The Commitment (6 page)

Beardsly was the chief of internal communications. The phones, intercoms, everything must be down for Nicole to rush in like this.

Miranda took advantage of the opportunity.

"You'd better go clean up this little emergency, dear," she cooed at Drake. "I'll be waiting at home." She waded as gracefully as possible through the stuff on the floor.

"Miranda," Drake growled.

Miranda turned in the doorway and flashed him her best sultry smile. Employees stared at their bosses.

"Don't be late." She winked then made her escape.

* * * *

Fifteen minutes later she sat on the leather sofa in Alice's neat apartment clenching her nervous hands together. Alice fiddled with some fancy electronic equipment she'd placed on top of her television set. Wires snaked from the video camera Miranda had taken from her "honeymoon suite" to the box on the TV.

"Did you watch it already?" she asked as Alice came to sit beside her.

"Just enough to see that it had recorded something. I thought you'd better be with me. Just in case there's company business on here, not just Drake's monkey business."

Miranda felt her face flame. For some reason the whole situation took on a tragi-comic color. She laughed and relaxed. "Thanks, Alice."

Alice gripped one of Miranda's hands. "It's what friends are for, dear. Now." She pressed a button on the remote.

Chapter Five

White, black, and gray visual static filled the television screen. The scratch of electronic white noise rustled from the speakers. She blinked, and as if the camera blinked with her, the screen snapped to a wide-angle view of a bedroom. The round bed and garish colors matched the hotel room in Las Vegas where Miranda had awoken from her "wedding night."

The camera angle looked down on the bed from behind where the pillows would be. It encompassed a clear view of the two doors, one leading to the corridor, the other to the bathroom.

The picture blinked again. Now Miranda saw the door to the corridor open. Drake, carrying a large bundle, walked into the room. Toga Boy, or his twin brother, followed with a single small suitcase. He kept glancing at the bundle in Drake's arms. Miranda looked closer. She gasped. The bundle was her.

"Are you sure she doesn't need a doctor?" Toga Boy's voice came through high and thin.

Drake deposited the sleeping Miranda on the bed with a care that made the watching Miranda swallow hard. "My bride over-indulged in champagne. Don't give it another thought." He reached into his pocket then handed the boy what Miranda assumed was a tip.

"Yes, sir. Congratulations, sir. Thank you, sir."

A big tip.

Toga Boy handed Drake a key card and exited.

Miranda watched Drake turn the extra locks on the door home. A fierce jitterbug commenced in her stomach as he approached the figure on the bed.

Here it comes.

He loosened his tie with slow, thoughtful movements, all the while staring at Miranda's unconscious figure. Then, for a brief instant, it appeared that he looked directly into her eyes. His intense stare unnerved her. It wasn't until he moved closer and reached out a hand that Miranda realized he was checking the camera.

The breath she had held sighed out of her. Alice patted her hand. "Would you like me to leave for the next few minutes?"

Mutely, Miranda handed Alice the key to her apartment. She kept her gaze fixed on the screen.

"Call me when you're done." Alice left Miranda alone with recorded history.

She froze the video as soon as Alice left. The screen showed Drake's face with startling clarity. She could even see that he needed a shave. She shivered and placed the remote onto the tabletop with a snap.

Despite the below zero wind chill outside, a trickle of sweat tickled the valley between her breasts. Dread rocked her. What if it was true? If they had made love and conceived a child, life as she knew it was over.

The next few minutes would drive the course of the next month, maybe the rest of her life. Drake's steady gaze from the screen mocked her. Its cool, unemotional stare dared her to go on, to learn the truth.

Fine. Leaning forward so as not to miss anything, Miranda clicked on the play button.

Nothing changed. For a second she wondered if she'd pressed the correct button. Then Drake blinked and backed away. She saw him look down at her image on the bed. Amazement filled her as she watched his expression soften. Maybe she imagined that part, because the next thing he did was pull that damned red satin thing out of a bag.

