You Belong To Me (12 page)

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Authors: Patricia Sargeant

BOOK: You Belong To Me
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A slow boil began. He forced a casual tone. “Where did you hear that?”
If Nathan noticed the gathering storm, he didn't indicate it. The reporter slipped into his bored persona. “You hear things on the industry's grapevine, especially when you're in the media. The consensus is, you don't have what it takes to succeed on your own.”
The slow boil bubbled and erupted. He wasn't certain whether it was the aspersions against his abilities, Nathan's insensitivity toward Tyrone's death, or Nathan himself. But suddenly the idea of ripping into someone was irresistibly appealing. He opened his mouth to voice his anger, frustration, and grief, but another voice cut in before his.
“As a former reporter myself, I would suggest you check your sources. They don't sound very reliable.”
Malcolm looked up to see Nicole standing in his doorway, her face a study of cold contempt. She cradled bags from a nearby Mexican restaurant.
“Ty and Mal shared their preliminary figures with you.” Nicole repeated the numbers she'd heard during the cocktail party eons ago. “And those are conservative estimates.”
“But how do we know he can pull it off without Tyrone?” Nathan asked, jerking a thumb toward Malcolm.
“What makes you think he can't?” Nicole countered.
“Well ... because ... that's what people are saying,” the reporter finished. His chinless face flushed under Nicole's cool gaze.
Malcolm wondered if the “people” Nathan referred to meant Omar. Initiating slanderous gossip sounded like a tactic Omar would use to discredit him.
“People are wrong,” Nicole stated.
Malcolm grew tired of having them act as though he weren't there. “If people don't believe I can pull this off on my own, then I suggest they watch and learn.”
Nathan turned to Malcolm and appeared to rally his composure. His gray eyes narrowed. “I hear vendors aren't taking your contract because they're afraid you can't pay them.”
“Your sources are wrong,” Malcolm said flatly.
“I also hear the completion guarantors aren't returning your calls.”
Malcolm stood. “Why don't you go back to your office and check your facts? We're through here.”
Nathan rose. “Are you going to give me a quote for my article?”
Malcolm clenched his teeth. He wanted to wipe the smug look off Nathan's face. Nicole's presence and the knowledge Nathan wasn't the main cause of his anger were the only things keeping his hands in his pockets.
“I already have,” Malcolm replied. “Now get out.”
Malcolm watched Nathan swagger from his office. He still wanted to punch something. Instead, he turned away and practiced the breathing technique Tyrone had taught him. Breathe in to the count of seven, hold for the count of eight, breathe out for the count of seven. Afterward, you were supposed to feel more relaxed. It didn't work.
Nicole broke the silence. “Now I understand what Rita meant when she said you were the victim of a surprise attack.”
Malcolm turned back to her. “Where is Rita?”
“She's at lunch.” Nicole's eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”
Malcolm sighed. “Not really. I'm a grown man who just had to be protected by a woman like a ten-year-old boy watched over by his mother.” Malcolm knew his comment wasn't fair. He watched with regret as hurt replaced the concern in her eyes.
Nicole set the restaurant bags on the conversation table in the corner of his office. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way.”
Her apologetic tone made Malcolm feel like a bully. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose I should thank you. You saved me from saying something to him I'm sure I would have regretted. Eventually.”
Nicole arched a brow. “You're welcome, I think.” She turned to unpack the contents of the bags.
“So, why are you here? Did you stop by to save me from myself?”
“No. I'm here for a working lunch. I have a feeling you haven't been eating. And we need to find a way to convince the vendors to work with us.”
She pulled an industry magazine out of her knapsack and laid it on the table. It spread open to an article titled, C
ELESTIAL
P
RODUCTIONS ON SHAKY GROUND
. Despite himself, Malcolm felt defensive. Old guilts and insecurities floated to the surface.
He scanned the article. “It makes you wonder what it is about me that doesn't inspire confidence.”
“Stop it. People who know you know you're a capable businessman.”
From the fierce light in her eyes, Malcolm believed she meant what she said.
“How do you know what kind of businessman I am? You don't know anything about Celestial Productions.” Again, he saw hurt darken her eyes before she looked away.
