Demons surfaced, from the deep recesses of her unconscious. I’ll never hit you again, Annie, I promise .She fought them back, but couldn’t erase them completely. Shouldn’t erase them completely. “Let’s just concentrate on your relationship with the kids.” Her voice was stronger than she felt. Forgiveness was a tall order, and she wasn’t sure she was up to filling it.
“How’s your hand?” he asked.
She held it up, revealing a small bandage. “Not much damage.”
Then Faith floated back out in her red spangles and chiffon, and danced around Joe, who was suitably awed, and Matt returned to give the official verdict that the guys were way impressed. As she watched them, Annie vowed silently to strive for forgiveness. If it enriched her kids lives like this, it was worth it.
Chapter 18
*
“PHILIP? I’D LIKE to talk to you.” Margo strode into her boss’s office bright and early Tuesday morning, ready to do battle if necessary. Her week at home had made her face some hard truths. The hopelessness of her situation with Linc, which they’d confessed Saturday night, had renewed her dedication to her job—which was, and should be, the focus of her life.
From staring out the window, Philip turned to face her. “Sure. But I have to tell you, my emotional equilibrium is zilch right now.”
Margo’s eyes narrowed. Though he was dressed impeccably as always, in a gray suit with a pinstripe shirt and navy tie, his eyes were bloodshot, and the skin on his face taut with strain. “Are you all right?”
He angled his head to his big leather couch. “I slept there last night.”
“Things aren’t going well with you and Sally?”
Shaking his head, he gave her a grim smile. “We’ve been battling for over a week. I didn’t see you before you left for Cancun because she got on my case that week, and I took a few days off to see if I could calm her down. Finally, after this week, I gave up. We went to see lawyers yesterday, which is why I wasn’t at work. The whole thing’s a nightmare.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be free for dinner tonight, would you? I’d really like some company.”
Linc would tell her not to go. “I don’t think so, Philip.”
His eyes turned bleak and she felt bad. She also didn’t want to add to his distress. “Maybe it’s not such a good time to talk about this right now.”
“No, I can’t let everything slide. What’s on your mind?”
“I’d like to know why you out-sourced the Laufler’s factory automation program.”
With a puzzled frown, he dropped down behind his desk and raked a hand through his hair. “Hell, when was that?”
“It probably seems like a lifetime ago. But it was the Friday before I took my vacation.”
His eyes scanned her in a purely male way. She’d seen the same kind of perusal from Linc often enough to recognize it. “How was Cancun? You don’t look tanned like you usually do when you come back from the Caribbean.” His grin was long and slow. “Did I ever tell you how sexy I thought that was?”
Had he? “I, um, don’t remember.” She sat down in a plush burgundy leather chair facing him. “The out-sourcing?”
With an unreadable look on his face, he picked up the phone. “Geraldine, could you bring in the files on the Laufler account.” He hung up and leaned back in his chair. “So, what about Cancun?”
“I didn’t go.”
“Why?”
“Good question.” She’d had a wonderful time with the girls, and they’d shared secrets and intimacies like the old days—especially after running into the guys Saturday night. Both she and Annie had been startled afterward when Beth admitted she was having feelings for Tucker Quaid. It was as hopeless a situation as Margo and Linc.
“Margo? Where’d you drift off to?” Philip asked.
The door opened and Geraldine entered. “Hi, Margo.” She handed Philip the files and smiled. “Would you like some coffee, Philip? You look a little worn.”
“I’d love some. Margo?”
“No thanks.”
Taking the folder, he opened it and read the contents as Geraldine left. “Come over here and look at this.”
Uneasy, Margo stood and circled his desk. She leaned over his shoulder, near enough to smell his citrusy aftershave; he pushed back on his chair a bit. They were uncomfortably close. “This is a fax from Jamison’s marketing department. It came the night before I left for a few days to take care of this stuff with Sally. They asked for a rush job and I knew you were going away so I out-sourced it.”
Geraldine returned before Margo could reply. The secretary frowned slightly at them. Automatically Margo stepped back.
Philip grinned at Geraldine and accepted the steaming mug. He sipped. “Hmm, just like I like it. You’re an angel, Ger. Where were you when I was looking to get married?”
The older woman beamed as she left.
Margo circled back around the desk and sat. “Philip, I don’t understand the out-sourcing. I asked you if you wanted me to cancel my vacation to work on this product.”
“Why should you? There was no need. We’ve out-sourced before.” Again he smiled. “Truthfully, I thought you could use some time off. You’ve been tense. Several of the guys commented on it.”
“When? And who?”
Philip leaned back in his chair, staring at her over the rim of his coffee. “It’s not important, who. When? Well, since…Boston.”
Her heartbeat quickened. Before she could quiz him further, he glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve got a meeting at nine. Let’s finish this conversation over dinner.”
“I said I didn’t think dinner was a good idea.”
“Fine, then this will have to wait. I’m at our plant all afternoon, then I’m attending a seminar the rest of the week.” He glanced at his calendar. “We could meet next Monday.”
Damn. “All right, I’ll have dinner with you.”
