Game of Love

by Jeannie James

  “That’s what you’ve always said. You are consistent in that at least.” He gave a bitter laugh and bowed in mock acceptance. “You’re a network installer. That certainly means you have to go where there are networks to install.”

  “That’s exactly right.” The reality of the situation was creeping through her comforting cloak and she gasped, barely managing to add, “You seem to have it all down in a nutshell.”

  “You’re as free as the wind, aren’t you? Dancing your way through life without a care in the world.”

  “You have no idea.” She kept her face carefully expressionless.

  “And I never will, unless you decide to tell me the truth.” He stopped for a moment, looking at her with a silent question in his eyes, then went on. “Well. So. I guess that’s that.” He walked over and opened the door, pausing for a moment before he stepped outside. “Goodbye Micki, or whatever your name is. You play quite a good game. But I think I’m going to call this one a draw.” And he walked out, taking the last of the warmth with him.

  Micki stood staring at the hallway long after he left, swaying gently. “I’m glad,” she told the closed door. “I’m glad you’re gone. If you hadn’t left now, you would have just left later. It’s better this way.” She stared around her empty office in grim satisfaction. No matter what Adam said, she really was Micki Vaughn and she certainly was free and in complete control of her life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Little Micki,” Adam mused with an embittered grimace. He poured himself a drink, a rather expensive single malt scotch on the rocks and swirled the liquid around the glass. The ice clinked against the sides, making an oddly musical note.

  “My precious little Micki.” He held the glass up in a mock salute. “You really do play quite a game.” He put the glass back down without drinking, then picked it up again to stare into the golden spirit.

  He should kick himself for being so gullible again. He should have known she was lying to him. Betraying him. Just like his fiancée. Just like his mother. Just like every other damn woman he was close to in his life. He could feel his anger boiling over and took a quick sip to stem the surge.

  The furrow in his brow was deepening into definite, pronounced worry lines. He could feel them taking root and rubbed a hand across his forehead, in a vain effort to massage the lines away. God knows he’d managed to shrug off every other disappointment in his life. With time and some luck maybe he could shrug this off too. But this time, he was afraid the worry lines might be there for good.

  Damn it! He pounded his free hand on the table. He just hadn’t been thinking straight. He felt like the young man he had been at twenty-one, when his father had brought him and his two brothers together and told them he was getting a divorce. His mother had been there too, of course, but silently, like a shadow in the background. He and his brothers and his father had been on one side of the room. His mother on the other side, keeping her distance from their anger at the wrong she had done.

  He caught a flash of color in the drive as a car turned in. In spite of himself, in spite of all he knew about her, his heart leapt at the thought it might be Micki. He forced himself to stay seated on the sofa and stared at the door while he waited for his housekeeper to bring him news.

  “Mr. Laurence?” Betty stood rigidly near the door. It wasn’t like her to be so formal. She must be reacting to his sour mood. Or maybe it was all the drinking. He’d have to find a way to make it up to her. Some other day, that is.

  “There is a Mr. Kamenski at the door,” she went on. “He says you’re expecting him?”

  Adam nodded his head, as much to himself as to his housekeeper. Of course it wasn’t Micki.

  “He says he’s finished an investigation for you?” Betty’s voice was questioning but he ignored the tone.

  “Let him in, please,” he said curtly. She frowned at him and he forced as much of a smile as he could muster. He doubted it was a pretty sight. “Please.”

  She lingered for a moment, the frown turning to concern, then left the room. He scowled at the scotch glass in his hand. Drinking was a sure sign of weakness. He would never have allowed himself this indulgence in a business negotiation. But, then, these were exceptional circumstances. He placed the glass squarely on the table.

  A man appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Laurence?”

  Adam nodded. “I’ve been expecting you, Mr. Kamenski.”

  Kamenski was dressed in a well-cut casual suit with no tie. His cotton shirt was wrinkled, but he had on nicely polished and expensive shoes. All in all, he looked like any fairly successful businessman, ready for the bar after a full week’s work. It was a very nice disguise for a private investigator. The man’s eyes slid discreetly across the glass of scotch and the open bottle on the coffee table with no noticeable reaction.

  Good damn thing, Adam thought.

  Kamenski moved into the room a few steps until he was standing directly in front of the coffee table. “I have the details you requested right here.” At Adam’s lack of response, he added, “About the women calling herself Micki Vaughn?” He held a manila folder out toward Adam.

  Adam’s scowl deepened. He picked up his glass and took a healthy swig, making no move to take the offering.

  Kamenski reached out to hand the folder to Adam then, stopped. “I’ll just put it here, then,” he said, placing it on the table easily within Adam’s reach. Adam still made no move to pick it up.

  The man looked at him, then gave his own abrupt nod and turned to leave.

  Adam’s eyes bore down into the report. Here it was. Exactly what he had asked for. All the details of Micki’s life, laid out for him to open and review. He knew this was spying, a violation of her trust, a violation of her very being. Revulsion rose up in him. “Take it back!” he commanded to Kamenski’s retreating back.

