by Unknown
The Miranda he knew, or thought he knew through years of working together, never came across as an underhanded traitor.
He made a conscious effort to unclench his fists. Paper rattled. He looked down to see that his hands had mangled the merger papers spread across his desk.
Flexing his hands he forced himself to consider other reasons for Miranda's actions. Maybe she needed cash. No, he paid her well despite her less than luxurious apartment. He wondered how she spent her salary if not on a fancy condominium or house. Money and greed was the most common reason for crime. Everything he knew about Miranda screamed that he was on the wrong track.
Maybe she had a secret life--a secret husband in a different state. His head pounded, then he dismissed the idea as pure fantasy. Primal possessiveness filled him. She was his. Besides, she wasn't the type to have a secret life. He laughed at the notion, glad to put it away.
He prided himself on being a good judge of character. Remembering how first Lucy then Jack had tricked him made the pounding in his head return.
Images of the recent past with Miranda flashed through his mind. The silliness of her trying to seduce him and his unguarded reaction to it; the wedding that she still believed had been real. She would have to know the truth sooner or later. He imagined her reaction to the news, his lips curled.
His groin tightened as his mind leaped to the brief flash of red satin he'd slid her into on their wedding night. He'd stared at her as she'd snored lightly, innocently. He'd been plotting to use her and felt a sense of relief that the camera idea had failed. Using her that way would have done irreparable damage.
He could not hurt her, ever. Perhaps that was why he'd touched her with more care than efficiency when changing her into that red outfit. To say it took more willpower than he thought he possessed not to run his hands across her warm, soft skin when she had been at his mercy was a memory he tried to forget.
The lovemaking, the way she'd truly seduced that night at her place, her passion had startled him. He wanted more of that. He wanted more of her.
What she thought of him as a person, not just as a boss or co-conspirator, had become of pivotal importance.
A cool bead of sweat tickled his brow. His feelings for Miranda overshadowed everything.
He glanced at the stock transaction on the computer screen.
Nicole's voice intruded through the intercom. "Mr. McLain, the meeting is ready for you."
"Thanks." Drake's reply was automatic. Miranda would be at that meeting.
Until he knew for sure what she was doing, he'd avoid her. Wanting to trust her, even telling her that he trusted her, was insufficient. Knowing beyond a doubt--that was necessary.
A weight he suspected was his cooling heart settled in his chest. He made arrangements for a trusted associate to buy Miranda's stock for him.
Loneliness followed him to the meeting. Miranda's smiling face tortured him for the next two hours. He brushed her off when the meeting was over; noticing how her smile became a question became a frown. Hurt crept into her eyes. He swallowed hard.
For the first time in as long as he could remember, work refused to solace him. When he couldn't take it any longer he left, giving the car keys to Nicole to keep for Miranda. The taxi ride home passed in a blur.
Pumpkin kept Drake company in the kitchen where he tried to cook himself into a better mood. It didn't work. He gave that up as the sun went down. Miranda had not come home. The sky was dark with the last bloody streak of sunset the only relief.
Drake went to the bedroom Miranda used. The perfume bottle on the dresser, her robe across the end of the bed, a novel on the bedside table all managed to make this impersonal room cozy, warm, and imbued with her.
Pumpkin lay on the rug. Drake sat on the edge of the bed.
"I miss her." Drake's voice cut the quiet air.
Pumpkin lifted his large head and twitched his ears. With a soft whine the dog set his muzzle on Drake's knee.
"You too?" Drake scratched Pumpkin's silken ears. It soothed him.
"You know, I stopped trusting people a long time ago. That thing with Lucy just reinforced what I already knew--everyone looked out for herself. Why should I stop thinking that way now?"
Pumpkin licked Drake's wrist. Drake was aware of the dog's chocolate brown eyes following him as he wandered around the room.
"She's unlike anyone I've ever known." He opened her closet door. His nostrils quivered at the combination of the scent of cedar panels and Miranda's scent that lingered within.
