Mac should have stopped in the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee. Maybe he would have seen her and Grote in the dining room. If he had, maybe he would have stormed across the room, hauled Grote out of his chair by his ponytail and beaten him to a pulp for having brought Andrea Crowley to the party. Of course, Mac was at fault for having failed to run a security check on her—or he would be, if her full name had ever appeared on the guest list.
He lifted the folder from his lap. “Did Tyrell get you a copy of his report?”
“He did.” Charlotte patted a folder on her desk.
“He did a phenomenal job last night,” Mac said. “The next time you’re handing out raises, he deserves one.”
“If I could afford it, he’d be getting a raise today,” Charlotte agreed.
That had been her opening to drop the gratitude and let it rip. Unlike Tyrell, Mac didn’t deserve a raise. Quite the contrary, he deserved the ax. Yet Charlotte continued to gaze at him, smiling benignly.
He sighed and pushed the words out himself. “I can arrange for my resignation as soon as you want it,” he said.
She didn’t look as startled as she might have, which implied that she knew the truth about him. “You mean, because you lied about your background when you applied for this job?”
“My background and my reason for wanting the job,” he said.
“Mac.” She tapped her fingers together as she regarded him. “Number one, your background made you more qualified than you had to be. I hardly think a person should be fired for being better than advertised.”
“But my reasons—”
“Were somewhat deceptive, yes. Julie told me a little about what you revealed to her last night. I understand that in your line of business—private investigations and security—you can’t always be forthright. Your work entails secrecy, am I right?”
He nodded reluctantly. “Sometimes, yeah, I’ve got to be secretive. But when I have to lie to people like you and Julie, I regret it.”
“Regret is your own problem, Mac, not mine. Because you are who you are, rather than who I thought you were, Julie is safe today, and a dangerous woman is behind bars. I hardly think that constitutes grounds for letting you go.”
“I don’t know what Julie told you,” he repeated, “but I didn’t save her. She saved herself.”
Charlotte’s smile grew gentle. “What Julie told me was that you saved her. And for that alone, you will be welcome here as long as you wish to stay. If you need to go back to your other job, I hope you’ll stay until I can find a replacement for you. That’s not asking too much, is it?”
Not asking too much? The woman should have lopped off his head by now. If Julie had told her the whole story about last night, she’d probably want to lop off his balls as well.
He raked a hand through his hair and considered her request. “I’m sure there are folks who’d be better at this job than I am,” he said. “I’ll help you find one. Tyrell would be at the top of my list,” he added, lifting his folder again. “I know he’s young and I know he prefers working nights. But he’s more than qualified for the job. He was a champ last night.”
“So were you,” Charlotte said. “Mac, it’s none of my business but…” She drew in a deep breath. “Whatever is going on between you and Julie, please fix it.”
“If I could—if I can,” he corrected himself, “I will.” He rose and started toward the door. Pausing, he turned back to Charlotte. “I’m keeping an eye on Luc Carter,” he said. “He was seen in the area just before Eddie discovered that the generator had been tampered with.”
Her smile faded. “I like Luc,” she conceded. “Do you really think he had something to do with that mess?”
“I don’t know. Apparently he was carrying a bunch of flashlights. It might have been nothing more than bad timing that put him in the vicinity of the generator just before Eddie realized it had been vandalized. But as I said, I think I should keep an eye on him.”
“I trust your judgment, Mac.”
He felt unworthy of that trust, but if she wanted to give it, he’d better strive to deserve it. With a nod he left her office.
Feeling a little less like an impostor, he descended the main steps to the lobby. No one would have guessed that the hotel had hosted a slam-bang party last night, or that the only illumination for the party had come from candles, flashlights and the moon. Nadine and her crew had tidied the lobby up—not even the scent of melted candle wax lingered in the air, which smelled of lemon furniture polish and fresh flowers. Leftovers from the party, Mac guessed as his gaze took in the bouquets in vases arrayed on table-tops and counters. Whatever drinks and snacks had been consumed in the lobby last night had been cleared away. Fresh tracks indicated that the carpets had been vacuumed that morning.
The concierge desk was vacant, which was probably just as well. Mac had promised Charlotte he’d deal with Luc, and he would. First, though, he had to deal with the woman haunting him, the woman who last night had tossed him out of her life for lying and this morning had spread flattering lies about him at the hotel.
He ran into Alvin Grote in the hallway outside Chez Remy. The man looked sheepish and grim, and he carefully avoided Mac’s gaze. Mac could just imagine why. If his eyes were guns, he’d be shooting them straight into Grote’s pudgy face. That man, that whining, cranky man, had brought Andrea Crowley into the hotel last night, nearly costing Julie her life. Mac would never forgive him.
He whipped past Grote and swung into the restaurant. Julie wasn’t there.
Cursing, he cornered one of the waitresses. It took incredible restraint not to grab the poor girl by her collar. “Is Julie Sullivan around?”
“She just left,” the waitress said.
