The Commitment (7 page)

She threw her arms up in the air. "I'm still waiting." Then her eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"Someone inside is stealing from me, or was. Stealing technology."

She stopped pacing. "What has that got to do with marrying me?"

"Stocks, too. Buying stocks here and there in small bunches that would be overlooked by the casual observer, but taken as a group starting to become a good sized chunk of company assets."

Her eyes narrowed. "Again, and I'm beginning to hate what I think is coming, what has this got to do with marrying me?"

"Logic rather than lust." He knew he'd pay for that little lie later. Right now a lot of lust was involved. "You own a large number of company stock. I need control of it. I need you to stay with the company because of your expertise and know how. QED."

"You need me. Or rather what I represent." She tapped the tip of her nose with the tip of one finger. Her thoughtful look.

"Yes." Time to tread carefully.

She blinked, twice. "You could have gained control over more stock without marrying me. Any number of individuals would have helped you out." Her voice slowed.

He nodded but didn’t say anything. She was close to working it out. It was amazing to witness her deductive skills at work. He inched a little further away.

"This is about something more than money, though. Even you wouldn't marry for just … that …"

Here it comes.

"Lucy!"

Bingo.

Chapter Six

He expected her to throw knives at him. He even had a sofa pillow fisted, just in case he needed some kind of shield. Instead he watched her rage dissolve into the kind of chuckling bad B movies had people in insane asylums make.

Pumpkin let out a soft huff of sound. Drake relaxed his hand on the pillow but kept it close just in case. He waited.

The phone let out a shrill ring, then another. All three of them started. Drake waited for Miranda to answer it, but she didn't. On the fourth ring the machine answered. After Miranda's voice explained what the caller should do, Lucy's voice came on.

Fate had a strange sense of timing.

"Miranda. Call me as soon as you get home. It's--it's important." Sniff. "Call me, okay? Bye."

"So, is this about revenge on Lucy? Because if it is, you have a weird way of punishing her by marrying me. She's more concerned about my welfare than about herself." Miranda's voice held a quiet calm.

"It's about trust. How much can I trust you, Miranda?"

"What's that got to do with Lucy? She was your wife."

"And now you are my wife. Can I trust you more than I could trust her?" He already knew the answer to that, but did she?
She sank into a barstool, crossed her legs. "Tell me what else."

Now she was in information gathering mode. Good, she’d moved past emotional much sooner than he thought she would. He relaxed a couple of muscles.

"A few weeks into my marriage to Lucy, I received an email from a competitor."

"So? That happens everyday."

"This one had been misdirected, addressed incorrectly. It started, Darling Lucy, and ended with lots of dollar signs and instructions for a meeting." He remembered the empty ache of the moment he had realized his bride was deceiving him. He forced the muscles in his jaw to unclench.

Miranda blanched. She whispered, "You must have misunderstood. Lucy adored you. She would never …."

"So you and everyone else were led to believe. Even me." Sucker. "She denied it when I confronted her, but by the time I did that, I had proof. As you know, the divorce was messy."

Pumpkin chose this moment to stand, stretch, and rub his head against Miranda's leg. She scratched his huge ears in an absent-minded way. Drake could use that kind of comfort right now. He could use an answer, too, to a question he'd never come out and asked her.

"Why didn't you leave the company then?"

She shook her head. "I can't believe you're asking me that now. Look, Lucy told me you left her. How do I know what you're telling me is the truth? Why would she lie to me?"

He chose the easiest question to answer. "Pride, regret, fear, who knows? You'll have to ask her."

Nothing Drake said made any sense. Miranda remembered with vivid clarity the day Lucy showed up at her doorstep in tears claiming Drake had left her, called her an ice cube. Heartbroken for her sister, yet wondering how to hold onto her job while hating her boss, Miranda had listened to Lucy pour out her heart.

Everything Lucy had said rang true. Hadn't Miranda warned Lucy against a relationship with someone as ruthless as Drake? In business he was ruthless. Miranda had never known him as a private individual until Lucy's surprise announcement of marriage.

