Little White Lies (17 page)

She laid her hand lightly on his arm.  “Are you okay?  You looked like you were going to be ill.”

Her touch was like a heated torch even through the fabric of his jacket.  “Miranda, you and I need to get something straight.”  He gripped her shoulders, his features almost harsh with the strain of holding himself back.  “It’s difficult enough working with you every day and not being able to grab you up and kiss you until you drop this silly pretense that you don’t want me.  But if you ever,
ever
invite me into your bedroom again, you’d damn well better understand the consequences of doing so.”

Miranda braced her hands on his chest to keep him from pulling her closer but just like before, the contact with his rock hard body only ignited the tenacious hold she had on the flame of desire for him.  She choked out his name and begged him not to do this to her, but offered no further resistance when his mouth crashed down on hers in a fierce, possessive kiss. 

Thank God, she had enough presence of mind left to turn and flee the room the moment he released her.  She grabbed her purse as she flew through her suite and didn’t stop until she reached her bedroom and bolted the door.  With shaky fingers, Miranda pulled out her cell phone and dialed Jack’s number.

“I miss you,” she blurted out as soon as he answered.

“I miss you too, honey.”

Her ragged breathing evened out at the sound of his voice.  “Oh, Jack, I don’t think I’m going to last a whole week without seeing you.”

His amused laughter floated through phone line.  “I hate to point out the obvious, sweetheart, but all you have to do is look at Holt and you’re technically seeing me.”

“No,” she said with vehemence, “it’s not the same.”

There was a short pause before he asked, “Is everything okay, you sound funny.”

She brought her fingertips to her swollen lips, the memory of Holt’s kiss permanently burned into her brain.  “I…I just miss you, that’s all.  Can’t you delay your trip a little longer and come to Texas?”

“I wish I could.  I’m sorry, baby, I’ve got to go or I’ll miss my plane, but you can call me any time you want, okay?”

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears.  “Okay.  I’ll call you tonight before I go to bed.”

“Everything will be fine, I promise.”

She hung up before she could do something foolish like tell him she loved him or confess that his brother had just tried to seduce her again.  For all her indignation when Jack had asked if there was anything to worry about where she and Holt were concerned, Miranda had to acknowledge to herself that she was incredibly weak when it came to Holt.  How could she ask Jack to trust her when she didn’t even trust herself?  And how could she possibly continue their relationship if Holt was a constant threat?  She couldn’t, she thought dismally.

Dropping down onto the edge of the bed, Miranda finally had to face the fact that she had to give it all up; her job, her relationship with Jack, her obsession with Holt.  Nothing good could come of her staying in either of their lives.  Even if she gave up her job so contact with Holt was minimal, she couldn’t deny there was a part of her heart that would always belong to him.

And what would happen if Jack invited her to a family gathering?  The minute Jack saw the two of them together he would know she was in love with Holt.  She didn’t want to be the cause of a family quarrel, especially one that would come to physical blows if she knew the Devlin men as well as she thought she did.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, Miranda stood up and hauled her suitcase to the bed and started unpacking.  She’d see Holt through his meeting with Edward Seymour then hand in her notice.  As for breaking it off with Jack, she would have five days to come up with a plausible explanation, and the rest of her life to regret it.

                       ***  

Miranda was mesmerized, as she always was, by the confidence and masterful way Holt conducted meetings with clients; or in this case, a potential client.  While he made the presentation, she glanced around at the Board members of Seymour Imports.  Edward Seymour was a distinguished gentleman in his mid-fifties with a commanding presence almost as strong as Holt’s.

To his right was his son, Jared, a younger version of Edward.  She imagined he would slip comfortably into the position of running the company once his father retired because he possessed the same commanding presence.  Based on the questions they had asked, the other Board members seemed well-informed and highly competent in their positions. It was the one female who had sauntered in five minutes late that rankled Miranda.

From the moment she stepped in and introduced herself as the CEO, Miss Claire Dandridge, emphasizing the
Miss
, the woman hadn’t taken her eyes off Holt.  Naturally, everyone else was watching him since he was leading the presentation, but
Miss
Dandridge looked positively predatory sitting there with her pouty lips and sultry eyes and legs that went on forever.  She’d turned slightly in her chair, crossing her legs in a manner that displayed them most prominently, given the fact her skirt had been hiked up a couple of inches.  Miranda hated her on sight.  She was exactly the type of woman Holt always went for, and there was no doubt in her mind where he would be spending the night.

Again, she had to remind herself that it was none of her business who Holt kept company with.  He wasn’t hers and never would be.  But the longer she sat there watching the blonde bombshell send barely concealed sexual messages to him, the more hostile Miranda became.  Even worse, Claire Dandridge didn’t so much as turn her head when Holt addressed Miranda regarding some figures on the proposal. 

It made her feel small and insignificant, as if the woman was so unconcerned about Miranda as any sort of competition it wasn’t worth her time to even acknowledge the existence of Holt’s lowly assistant.  By the time the meeting was over, all she wanted to do was run back to her room and cry her eyes out.  Either that or bludgeon Miss Dandridge with a dull instrument.

Holt kept a close eye on Miranda, though he’d been so sly about it no one in the room would have noticed.  While she hovered near the back of the room, he shook hands with all the men then turned to Claire with a broad smile.  Taking her by the elbow, he nodded to a corner of the room where they could have a private conversation, well out of Miranda’s earshot.

Claire looked up at him with eyes the color of a clear blue sky.  “She’s very pretty, Holt.  Not the type of woman I would have expected you to end up with, but certainly the type I hoped you would.”