  Kamenski turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want this damn report. Get it away from me!”

  “But sir…”

  “You heard me!”

  Kaminski stayed where he was. “Sir, I’m not sure exactly why you had us investigate Ms. Hammond, I mean Ms. Vaughn.”

  There was a question in the man’s voice, but Adam ignored it and grimaced. He didn’t pay the hired help to ask questions or argue with him.

  Kamenski rocked back on his heels, looking quite uncomfortable at Adam’s displeasure, but continued. “I think you’ll find there’s nothing in this report that speaks ill of this woman. She seems to be an exceptional young lady. She’s been through a lot.”

  Adam stared at the man, the words slowly sinking in.

  “Read the report, sir,” Kamenski urged. “There are surprises in there. I think you’ll find she had a very good reason to hide her identity.”

  Adam nodded his dismissal and Kamenski let himself out of the office.

  Adam stared at the envelope, drink in hand. Déjà vu stared back at him. He’d been here before, of course. With Claire, his ex-fiancée. He stared into the depth of his scotch, whirling it round and round in his glass. But then, Claire had been a major mistake right from the start. He had known it, of course, deep within him, but their marriage had partially fallen into place to advance their positions in their families’ business ventures. It had seemed so inevitable, he’d put aside his doubts. And what a damn silly mistake that had been.

  Micki was different. He nearly smiled at the understatement. She was a vivacious, exciting woman, who was running from something she didn’t want to share with him. And if she chose not to share, it wasn’t his right to violate her privacy by reading the detective’s report.

  He poured another shot and stood up, walking aimlessly to the photographs on the wall. His family’s photo was there, the one Micki had seen when she had been here that first night.

  He took it down off the wall and examined it, dispassionately. His father and his brothers really did look a lot alike. Serious and stubborn. In that photograph at least, he came across as the one exc
eption, looking carefree and happy by comparison.

  He reached out and traced his father’s face. Am I really that different from you? The jawline on his father was the same as his own, there was the same steel in their eyes.

  He remembered when the photo was taken, about two months before the divorce. Staring at the picture, his two parents side by side, he could think of myriad questions. Were they happy when they first met? Did his father ever suspect his mother of cheating? Had he ever cheated on his mother?

  The last question set him back. It was, of course, entirely possible. Even probable. His father had traveled a lot on his own. Overseas and on the continent, sometimes for months at a time. Was his father really justified in his condemnation of his mother?

  His father had always insisted on being in control. Of his family, of the firm. Even, Adam supposed, of his marriage and his own wife.

  Now that he thought about it, it was always his father’s plans they had acted on. Fancy homes, costly cars, expensive vacations. His father had loved the attention, needed the prestige. His mother had always seemed to disappear into small corners, as if the extravaganzas were too big for her to comprehend.

  His mother had liked the simpler things. The wind in the trees, the full moon rising. She would have loved his sailboat, his house. She would have loved Seattle.

  Strange, but he’d never put the two pieces of the puzzle together before. His father’s strong will and his mother walking out.

  He had even met the other man, once, the man his mother had preferred to his father. A bit of a milquetoast type Adam had thought, disgusted with the two of them. But maybe that was the point. Maybe she’d had enough of being pushed around and wanted a man she could stand up to for once. Or, at least, stand by his side.

  It must have been a major heartbreak for her, to leave her life of some two decades, to abandon her children. He had simply taken his father’s word at what had happened. He’d never tried to see the divorce from his mother’s perspective.

  Is this what he was doing now with Micki? Trying to control her life? To reach into her very essence with this report and try to dominate her actions?

  But, damn it, this was different! Micki needed help and she wouldn’t let anyone close enough to make a difference.

  “I loved him.” Micki’s words from earlier in the day echoed back at him. Did this other man leave her? Humiliate her? Did he die? He glanced at the envelope. The answers were waiting for him, right in there, if he could just open it.

  If this is the only way I can find out the truth, the only way I can help Micki, then so be it. He stared up at the last light of the setting sun coming in through the window. Micki, I hope you understand. I really don’t want to run your life. Please accept that I’m doing this to help you. Please try to see this from my side too.

  Adam sat down heavily in front of the coffee table, picked up the manila envelope, weighing it with one hand, then slowly opened it and began reading.

  Chapter Fourteen

  There were quite a few valuable tidbits of knowledge that Micki had acquired in her three years of contract working. That on the very first day of a new job, it pays to remember people’s names. That secretaries generally know the best places to look to rent an apartment. And that packing doesn’t take long when you have few possessions.

  She was packing now, sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, sorting her belongings and placing them carefully into cardboard boxes. She’d reserved the entire day for the job but, basically, there wasn’t much to do. Work manuals, kitchen and bathroom items, her clothes. When she’d surveyed her apartment that morning, she figured she could be finished in a few hours at most.