His brows arched in surprise. “Oh, well, good. Let’s go to Adrian’s over by your place.”
“Fine by me.” She stood, feeling manipulated.
Oh, hell , she told herself as she left Philip’s office. It was only a dinner.
*
MARGO WAS MELLOW as she left Adrian’s at ten that night. It was partly the wine, partly the mild end-of-April evening and partly that Philip had quelled her fears about the out-sourced product. He explained again the need to get the design done quickly, minimized his remarks about her being tense—actually he’d been right about that—and promised never again to out-source a product of hers without checking with her. He also implied none of this would be an issue once the new VP of Engineering was appointed next month.
Which he was strongly recommending to be her.
They reached her apartment building in a slow ten-minute walk. The trees were budding in the courtyard and the streetlamps cast eerie shadows on them as they stood at the front entrance. “This was nice tonight.”
“Better than nice. I haven’t felt this relaxed in weeks.” He gave her a half grin. “We’re good for each other, Ms. Morelli.”
Margo smiled, forcing herself not to overreact. “Thanks for dinner. My treat next time.”
“You’re on.” The breeze picked up and ruffled his wheat-colored hair. He stuck his hands in his pockets and donned a boyish expression. “I could be talked into coffee.”
“That’s not a good idea.”
Stepping closer, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “You know, I’m a free man now.”
“Hardly. You’re not even legally separated.”
“If I was, would you invite me up?”
“Philip, you know as well as I do, it’s not a good idea to mix business and personal lives.”
He rubbed his palms up and down her arms, from shoulder to elbow. “It could be very good for you.”
“What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “Nothing, it’s the wine and lack of sleep talking.” Before she could resi
st, he pulled her to him and hugged her. Kissing her hair, he whispered, “Sleep well,” turned and headed back toward a main drag to catch a cab.
Dismayed, Margo watched him go. Shit, what had happened here? She was frowning when she pivoted and caught sight of a figure emerging from the shadows on her left. Her breath hitched in her throat and her hand went to the door to the entrance before she recognized the size and shape of the man.
It was Linc.
*
“WHAT THE HELL was that all about?” Linc’s tone was furious, but the anger was a good masquerade for his hurt. She’d been hugging the guy, letting him touch her, and Linc was ready to explode at the evidence before him.
“What are you doing here?” Tossing back hair that Philip Hathaway had kissed, for God’s sake, she sidestepped the question.
Linc’s hands curled into fists. “Margo, have you been lying to me?”
That got her back up. Her slender shoulders squared in the short velvet jacket she wore over a purple silk pantsuit. Looking him dead in the eye, she said, “First of all, I don’t have to answer to you. Second” —she motioned to the street— “I refuse to discuss this out here. Come on up.”
The hell she didn’t have to answer to him. There was no one in the world she owed more. But he couldn’t go up to her place. He didn’t trust himself. “I don’t think so.” Jamming his hands in his black jean pockets, he gave her his back and headed down the street.
“Damn you,” she called after him. “Damn your holier-than-thou attitude.” He kept walking. “Go ahead, go,” she yelled to his retreating back.
Let me get out of here, God.
I’ll do what’s best for you, son.
Linc hurried along, like a repentant sinner trying to outrun temptation; but in minutes, he heard heels clattering on the pavement. She caught up to him and, grabbing his arm, tried to stop him. “Linc, wait.”
Damn it, God.
No answer.
He kept walking, dragging Margo along with him.
“Linc.” Her heels continued to click on the sidewalk. “Damn you.” She stopped abruptly. “I don’t deserve this.”
He whirled around. “You deserve to be turned over my knee and paddled. That’s what you deserve.”
Falling into femme fatale mode, she batted her thick eyelashes. Though it was dim, with just a few lights from the windows around them, he could see every movement. “Now, who would have thought the good Reverend had a kinky streak.”
The humor missed its target. He swallowed hard and his whole body tightened. The sounds of the city echoed around him—taxi horns, faint music from a restaurant—but his total focus was her. He grabbed her so quickly she stumbled in the heels. Roughly he yanked her to him. Her hazel eyes glittered with fury—and something else. She’d kept that something else at bay for a long time—as had he. They were eye level, eye-locked and simmering with suppressed emotion. He had a brief flash of sanity, enough to glance around, spot the deserted parking area next to one of the buildings, and, none-too-gently, drag her off the sidewalk into the dark.
Then he shoved her up against the building.
And took her mouth. In a way he hadn’t taken her mouth in years. His lips met hers with savage force, Adam branding Eve, Samson claiming Delilah, David at last having Bathsheba. He was no longer the good Reverend as he devoured her. He thrust his lower body forward, and she arched into him. Moaned. Dug her fingers into his back—he could feel it through his jacket. His hands slid down to her bottom and hiked her up.
As always, she matched his ardor and wrapped silk-covered legs around him with no more urging. They ground against each other with pure, carnal pleasure.
It was a long time before he released her. When he did, she eased her hammerlock around his neck, but started to slide to the ground. He held her up. Breathing like a sprint runner, he managed to say, “Easy, babe.”
