The Commitment (15 page)

It wasn't fair that Drake should be taking the biggest risk. Her personal integrity was on the line, but this was Drake's whole life. What could she contribute that would sweeten the deal with Jones? How could she insure that he wouldn't be able to say no to her proposition?

For the first time she didn't refuse Drake's offer to drive her to work. They listened to the weather report and early news as Drake navigated the freshly plowed streets.

Miranda used the quiet to make a decision. A decision that she had to keep from Drake or it wouldn't work. If he suspected anything, he wouldn't let her do it. She'd put her own shares of stock up for sale. Jones would be the only person to know. If that didn't sweeten the pot for that slimy creature, as well as flush out Jack and get some damning evidence on him, she didn't know what would.

She was almost relaxed when they pulled into Drake's parking slot. He ruined her calm by asking, "How are you feeling these morning? Any queasy stomach, exhaustion?" The dimple in his cheek flashed at her.

She allowed humor to chase away her initial irritation. She could give as good as she got. "Not yet. By the way, did you know that twins run in our family?"

His jaw dropped.

She kept the memory of that look on his face with her all morning.

She had little time to enjoy her new executive suite. In between getting up to speed on her new job responsibilities she had to put her stock on the market without tipping anyone off--including her efficient assistant.

The third time Kevin interrupted her computer work so that she had to minimize her computer screen in a rush, she snapped. "Would you mind knocking?"

He dropped the papers he'd been carrying, then scrambled to pick them up. "Sure, boss. Sorry, I thought you wanted to keep the same routine."

Miranda rubbed the back of her neck. She'd hurt his feelings; it was clear in the confused look in his eyes. "I do want to keep the same routine. Just give me an hour of uninterrupted time, would you? No phone calls, no visitors, nothing."

"Can I help you with something?"

She summoned up what she hoped would pass for a reassuring smile. "Not right now. Thanks. Just keep it quiet for a while.
"No problem."

"Thank you." Miranda sighed after he shut the door behind him. This stock thing needed more concentration than she'd anticipated. Almost done, though. Then she could take a break.

Fifteen minutes later it was finished. She'd set the bait. Now all she had to do was dangle it in front of the greedy nose of Bob Jones.

Chapter Sixteen

Immersed in a tricky acquisition plan, Drake didn't notice the time until an alarm on his computer beeped. He'd programmed it to notify him whenever company stock came up for sale.

He looked up from the papers on his desk and stared at the computer screen. He frowned at what he saw. A chill blanket settled in his chest. He tapped at the keys, needing more data, hoping for a different answer than that displayed before him. Miranda's shares, all her stock, had been put up for sale.

The black and white figures on the screen mocked him as a testimony to his gullibility. She had tricked him into marrying her, then into seducing her. He'd begun to think he could love her.

It looked like blood had won out after all. She had thrown in her lot with her sister and that miserable excuse for a man, Jack.

The enormity of his conclusion weighed on him. It made sense. The audacity of her scheme left him breathless.

It took a few moments of incredulity for the idiocy of his conclusion to surface.

The Miranda he knew, or thought he knew through years of working together, never came across as an underhanded traitor.

He made a conscious effort to unclench his fists. Paper rattled. He looked down to see that his hands had mangled the merger papers spread across his desk.

Flexing his hands he forced himself to consider other reasons for Miranda's actions. Maybe she needed cash. No, he paid her well despite her less than luxurious apartment. He wondered how she spent her salary if not on a fancy condominium or house. Money and greed was the most common reason for crime. Everything he knew about Miranda screamed that he was on the wrong track.

Maybe she had a secret life--a secret husband in a different state. His head pounded, then he dismissed the idea as pure fantasy. Primal possessiveness filled him. She was his. Besides, she wasn't the type to have a secret life. He laughed at the notion, glad to put it away.

He prided himself on being a good judge of character. Remembering how first Lucy then Jack had tricked him made the pounding in his head return.

Images of the recent past with Miranda flashed through his mind. The silliness of her trying to seduce him and his unguarded reaction to it; the wedding that she still believed had been real. She would have to know the truth sooner or later. He imagined her reaction to the news, his lips curled.