  Always before, she’d found it exciting to pack, anticipating the joy of starting a completely new job in a completely new city. Once she’d even marked in black ink on a box, “All of Micki Vaughn’s Worldly Possessions” and had stood back and laughed at the absurdity of anyone being able to fit their entire life into a box.

  Tonight, packing was just making her sick. There was no lightheaded elation, just an empty, alienated feeling in the pit of her stomach. “You need to stay in control,” she reminded herself. “Don’t let it get you. Keep moving and you’ll stay ahead of it.”

  She was about halfway through, when she discovered a forgotten treasure stacked in the pile. It was a picture of her and Adam taken on a happier day. She picked it up and then gently placed the photo on the coffee table, smoothing it with light, hesitant motions. They’d been at the fair and she was holding pink cotton candy and a box of popcorn, while Adam had on that ridiculous hat he’d won at the strong man’s game. They were laughing at each other and staring into the camera, with the midway rides gleaming in the background.

  Micki was mesmerized, staring at the two of them. Adam stood tall, with an easy, confident stance. He had such wonderful, deep blue eyes, she felt they were pulling her into the picture with him. It had been a glorious weekend.

  The memory sent a shuddering sob through her and she grabbed the photo intending to rip it in two. At the last minute, she stilled her movements and stared down in surprise. It was a very well composed picture. The man in the clown suit who’d taken the shot had known what he was doing, capturing the intimate feelings between them as they’d hammed it up for the camera.

  There was love in Adam’s eyes. She could see that plainly and it gave her a thrill of joy. But what gave her a bigger shock was the love she could see in her own eyes. She was staring at Adam as if he were her entire universe, her future.

  The words came to her lips from deep within her heart. I love him. I really do love him. And the knowledge sent her rocking back on her feet.

  She glanced around the room. Adam had called it barren before, but it was completely denuded now. All of her items were either lumped in a pile at her feet, or in boxes stacked neatly in the hallway.

  What in the world was she doing? Was she really planning to leave the man she loved? Was she that much of a fool? Shouldn’t she be beating on his door, begging him to forgive her?

  Micki made her way to the sofa and hunched in a ball in one corner, staring at the boxes. She’d always found comfort in moving on with her life. She’d felt in control every time she left another city behind and stepped forward into a new future. She never kept up her friendships with anyone who would remind her of what she’d lost. And she’d certainly never before made friends with people who would question her motives, probe so deeply into her feelings. Friends like Jan. And Adam.

  But what about Danny? You always said he was your one true love. The tears flowed unchecked as she finally allowed herself to let memories of Danny wash over her. Hanging out at the movies when they were teenagers. Dressing up for church to please her mother. Danny at the altar, turning to wait for her. Danny working on the fence in their backyard. Danny smiling at her with that crooked grin of his.

  These were the memories that had always had the power to knock her off her feet. But to her surprise, they didn’t hold the power they used to. And when she tried to envision Danny holding a cup of coffee over the breakfast table, she could see his face actually fading in front of her. It was Adam, instead, grinning at her with his dazzling smile.

  I’ve got to go to him. I have to beg his forgiveness. He has to know I love him before I leave.

  She could hear a pounding noise starting up in her head again and she rocked softly, covering her ears. Gradually Micki realized that, this time at least, the pounding was real. Someone was knocking loudly on her door. A whisper of hope touched her. She took several deep breaths, then got up slowly and opened the door.

  It unnerved her to see Adam standing in front of her, so tall and dark. His jet black hair and angular face set off his black leather jacket and black jeans, making him seem part of the night. Micki took a deep steadying gasp of air.

  She loved him. Jan was right, it really was that simple. Looking at Adam, she found all the elation and joy that had been missing from her life f
or the past three years. She didn’t need to run anymore. With Adam, she had the power to change her life forever, if she let him help.

  If I let him help, her mind echoed.

  “Let me in, Micki.” His voice was insistent, expecting her to put up an argument. She stared at him, letting his presence roll over and through her. She could feel the heat in her body rise.

  “Micki,” he warned. “I’m coming in right now and you can’t stop me.” His blue eyes glowed dark as he grabbed the door. “I doubt there’s anything on earth you can do that would stop me.”

  “Thank God, you’re here,” she finally managed. “I’ve got so much to tell you.”

  He walked past her, brushing against her slightly. Every nerve ending he touched was on fire. She closed the door and turned to face him.

  “You came back,” she said.

  “Yes.” The word was simple, but it held a wealth of meaning. “I couldn’t let you go. If you were lying to me, I knew there had to be a reason and I needed to find out exactly what it was.”

  “I was just going to find you.” She was concentrating so hard on getting the words out, she barely heard Adam speak. “So I could tell you what happened.”

  He was perched on the edge of the sofa, but at her glance he stood up, watching her with a measuring look, as if he was judging just what to say. “I’m listening.”

  “The man you’ve been calling my ex-boyfriend was really my ex-husband,” she said slowly and distinctly. “His name was Danny. I was married to him for four years.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Adam didn’t seem as surprised about the knowledge as she’d expected.