell me my financial details will be splashed all over the press tomorrow morning.” She turned, resumed filling her glass.

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He waited until she faced him again. When she did, her face was flushed, and Mark couldn’t help wonder if the reaction came from relief or guilt. “None of your details were stolen, but there is stuff missing from two other important clients. Don’t you find that a bit odd seeing as you’re the one in the limelight at the moment? The one who could make someone a hell of a lot of money right now.”

“Are you trying to accuse me of something?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. “Because if you are…”

“What, Marcia? If I am, what?” he demanded, the notion of taking things nice and easy with her abandoned and forgotten. “Will you ring Underwood and let him know how badly I’m treating you?”

She locked her gaze on his for a long moment before brushing past him. She spun around.

“You must be mad if you think I’d have anything to do with that idiot.”

“You know he hates me.”

“And?”

“And you’re pissed off about Kate being with me. You’re pissed off I’m not spending every waking hour concentrating on your career, that’s why.”

“Mark, this has to stop. You’ve never let Underwood get to you like this before.”

He glared at her. She was right. His chest grew tight, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Maybe the reason I seem to be overreacting is because I’ve never had this much to lose before. I can’t lose Kate, Marcia. I can’t. Not again.”

“Kate? This is more serious than Kate, Mark.” She stared at him wide-eyed. “What about your clients? What if they dump you? All you’re doing right now is proving my theory is right.

You don’t give a damn about us, do you?”

Chapter 11

Kate ran a brush through her hair one more time before placing it on the dressing table. She was afraid to move and break the moment. Jessica hummed to herself as she played with her two favorite dolls on Kate’s bed, her face relaxed and happy. Kate watched her in the mirror’s reflection.

How was she supposed to explain Mark’s absence from their lives when Jessica eventually questioned it?

Her stomach swirled with trepidation. Not only had he snogged the face off one of his clients in full public view, he’d also cancelled his pathetic attempt to explain himself at lunchtime.

Yet Kate knew the person she was the most peeved at was herself. How could she have been so delusional to be led by her heart? God, if James’s change in personality hadn’t taught her to be wary of any man and think things through, what else would? Life threw constant curve balls when you least expected it…maybe she deserved the sting of Mark’s extra-professional activities if James’s death hadn’t at least highlighted the danger of that.

She looked back to the mirror. She deserved it--but Jess certainly didn’t. Nausea rose bitter in her throat. She knew this would happen--she knew and pursued it anyway.

“What’s wrong, Mummy?”

Kate jumped and swiveled around on her stool. “Nothing, sweetheart,” she said, slapping on a hundred-watt smile. “I was just thinking you’re the most beautiful girl in the whole of England, that’s all.”

Jessica giggled. “Mummy…”

“What? You are. Come here and let me see that face of yours close up.”

Jess scrambled off the bed and Kate pulled her onto her lap. She pressed a kiss to Jess’s curls, and squeezed her eyes shut against the stinging at the back of her eyes. “I love you so much, Jessie Louise. So very much.”

“I love you too, Mummy. Why am I the prettiest girl?”

Kate grinned, nothing would faze Jess from the matter in hand. “Because of these.” Kate pointed a finger at her eyes. “Because of this.” She pressed the tip of her nose. “And because of these.” She kissed her lips.

Jess’s beautiful face turned to a scowl. “Nope. Don’t believe you.”

Kate’s stared at her, mystified. “You don’t believe me?”

Jess shook her head.

“Right, we’ll see about that.” Standing up, Kate planted Jess firmly on her hip.

Jess giggled. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to ring the queen.”

Jess stared at her. “The queen?”

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“Yep. I’m going to tell her to post an announcement on the gates of Buckingham Palace that Jessica Marshall is the prettiest girl in England. What do you think?”

Jessica considered this for a moment. “The soldiers with the funny hats won’t like it.”

“They won’t mind.”

She vehemently shook her head. “They only like people coming to tea and other soldiers coming to march.”

Struggling to keep a straight face, Kate placed a finger to her mouth. “Mmm. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we’ll put a notice on our front door instead, what do you think?”

“Yay!”

Twenty minutes later, she squeezed Jessica closer in her arms as they stood on the step admiring their new notice tacked to the front door. She was so wrapped up in the happy moment that she didn’t hear the approaching footsteps behind her until it was too late.

“What are we looking at?” Mark asked, leaning in close and sending whispers of warmth along her earlobe.

She froze. At least outwardly. Inside, her stomach turned over at the sound of his voice, let alone the ridiculous effect the sensuous scent of his aftershave had on her libido as it teased her nostrils. How dare he do that to her? After everything…

She slowly pivoted around.

He met her eyes and took a step back. The words she wanted to say lingered on her tongue as the little girl in her arms erupted into squeals of delight. “Mark’s here! Mark’s here! And he’s got pizza!”

Kate trembled as his gaze stayed locked with hers for a moment longer, before he turned to Jess, his face breaking into a cruelly disarming smile.

“All for you if you want it. Do you think Mummy will let me in?”

She nodded. Kate shook her head. “What are you doing here, Mark?”

Jess snapped her head around to look at Kate. “Mummy?”

Kate kept her gaze firmly on Mark’s, resolutely refusing to look into her daughter’s clear and innocent green eyes and risk crumbling. She could not forsake her determination. This was in Jess’s best interests--even if the man was dressed in faded jeans and a crisp white t-shirt with his dark hair still damp from the shower.

Clearing her throat, she tightened her grasp on Jess at the same time avoiding wincing from the pain of her daughter’s glare boring into her temple. “You need to leave.”

“Kate, please. Let me explain.”

Jess’s head swung back and forth between them as though her neck were made of rubber.

“Mark come in now?” she asked.

“No, Mark’s leaving,” Kate said firmly.

“Kate…” Mark moved to touch her.

She stepped back. “No.”

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“Mummy?”

Blinking against tears, Kate finally faced her weakness. “Mark has to go, sweetie.”

Jessica turned to look at him. “Please stay with me, Mark.”

It was such a punch below the belt, Kate and Mark simultaneously drew in sharp breaths.

She looked at him, and he looked straight back. Kate knew the same panicked, hopeless look in Mark’s eyes was reflected in her own.

“Jess…” But she knew it was fruitless.

“Did you see the sign Mummy made?” Jess asked him.

His eyes lingered on Kate’s, silently pleading. And then before she could stop herself, she nodded. Realizing if he came inside, she could at least rip him to pieces in the privacy of her own home before kicking him out on the street for a public slaying afterward. Two for the price of one.