"Maybe she thinks you'd develop a deeper relationship with her. Or maybe she doesn't care, as long as you're rich. But either way, she's trying to drive us apart."
"You must have misunderstood her intentions. Cindy has been my assistant for nearly three years, and she's never come on to me. There's never been anything between us. It just isn't there."
"You hired her because of the way she looks. You even admitted that you like being around beautiful women." She lifted her chin. "You said that when we were at the gallery downtown, the first time I met her."
"I remember where we were and what I said." He struggled to hold his temper, to keep this discussion grounded. "But you're taking my statement out of context. I hired Cindy because she's competent. Her appearance was secondary."
Lea shoved her ice cream bowl next to his. "That's like saying men buy Playboy for the articles."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean? That's she's only pretending to be competent, and I'm too busy drooling over her to notice?" He resisted the urge to kick the rail of an empty chair. Already he was reliving the arguments his parents used to have. This was too damn close to the accusations his mom used to make, even when his dad wasn't screwing around. "There's nothing going on but your overactive imagination."
She heaved a labored breath, and his heart twisted in his chest. Didn't Lea realize how much she meant to him? Didn't she know how often he'd suffered because of her? How much he ached? How confused he was?
"My feelings for you aren't based on sex," he said, defending his jumbled emotions.
"Maybe not." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "But your feelings aren't based on trust, either."
He didn't respond. He couldn't think of an appropriate answer, not while his parents' screaming matches were spinning in his head. The anger. The jealousy. The infidelity. He'd sworn that he'd never let anything like that taint his life.
Lea came to her feet. She did her best to remain strong, to keep her legs steady, but he could see that she was starting to shake.
"You're playing right into Cindy's hands," she said. "And before long, she'll console you right into her bed."
"I'm not interested in my assistant. And she's not interested in me. Why can't you see that?" He stood, too. He towered over her by nearly a foot, and he wished she didn't look so delicate, so soft and pretty. "Cindy has been a model employee. As loyal as they come. Granted, she's shrewd. Tough, a little ruthless. But that's her business side."
"It's her personal side, too."
"I know she intimidates you, Lea. I noticed it from the beginning."
"And so did she. That's how she managed to get away with this. She probably wants us to argue about her, hoping you'll defend her."
"I can't condemn her, not without proof."
"I should be your proof. My instincts should be enough. A woman knows when another woman is after her man."
"What about my instincts?" he snapped. "I'm the detective." And he knew jealousy could get out of hand, whether or not it was warranted.
Lea didn't respond. She turned and walked into the house, leaving him alone.
He cursed under his breath and followed her. "What are you doing?" he asked as she retrieved her purse.
She spun around to face him. "Did you expect me to stay here now?"
He struggled with his feelings, with letting her go, with losing her. "There's probably paparazzi camped outside your apartment."
She ignored his comment and moved toward the front door. "I'd fight for you if I could, if it would do any good. But how can I wage a war with Cindy when you're taking her side?" She looked into his eyes. "How can I have a future with a man who doesn't trust me?"
When she was gone, he realized she was right. He hadn't given her a chance. And that scared him as much as falling in love with her.
* * *
Nearly two hours later, Michael checked his watch. Anxious, he studied the Swiss timepiece, watching the second hand make another gut-wrenching sweep. He hadn't been able to get in touch with Lea. He'd been calling her house, but the answering machine kept picking up. How many messages could he leave?
He reached for the cordless phone again, only this time he dialed Abraham Danforth's private number.
The older man answered on the fourth ring. "Hello?"
"Evening, sir, it's Michael."
For a moment, silence met him on the other line. Then, "Are you calling for Lea?"
His pulse spiked. "Is she there?"
"Yes, but I can't promise that she'll speak with you. You hurt her, Michael."
"I know. I'm sorry. Things are just so messed up." He pulled a hand through his hair. "I'm messed up."
"You've been drinking?"
He glanced at the bottle on the end table. "Yes. I mean, no, not really. I've had a couple beers. Will you ask Lea if she'll talk to me?"
"Hold on, and I'll check."
"Thank you." Michael grabbed the beer and took it into the kitchen, pouring the rest of it down the sink. He wouldn't mind getting drunk, blurring his senses with a desperate buzz, but he knew it wouldn't help his cause.
Whatever the hell his cause was.
Danforth finally returned, jarring his thoughts, making him take a quick, choppy breath.
"I'll transfer your call to Lea's room," the former Navy SEAL commander said. "But if you upset her again, you'll be answering to me."
"I understand." Michael wasn't about to get cocky with her father. He'd created enough trouble for one night.
While he waited for Lea, he walked outside for some air. The dessert bowls were still on the patio table, left over from their meal.
"Michael?" She came on the line. "My father said you wanted to talk to me."
He sat at the table. "I just wanted to know if you were okay. I've been leaving messages at your apartment."
"I went by there, but I saw some reporters, so I drove to Crofthaven instead."
"And your dad invited you to stay at the mansion?"
"Yes. I'm in one of the guest rooms."