“Where did she go?”
The girl shrugged.
Deciding he’d never forgive the waitress, either, Mac raced out of the room. He was used to moving stealthily around the hotel, spying on Julie while trying not to alert her to his scrutiny, but right now he’d be happy to grab a megaphone and bellow her name through the halls. The guests might not appreciate that, though. Given how few people occupied the restaurant and lobby, he assumed most of the guests were still sleeping off last night’s excesses.
He returned to the lobby, wishing Julie had left him a trail of pink feathers. No such luck today. Maybe she didn’t want to be found.
The last time she didn’t want to be found, he’d located her in a corner of the courtyard, fretting over the first threatening e-mail she’d received. He shoved open one of the French doors into the courtyard.
A few maintenance men were at work there, tidying up the last vestiges of the party. Crumpled napkins lay scattered across the ground, and a small pile of soggy debris sat at the edge of the pool, where one worker wielded a long-handled net to fish garbage from the turquoise depths. Chairs and tables had been pushed askew to clear space for dancing, and another worker was busy returning furniture and planters to their proper places.
Julie sat at the corner table, just where Mac had found her that first day. As always she was dressed attractively. Today’s outfit was simple—a black tunic and matching black slacks that hid the scrape on her knee. The ensemble made her look absurdly tall and long-legged. And beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful.
She saw him as soon as he stepped into the courtyard. Her gaze followed him as he wove among the misplaced tables and chairs to the corner where she sat. She didn’t order him to stop, didn’t accuse him of terrible things. Her expression was, while not welcoming, not quite forbidding, either. If he had to choose one word to describe it, it would be sad.
He didn’t stop moving until he was standing right before her. He dragged over the closest chair and planted it in front of her, then sat. And said the first words that came to him: “I love you.”
She sat straighter and blinked in surprise. Her eyes were sleepy but still a mesmerizing violet, the color of a morning sky before the sun broke over the horizon. Her hair hung loose and her c
heeks were hollow, her lips temptingly soft.
Maybe he should have eased into this conversation more subtly. “How are your fish?” he asked. “Did they survive the night?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Better than I did, probably.”
“Better than I did, too.” The hell with her fish. The hell with easing into the conversation. He’d lied to Julie before, but he wasn’t going to lie to her ever again. “I’m a son of a bitch. I know you’re angry with me. You have every right to be. But damn it, Julie, I love you. I always thought you were smart and interesting and great company, but last night…” He swallowed, trying to slow down the words, to hold back the emotion rolling over him like the storm waves of a hurricane. “Last night I realized that if you’d been killed, my life wouldn’t have been worth living. It would have been empty, pointless. I need you, Julie. I need you to make my life worth living.”
Her eyes remained on him, gorgeous but unreadable.
“So okay, I’m a son of a bitch. You can hate me now. But I’ll fight for you. I’ll do what I have to, to convince you—”
“Mac,” she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. “You aren’t a son of a bitch.”
“Just a liar.”
“Yes.” A smile teased the corners of her mouth. “You’ll have to work on that lying habit.”
“I only lie in my work,” he told her. “I have to sometimes, and I won’t apologize for that. But I don’t lie in my private life. And I won’t lie to you.” He gathered her hand. It felt cool and slender, sandwiched between his palms. He remembered the way her hands had felt on his body last night, and a jolt of arousal gripped him.
“And anyway, I’m not the only liar around here,” he went on, in part to distract himself from the tug of desire in his groin. “You told Charlotte I saved your life last night. That’s a lie.”
She looked startled. “It’s the truth, Mac. The only thing that kept me going was the knowledge that you’d come for me. I had to stay alive until you came. And I was right. You did come.”
“Because you left me a trail of feathers and shoes.”
“Because I needed you,” she argued. Her fingers flexed against his hand and her eyes seemed to glisten. “You were right when you said I was in danger. You were right to want to protect me, and I was too stubborn and sure of myself, thinking I was perfectly safe and I didn’t need anyone looking out for me. Last night—” her voice broke, and she took a minute to regroup “—last night, at least half my anger came from the understanding that I need to depend on other people sometimes. On you,” she added, her gaze so poignant he felt his own throat choke up a little. “I don’t want to depend on anyone, but I can’t help myself, Mac. I need you.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it escaped him in a happy rush. “Then you forgive me?”
“Only if you forgive me for being such a dope.”
“You’re the bravest, strongest, smartest, most beautiful dope I’ve ever known,” Mac said, rising and pulling Julie to her feet. “And I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, then tilted her face and pressed her lips to his.
They kissed, a soul-deep kiss that brimmed with her courage, her strength, her wisdom and beauty—and even her stubbornness. Everything Mac loved about Julie was in that kiss. And Mac realized, to his great relief, that he’d be able to forgive himself. He’d be able to do anything, as long as he had Julie’s love.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5367-8
IN THE DARK
Copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Barbara Keiler is acknowledged as the author of the work.
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In the Dark Page 24