"She listens to what I say. She likes my cooking. I don't intimidate her." He went to the window, wishing the headlights glowing in the distance heralded Miranda's arrival. But they kept on past the house; nothing cut across the darkened landscape below.
"How can we work things through if we're never together?"
The dog's gaze gave Drake a silent agreement.
He'd confront her this evening. This on again-off again marriage business had worn thin. He'd just have to win her over with wit and charm and passion. Then, when he had her melting in his arms, he'd tell her that they weren't really married.
Pumpkin whined.
"If she's pregnant, she'll have to marry me for real. Won't she?"
The dog blinked.
"You're right," Drake commented. "She'll kill me, sue me for child support, then kill me again. I guess I wasn't thinking straight when I hired Cherisse the Caftan Queen to pretend to marry us. How did I know I was going to fall in love?"
He stopped. In love? Where had that come from? It sure hadn't happened on their wedding night or in the immediate aftermath. Somewhere between meeting her ditsy neighbors and fawning canine companion and after that night of passion he'd fallen in love with his pseudo-wife. Damn.
Where the hell was she? No note. No message on the machine. No indication of where she was. He needed to see her, find out if she could ever trust him enough to consider making their arrangement less than temporary.
The problem that he'd been dealing with, fighting with, fighting against, crystallized. He needed Miranda the way a drowning man needed air.
Somehow he had to find a way to convince her to trust him. Maybe she couldn't love him back, at least not right away, but showing her that he trusted her with his business, with his life, with his heart, would go a long way towards building that kind of trust.
He slapped his hands against his knees. The dog tilted his head.
"First things first," he said to the dog. "I'll make her a full partner. I can start putting that in the works from here."
He moved to the desk. It was neat and tidy, just like Miranda.
A white slip of paper just this side of the closed drawer caught attention. Curious, he pulled at it. A to-do list in Miranda's purple ink handwriting. Just like her to write a list. He moved to put it down when the curved letters begged for his attention. Incomplete words that he could only guess at comprised part of the list. Her own personal shorthand, Drake imagined.
The listing, talk to Lucy, was underlined twice. A star marked the cryptic phrase, do S thing. Next was, get rid of Bob idea. Drake laughed at that. She hated the meetings with Jones even though they'd been her idea. He wondered how she intended to end the tryst scheduled for tomorrow night?
The final entry answered his question, at least in part. He read it and swore. Tell Drake the plan.
Pumpkin followed him at a lope as he rushed from the room. Drake was too distracted to notice until he stopped outside at the car.
Pumpkin stood at the passenger door of the spotless car. "Why not?" He let Pumpkin in. The only way the dog could fit in the front seat was to sit on his haunches. Drake considered for a minute then reached around and fastened the seatbelt around Pumpkin, getting a kiss on the nose for his trouble.
"I sincerely hope I don't get stopped by the police tonight," he muttered. He headed toward the apartment where Miranda had lived. Maybe her friends could tell him where she was.
He was done waiting.
Chapter Seventeen
"I was going to tell him my plan about the stock tonight," Miranda wailed. "But he wouldn't talk to me today, then he left work early without me. I think he's finally lost interest."
Alice sat across from Miranda at the tiny table in the kitchen. "Let me see if I understand this. You decided to put your personal company stock up for sale in hopes of speeding things up?"
"Yes. I’m tired of playing Mata Hari. That James Bond stuff leaves me with a headache."
"Stop whining for a minute and consider what you've done." Alice's sharp tone took Miranda by surprise.
"I thought I was making a sacrifice in proportion to Drake's," Miranda said. "I was so tired after a long night of not sleeping that I knew I had to do something to show him he could trust me. He's put everything that he's worked for on the line." Her mind raced as she tried to figure out why Alice was frowning at her.
"Who oversees company stock purchases?" Alice asked.
"I suppose, eventually, Drake … Oh, no. He saw my stocks up for sale before I had a chance to tell him." Frustrated and angry with herself, she didn't even know she had tears in her eyes until she wiped them away.