He pictured her among the finery, sitting on a Chippendale bed, with a satin quilt and gold-tasseled pillows. "I'm glad you're with your family."
"Me, too."
He stared at the bowl in front of him, then recalled the way his mom used to break their dime-store dishes, smashing them after her husband had stormed out the door. "This reminds me of my parents."
"What does?"
"You, me. This thing with Cindy."
She sighed into the receiver. "Then you should understand how I feel."
"My dad couldn't even talk to a woman without my mom getting jealous."
"I'm not jealous of Cindy."
"You don't trust her." And that made him feel as though Lea didn't trust him, either.
Her voice turned sharp. "She did all of this on purpose, and you don't believe me."
He held his temper, knowing it wouldn't do any good to rehash the same argument. "If Cindy is as devious as you claim she is, then I've been tricked by two women. First by Lady Savannah and now my assistant."
"Lady Savannah only foiled you for a little while. Then you trapped her. You caught her at her own game."
Meaning what? That he was supposed to trap Cindy, too? What if he couldn't uncover any proof? What if there was nothing concrete, nothing but Lea's word against Cindy's? "I'm not going to the office for a few days. I don't want to deal with this until I've had some time off." He squeezed his eyes shut. "My nerves are shot. They're ripped to the bone."
"So are mine."
He opened his eyes. "I never meant to hurt you."
"But you did."
Yes, he'd hurt her. But he wasn't convinced that she hadn't just misunderstood Cindy, that she wasn't blowing everything out of proportion. "I need some time to think this through."
"I'm not stopping you, Michael."
"I know." He adjusted the phone, cradling it closer to his ear. She sounded distant, like she was fading from his life already. "Do you belie
ve what I said earlier?"
She released an audible breath. "About what?"
"Our relationship. That my feelings for you aren't based on sex."
"I don't know. I'm not sure. It started off being about sex. We slept together on the first night we met."
"It's more than that now."
"Is it?"
"Yes." It was about what they'd confided in each other, the hours they'd spent talking, the moments they'd laughed, the comfort of holding her in his arms, of watching her sleep. "It's our friendship. The closeness we share."
"But we're losing that. It's going away."
Because the trust they'd built was shattering, he thought. Because another woman had come between them.
"I should go," she told him, her tone still distant, still faraway. "It's been a long day, and I'm tired."
He glanced up at the sky, at the shallow light from a three-quarter moon. "I guess it is getting late." And they'd run out of things to say, their conversation dissolving into the night.
* * *
Twelve
« ^
The following week, Michael stared at the wall in front of him, wishing he could bang his head against it. He'd screwed up and now he was faced with the consequences.
Seated at the desk in his office, he dialed Cindy's extension. His assistant picked up, and her voice scraped his spine like tree-sharpened talons, like claws gouging his skin.
"I need to talk to you," he said.
"Just give me a second, and I'll be right there."
He tensed his jaw, hating himself for what he'd done. He'd broken Lea's heart and destroyed his own. He'd ruined what they had together, and now he missed her so much, he could barely breathe.
Cindy entered his office with a concerned expression. "Is there a problem?"
He gestured for her to sit. She took the leather chair in front of his desk and crossed her legs. Her skirt rode a little higher than usual, revealing too much thigh.
"I wonder what Lea would think of your outfit," he said.
She tilted her head. "We're not going to discuss that business with her again, are we?"
He raised his eyebrows. Three days ago, he'd confronted Cindy about Lea's accusations and she'd adamantly denied any wrongdoing. She'd even phoned Lea to apologize, but Lea had refused to take the call. "So you're sticking by your story?"
"It's not a story. I already explained why I said those things to your girlfriend."
He kept his gaze fixed on hers. "Because you were only trying to be her friend? Hoping to stop her from getting hurt?"
"That's right, but she twisted my good intentions." Cindy made a sympathetic sound. "Have you seen her? Spoken with her?"
"Not since she spurned your apology. And quite frankly, I don't blame her."
"I see." She shifted her legs, drawing her skirt up a little farther. "Are you angry that I told her that I thought you were using her? I'm sorry, Michael. But Lea is terribly insecure, and you're incredibly aggressive. Too powerful for her."
"Aggressive? Powerful? You mean ruthless, don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose so. But I'm the same way. You and I are cut from the same cloth."
"Which means what?" He reached for a loose paper clip on his desk. "That you and I would make a good team?"
She tucked her hair behind her ear, where a diamond hoop sparkled. "We already make a good team. We work well together."
He twisted the paper clip, bending its perfect shape. "That's what I used to think."
She tilted her head. "Used to? What's going on? Why are you treating me this way?"
"Cut the crap, Cindy. I'm not falling for your innocent routine this time." And it shamed him that he'd taken her word over Lea's, that he'd believed his backstabbing assistant and all of her carefully conceived lies. "I've been investigating the paternity test leak, and guess where all of the clues lead?"
She didn't respond. She simply waited for him to continue, her legs still crossed, her head still tilted.
"To this office," he said. "To you."
She barely flinched, barely batted an eyelash. "Do you have proof beyond a reasonable doubt?"
