Goodness Had Nothing to Do With It

by Lucy Monroe

The subtle scent that was distinctly her wafted up and he wanted to brush his hands down her arms, caressing her soft skin through the thin cotton of her blouse.

  She sucked in air and let it out again several times. With each successive breath the shudders that indicated her sobs lessened.

  "I'm fine. Let me up."

  Her voice was still husky, but she had gotten her tears under control.

  Relief filled him. He didn't know what to do with her tears. They were so different from the usual cool demeanor she exhibited; they unhinged him a little. He shouldn't care that she was so obviously hurting, but he did. She might have done this to herself, brought about her own misery with her dishonesty, but he still didn't like it worth squat.

  At the continued pressure against his hands, he let her up, cupping her shoulders as he helped her turn and rise to a sitting position.

  Her expression was hidden from him in the fading light, but there was no mistaking the way she tried to move away from him. "Let me go."

  He shook his head and tightened his hands on her so she couldn't leave. "You might need medical attention."

  She laughed, the sound even more hollow than when she'd done it earlier in the car. Ronnie had not laughed often before, but it had always been genuine. The bitterness in the sound now made him wince.

  "Your concern is touching. Unfortunately, we both know it isn't real. I fell down on the sidewalk because I wasn't watching where I was going. My knees are probably bruised and my hands feel like they're on fire, but I don't need a doctor's attention. I just need to go home."

  She had herself completely under control again, no trace of the tears or her earlier devastation. He suddenly wondered where she had learned to control her emotions so quickly and completely. He'd taken it for granted before, believing she was a naturally cold person, but their time in bed together had taught him differently. Even her betrayal could not wipe out the image of her passion imprinted on his brain.

  "I'll drive you."

  She pulled away from him again and this time he let her.

  Standing, she brushed off her jeans. 'That isn't necessary."

  He didn't agree. He didn't care how fast she subdued her emotions, he'd seen them and he didn't think she was steady enough to drive. "It is to me."

  She crossed her arms under her breasts and moved away from him in a defensive gesture. Even after all that had just happened, the way her arms pressed the swell of her breasts against the caramel-colored fabric of her shirt turned him on.

  He fisted his hands at his side, rather than let them reach out and touch her like he was aching to do.

  "I'm not getting into a car with you."

  "Why not?"

  "You have to ask?" Her look and tone implied incredulity.

  "Yes," he fairly growled.

  He'd never done anything to make her believe she wouldn't be safe with him. He hadn't pushed her down, for cripe's sake. She'd fallen.

  "I'm not going to spend twenty minutes in a car listening to you berate me. I already know you hate me. Isn't that enough?" Her voice was still husky with emotion, so unlike his cool little Ronnie that he peered through the gathering darkness and tried to read the expression on her face.

  Hate? Did he hate her? It would be infinitely easier for him if he did, but his body still responded too strongly to hers to label what he felt for her hatred. He despised her betrayal, her dishonesty, and he'd been hurt by her desertion, but that wasn't hate.

  "I don't hate you."

  "Don't lie to me. There's no reason. I don't know why you didn't tell Mr. Kline about what happened at CIS, but I'm grateful. If I could make up for what I did, I would."

  He had this insane urge to believe her. Was he going to let himself get sucked into the trap of trusting her again? No, damn it. He was not. He didn't react with the skepticism he felt, though. That wouldn't help earn her trust so he could finish his investigation.

  Besides, he hadn't lied. Maybe if hecould hate her, if he could get her completely out of his system, he would break his over yearlong abstinence. He despised her, but he wanted her too. Too blasted much. Man, what a fool! Suddenly a glaring truth stood out in his brain: he had to get this woman out of his system. To go on with his life, he had to exorcise his need for her.

  He didn't know how, but while he conducted his investigation, he was going to find a way to stop wanting her.

  He turned toward the restaurant parking lot. "Come on."

  She followed him, a silent shadow in the spring night.

  He stopped by her car. "We still need to talk."

  She surprised him by nodding. "But not now."

  "I'll call you."

  "You don't have my number."

  "Give it to me."

  She bit her lip and then said, "I'll see you at work on Monday. We can talk then." She didn't want him calling her.

  "Will your boyfriend object?" Was she dating her boss?

  "I don't have a boyfriend."

  He felt an annoying sense of relief at her quick denial. But she still didn't want him calling her. The knowledge shouldn't surprise him. She had every reason to fear him. Even she didn't know how much.

  "We'll talk tomorrow. Give me your number."

  She didn't answer but dug in her purse for a notepad and pen. After writing something down, she creased the paper and tore it neatly from the pad. "Here."

  He took the paper from her outstretched fingers."Tomorrow."

  "Yes."