She wanted to turn away, shield her eyes, anything, but a perverse fascination held her transfixed. Her hands trembled causing her to drop the remote. She left it on the floor, unable to take her eyes from the screen for even the second it would take to pick up the small rectangle of plastic.

Holding her breath Miranda watched Drake peel away the clothes of the Miranda who lay unconscious on the hotel bed. It was not the slowness preceding seduction, though. He did it with a care and gentleness that she would not have believed possible if she hadn't seen it herself.

Respect. Miranda perceived a measure of that emotion as Drake finished the job. His hands hadn't roamed over her breasts or bared any part of her without a degree of modesty she never had fathomed in the man.

After he finished changing her, he went into the bathroom for a time. When he came out Miranda held her breath. His nudity showcased a brash, masculine form she'd always seen encased in business attire. Averting her eyes was the natural response from years of seeing him as her boss, then as her sister's husband. She fought it. As she did, the perspiration on her body chilled making her shiver.

If she didn't hate him, she'd be attracted to the man.

He crawled into bed, pulled a satin sheet to his chin, and stared at the ceiling. Miranda couldn't read the expression on his face from this angle. What was he thinking?

He reached out a hand to the bedside lamp. The room went dark.

End of Act One.

She slumped back as tension released her. Her brain rolled over the realization--he hadn't raped her or seduced her. She couldn't be pregnant. At least not so far.

At that point the screen flickered to life. Veiled sunlight fell through the hotel windows, enough light to see her own form stumble from the bed and fall to the floor. This was when she'd awoken. No point in watching the rest. She knew the rest. If, as she suspected, the fancy digital camera had an automatic on/off capacity based on movement, she was safe in saying she could not be pregnant. Alice would confirm her guess about the camera.

She reached onto the floor for the remote and smacked her head on the coffee table as someone knocked on the door.

"Ouch. Come in."

Alice entered. "I should have waited for your call, but curiosity got the better of me. Well?" The sofa cushions dipped minutely as she focused her gaze on Miranda's face.

Miranda rubbed her head. "First, tell me that this camera is equipped with an automatic off arrangement if it doesn't sense movement within its range of view."

"Oh yes. I believe after two minutes it's programmed to go into power save mode. Once a movement is detected by tiny motion sensors the record function starts automatically."

"Good. Here, see for yourself." Miranda rewound the video and watched Alice's reactions throughout the short playback.

"Well." Alice fiddled with her eyeglasses.

"Exactly." Miranda's voice hardened. "He lied to me. But why?"

"Why did you stop here? There must be more, like the morning after," Alice said.

Miranda flushed. "There's more, but nothing I don't remember. I got up. Drake woke and told me his version of what happened. I … I went into the bathroom. Lucy and--"

Alice interrupted. "You left Drake alone in the room while the camera was recording?"

"Yes, not for long. I was indisposed."

Alice quirked an eyebrow upward.

"Okay, I had a hangover to fight off. I don't want to be indelicate." Embarrassment flooded Miranda once more.

"Never mind that. Let's see what Drake said or did while you were out of the room. We might find the missing piece to this puzzle."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Miranda mumbled. Anxiety returned. She turned the television and video back on.

They watched; Alice with a permanent quirk of the eyebrow, Miranda sinking lower into the cushions. In the end, all was as Miranda had remembered.

Miranda got up to go back to her own place. There was nothing else to see here.

As she opened the door, Alice asked, "I wonder why he called Jack and Lucy?"

Miranda shrugged, disheartened, and left. Back in the comfort of her own home she could not help but think, why indeed? She was still puzzling it through when she heard the apartment door open then slam shut.

"Get down and quit slobbering."

Through the singular rasp that signified the happy panting of the dog, Miranda realized her husband was home. Just what she needed.

She peered at him over the back of the sofa. "Who let you in?"

"I live here, remember? You gave me a key." He remained at the door, pinned there by the loving Pumpkin. "How about calling off this horse?"