His laughter floated across the room causing quite a reaction in Miranda.  “Right now she’s shooting daggers at your back.  I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me, Claire.  How long did it take Jared to talk you into it?”

She waved her hand in the air dismissively.  “As soon as he told me you were madly in love with the woman I couldn’t wait to be part of the plot to get you married off.  What I don’t understand is how she has managed to evade you so far.  I’ve seen you operate and you’re as handsome as ever, so why hasn’t she succumbed to that Devlin charm?”

“Technically she has, but it’s a long story.  Why don’t you and Jared meet me for drinks after dinner and I’ll give you all the gory details.”

“Only if I can put my engagement ring back on.  He wasn’t very happy about me taking it off in the first place.”

“Don’t worry, you can slip it on as soon we’re done eating and shoo Miranda off to her room.”

Claire glanced back at Miranda, purposely accessing her appearance with a bored sweep of her eyes before returning her gaze to Holt. “I can’t imagine she’ll hold out much longer.  The poor girl looks positively miserable, and if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

“I hope you’re right,” he said, the desperation in his voice obvious even to his own ears.

Claire put her hand on his arm and leaned into him.  “You really want to throw some wood on the fire?  Kiss me on the cheek before I leave and keep your eyes on me until I’m out the door.  And for God’s sake, don’t look at her to see how she’s taking it; I’ll fill you in on that when I meet up with you later.”

Holt gave her an award winning smile then leaned down and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek.  It was excruciatingly difficult to keep his eyes from migrating to Miranda despite the fact Claire had her own feminine assets that most men couldn’t ignore.  As soon as the door closed behind her, Jared Seymour ambled over.

He clapped Holt on the back.  “She certainly takes a man’s breath away, doesn’t she?”

Holt finally allowed himself a quick peek at Miranda.  “Yes, she does, my friend.”

Jared chuckled and shook his head.  “I was talking about Claire but you’ve clearly been roped and tied by Miss Carrington, whether she knows it or not.”

“Was it like this for you when you fell for Claire?”

“I wish I could say I wasn’t such a sap, but the truth is I still am.  What is it about the right woman that can take even the strongest man and turn them into putty?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Holt’s mouth.  “The thought of those soft hands molding and shaping you?” 

Jared simply nodded his agreement. 

                        ***

She was angry, not just at Claire Dandridge, but with herself as well.  All through dinner she had to endure the woman fawning over Holt as if he was the last drink of water in a barren desert.  And if that wasn’t enough, he had soaked it up like a sponge, hanging on every word Claire said until Miranda wanted to throttle them both.  To top off a perfectly horrible time at dinner, Holt accepted Claire’s invitation to join her for drinks without so much as a glance at the end of the table where Miranda was sitting.

For two hours, she paced back and forth, muttering under her breath and pondering her own sanity.  She had to be crazy to work herself up into a jealous rage over Holt when she had Jack.  It was the only explanation, because she was also feeling a great deal of discomfort at not being able to reach Jack on the phone.  What a twist of fate that would be; to have both men walk away from her just when she was planning to throw the towel in.  She supposed it would serve her right, but acknowledging it didn’t make it hurt any less.  She was spared any further self recrimination when her cell phone finally rang around nine-thirty.

“Sorry I couldn’t call you back sooner,” Jack apologized.  “I got caught up in a meeting and couldn’t break away.  How did your day go?”

“All right, I guess.  I miss you something awful, Jack.”

“I miss you too, honey.  So tell me about your meeting, does it look like the deal will go through?”

“I’m sure it will.  You know how great Holt is at these things.  He’ll have them eating out of the palm of his hand in no time.  As a matter of fact, he’s out having drinks with the CEO right now, although I doubt they’re talking business.”

“A female CEO, I presume?”

“Of course.  She flirted with him outrageously during the entire meeting and was all over him at dinner.”

“He’s a grown man, honey, I’m sure he can handle it.”

Ashamed of herself for going on about Holt, she asked about Jack’s day.  “You’ve never discussed what it is you do.  For all I know, you’re a bookie or sell women’s lingerie or something.”

Jack hooted with laughter.  “You’re something else, Miranda Carrington, you know that?”

“So, what kind of company is it?”

“Ah, baby, I’m way too tired to give you all the ins and outs of my company.  I’ll tell you everything you want to know when you get back, okay?”

“You promise?”

“I’ll bore you to tears with every little detail.  Now get some sleep so you have time for your morning coffee.  You know how grumpy you get if you don’t have at least two cups.”

“I do
not
get grumpy!”

Jack wisely refrained from arguing.  “Get some sleep and I’ll call you in the morning.” 
After
he was sure she’d had her coffee.

Miranda plopped down on the sofa and turned on the television.  After twenty minutes of channel surfing she left it on an entertainment news channel and shuffled into the mini kitchen to see what array of snacks were supplied by the hotel.  She hadn’t eaten much at dinner, having lost her appetite due to the nauseating performance by Miss Dandridge, and now her stomach was grumbling in protest. 

Finding mostly candy bars or sweet treats, she settled on an orange from the huge fruit basket that had been left on the dining table.  She’d barely eaten half of it when there was a light tap on the door.  A quick look through the peek hole revealed a massive chest and nothing else.

“Open up, it’s Holt.”

“I know that,” she said through the door.  “Let me get my robe and…”

"Miranda, just open the door," his impatient reply sounded more like a command than a request.  

She hesitated for a fraction of a second before eking it open.  “What’s wrong, did that Devlin charm fail you tonight?”

“The only one it’s ever failed with is you,” he said gruffly.  “Are you going to let me in or not?”