Alice nodded. "You'll have to explain it unless you'd prefer him to speed up the divorce."
Miranda sat up straighter. "The divorce?"
"Well, that's what you wanted all along, right? If he is so angry at your perceived treachery he'll grant you a divorce before the thirty days are up. Pregnant or not, I can't see that man remaining married to you after this."
Miranda remembered the pain in Drake's eyes when he had told her why his previous marriage had ended. Though unable to believe Lucy would treat him so callously, the hurt she'd sensed in Drake was real.
A soft knock at the door had her heart jumping to her throat. Had Drake tracked her here? She swallowed hard as Alice went to open the door. Ted's huge form surprised her, and then she remembered that she'd seen him packing his car when she'd arrived.
"Just thought I'd stop by to say so long." Though he stood in front of Alice, his gaze was riveted on Miranda.
This was almost as hard as seeing Drake.
"Call me when you get settled," Alice said. She hugged him.
"Sure." He hesitated, and then turned to the door.
"Where are you going?" Miranda asked. She walked to within a yard of Ted and looked up into his hard, honest face. She was sure his leaving was her fault. She also knew that nothing she could say or do would stop him.
Ted stared into her eyes. They stood like that without speaking a word for several long minutes. At last Ted grinned. "Massachusetts. My sister lives in Plymouth."
His smile released her. She moved into the circle of his arms and hugged him. Her throat tightened. She cleared it. "I'll miss you. What will we do without you?"
"I'm sure you'll do just fine. Be happy Miranda." He left. The quiet of his wake was sad, but contented.
"What do you suppose he meant by that last comment?" she said to Alice as she found her coat.
"He's deeper than you suspect. And he probably knows you better than you think." Alice's remark was just about as cryptic as Ted's.
She'd think about it later. "I've got to get some straight answers out of Lucy before I see Drake again. Thanks for helping me put this into perspective, Alice."
Miranda stepped into the frigid night, glad for the clear night. In her current mental state driving on snowy roads would be a recipe for disaster.
* * * *
No sign of Jack's sports car in the parking lot. Good, she'd have Lucy to herself.
In the months since Lucy and Drake split up, Miranda had rarely found her sister alone for more than five minutes. Now after learning what she had from Drake and Bob Jones, Miranda was left to wonder again at the degree in which Lucy was involved in the plot to steal technology and stock from Millennium Tech.
Shrugging off the discomfort anticipated because of the coming conflict, Miranda dodged frozen patches of snow until she reached the steps leading to Lucy's door.
Lucy opened the door just as Miranda put her hand up to knock. Her sister's appearance shocked her. Lucy wore a baggy pair of pants topped with an even baggier sweatshirt and a drab down vest. Her golden hair was pulled into a ragged ponytail; not the glamorous mane Miranda had alternately envied and taken delight in over the years.
The biggest change was the expression of wary exhaustion that showed in the lines running from the corners of Lucy's mouth. A faint bruise around the left eye had Miranda breathing deeply. It looked like Lucy had been punched.
"I should have known you wouldn't leave well enough alone," Lucy said with a weariness that matched her appearance. "You may as well come in. My ride isn't here yet."
"Where are you going?" It was the most innocuous thing Miranda could say. Anxiety overrode all other emotions. She struggled to control it as a knot of fear grew in her stomach.
"Out of town," Lucy answered. She waved a languid hand toward two suitcases. An overnight bag squatted next to the door.
"Vacation?" Miranda asked with a chipped brightness that sounded false even to her.
"Why not?"
"Just curious. You've never had a mid winter vacation before, not counting your honeymoon trip to Aspen. Of course, you never did like to ski."
Lucy ignored Miranda's opening. She pulled a cigarette from an open pack as she sank onto the surface of the coffee table.
Miranda looked around the room. Signs of wear echoed Lucy's appearance. A film of dust dulled the surfaces that Lucy generally kept sparkling, due more to pride in her belongings than in any fervor of cleanliness. It echoed her appearance.
