Sold to the Highest Bidder (12 page)

“Let me up,” she whispered, reality seeping in. How could she have let herself be swept away for a moment’s passion—again? Her cheeks heated as she realized she was splayed across his desk in her underwear. She had been crazy, plain and simple. All it had taken was one touch from him and her body went up in flames, taking her perspective with it.

Dev removed his arm from around her back and straightened, pulling away. She flushed as he retrieved his shirt from the floor and shrugged it on, tucking everything away until he hardly looked rumpled.

She, on the other hand, had to adjust her underwear and pull up the left stocking that had rolled down as Dev had caressed her leg. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she tugged on her skirt and zipped it, picked up her jacket and put it on, buttoning the front and tugging it into place.

Her hairpins were scattered on the floor. Even if she could find all of them, without a mirror she had no hope of putting the twist back into her hair. She smoothed it with her hands as best she could and let the waves flow over her shoulders. And hoped his receptionist wouldn’t remember her hairstyle from when she’d arrived.

Ella gathered up all the courage she had. Devin had the power to distract her from everything she’d ever wanted. She couldn’t let that happen again. She went to her briefcase and pulled out a plain beige file.

“If you could explain this, that’d be great.” She held out the papers and willed her hand not to shake. She had to get her story first. Work before pleasure. Devin was hiding far more than an anonymous donation, and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

Then he would see he had to sign the papers. He had to set her free. He had to. She couldn’t move forward if their marriage still held her tied to the past.

Devin came forward slowly and took the papers from her hands. He flipped through the sheets, looking up sharply once. “You’ve read everything here?”

“This isn’t just about Betty anymore. As you can see, there are significant gaps.”

“Your source…”

She attempted a thin smile. “I’m sure you’re aware that even giving this much information goes against confidentiality. My source took a huge risk getting me this much, and I’m not at liberty to reveal who they are. So now I’m asking you for the truth.”

“I can find out.”

“You won’t find out from me.” She held her ground on that one.

He sighed, dropping the sheaf of papers on his desk. “Why now? Oh, I suppose it’s because now I have money. I’m worth something, right? It makes it easier to put the screws to me if I have something to lose.”

Ella thought of their marriage, thought of the baby inside her, thought of the life she’d attempted to make for herself. He had no idea of the real stakes here. This wasn’t about punishing him for being successful. At least not for her.

“What did you think? That I waited until you made your fortune and then stepped in to claim my portion?”

He raised his eyebrows. “The thought occurred.”

Ella stepped back. She was happy he’d become a success. It was what she had wanted for him. For them even. A chance to move out of a ramshackle cabin and have a good life. But it was more complicated than simply being for the money.

“You really thought I was capable of that?”

“How was I to know, Ella?”

“Because you know me.”

“No, I don’t.”

Ella’s heart sank at those words. He didn’t know her, did he? She hadn’t let him see the woman she’d become. And she really didn’t know him either. She swallowed thickly. The feeling flooding her earlier had been love. She was smart enough to know that. But love for the Devin she’d left behind. In so many ways the man sitting across from her was a stranger.

“So that’s why you didn’t sign them before I left?”

He looked up at her, his gaze dark and serious. “I called my lawyer when you were sleeping. He advised me not to sign anything. Both of us found it difficult to believe you didn’t know about DMQ and my bank account.”

That he thought so little of her hurt. Yes, she’d left him, but she wasn’t back now as a gold digger and he should know it. “As much as it makes me either a rotten journalist or suffering from a gigantic lack of curiosity, no, Devin, I didn’t know. I didn’t have a clue about DMQ until I saw the company name listed in reference to Betty Tucker. I swear it on my mama’s grave.”

Devin sobered then. He knew as well as she that it was an oath she would not take lightly.

“May I have the divorce papers, please? I assume you brought them.”

Relief rushed through Ella, almost heady in its arrival. She reached into her case and took out the other envelope, placing it before him on the desk.

He took the sheaf out of the envelope, turned the pages once more, while anxiety curled its way through her stomach. Just sign them, she thought. Sign them and let me get my story and that will be the end of it.

He reached for a pen, flipped to the last page. She held her breath and her gaze followed his hand as it hovered over the blank line.

The he put down the pen. He lifted the papers in front of her eyes, gripped the edge in his fingers and tore them down the middle.

“I don’t want a divorce,” he said plainly, putting the ruined contract on the desk where they’d just had sex.

And for the first time since taking the pregnancy test, Ella felt nauseous.

***

Ella had always wanted to stay at the Strater, but there had never been the money, not when her mother had been alive or even when she and Devin had been married. They’d spent their wedding night at the cabin instead of luxuriating in the thick sheets and ordering room service. Today she had defiantly booked a room. Because she could, and she wanted Devin to know he wasn’t the only one who’d made good on youthful aspirations. And she’d also done it out of necessity—there was no sense flying back to Denver today. She’d have to change her ticket. There was the small matter of getting to the root of Betty’s story as well as working out their personal issues. Devin had paid for Betty’s treatment. But why? There was more to this than an insurance company’s refusal to pay benefits. There was a human element she could not deny. And somehow her husband was right in the middle of it.

Maybe her boss wanted the bare facts, but for her that wasn’t enough.

She sat on the edge of the plush bed, staring around the historic suite. How had she gotten herself into this mess? Why hadn’t she listened to her lawyer’s advice? It would have been a whole different matter investigating the story if she and Devin were not married. Talk about conflict of interest. She’d thought about asking to be taken off the story, but was afraid it would look grossly unprofessional. Plus she would have had to explain why it was a conflict of interest—that Devin was in fact her husband. The last thing she needed was to bring her messed-up personal life to work. So she’d kept her mouth shut.