His groin tightened as his mind leaped to the brief flash of red satin he'd slid her into on their wedding night. He'd stared at her as she'd snored lightly, innocently. He'd been plotting to use her and felt a sense of relief that the camera idea had failed. Using her that way would have done irreparable damage.

He could not hurt her, ever. Perhaps that was why he'd touched her with more care than efficiency when changing her into that red outfit. To say it took more willpower than he thought he possessed not to run his hands across her warm, soft skin when she had been at his mercy was a memory he tried to forget.

The lovemaking, the way she'd truly seduced that night at her place, her passion had startled him. He wanted more of that. He wanted more of her.

What she thought of him as a person, not just as a boss or co-conspirator, had become of pivotal importance.

A cool bead of sweat tickled his brow. His feelings for Miranda overshadowed everything.

He glanced at the stock transaction on the computer screen.

Nicole's voice intruded through the intercom. "Mr. McLain, the meeting is ready for you."

"Thanks." Drake's reply was automatic. Miranda would be at that meeting.

Until he knew for sure what she was doing, he'd avoid her. Wanting to trust her, even telling her that he trusted her, was insufficient. Knowing beyond a doubt--that was necessary.

A weight he suspected was his cooling heart settled in his chest. He made arrangements for a trusted associate to buy Miranda's stock for him.

Loneliness followed him to the meeting. Miranda's smiling face tortured him for the next two hours. He brushed her off when the meeting was over; noticing how her smile became a question became a frown. Hurt crept into her eyes. He swallowed hard.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, work refused to solace him. When he couldn't take it any longer he left, giving the car keys to Nicole to keep for Miranda. The taxi ride home passed in a blur.

Pumpkin kept Drake company in the kitchen where he tried to cook himself into a better mood. It didn't work. He gave that up as the sun went down. Miranda had not come home. The sky was dark with the last bloody streak of sunset the only relief.

Drake went to the bedroom Miranda used. The perfume bottle on the dresser, her robe across the end of the bed, a novel on the bedside table all managed to make this impersonal room cozy, warm, and imbued with her.

Pumpkin lay on the rug. Drake sat on the edge of the bed.

"I miss her." Drake's voice cut the quiet air.

Pumpkin lifted his large head and twitched his ears. With a soft whine the dog set his muzzle on Drake's knee.

"You too?" Drake scratched Pumpkin's silken ears. It soothed him.

"You know, I stopped trusting people a long time ago. That thing with Lucy just reinforced what I already knew--everyone looked out for herself. Why should I stop thinking that way now?"

Pumpkin licked Drake's wrist. Drake was aware of the dog's chocolate brown eyes following him as he wandered around the room.

"She's unlike anyone I've ever known." He opened her closet door. His nostrils quivered at the combination of the scent of cedar panels and Miranda's scent that lingered within.

"She listens to what I say. She likes my cooking. I don't intimidate her." He went to the window, wishing the headlights glowing in the distance heralded Miranda's arrival. But they kept on past the house; nothing cut across the darkened landscape below.

"How can we work things through if we're never together?"

The dog's gaze gave Drake a silent agreement.

He'd confront her this evening. This on again-off again marriage business had worn thin. He'd just have to win her over with wit and charm and passion. Then, when he had her melting in his arms, he'd tell her that they weren't really married.

Pumpkin whined.

"If she's pregnant, she'll have to marry me for real. Won't she?"

The dog blinked.

"You're right," Drake commented. "She'll kill me, sue me for child support, then kill me again. I guess I wasn't thinking straight when I hired Cherisse the Caftan Queen to pretend to marry us. How did I know I was going to fall in love?"

He stopped. In love? Where had that come from? It sure hadn't happened on their wedding night or in the immediate aftermath. Somewhere between meeting her ditsy neighbors and fawning canine companion and after that night of passion he'd fallen in love with his pseudo-wife. Damn.

