Goodness Had Nothing to Do With It (34 page)

Marcus reached out and casually took her hand as he pulled her toward the market. She thought about pulling away, but it felt remarkably good and, really, wouldn't it be childish to insist on walking alone after what she'd let him do to her the previous night?

He was making progress.

She hadn't pulled away when he took her hand. Pretty soon she'd realize there was no point in pulling away when he talked about marriage either. Whether or not she realized it, she needed him and he was going to be there for her and for their son. Not like his dad, who had left his mom to face the censure of her neighbors and the pain of loving a man legally committed to another woman.

She'd also told Sandy he was Aaron's dad. He liked that. She'd made a public declaration and she'd admitted she was considering marrying him. All in all, he'd learned quite a bit while he shamelessly eavesdropped on what he was sure the women assumed had been a purely private conversation.

"So, you think Sandy's too nice to be a spy and Jack is too dedicated," he said, reopening their previous discussion as they crossed the street toward Pike Place Market.

She was silent for several seconds and he wondered if she was going to answer. "Actually, put like that, I guess my defense of them doesn't hold much water. I mean, I'm a nice person, at least usually, and I was as loyal as they come toward Alex and CIS until my loyalty to the company came into conflict with my love for my sister."

He didn't like the sound of self-condemnation he heard in her voice. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk leading down to the market and turned her to face him with the gentle expedient of his fingers on her chin.

"Listen to me, Ronnie. You did what you felt you had to do. Your sister is well again and I don't think you can dismiss that. You'll never face a similar set of circumstances again." He'd make sure of it.

She wasn't alone anymore. She had him, and this time, he'd make sure she knew it.

Her pretty gray eyes widened behind the black frames of her glasses. "Are you saying you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. You were right when you said that if Alex had gone through with his plans to destroy Hypertron, his marriage would have been in trouble. I don't know if Isabel would have left him, or not. She's a pretty sweet lady, but it would have hurt her and he would have had a hell of a time forgiving himself for doing that."

Ronnie's soft lips parted and she expelled a short breath. "You're right. It's really hard to forgive yourself when you hurt someone you love."

She turned and started walking again, tugging him along.

Did she mean him? He had been ready to dismiss her supposed love for him the day before. He'd been sideswiped by the realization she'd kept knowledge of their son a secret from him, but he'd had a whole sleepless night to contemplate her actions, and he realized that he could almost understand the fear that had motivated her and taken over normally intelligent thought processes.

First, she'd been terrified of losing her sister to disease like she'd lost her parents to an accident. Second, she'd been afraid of losing Aaron to a vengeance-minded father. Since he'd been so vocally supportive of Alex's plans to gain revenge against the man he felt responsible for his dad's death, Marcus could readily believe that Ronnie had assumed his reaction to news that she was pregnant with his child would be less than heartwarming.

It still hurt like hell that she'd never trusted him, but he wasn't going to let that pain get in the way of their present relationship. They walked by a stall of flower sellers. Aging Oriental women arranged bright blooms in oversized bouquets that demanded a second look and he stopped, pulling Ronnie to his side with their clasped hands.

She reached out one hand and touched a calla lily in the center of one particularly eye-catching arrangement. "It's so lovely," she said to the smiling Oriental woman behind the counter.

"Only fifteen dollars, missy. You take home."

Ronnie stepped back, shaking her head with a regretful frown, and Marcus's heart twisted. How many times since her parents had died had she had to say no to her own desires in order to provide for Jenny and then, later, Aaron?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty. "I'll take it."

The old woman's smile blossomed into a knowing grin. "You like for the missy, eh?"

"Yes."

"You don't need to—"

He cut off Ronnie's protest before she could finish it. "I don't need to, but Iwant to."

The old woman wrapped the stems in wet newspaper and secured a clear plastic bag over them with a rubber band.

"Don't hurt the woman's feelings; take the flowers," he admonished when Ronnie still looked like she wanted to refuse.

She took the bundle with her free hand and then treated him to a truly dazzling smile. "Thankyou."

"You're welcome." The words came out a little strained, but what did he expect?

The smile had made him go from the semi-aroused state he was always in around Ronnie to rock hard in the space of two seconds, just like it had in the car.

It was a darn good thing his shirt hung low enough to hide the evidence.

They wandered away toward the fresh-fish stalls. The smell of uncooked seafood assaulted him and he directed Ronnie toward the interior of the market.

"Look, they sell coffee," Ronnie said, as she used her flowers to point toward a small cafe-style restaurant.

He let her drag him inside, where they ordered coffee and scones before sitting down at a table that overlooked the water. The place was empty except for them and the cashier-slash-cook. Ronnie laid her flowers on the table and took a sip of her steaming latte. Watching her tantalizing lips purse to almost kiss the cup did nothing to help cool down Marcus's libido.

"So, what about the design engineer?" he asked her, to get his mind on something that wouldn't leave him aching in an embarrassing way.