Now she was in deeper than ever and feeling guilty to boot. How could she follow a career dream to Boston still married to Devin? How would she manage being a single mother? Despite it being completely unplanned, she already knew the thought of any other alternative was out of the question. This child would know his or her mother. The two problems combined to provide the biggest one of all. She’d grown up not knowing her dad. She couldn’t in all conscience keep the secret from Devin, but how in the world could they possibly agree on how to co-parent?

She lay down on the covers, closing her eyes. Oh, that one got her every time. The guilt she felt now was nothing compared to what she’d feel later. He would have to know, but now was not the right time. The decisions about their marriage had to be about the two of them, not influenced by a baby. That was too much of a responsibility for a child to bear. She should know. It was unfair to put the success of a marriage on a baby’s shoulders.

He had to see reason. Great sex was not enough to carry a relationship. Opportunity and a fresh start were in Boston. And Devin’s life was here, as it always had been. Their lives were too different. No matter what he said, he was married to DMQ now. She’d put this off for far too long. She would make the break, divorce or no divorce. Then she’d tell him about the baby once she was settled in Boston.

She kicked off her shoes and heard the muffled thump as they hit the floor. After he’d ripped up the divorce papers she’d felt light-headed and had sat, shocked that he’d do such a thing. He had been booked solid for meetings during the afternoon, and she hadn’t been sure what to do next. Devin had been utterly in control of the situation, getting his way and making demands. The fact that he was so easily able to dismiss her after they’d made love stung. And there was the small matter of not getting what she’d come for.

She had to regroup. So she’d made her excuses and invited him for dinner at the hotel. Over dinner they could talk about Betty Tucker and DMQ, because she was sure that was where the true story lay. And then she would make him see reason. He would stay on his side of the table, and she’d stay on hers. If they could manage that, there would be a way out of this mess. The cost of the room would be worth it if she could come out of this in one piece.

Her eyelids grew heavy as she gave into the fatigue that seemed to plague her most afternoons. She’d have a little nap and then prepare for Devin’s arrival.

And this time she would not let him distract her.

That thought was still floating in her mind when she opened her eyes three hours later. She checked her watch. Where had the time gone? She’d never napped so long in her life. As she went to the bathroom to splash her face with water, she ruefully admitted to herself that the combination of hormones, stress and sex had probably contributed to her need for rest. But now she was refreshed. And without a change of clothing. Before she met Devin at six, she needed something else to wear. The suit of this morning would never do.

She made her way along Main Avenue, window shopping. Some of the stores she remembered, others were new additions to the local retail scene. One boutique in particular looked promising and she went in. Thirty minutes later she came out with a bag containing a pretty, yet classy black dress that she could wear with her silver heels. No more stockings either. Practical, all-the-way-up pantyhose. In deference to the fall weather, she had bought a soft wrap for over her shoulders. Years ago such a shopping spree would have been impossible. She lifted her chin. That she was able to do so now was a testament to her own success. Devin wasn’t the only one who’d made good. She’d supported herself quite well. She had to remember that.

One more stop produced a pair of plain cotton pajamas, jeans, a long sleeved T-shirt and an irresistible pair of funky sneakers that were white with multi-coloured polka dots. There was no reason she shouldn’t opt for comfort when she was off the clock. Tomorrow, when she flew back to Denver, it would be nice to do it in jeans rather than a skirt and heels.

She checked her watch, her confidence restored. Devin was on her turf now. Ripping up the papers was perhaps a godsend. Now she’d focus on the story rather than being torn between the two objectives. When she got back to Denver, she’d make the move to file without his signature.

Devin slammed the door to his car and hit a button on his keychain activating the alarm. He smiled a little to himself as he looked up at the historic hotel. The Strater. He knew exactly what game Ella was playing. He’d screwed up all her plans by ripping up the divorce papers. Now she was seeking to reestablish control by putting things on her turf—and in the Strater, no less. In some ways he liked the new Ella. She was predictable, but she was a worthy adversary. Tearing the decree hadn’t been his plan, but in the moments after their lovemaking he’d realized a bold stroke was needed. The last time he’d simply not signed. This was definitely a better statement. He hadn’t been able to fight for her last time. That wasn’t the case now.

She’d called his office and left a message with her room number and time. Fine. He’d dance to her tune this much, let her think she was in control.

He knocked on her door and after a few seconds she answered, and the sight of her was like a punch to the solar plexus, the kind that took him utterly by surprise and stole all his breath. She’d changed into a new dress, something black and flowy, hinting at her curves and practically shouting class and femininity all at once. Her hair, which he’d enjoyed liberating from its severe pins this morning, hung loosely down her back, pulled back from the sides in a simple, almost invisible clip. Her color was back too. Her cheeks were pink, pinker by the moment as they stared at each other, and she seemed to glow at him.

He’d never stopped loving his wife. After that first night at the cabin, when he’d tucked her into bed, he’d suspected. He wanted to believe her when she said she had no ulterior motives about the divorce. She’d been after it for enough years it made sense, he supposed.

But how could he convince her to change her mind? Ella was stubborn. She’d hold on to a point even if she knew she was wrong, strictly on the basis of pride. That strength was something he was coming to love in the new Ella. Her stubbornness even helped feed the fire between them. He found himself looking forward to their verbal sparring. Almost as much as he looked forward to holding her in his arms.

He would get his way. He always did. He was used to looking at the big picture and being patient. But this time the goal was so close he could nearly taste it.