by Poppy Parkes
Ruth bit her lip for a long moment, then burst out, “Yes!”
Thundering a drum-like staccato on the floor with her bare feet, Padme exclaimed, “Then what are you waiting for? Call him! Don't keep the poor guy waiting any more than he has to.”
“Can I borrow your phone?”
Padme gestured to the kitchen table, where she'd slung her hand bag. “Help yourself. I'll be in the bedroom, to give you a bit of privacy.”
With that, her friend literally bounded away into her closet-sized bedroom, clearly buoyed by excitement, and shut the door behind her.
Ruth extricated herself from the pillows and retrieved the phone. She dialed Derek's number, but then hesitated, hands suddenly cramping with nerves. She tugged at her hair, heart tripping over itself.
“This is insane,” she told herself. “Certifiably.”
But then the memory of the smooth-rough of Derek's hands encasing hers blossomed before her mind's eye. She remembered his musky scent, and how her skin somehow didn't feel like it fit wrong anymore now that he was in her life.
Ruth hit send.
Listening to the ringing coming through, she began to pace the perimeter of Padme's living room, which was as diminutive as the rest of the place. Ruth had made two round of the room when she heard the phone click and Derek's voice murmur in answer.
“Derek!” she blurted, wincing, hoping she wasn't coming on too strong. But then she shook her head. She was calling a man she'd known less than a week to officially agree to their engagement. “Too strong” no longer existed.
“Hello, bitch,” came Derek's reply.
Cold swept through Ruth, her mouth hanging open in shock. After a long moment, she managed to choke out a response. “I really hope that is your version of a playful term of endearment. And also, never use it on me again.”
“Term of endearment?” She heard Derek snort. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I am not kidding,” Ruth said slowly.
“And neither am I.”
“Okay, I am really, really confused here,” she said, feeling her forehead crease.
“As am I,” said Derek, voice icy. “Confused as to why you're calling me.”
“I am calling you to accept your proposal,” she said, anger searing through her. “At least I was. What game are you playing?”
“That's funny,” he replied in a tone that said he didn't find the conversation funny at all, “I wanted to ask you the exact same question.”
Hot tears began to pool behind her eyes. Ruth swallowed hard, willing them to hold off, and they did – barely. “Please,” she said, hating the desperation in her voice, “explain yourself.”
“I don't owe you anything.”
“I – I don't even know what to say.” She heard her voice tremble.
“You don't have to say anything,” Derek spat. “You've already communicated your feelings quite clearly. You are an absolutely disagreeable, repugnant woman – just as all women are, but somehow you made me believe you were different. I won't make that same mistake again. Oh, and you can keep the ring.”
A click sounded as he hung up, and Ruth found herself listening to dead air. Lowering the phone from her ear, she stared at it in wide-eyed shock.
Numbly, she walked to Padme's bedroom, opened the door. Her friend sprang forward, excitement dying when she saw Ruth's face.
“Oh, Ruthie,” she breathed, “what happened?”
“He – he said I was a bitch,” Ruth managed before her face crumpled, the tears flooding forth as she began to sob.
Padme wrapped her arms around Ruth's shoulders and led her to the edge of the bed, where they sat, Ruth heaving wet, broken sorrow into the spice-scented space.
Chapter 14
When Derek sauntered out of the elevator when it opened on his office's suite the next morning, he felt refreshed, jovial, even. He'd thrown Jani a wink as he'd breezed by her station, making her smile and blush and flutter her lashes at him coyly.
Heading into his office and shutting the door, he drew the blinds over the glass between his office and the rest of the suite and settled into the cool, plush comfort of his chair. He rocked back and closing his eyes.
Derek had felt so hurt the night before, so confused, not to mention furious, when he'd realized Ruth's betrayal. But then she'd called, catching him by surprise – and offering him the opportunity to end things on his terms.
And so he had. He smiled at the memory.
But something, something nagged at his brain, cramping his sense of wellness. Why had she called at all? She'd said it was to accept his proposal, but that didn't make any sense. Unless she didn't know that he knew she'd cheated . . .
And yet, the possibility didn't sit quite right, once he started to think about it. And he hadn't had time to think about it about it all, really – in fact, he'd slept deeply, deeper than he had in a long while, after their phone conversation last night.
But now . . . as completely awful as it was to have strung him along so cruelly, it just didn't seem to fit with the woman he'd known. Derek could accept that she was a cheat, but it was harder for him to buy that she was so deceptively skillful that she could have come across as honest in her confusion as she had on their phone call. Almost as if she truly hadn't known what he was talking about.