She melted into him, aligned her whole body with his. But it was tenderness, this time, not passion which weakened him. He held her close, could hear her heart thundering in her chest, feel her tremble against him.
“Linc. Make love to me.” Her words were slurred like a drunk’s; she was intoxicated by desire.
“Let’s go back to your place,” he said.
Leaning heavily on him, she let him lead her down the street.
*
LINC WOULD HAVE made love to her in a heartbeat. But sanity returned with the subtlety of an emotional sledgehammer, hitting him over the head with the reality of their lives: if he took her again, as he had so many times in the past, he feared she could make him give up his God. And because of that, he refused the temptation.
Once, she’d confessed, too, that she was afraid if they made love ever again, she’d do anything he asked, even go back to Glen Oaks and become a minister’s wife.
Which would kill her wonderful spirit, as surely as it had once been killed by the cruel vigilance of Virginia Morelli. Margo’s bitterness over what religion had done to her seemed insurmountable.
So it was with that quiet understanding and that awful fear of what they could do to each other that they ended up at her kitchen table instead of in her bed, drinking hot chocolate.
“Your lips are swollen,” he said, carefully brushing the bottom one with the pad of his thumb.
She lowered her eyes.
“Did I do it, or did Hathaway?”
“You’re trying to make me mad.”
“No, I want the truth.”
“He didn’t kiss me tonight.” She looked up at him, her eyes almost green now, full of mixed emotions. “On the mouth.”
It was the hardest thing he’d ever had to ask. “Has he, again, after Boston?”
She shook her head. He shouldn’t be so relieved. But against his will, the vise around his heart loosened for the first time since he’d seen Margo in Pretty Boy’s arms.
Sipping the cocoa in front of her, she averted her gaze again. “He and his wife are splitting up.”
“How convenient.” The words were out before he could stop them. He wouldn’t have stopped them anyway. Because in his heart, he knew if any man could take her away from him, and keep her away from him, unlike her ex-husband, it was Philip Hathaway.
“Linc.” She whispered it quietly, sexily.
He grasped her hand and laced their fingers. “I don’t trust him.”
God please let that be true. Don’t let me be manipulating her to keep her tied to me.
Follow your instincts, boy.
A look flashed across her face. He’d seen it before, when she first admitted to sleeping with someone other than him. “What?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.” Margo bit her lip. “I…he…said some things that were disturbing.”
Linc called on every minister tactic he possessed to get her to tell him. Silence, an encouraging squeeze of her hand, sincere eye contact.
Finally she said, “He wanted to come up, because he was a free man.”
“He isn’t.” Yet. But he would be.
“I told him that. And also that it wasn’t a good idea to mix business and personal lives.”
“Smart girl.”
“Linc, he said it could be good for me.”
“What?”
“I know. I didn’t like the sound of it either.”
“The sound of it? Margo, it reeks of sexual harassment.”
“Not necessarily. For Christ’s sake, Philip initiated the sexual harassment policy for our company, oversaw its drafting. I need to think about this. Dissect it. Not overreact.” She narrowed wary eyes on him. “And don’t use this to get me to do what you want. I won’t tolerate it. What’s more I won’t tell you anything more.”
“What more is there?”
“Promise me you’ll be objective.”
Briefly he closed his eyes.
“Linc, I need you to pull through for me now.”
“I promise.”
“Swear by your God.”
“Strange things have been happening.” She told him about the all boys’ weekend and how Philip had out-sourced a product.
“Honey, it doesn’t sound good.”
“I know. I’m not stupid. But I can’t jump to any conclusions, either. He’s the fair-haired boy of CompuQuest. I can’t go off half-cocked. I need time to sort this through.”
Please God, let me give it to her.
You can do anything you have to, Linc.
“All right.” He stood. And glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to catch the midnight train back.”
“Why are you in town, anyway?”
“There was a seminar at Union Divinity I wanted to take. It was on women’s self-esteem groups.”
“You’ve been here all day? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were home for the week?”
Silent understanding passed between them.
He held out his hand. “Walk me to the door.”
As always, she took it, and he felt the current leap from her body to his. Desire still hummed between them.
They faced each other at the front of her fancy condo like best friends and worst adversaries. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Oh, hell,” he muttered and lowered his head. Their lips melded. But instead of the savage passion of earlier, the contact was so sweet it made Linc ache worse, in a completely different way.
“Stay,” she whispered against his lips.
“I can’t. You know what we’ll do.”
Her eyes shone with understanding. “I hate this.”
“Me, too.” He brushed back a wild lock of hair, kissed her nose and left before temptation won out and she made him forsake all that was important to him.
Chapter 19
*
IN THE LUNCHROOM on Wednesday, Ron watched as Lily Hanson shook her long brown hair back; it fell down past her shoulders, instead of over her boobs. The guys said she did it on purpose, to show her stuff, but Ron didn’t think so. There was something about the tough-as-nails image she projected that didn’t ring true. Maybe it was because she had an innocence in her that was buried in him, too.
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