It looked like no dusting or vacuuming had occurred in weeks. Stubs of cigarettes and ashes overflowed saucers and half-full coffee cups on every flat surface. A quick glance into the kitchen showed the same unusual neglect there.
A sour smell pervaded the apartment. If despair had an odor, it was this one.
The oppressive silence grated on Miranda. She sat where Lucy couldn't ignore her. "Tell me the real reason you divorced Drake. He wasn't the monster you claimed, was he?"
Lucy looked away through a wisp of acrid smoke. She grimaced then she crushed her cigarette into an already full ashtray. "You must know by now that he's different at home than in public. Why are you so set on knowing the details of my failure?"
"So I don't make the same mistakes." Miranda surprised herself with the honesty of her answer. Though she and Drake had married under less than ideal circumstances, she'd come to like and respect him. If she were to be totally truthful, she realized in a moment of painful clarity, she might admit to maybe falling in love with him.
Maybe.
"You never make mistakes," Lucy snorted.
"Yeah, right. You're talking to a three-time loser. Or have you forgotten three failed engagements?" She couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into her voice.
"You recovered nicely."
Miranda stifled a ridiculous urge to laugh. "I'm not sure that marrying your cast-off husband can be called recovering nicely." She kept her tone gentle. Unexpected vulnerability surfaced in Lucy's shaking hands.
"What happened with Drake?" Miranda asked.
Lucy pulled another cigarette from the pack. She put it between her lips but didn’t light it. Instead she took it out of her mouth and began to systematically shred it. The pieces of paper, filter, and tobacco drifted to the floor.
"He … I … " Her hesitation caught at Miranda's heart. The Lucy's clear blue gaze met Miranda's. "He loved too hard." Her voice hitched.
Miranda's heart pounded hard in her chest. Maybe she didn't want to hear this after all. She spoke around the lump in her throat. "I don't understand."
Lucy looked away, and then turned her red-rimmed eyes back to Miranda. "He wanted more from me than I could give him. He wanted me, totally and in every way, committed to him. I discovered that I couldn't give him what he wanted. I was a grave disappointment to bot
h of us."
"Didn't you know what he was like before you married him?"
"I always managed to keep him at arm's length."
"But why?" Bewilderment filled Miranda.
"Why marry him when I didn’t love him? Prestige, money, take your pick."
"I'm sorry, Lucy. I thought you loved him. I couldn't imagine any other reason to marry him or anyone."
"Couldn't you?" Lucy shot back, her eyes hard and icy.
Heat rose between Miranda's breasts. "Three out of four times I was ready to marry for what I thought was love." She picked her words with care. "I didn't plan to marry Drake; it just sort of happened."
"Then why don't you just sort of get a divorce if you hate it so much?"
Miranda ducked her head. The flush reached her cheeks. "There's the question of whether I might be, um, you know, pregnant." The last word came out in a whisper.
Eyebrows pulled together in an elegant frown, Lucy leaned close to Miranda. "Pregnant?" she whispered. She reared back and shouted, "Pregnant!" She paced and mumbled.
I've pushed her over the edge, Miranda thought.
Lucy swung around the room, her face an amazing wreath of smiles. She pulled a cigarette out of the pack again, started to light it, then snuffed it out in rapid succession. "Bad for the baby," she said.
"You aren't angry?" Miranda asked, a bit stupefied by Lucy's reaction.
"I'm going to be an aunt," Lucy crowed.
"I said might. Don't start knitting booties yet. What about Drake and that whole mess?"
"Drake was the worst possible person for me. That doesn't make him bad for you. Oh, I have some reservations, but don't you see? He never allowed the possibility of getting me pregnant after our wedding night. Maybe he had an idea of how it would end. Though he kept up the pretense of marital bliss, he made sure he was protected. The man takes no chances."
"There's more going on than Drake's and my relationship," Miranda said. She had to bring this up, sweep everything into the open.
Lucy stopped her buoyant pacing.
Miranda took a deep breath. "There's the stock you took out of the marriage. How did you manage that little trick if Drake is so careful?"