She served the food. “I know what kind of businessman you are because I know you.”
He waited, but she didn't seem inclined to say any more. Malcolm refolded the magazine and laid it on the table. “I'm handling the situation.”
“But you shouldn't have to do this alone. You told me yourself this project is important to all of us—you, me, and Ty.”
Malcolm grew colder. “And you don't trust me to protect our interests? Although I helped build this company from scratch?”
“I believe you can protect our interests, if you try. My question is whether you're going to try.”
He battled his temper. “What makes you think I won't?”
“A little piece of paper in my personal file titled, ‘Divorce Decree.' I think you also have one of those.” She folded her arms across her chest. “After our baby died, our marriage needed work. Instead of sticking around, you took the easy way out by ending it.”
He glared at her. It was a toss-up as to which bothered him more: her lack of faith in his work ethic or her misconception about his intent regarding their divorce. “You returned those signed divorce papers pretty quickly. What does that say about your interest in working on our marriage?”
Nicole jerked as though slapped. He watched her eyes cloud before she turned to arrange the food on the table.
Malcolm frowned. Did she think she was the only one who'd had her heart torn out? He sighed. Now they were acting like children trying to outdo the other's pain.
“Nicky—”
“You're right.” Her voice was high and sharp. “Maybe we both gave up too soon.”
“I'm not going to back out of this project, Nicky.”
She turned to face him. “Good. What can I do to help?”
Malcolm paced away from her, trying to distance himself from the pressure he felt to accept her offer and the pressure he felt to stand on his own. “I can manage this on my own.”
He heard her walk toward him, felt her presence just behind him.
“But you don't have to.” She gripped his upper arm, and he let her turn him around. “You keep asking me to try again with you, to go back to being friends. Well, friends lean on each other.”
He gently removed her hand from his arm. “I didn't ask you to come to L.A. to bail me out of a jam.”
Nicole crossed her arms over her chest. “No, you didn't. But I'm here for you, anyway.”
C
HAPTER
S
EVEN
The black sport utility vehicle sat at the curb across the street again. Locating the vehicle had become like a game. Nicole's gaze dropped to the license plate to confirm the SUV's identity: KZY-2525. Several other SUVs were parked on the street, but this one stuck out because it never stayed long in the neighborhood. She saw it in the morning before her jog; then it vanished after breakfast. She'd wondered at the owner's story. Was he or she having an illicit affair with one of Nicole's neighbors?
Nicole grinned to herself as she trudged up to her apartment. She tossed her keys on the bookcase, then grabbed her bottled water. She wandered over to her window to spy on the SUV. The vehicle's tinted windows were too dark to tell whether someone was in it. She moved away from the view and used the remote control to turn on the television. She toed off her running shoes in preparation for her cooldown stretches.
The phone rang, and she pushed herself back up to her feet. “Hello.”
“Hi. What are you doing for breakfast?” Malcolm asked.
Nicole smiled. “Eating. What about you?” She propped herself against the wall and pulled off her socks.
Malcolm's pause seemed uncertain. “Are you eating right now?”
“No. I'm getting ready to take a shower.” She stuffed her socks into her running shoes.
“Why don't I come by and pick you up? I could take you out to breakfast.”
“You're asking this time? You usually just show up,” Nicole teased, using the remote to turn off the television.
“I need to talk to you.”
“What about?” She went back to leaning against the wall.
Malcolm paused. “I'd prefer to talk with you over breakfast.”
“All right. But I don't want to go out. I'll cook here.”
“Okay. What time?”
Nicole consulted her sports watch. “Give me an hour. I don't want to rush through my shower.”
Malcolm's soft laughter echoed in her abdomen. “Fair enough. I'll see you in an hour. Thanks, Nicky.”
“Bye.” She rang off.
She turned toward the hallway leading to the bathroom, then paused. She crossed back to the living room window. The black SUV was gone.
 
She looked like a cat burglar.