Derek shook his head and opened his eyes. That was a ridiculous notion, born more of denial than anything else. Ruth had betrayed him, and he'd caught her at it and had laid the whole thing to a rather satisfying rest, all things considered. She was another Denise Parker, just as all women were. He wouldn't make the mistake of believing otherwise ever again.
He smiled grimly to himself as he drew one of his case files from his drawer of current clients and flipped it open. He'd had the right idea all along when it came to women.
This thing with Ruth, it was just a stupid anomaly, he told himself, and gritted his teeth as if to reassure himself that he believed it.
* * *
“Hey, sleepy head.”
The gentle words slipped into Ruth's dreamless sleep, pulling her toward consciousness. She inhaled, a great yawning thing, smelling a spicy, flowery aroma. An aroma which informed her that she was not waking up in her own bed.
Her eyes snapped open.
“Hey,” said Padme, leaning over Ruth.
Ruth breathed a heavy sigh of relief. For a moment she'd half feared she'd find herself in Sam's arms, or at Derek's. And she just couldn't handle any more man-related drama at the moment.
“Hey,” she croaked. “What time is it?”
“Ten.” Padme strode to the window and flung the curtains open. Ruth winced at the sunlight.
“Shit. Work.”
“I called in a sub for you today, and I got a sub for myself for the morning. But I've got to get going soon.”
Ruth sighed again. “Thanks.”
Sinking onto the bed and curling up next to Ruth, Padme asked, “How are you?”
She shrugged. “I feel kind of like I've been hit by a truck, and then it backed up and rolled over me again, and then again, and now I'm waiting to see if it'll take another run at me.”
“I'm so sorry, hon. I'm going to give that assface Derek a piece of my mind,” her friend growled.
“No, don't,” Ruth shook her head. “It's okay. Well, no, what he did is definitely not okay . . . but you don't need to do that.”
“I want to.”
“And I want to give him a piece of my mind, too. But what's the point?”
“Revenge?” offered Padme.
Ruth snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like a healthy motivation.”
“It's honest, at least.”
“I guess . . .”
Padme slid off the bed, and Ruth saw that she was already dressed in a white blouse with blue stripes and a gray pencil skirt that showed off her curves deliciously. “Come on, I've got some coffee ready if you want it.”
“Coffee is a must,” Ruth replied, hauling herself out from beneat
h the covers, glancing down and seeing that she must have fallen asleep in her clothes after her major sob-fest the night before. “Maybe coffee with a shot of vodka. Or rum.”
“Or both?” Padme said, grinning, leading the way to the tiny kitchen. “Desperate times and all that.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Ruth plunked herself at the kitchen table, gratefully accepting the steaming mug her friend handed her before settling at the table with her own milky cup.
“I really can kick his ass for you if you want, though,” Padme said, taking a sip. “I'm serious.”
Ruth smiled. “I know you are. But if anyone is going to kick his ass, it is going to be me.” She slurped from her mug, enjoying the odd but satisfying marrying of the acrid coffee with muscle-loosening liquor.
“So . . . you're going to confront him then?”
Ruth took another swallow of the nearly-black liquid, thinking. Did she have the guts to face Derek, to ask him for an explanation, when their last conversation loomed painfully in her mind? But as she recalled his words, she found herself nodding, jaw tightening. “Yes. I think I will. I deserve an explanation.”
“Oh yes, you do,” Padme agreed emphatically, pounding a palm on the table in approval.
Ruth kept nodding, more to herself than to her friend. She did. She deserved an explanation. And she realized that if Derek was going to play games with her, she wanted him to do it to her face. She wanted to look into his eyes, to decipher whatever truth she could find there. Anything else felt insulting.
“I think I'll do it today,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” Ruth's voice was firm, determined. Her blood flowed with resolve that didn't have all that much to do with the alcohol in her coffee. “I'll head home, shower, then go to his office.”
“Oooh, get him at work.” Padme nodded.
“Where he can't hide,” said Ruth grimly.
“Call me if you need support, okay?”
Ruth rolled her eyes. “My phone, remember? Still MIA. But I'll call you if I can, if I need to. I've got your number stored away.” She tapped a finger to her temple.
“My offer of ass-kicking stands, too, and there is no expiration on it.” Padme winked.
“Thanks, lady,” said Ruth, smiling in return and meaning it.
“Now go get your revenge.”
Ruth wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. You mean answers, right?”
Padme wiggled her eyebrows. “I prefer to think of it my way, as long as you are taking care of your heart.”
“Taking care of my heart?” Ruth nodded eyes narrowing as the words stirred a fierce energy within her. “Damn straight.”
She gulped the rest of her coffee, making Padme's eyes widen in surprise, slapping her mug down on the table with a gasp when she had drained it. With that, she stalked from the table, quickly gathered her things, and headed for the door.