  He waited until she had gotten inside her car, started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot before pressing the automatic unlock button for his Jag.

  Unwelcome anticipation at the thought of seeing her again plagued him as he drove the few miles to the furnished apartment Kline had rented for him.

  Little baby toes squirmed in delight along with the rest of Aaron's body as he splashed in his bath.

  Veronica smiled in reaction. She adored her baby son and he adored his bath. Sudsing the soft terry washcloth with baby wash, she carefully scrubbed the infant. Her hold on his forearm slipped as the soapy cloth made her son as slippery as a wet seal. He sounded like a seal too when he squealed in glee as he slipped from her to submerge to his neck in the warm water.

  Using the opportunity to rinse him, she splashed the water over his churning limbs to be rewarded with a small shower of wet droplets against her oversized gray T-shirt. Aaron chortled with glee.

  "You little imp. You meant to get Mommy wet, didn't you?"

  Aaron splashed the water with his chubby fists, sending more moisture cascading over her. "Mama.'"

  Jenny came into the bathroom. "You have a phone call."

  Veronica reached out and pulled Aaron from the bathtub. Wrapping him in a fluffy canary yellow bath towel, she asked, "Who is it?"

  A sick sensation in her stomach told her she already knew.

  "I think it's Marcus. He wanted to know who I was."

  Baby-soft hands patted her face and Veronica smiled again at her son in spite of her feelings of misgivings. Typical of Marcus to think he had the right to demand that kind of information.

  "Did you tell him?"

  "Why? Are you planning to hide me too?"

  Veronica's head snapped up at the unaccustomed censure in her sister's voice. "No. You just never came up before. Marcus wasn't interested in my life outside CIS or our relationship."

  It had galled her to admit to her sister that she'd let herself get duped into a casual sexual relationship. An affair. But nothing but the truth would have sufficed once she had realized she was pregnant.

  Her sister deserved to know the truth and Veronica had hoped knowing the sordid details would help Jenny to make different choices for herself when the time came.

  Jenny's hazel eyes flashed and delicate pink stained her cheeks. "I told him that it was none of his business who I was. I don't like being interrogated by someone I've never even met."

  Leaning over to unstop the tub, Veronica balanced Aaron on her hip. "Did
you tell him that too?"

  Jenny looked sheepish. "I may have said something along those lines."

  Veronica could imagine Marcus's reaction to her sister's statement. She laughed and gave her sister a spontaneous hug that ended up including the baby. 'Jennifer Richards, you are priceless."

  Jenny hugged her back and planted a smacking kiss on the baby's cheek. "I like it when you laugh, Veronica. I remember when I was little and you used to laugh at everything. Mom called you Sunshine. Remember?"

  Not if she could help it. Going back in her mind to a time when she had been carefree and happy didn't make living the day-to-day existence of a single mother any easier. She didn't say that, though.

  She just nodded and forced herself to say, for Jenny's benefit, "Yeah, I remember."

  Her little sister stepped away, pulling Aaron into her arms as she did so. "Go talk to Mr. Nosy. He's been waiting for you long enough and he doesn't strike me as a patient person. I don't think he was in that great of a mood to begin with. I bet he's hopping mad now."

  Great. Well, Marcus's mood couldn't be helped.

  She turned to go but stopped in the bathroom doorway. "I'm not ashamed of you or Aaron, Jen."

  Jenny smiled, all traces of her earlier impatience with Veronica gone. "I know. He just wasn't interested."

  Maybe. And maybe, giving Marcus the benefit of the doubt, she had to admit to herself that she had hesitated to tell him about Jenny, not because he lacked interest, but because she feared his reaction to finding out the heavy load of responsibility she carried. She hadn't wanted to lose him. Coming to an inner decision, she squared her shoulders.

  "I'm going to tell him who you are." Jenny looked up from drying the baby, her expression somber. "I think that would be a good idea."

  Veronica nodded and then went into the living room, where Jenny had left the cordless phone lying on the oak sofa table behind the couch.

  She picked it up. "Hello?"

  "What in the hell do you mean leaving me to cool my heels while you take an hour to come to the phone ?"

  Jenny had been right. Marcus didn't like waiting, but Veronica had already known that. "I'm sorry, Marcus. I was busy."

  "Too busy to come to the phone in a timely manner? You were never that lacking in courtesy at CIS."

  "I'm at home, not at the office and, yes, I was too busy to come to the phone immediately. Did you call just to harangue me about telephone manners?" she asked with exasperation.

  He acted like waiting a few extra minutes for her was on par with a world energy crisis.

  Heavy silence met her sarcasm. She waited it out. She knew this trick. She'd seen Marcus and Alex both use it to gain the upper hand in a conversation and she wasn't falling for it. She needed all the advantages she could get in dealing with him and knowing his foibles was one she intended to utilize to the max.