Malcolm clenched his jaw to keep his mouth from dropping open when Nicole let him into her apartment. Her hair was unbound, floating like a thick, dark cloud around her shoulders. The baggy clothes had been replaced by a ribbed black sweater that hugged her torso and cupped her butt. Black leggings stroked every curve of her legs from thigh to calf to ankle. He wondered about her choice of clothing. It was the most form-fitting outfit she'd worn since he'd found her again. Malcolm smiled when his gaze reached the fluffy orange-and-blue New York Knicks socks.
“What would you prefer?” she called as he carried his jacket to the hall closet. “Scrambled eggs? Poached eggs? Or boiled eggs? And I have bacon.”
Malcolm couldn't think about breakfast. His mind was still on the curves Nicole's outfit revealed. “Just coffee will be fine.”
She turned to face him. “Have you been living on coffee since Ty's funeral?” When he looked at her blankly, she continued. “When was the last time you had a meal?”
“We had lunch together yesterday.”
“And you didn't eat much. What did you have for dinner?”
Malcolm considered her question. “I don't remember.” He hadn't thought much about food since the day he had driven Joyce home from the hospital. The realization surprised him.
Nicole's expression softened in sympathy. “Mal, I understand food's not a big priority right now. But you've got to keep your strength up. We'll start with eggs and toast. How do you want it?”
“Whatever's easiest for you.” He followed her into the kitchen.
“They're all easy.”
“Then I'd like scrambled eggs, please.” He had fond memories of her scrambled eggs.
She pulled the egg carton and bread from the fridge and turned to take the spices from her cupboard. Watching her move around the kitchen preparing their meal carried Malcolm back in time. She swayed from the cupboards to the stove, to the fridge and back. He settled comfortably into the memories of meals they'd prepared and eaten together.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He glanced down, surprised to find mugs and dishes in his hands. “Setting the table.”
Nicole's gaze grew uncertain and drifted away. She continued cooking breakfast while he set the table, made coffee, and poured orange juice.
“This brings back memories.” His comment was deliberate.
Nicole kept her eyes on the eggs. “Let's not go back there. If you're serious about this friendship, we need to move forward.”
Malcolm was eager to accept her offer. “All right. What are your plans for today?”
She brought the filled plates to the table Malcolm had set. “Work on my manuscripts. I have a couple of publicity interviews. Why? Is there something you need, friend?”
Malcolm returned her smile. “No. Just curious.” He sipped his orange juice. “You told Ty you'll write as many sequels as you can sell for
InterDimensions.
”
“That's right.” Nicole bit into her toast. “I really enjoy the series and the characters. We go through so many things together. Like a family.”
Nicole's words triggered a memory in Malcolm's mind of the caller who'd dialed his cell phone in error more than two weeks ago.
Leave my family alone,
the caller had said. Malcolm didn't know why he'd remembered that misdialed call at this time. He shrugged the memory away.
“Do you enjoy the series as much as you enjoy writing mysteries?” he asked.
Nicole picked up her coffee cup. “I have a feeling you aren't here to talk about my writing, Mal. What's on your mind?”
Malcolm finished his coffee, using the time to gather his thoughts. He didn't want to have this discussion but knew he had to.
“We didn't finish our conversation yesterday. About the project,” he started.
Nicole stilled, then returned her forkful of eggs to her plate. “You didn't seem to want to continue, and I thought I'd pushed as far as I could.”
He looked at the table as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It's not easy for me to talk about the way that I feel. Half the time, I don't even know.”
Nicole's smile was rueful. “That's not a news flash.”
He chuckled. “Okay.” He looked up and tried to keep his gaze steady on her eyes. “One of the reasons I wanted to work on this project with you is that I wanted you to see me as a success, as someone who could take care of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Four years ago, I had a job barely making minimum wage. You had to work too hard to help pay the bills. Now I have my own company. We're not doing great, but we have enough that I can afford a house.”
Nicole rose to get the coffeepot. In pensive silence, she refilled their coffee cups, replaced the carafe, then reclaimed her seat. “It's times like this I wonder whether you ever knew me at all.”
Malcolm frowned, surprised. “What do you mean?”
She sipped her coffee. “I didn't marry you for your money. As you said, you didn't have any.”
Malcolm scowled at his fresh cup of coffee. The deeper into the conversation they traveled, the harder it became for him. “I wanted to be able to take care of you.”