Even after the marriage the newlywed couple had emitted an aura of togetherness that led Miranda to believe all she'd heard about Drake was wrong. Over time their appearances together at holiday meals and public functions had diminished. Lucy became gaunter. Drake, if possible, became even more difficult to please at work.

Had Drake verbally abused Lucy as she'd told Miranda? The things Drake said now made her wonder if what Lucy had told her was the truth. Miranda loved her sister. She also knew that Lucy's air of vulnerability and elegance had been carefully crafted through years of practice.

No. Miranda couldn't believe that Lucy would lie about such a big thing. She glanced at Drake. For the life of her she couldn't figure out a reason for him to lie either. He never cared what people thought of him. In fact, she was sure he relished his reputation as a scoundrel of sorts. A Rhett Butler for this century.

The whole thing left her dizzy. An uncomfortable sensation grew in her, a sensation that she was being led along a path she would not chose for herself.

Another thought struck her. "Lucy wanted a houseful of kids. You couldn't supply them. Is that what this is about?"

He snorted. "I was the one who wanted children. Lucy decided it would stretch her figure. She couldn’t be bothered."

"You're wrong. She told me she wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible."

"Sweetheart, she always told you exactly what you wanted to hear. Then she did just what she pleased anyway."

"What do you mean?"
"I think it's you who wants a houseful of rugrats. Lucy went along with the idea so you wouldn’t make a fuss about her marrying me." He closed the gap between them. "She told me how you argued against the marriage. That only made her more determined to go through with it. After all, marrying the richest guy in town would have a been a huge step up for your sister, wouldn't it?"

Miranda's throat tightened. He stood too close. It was as if all the air in the room weighed more than her lungs could take in.

"After she had me," Drake continued, "she had complete access to company records, employee transfers, money. She had me fooled for a while. I wanted to be fooled. She shed a bright light into my life." His eyes lost their focus. "It took me months to figure out it was just a cold reflection fed by greed and ambition."

To Miranda's relief he backed away. "Have you got anything to drink? I can't bare my soul without scotch."

"What … what did you do?" Miranda whispered.

His eyes were back to normal. "Nothing. Not a damned thing."

Miranda opened the cupboard above the stove and pulled out a dusty bottle of single malt scotch she'd been given for a holiday several years before. The strongest drink she indulged in was an evening glass of wine.

As she filled two glass tumblers with ice and poured the smoky golden liquid, she decided this was as good a time as any to try strong drink. What Drake had revealed, if it was true, changed everything while at the same time clarified her relationship with her sister.

Relationship aside, Lucy had always had a small problem with the truth. Miranda had thought she'd outgrown it once adolescence had passed, like outgrowing acne. If Drake was right, Lucy's little character flaw had simply become more refined.

The whole thing gave her a sour ache somewhere near her heart. The heavy weight of disappointment held her immobile.

She didn't hear Drake come up behind her. She jumped when he reached past her and took one of the glasses.

"I take mine neat." He fingered the ice cubes out and let them clink into the metal of the sink.

Miranda found herself mesmerized by his action of licking the moisture from his fingers. It was innocent yet imbued with sensuality.

Stop it.

She forced her gaze away and tried to move back into the living room. Drake blocked the way. It was a very small kitchen. Unless he moved or she vaulted over the counter, he had her trapped.

He took a deep drink. Nervously she did the same. The fiery liquid paralyzed her throat. It looked like iced tea but tasted like hellfire with an attitude.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she gasped. "Damn, from the way people talk you'd think this stuff at least tasted good."

Drake took the tumbler from her shaking hands and replaced it with a towel. "It's an acquired taste. The next sip will be better."

"Maybe later, once my throat's healed." Miranda splashed water on her face. "Back to your sad tale," she demanded.

He sipped his drink while leaning against the archway to Miranda's only route of escape. He knew it, too. She could tell by the way his eyes glinted.