"I'm still working on the proof, but there's no reasonable doubt in my mind. You had the opportunity and the motive."
"What motive?" She squared her shoulders, giving him a cool, calculated look, showing him how ruthless she really was. "That squinty-eyed lover of yours?"
He pressed his palms on the desk, leaning forward, fighting the urge to clench his fists. "If you were a man, I'd deck you. I'd beat the living crap out of you."
"But I'm not a man, am I?" She came to her feet, smoothing her blouse, refusing to let him ruffle her feathers. "And there's no way you'll ever prove it was me who leaked that information. All you have is a few measly clues."
She was right. His chances of securing physical evidence were slim to none. But her poison-tipped reaction was enough. It was all he needed to end her sick game. "I want you out of here. Today. Now."
"That's fine by me. I'll find a better job." She fluffed her hair. "Even without a recommendation from you."
"Go clear your desk."
She shrugged, telling him in no uncertain terms that she would take as much time as she needed to gather her belongings.
When she walked out of his office, he picked up the phone, praying that Lea would forgive him.
* * *
Lea arrived at Whittaker and Associates. Filled with trepidation, she entered the building, preparing herself for another bout of pain.
And then she saw Michael.
He leaned against the reception desk, wearing a black suit, a white shirt and a narrow tie. A strand of his hair fell across his forehead, but it was the only thing out of place. He looked tall and strong and composed.
She glanced around the room, catching glimpses of leather and chrome. The building seemed vacant, almost hollow. Or maybe it was her emotions, the emptiness inside her. "Are you the only person here?"
He shook his head. "Cindy is in her office."
She steeled her gaze. "Then why did you ask me to come here?"
"So you could watch her walk out the door. She's packing, Lea. I fired her."
To keep herself from reacting too strongly, she headed over to the sofa and sat down, waiting to hear what else he had to say. He raked his hand through his hair, messing it up a bit more, and she realized he wasn't as collected as he appeared.
"Was it difficult for you to fire her?"
"Not in the least." He sat on the sofa, too. "But this is difficult. Looking at you, knowing you probably hate me."
"I never said I hated you."
He nearly ransacked her gaze, his eyes much too intense. "Does that mean you still love me?"
She took a deep breath, trying to stabilize her pulse, the jittery sensation in her veins. "I never stopped loving you, Michael."
He managed to smile. "I kept hoping you'd say that." His smile fell. "I'm so sorry that I didn't believe what you said about Cindy."
Lea glanced at the door that led to the offices. It was closed, tight and secure. "Did she do something to make you change your mind? Did she come on to you?"
"Yes, she did something." He removed his jacket, placing it on the arm of the sofa. "She didn't come on to me, but I discovered that she leaked the paternity test."
Weary, Lea clasped her hands on her lap. "So you fired her for a security breach?"
"It's not as simple as that."
"Why? Because she managed to break us up? Because you didn't see through her?"
"Yes." Sunlight spilled into the room, mocking his features, intensifying the discomfort he couldn't hide. "All the signs were there, but I wasn't thinking straight. Cindy started asking me for advice about this mystery man around the time I met you. But I was too absorbed in our affair to realize that she was talking about me. You were all I thought about. You were all that mattered." He paused, his voice rough. "You were on my mind before I opened my eyes in the morning, while I was at
work, after I came home, when I went to sleep at night. You were always there."
"Me and Lady Savannah."
He reached for her hair, letting the dark strands slip through his fingers. "I thought about you more than Lady Savannah. Until I suspected the truth. Then both of you became my obsession."
She wanted to touch him, too. But she didn't dare, not now, not while her heart was pounding anxiously against her breast. "Why did you trust Cindy so much?"
"Because she never gave me any reason to doubt her in the past. She seemed tough and intuitive, like me. And I thought those qualities made her a good assistant."
Her stomach clenched, recalling how many times the other woman had predicted what Michael would do. "She said she knew you better than anyone."
"That isn't true." Although he stopped touching her hair, his gaze was still strong and magnetic, still locked on to hers. "She has no idea what's going on inside of me."
And neither do I, Lea thought. She was never sure what was he thinking, what he was feeling.
He fell silent, and she glanced at the floor, studying the black-and-white tiles. The building still seemed empty, in spite of Cindy being holed up in her office.
"What did she say when you confronted her about leaking the results of the paternity test?" Lea finally asked, resuming their conversation, trying to break the awkward lull.
Michael made a disgusted sound. "She didn't admit it, but she didn't deny it, either. She insulted you, then challenged my evidence, insisting I couldn't prove it."
"Can you?"
"Probably not, but I'm still going to try."
Troubled, Lea sighed. "Have you figured out Cindy's motive?"
"For leaking the information?" He blew out a windy breath. "I think she was trying to push you toward your father and away from me. She wanted you to arrange the press conference, to get closer to your dad. That way you'd go to him when our relationship faltered." He shifted in his seat. "But I don't have any family left. So where would I go?"
She frowned. "To your faithful assistant?"
"Or so she hoped." He reached for her hand. "Do you forgive me, Lea?"
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