That sentiment seemed to annoy her. “I didn't want someone to take care of me. I wanted someone who would be my partner. Someone I could lean on and who would lean on me.” She paused. “You still won't lean on me, Mal.”
He wouldn't pretend not to notice she'd changed the subject. “It's my company, Nicky. I can deal with the vendors on my own.”
Nicole put down her mug. “But our contract states we're partners on this project.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Creative partners. The business side is my responsibility.”
“Didn't Ty help you?”
“That's different. Celestial Productions was Ty's company, too.”
Nicole gave him a long, frustrated stare. Then a reluctant chuckle escaped her. “You are such a stubborn man. My offer of help still stands. It always will.”
Looking into her laughing ebony eyes, Malcolm remembered all the reasons he loved her and wondered how he could have been foolish enough to let her go. She stood to clear the table, and he rose to help her.
Once the dishwasher was loaded, he checked his watch. “I'd better get going.”
Nicole trailed after him as he collected his coat from the hall closet. “I hope you have a better day today.”
He paused in the living room as she came to walk him out. On impulse, he reached for her arms and pulled her up on her toes. She looked startled as she braced her hands on his shoulders.
“For luck,” he whispered before touching his lips to hers.
Nicole pulled back and touched her fingers to her mouth. “I don't think we should have kissing in this friendship. I don't think we know how to handle it.”
Malcolm's hands slid down her body, and he pressed his fingers into her lithe waist. His eyes twinkled into hers. “I know how to handle it,” he murmured, his lips a breath away from hers.
He closed the distance and drank from her mouth. His hands moved up from her waist, his thumbs stroked the undercurve of her breasts. Nicole sighed and leaned into him. The humming in his blood increased in volume. He wanted so badly to slip her out of her sweater and pull off her form-fitting leggings. But when they came together again after four years, he wanted the loving to last. And right now, he knew the timing wasn't right.
His hands shook as he pulled them away from her breasts. Her moan of protest almost lured him back. But the image of a long, leisurely loving in the future—the very near future—gave him the strength he needed to stay his course. He wrapped his arms around her and tried to soothe them both with long, gentle strokes up and down her back.
“I hate to leave you now,” he whispered. “I really do.”
“I think it's for the best.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. “You may be able to handle this, but I don't think I can.”
“All right.” He sighed, still stroking them back from the edge.
She stirred and pulled away from him, her hands braced against his upper arms. He linked his fingers behind her back, unwilling to let her go yet. He felt her fingers flex against his biceps.
“Don't skip lunch,” she said.
He smiled, his gaze dropping to her kiss-swollen lips. “Thanks for the luck.”
 
When Rita called him to announce Leo's arrival, Malcolm was surprised at how quickly the day had passed. He went to the reception area to greet his mentor, then escorted Leo back to his office.
“I'm glad you could see me on such short notice, Mal.”
“You don't need to make an appointment to see me, Leo.” Malcolm stood aside to let his friend precede him into his office.
“I don't like to drop by unannounced.”
“You're always welcome.” Malcolm gestured to one of the chairs at the conversation table in the corner.
“I haven't spoken to you since Ty's funeral. I'm sorry for that.” Leo eased into the seat.
“That's all right. Ty's family, Joyce, and I appreciated your attending the service.” Malcolm sat, stretching his long legs and crossing his ankles.
“How is Joyce?”
“She's doing her best. She's taken a leave of absence from her job.”
“That's an excellent idea.” Leo paused, then asked, “And how are you?”
Malcolm's hesitation was brief. “I'm doing my best as well.”
“I knew you would.”
Malcolm waited a moment, but Leo slipped into silence. “What's on your mind, Leo?”
Leo folded his hands on the table. “I don't want to add to your stress, but as your friend, there's something I feel we need to discuss.”
Malcolm scanned Leo's grave expression. The habitual twinkle was missing from the warm blue eyes. Malcolm braced himself for bad news. “What would that be?”
“I know several vendors aren't returning your bid requests and have expressed their concern about the project now that Ty is gone.”
Malcolm felt the tension crawl along his shoulder and climb up his neck. “Word spreads.”

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