  "Am I calling at a bad time, Ronnie?" he finally asked.

  She wished he wouldn't call her that. It reminded her too forcibly of an intimacy that they would never share again. But she'd already asked him not to, pleaded even, and he had ignored her. She wouldn't ask again.

  "No, I can talk now."

  "Are you sure you don't need to go back to who-ever it was who answered the phone? If you've got company, I can call back later."

  She didn't fall for the polite routine either. She recognized a fishing expedition for information when she saw one. "She's not company. Jenny is my sister and she lives with me."

  "You have a sister?"

  He made it sound like she'd just claimed familial ties to an alien. "Yes."

  "How long?"

  "How long have I had a sister? Since she was born about seventeen and a half years ago." She knew that wasn't what he'd asked, but she couldn't help baiting him.

  "I meant how long has she lived with you?" he asked, with barely checked impatience.

  "Almost five years."

  Marcus sucked in his breath. He must realize the implication. She'd had full responsibility for a teenage sister during the time they'd been together.

  "Impossible. You never said anything."

  "You never asked," she pointed out.

  He was silent again. This time she sensed it was more out of consternation than any attempt at manipulating her. "Where are your parents?"

  Where was this inquisition leading? She didn't really understand his curiosity. He'd never asked personal questions like this before, when their relationship had been a great deal more intimate.

  "They're dead."

  Ronnie's parents were dead? She had custody of a teenage sister?

  "She never answered your phone before." It was a stupid thing to say, but it was the first thing that came to his befuddled mind.

  "She was sick."

  "For the whole time we were dating?" he asked, his voice registering the disbelief he felt.

  "Yes."

  He didn't like her short responses. He wanted to know more and she could damn well tell him. "What do you mean she was sick the whole time?"

  Ronnie's voice came across the phone lines clear and soft. "She was diagnosed with a potentially fatal blood disease when she was fourteen."

  Damn it to hell. Why hadn't he known? The simple truth was that she hadn't told him. It appeared Ronnie's job as a corporate spy wasn't the only thing she'd hidden from him a year and a half ago.

  "How is she now?" The question felt dragged out of him.

  His interest in the woman who had betrayed him and her life made no sense, but that didn't diminish his desire to know details.

  "Better."

  "Do you mean well?" he asked, probing becausebetter could mean anything.

  "Yes."

  "I'm glad."

  Why had he said that?

  Of course, the thought of any child dying so young was abhorrent, but the surge of relief that had gone through him at Ronnie's answer had felt way too personal. He felt like cursing again. He didn't even know the girl and he didn't want to get wrapped up in Ronnie's life again. Not that he'd been all that wrapped up in it before, obviously.

  Realizing how much of herself she had held back from him made him angry.

  "Me too," she said, in reply to his inexplicable comment. "I'm sure you didn't call me to discuss my sister."

  He gripped the phone tighter. How could she sound so soft and vulnerable one minute and so cold the next? "You're right. I called to set up our next date."

  "Date?" She gave a mocking little laugh. "I'd hardly classify any meeting between the two of us as a date."

  "Why? We were pretty good together before." He couldn't resist taunting her with the truth.

  "Don't." She didn't sound mocking now. In fact, she sounded a little desperate.

  He smiled. "Don't what, sweetheart?"

  He deliberately used the endearment, knowing it would irritate her.

  "Don'tcall me sweetheart anddon't pretend you want to renew our relationship. I'm not that naive."

  Desperation threaded her voice and that surprised him, but it didn't stop the churning need to keep pushing.

  "What if I do?" he asked, with deliberate silky menace.

  She wasn't the one who'd been naive before. That had been him. He'd trusted her and look what it had gotten him. More than a year of celibacy and too many memories that wouldn't let him sleep at night.

  "Come on, Marcus. We both know you aren't interested in me any longer. I was a temporary bed partner who betrayed the company you worked for. You are no more interested in renewing our relationship—if you could even call it that—than I am."

  He could tell she was trying to sound cool, but her voice had wobbled there for a second. Maybe she wasn't as over him as she tried to pretend.

  "What if I am interested?" he asked, driven by a compulsion that he could neither understand nor control.

  But there was a burning need in him to goad her into losing her calm facade.

  "You're not." Her voice was flat with finality.

  "You soun
d so sure of yourself,sweetheart . It's always a mistake to be certain you know the mind of your opponent." Hadn't he made that mistake eighteen months ago when he had assumed he knew what Ronnie thought and felt? "Didn't it occur to you to wonder why I hadn't shared your past history as an espionage agent with Kline?"

  Her sharp inhalation told him that he'd scored a point.