“I'll let you know how it goes,” she told her friend.
“You better.” Padme blew her a kiss. “Good luck!”
Ruth nodded and, jaw set, she stepped forth.
* * *
Derek's intercom buzzed, the noon sun falling across his desk phone as he punched the button to accept the notification.
“You have a visitor,” came Jani's voice over the line.
He frowned, eyes flicking to his calendar. Just as he'd thought – he didn't have any clients scheduled right now.
But he shrugged and replied, “Send them in,” before turning back to his work.
He heard the door to his office open and shut as the visitor entered, and he held up a finger without taking his eyes from what he was doing. “Just one moment.”
“Don't worry, I can wait as long as I need to,” his visitor replied in a curt voice. In Ruth's voice.
Derek's heart stuttered as he felt his eyes grow wide, but he managed to keep his head turned toward his work. He pretended to continue to scan the words that now swam uncomprehendingly before him as he felt his body wash cold and then hot.
Finally, when he felt that he would be able to speak in a cool, undisturbed tone, he languidly raised his eyes.
He sucked in a breath as Ruth filled his vision. She was stunningly dressed in a knit black sweater dress that clung alluringly and somehow powerfully to her curves, from the turtleneck climbing up toward her jawline to the dress's hem falling just above her knees. She wore black pantyhose as well, and tall black boots with a severe heel. Her hair was pulled back into an artfully disheveled bun, revealing sweeping cheekbones and a determined, angry glint in her eyes.
She was more beautiful than ever. Damn.
Derek noticed with a jolt that she was wearing the ring he'd given her. He swallowed hard, having no idea what that could mean.
“Ruth,” he said at last, hurling the name at her in a way that felt satisfying.
She didn't flinch, but gracefully planted her hands on her hips. “Derek,” she returned.
“I didn't expect to see you here. Or, frankly, anywhere.”
“I am here for answers.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Answers?”
“You string me along, you drop this bomb of a proposal on me, and then when I call to accept said proposal, you treat me like dirt?” Ruth raised her chin in defiance. “Uh uh. I don't think so. You owe me an explanation.”
“I owe you nothing,” he said, slowly rising to his feet.
“Like I said, I can wait. I'm not leaving until you explain yourself.” Ruth stared him down, that steely hardness in her eye both mesmerizing and infuriating.
How dare she come in here, to his place of employment, and hold him hostage? Derek curled his fingers into fists, hating how he felt backed into a corner. And yet, the fastest way to get rid of the woman was to give her what she wanted. So he relented with a curt nod, deliberately relaxing his fists, feeling like the two of them were about to have a shoot-out.
“Fine,” he said. “Here's my explanation. I put all that I am, all that I have, out there. For you.” He practically spat the words. “You made me believe you, believe that we had something. And then I find out you've been cheating on me.”
Ruth shook her head. “No. I thought we've been over this. That was just a matter of mixed signals, crossed lines. Me with Sam, you with Sandra.”
“I don't mean that. I mean how I called you last night only to realize that you were with a man.”
“You called me?” Ruth's brow furrowed. “Last night?”
“Yes. And some guy answered.” Derek curled his lip in disgust. “I admit, I find it hard to believe you are so conniving. And yet the evidence speaks for itself.”
“Evidence?” she exclaimed, stepping forward, the stony look softening for the first time since she'd walk into the office. “How's this for evidence? The other day, I lost my cell phone. I dropped it somewhere, I guess, on my way to meet you at Rowes Wharf.”
Something inside him squirmed excitedly as he struggled to comprehend her words, and to maintain his grim-faced facade. “You dropped your phone?”
“Yes,” she said entreatingly, taking another step toward him. “I lost it. Don't you see? Someone must have picked it up, and answered your call.”
“I suppose . . .” he said. Then he remembered something and shook his head. “But no. I won't buy that. The guy who answered, he knew your name.”
“He did?” Ruth frowned. “Could he have gotten it off the phone itself?”
“I don't know, and I don't much care.” Derek extended an arm toward the door. “You have your explanation. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. You can show yourself out.”
“No, wait, Derek,” Ruth pleaded. “I would never do what you think I've done. Do you think so little of me?”
“I didn't,” he said with a shrug, finding himself desperately wishing, needing for her to be gone. “But how can I think otherwise?”
“Because you know me.” The fire returned to her eyes, drawing him in.
“I want to believ
e that I know you. But how can I now?” He pointed toward the door more firmly. “Go, please.” Derek felt as if his perfectly tailored suit was suddenly far too small for him.
“You said it yourself,” Ruth continued, ignoring his request, “that you thought we really had something. Something special. I did, too. I still do. You're really willing to throw that away based on your flawed perception of what is merely another misunderstanding?”