"Kevin Collins?" she asked, breaking off a bite-size piece of her scone.

"Yes. He's worked for four different electronic firms in the last five years."

Ronnie popped the morsel of scone in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I don't know. He's quiet. He always seems like his mind is on something serious and he's very good at predicting what could go wrong with a project. Other than that, I don't know him very well."

Marcus nodded and took a sip of his espresso. It kicked like a crazed bronco at the rodeo. "What about the intern? Jerry Parks."

Ronnie smiled. "He's sweet."

"Sweet how?" he asked, for the moment forgetting the investigation.

He didn't like the faraway look that had come into her eyes at the mention of Parks. She brushed her hair behind one ear and smiled again. He had a totally irrational urge to punch thesweet college intern right in the kisser.

"I don't know. He's so helpful and he tells me I look nice. He tries to flirt, but he's kind of bashful and it comes off like a kid trying to ride his bicycle for the first time."

"Inept?"

There went that smile again. "Yeah. In a really sweet way."

He felt like beating his chest and making mating calls. Hell. He was feeling more than a little possessive.

"I remember being a college kid. They're only after one thing, baby."

Her pencil-thin brows rose in unison. "And you aren't?"

"Damn right. I want a hell of a lot more than sex from you." He wanted it all. "And the intern's too young for you."

She laughed out loud. "You're jealous."

He glared at her, not even thinking of denying it. "So?"

What did she expect? She'd just told him the college boy had been flirting with her. It wasn't as if he thought Ronnie would fall for it or anything, but he didn't like the idea that another male thought he had an open field.

"It's not like you met the prospect of Sandy making a play for me with total sanguinity, either."

She frowned at the reminder of her jealousy that day in her cubicle when Sandy had horned in on his lunch date with Jack.

"I've known her since I started working at Kline Tech. She's very determined when it comes to the opposite sex."

"She's a barracuda." Sandy had obviously never heard of the feminine mystique of playing hard to get.

"It takes one to know one," Ronnie said, blowing a very un-Ronnie-like, very sassy kiss across the small table at him.

He wanted to grab her and yank her into his arms and make that kiss real.

"I'm a reformed barracuda. I'm not after all the fish in the sea anymore; I only want you."

George buzzed Allison's apartment, wondering if she would ignore his summons like she had before. Despite the fact that she'd responded to his kiss in the office, she'd kept her distance since then.

Maybe he deserved it. Hell, he knew he did. He'd been an arrogant SOB and she had every right to be angry with him.

The surprise was that she'd put up with his cowardly behavior for so long. He'd been afraid of feeling too much and he'd made her pay the price by keeping her pigeonholed in his life. It wasn't something he was proud of, but he was hurting too much at the thought of losing her to let her go— even if that was exactly what he deserved.

"Yes?" her voice came over the intercom.

"Open up, darlin', it's me."

"I don't feel like company tonight, Mr. Kline."

Mr. Kline?Like hell. Bad temper and fear mixed inside him until he was ready to explode, but he was old enough to know better than to give in to the emotions and act like an idiot again. He'd hurt her and he had to make it right.

"I'm sorry, Allison, please let me come up and talk." They were difficult words to say. Apologies had never come easy for him, but losing her would be a damn sight harder.

There was silence on the other end of the intercom.

He dumped his pride and said, "Please," again.

He could hear her sigh. "I don't think it's a good idea. We don't have anything else to talk about."

"We have a relationship that needs straightening out."

"Our relationship, such that ü was, is over."

"I can't accept that."

A young man, looking cocky like he had at that age, came up to buzz an apartment and George stepped back. He wasn't about to share his heart in front of a stranger. Surprising himself, he didn't follow the other man inside when the door unlocked.

Allison had to want to talk to him for this to work and God help him if she didn't.

He buzzed her again.

"George? I thought you left."

"I had to let someone else buzz an apartment."

"You didn't follow them inside," she said, in a choked voice that made him feel like a heel.

"I've acted like an arrogant fool one too many times already. Will you let me talk to you, darlin'?"

She didn't answer and he was starting to sweat when the door buzzed. He yanked it open immediately and strode purposefully inside. He took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, his mind whirling with the things that had to be said, things he should have said to her months ago.

She opened her apartment door on the first knock, but he didn't take that as a sign of eagerness to talk on her part. How could he with the look she was giving him? He might have been a bill collector for all the welcome in her eyes. They were red rimmed, but remote, and her cheeks were dry.

She still looked so lovely to him that it was like getting a kick in the gut to see her.

She stepped back to let him pass, but he stopped in front of her. "You are so beautiful."

"I look like a mess," she said, with a frown that questioned his sanity.

"You never look anything but delectable to me. Every time I see you, I feel like I'm getting an exclusive viewing of the Mona Lisa."

Her mouth twisted in a disbelieving sneer. "Not it the office. You treat me like a stick of furniture here."

"If I didn't I'd be making love to you on every piece of real furniture within reaching distance and the floor besides."