"It ended simply and ugly enough. Sort of like a soap opera. I found her in bed with another man."

Miranda slumped into the nearest chair. "On, no." Her mind reeled. This was just too much for one day. Before she had time to consider the consequences, she blurted out, "I'm surprised you left either of them alive."

In a flat, hard voice, he said, "What makes you think I did?"

She opened her eyes wide at that.

He drank some more. "I'm no murderer, though by the time I was done with him, he might have wished to be dead. Lucy left that night. I divorced her within the month. I'm sure she's trying to get control of my company as some sort of revenge for not overlooking her behavior and allowing her a large divorce settlement."

Miranda shook her head. "She's not smart enough for that." As the import of her statement struck her, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Drake grunted as he sat across from her. He swirled his glass in a wet circle on the tabletop. "You're right. This is too sophisticated for her. It's got to be an inside job."

"That's why you think she's in cahoots with an employee? Just to get back at you?" She stood, leaned against the table, glad that her shaky knees didn't have the entire job of holding her upright. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an enormous ego?"

Without thinking, she took another sip of her drink. After a moment of horror she realized she'd live through it. The stuff had a soft, almost sweet flavor. She tasted again, a larger mouthful this time.

What had they been talking about?

"I don't believe I've ever hear anyone use the word 'cahoots' in casual conversation," Drake said. "You are a unique individual, Miranda."

The intensity of his gaze made her mouth dry. She gulped the rest of the liquor hoping it would alleviate the tightness in her throat, assuage the heaviness in her chest.

"It's a perfectly good word," she stated. "Would you like another drink?" His glass was empty.

He nodded. She poured for both of them, wondering why it was hard to focus her eyes. She sat.

Drake's fingers grazed hers when he took the glass. She focused on his action, and then glanced at his face. The air between them seemed to crystallize. Panic swept through her as she realized how very much she was attracted to him. She couldn't seem to think straight when he was around.

What had they been talking about? She was angry with him because--because--ah!

"You didn't really make love to me," she accused.

Anger mixed with hurt. Maybe she hadn't been worth his time. Lucy was what he wanted, not plain down-to-earth Miranda.

"No, I didn't." The words sighed from his mouth. Miranda had to lean closer to hear him.

"Why not?" To her dismay tears formed in her eyes. She blinked to clear them.

"Despite what you've heard, I'm not a monster. Making love to you while you were unconscious would have been unconscionable."

She appreciated his clever play on words. "I never knew you to have feelings before."

This whiskey was really good. It slid down her throat like warm chocolate.

"There's a lot you don't know about me."

She blinked. When she opened her eyes, he'd vanished. "Hey, where'd you go?"

Hands dropped onto her shoulders. Miranda spun around. Her drink sloshed. Drake leaned across and took the glass from her hand.

"I'm not going to miss this opportunity to make things right." He dragged her to her feet. The last thing she saw before he kissed her was the blaze of passion shooting at her from his eyes.

Chapter Seven

At first dizziness and shock kept her from fighting. Crystal sharp awareness slammed into her. Wherever he touched, she burned. From where his lips attacked hers to the trail of fire his fingers blazed down her arms, her back, her buttocks, the burning left tremors of desire in their wake. Tremors that threatened to rock Miranda's deliberately constructed world.

She pushed against his chest. It was like pushing on granite. He held her tighter. The intensity of his mouth on hers changed. Where at first it demanded she kiss him back, it now gentled and asked.

She stopped pushing. Stopped thinking. She allowed herself to enjoy the warm softness of his lips.

Someone whined. Pumpkin. Thank goodness. Miranda had had a horrifying moment thinking it was her moaning and whining with desire and delight and pure lust. As she thought this, and thought it might be time to put an end to this kiss, Drake shifted the tenor of his mouth once more.

Now Miranda did gasp. She held onto his shoulders for balance. His lips opened against hers. His hot tongue probed. His teeth nibbled until she opened her mouth against the onslaught.