Where the hell was she? No note. No message on the machine. No indication of where she was. He needed to see her, find out if she could ever trust him enough to consider making their arrangement less than temporary.

The problem that he'd been dealing with, fighting with, fighting against, crystallized. He needed Miranda the way a drowning man needed air.

Somehow he had to find a way to convince her to trust him. Maybe she couldn't love him back, at least not right away, but showing her that he trusted her with his business, with his life, with his heart, would go a long way towards building that kind of trust.

He slapped his hands against his knees. The dog tilted his head.

"First things first," he said to the dog. "I'll make her a full partner. I can start putting that in the works from here."

He moved to the desk. It was neat and tidy, just like Miranda.

A white slip of paper just this side of the closed drawer caught attention. Curious, he pulled at it. A to-do list in Miranda's purple ink handwriting. Just like her to write a list. He moved to put it down when the curved letters begged for his attention. Incomplete words that he could only guess at comprised part of the list. Her own personal shorthand, Drake imagined.

The listing, talk to Lucy, was underlined twice. A star marked the cryptic phrase, do S thing. Next was, get rid of Bob idea. Drake laughed at that. She hated the meetings with Jones even though they'd been her idea. He wondered how she intended to end the tryst scheduled for tomorrow night?

The final entry answered his question, at least in part. He read it and swore. Tell Drake the plan.

Pumpkin followed him at a lope as he rushed from the room. Drake was too distracted to notice until he stopped outside at the car.

Pumpkin stood at the passenger door of the spotless car. "Why not?" He let Pumpkin in. The only way the dog could fit in the front seat was to sit on his haunches. Drake considered for a minute then reached around and fastened the seatbelt around Pumpkin, getting a kiss on the nose for his trouble.

"I sincerely hope I don't get stopped by the police tonight," he muttered. He headed toward the apartment where Miranda had lived. Maybe her friends could tell him where she was.

He was done waiting.

Chapter Seventeen

"I was going to tell him my plan about the stock tonight," Miranda wailed. "But he wouldn't talk to me today, then he left work early without me. I think he's finally lost interest."

Alice sat across from Miranda at the tiny table in the kitchen. "Let me see if I understand this. You decided to put your personal company stock up for sale in hopes of speeding things up?"

"Yes. I’m tired of playing Mata Hari. That James Bond stuff leaves me with a headache."

"Stop whining for a minute and consider what you've done." Alice's sharp tone took Miranda by surprise.

"I thought I was making a sacrifice in proportion to Drake's," Miranda said. "I was so tired after a long night of not sleeping that I knew I had to do something to show him he could trust me. He's put everything that he's worked for on the line." Her mind raced as she tried to figure out why Alice was frowning at her.

"Who oversees company stock purchases?" Alice asked.

"I suppose, eventually, Drake … Oh, no. He saw my stocks up for sale before I had a chance to tell him." Frustrated and angry with herself, she didn't even know she had tears in her eyes until she wiped them away.

Alice nodded. "You'll have to explain it unless you'd prefer him to speed up the divorce."

Miranda sat up straighter. "The divorce?"

"Well, that's what you wanted all along, right? If he is so angry at your perceived treachery he'll grant you a divorce before the thirty days are up. Pregnant or not, I can't see that man remaining married to you after this."

Miranda remembered the pain in Drake's eyes when he had told her why his previous marriage had ended. Though unable to believe Lucy would treat him so callously, the hurt she'd sensed in Drake was real.

A soft knock at the door had her heart jumping to her throat. Had Drake tracked her here? She swallowed hard as Alice went to open the door. Ted's huge form surprised her, and then she remembered that she'd seen him packing his car when she'd arrived.

"Just thought I'd stop by to say so long." Though he stood in front of Alice, his gaze was riveted on Miranda.

This was almost as hard as seeing Drake.

"Call me when you get settled," Alice said. She hugged him.

"Sure." He hesitated, and then turned to the door.

"Where are you going?" Miranda asked. She walked to within a yard of Ted and looked up into his hard, honest face. She was sure his leaving was her fault. She also knew that nothing she could say or do would stop him.