Horse indeed. Miranda considered letting them bond some more; for some reason Pumpkin had taken a liking to the man. More bonding wouldn't be fair to the dog. Sooner of later Pumpkin would come to understand that Drake wasn't a very nice human. Until that happened Miranda would enjoy the way the big canine greeted him at every opportunity.

Her head throbbed. "Pumpkin," she said. A muffled thud indicated the dog had dropped back to all fours.

Drake straightened his jacket and stalked to the sofa. He spoke to Miranda, but his eyes strayed to the television screen. "Have a nice afternoon?" His tight-lipped voice indicated an odd mixture of amusement toying with annoyance. "Did you learn anything interesting?"

Miranda glared at him. The image of his naked body striding with purpose towards the hotel bed flickered through her memory. She turned her back on him, settling back into her seat before he could get of glimpse of the heat she felt rushing to her face.

"Show's over," she stated. The throbbing in her head began anew.

A tickle on her neck had her turning until she faced him. His face rested on the back of the sofa, on her level. Impossible to ignore. She forced herself not to flinch.

His breath touched her again. Its warmth answered the heat she'd been feeling.

Wait, she didn't want to appreciate anything about this man. He was the enemy. Not a sexy man with nicely sculpted lips or eyes that crinkled when he twitched his nose.

She needed more than the back of the sofa between them. Something a little bigger, like a galaxy, would be better. Something full of vacuum so she wouldn't be able to hear the rich timbre of his voice or smell the subtle wintergreen on his breath.

She shushed that nagging little voice inside her that insisted that it wouldn't matter how much distance she put between them.

With the remote firmly in hand, a hand that was not trembling she was happy to note, she backed off the sofa and stood. Drake straightened as well; his gaze never left hers.

Pumpkin's head swiveled from Miranda to Drake as if trying to decide if he should get involved. Miranda flicked her hand as she said, "Pumpkin, down." Sighing, the dog flopped to the rug.

Pulling anger around her to cover the other strong emotions that welled up inside, Miranda began a direct assault. "You lied to me. We never made love. I can't be pregnant."

Drake crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed. He spoke not a single word in his own defense. For some reason his silence fed Miranda's rage like oxygen fed flame.

"You," she stabbed a finger in his direction, "made me stay married to you and I want to know why, right now."

He'd only heard that icy control in her voice in the boardroom. Had always been glad it had been turned toward anyone but him. A shiver ran up his back as he considered his options. If it came down to whether or not to continue lying to her and hope he could pull it off, or tell her the truth and gain an ally.

All he knew about Miranda in the several years of their association came down to this moment. What did he know of her true character? She was bright, brilliant in fact with a quick grasp of facts and an intuitive feel for the best way to go.

Loyalty, a trait she held in untold quantities and an uncanny ability to separate business from family. That had been made crystal clear the year he and her sister had been wed. Miranda had never tried to take advantage of that personal connection at work. It had been nothing but business at the office. Very little socializing after hours, though. At the time he'd been too involved in trying to make a marriage then hold the shreds of it together to wonder at that. Somehow Miranda had remained loyal to both her sister and him as her boss even when their marriage had disintegrated. Why she hadn't packed her bags and found a different job was a mystery he wasn't sure he wanted to unravel right now.

Miranda listened with an intensity that made the speaker feel that he was the only important person on the universe. This one just one of the reasons she was so well respected and liked by those who worked under her. And why she was held in such high esteem by her business associates.

Well, the one thing he was surer of than her loyalty was the fact that he could trust her. He knew his business, his secrets, the most important parts of his life as far as work went was safe with her. He had no reason not to trust her with this.

She had every right to know.

What a Boy Scout.

Except watching her pace the floor, arms akimbo, face flushed, she looked anything but like a boy.

She was everything her sister was not. Everything he had wanted in Lucy but had failed to find.

What would she do when he told her the truth?

He moved so that Pumpkin lay between him and Miranda. Best to have a buffer in case she tried one of those Tae Kwon Do moves on him.

"Corporate espionage."