The Commitment (13 page)

"You told her your trusted her," Drake muttered, disgusted with the wealth of emotions roiling within. "Get a grip."

It took a lifetime for the two diners to get to dessert. He heard Miranda tell the waiter, "Just coffee for me."

Jones ordered a chocolate strawberry cheesecake, not a taste sensation Drake associated with a man. Jones' words stopped Drake's stray thought.

"I wanted something rich and sweet," Jones murmured. The voice was so cloying Drake imagined it gumming up the speakers.

Laughing, Drake relaxed against the cold leather seat. In his mind's eye he saw Miranda cutting poor, unsuspecting Jones off in mid-seduction. She'd never fall for that sweet, rich routine.

The next words he heard her say throbbed through him. "That looks delicious. May I try a bite?" She practically purred.

Drake straightened. He gritted his teeth. She knew he was listening. This was for show, that's all. A damned convincing show.

And the show was almost over with nothing to show for it. He had nothing on Jones. He needed something concrete about business. Something he could dig his teeth into. Something he could wrap his hands around and squeeze --

Miranda's soft voice interrupted Drake's fantasy. "This lunch was your idea, Bob. I think you had something in mind other than food."

"I heard you like to cut to the chase. Excellent. But not here. Too public."

"You realize that that is the only reason I'm here. I can't afford to jeopardize my reputation." Miranda's voice held just the right note of curiosity and reticence.

Damn, she was good.

"Of course," Jones said. "Your reputation is the very reason I sought you out. No one would suspect—"
Miranda cut him off. "Please get to the point. Drake expects me back at the office soon."

"I have a business proposition to offer you. It could be very lucrative."

"I'm intrigued. Tell me more."
Drake allowed a small grin to move his rigid lips. This was what he'd been waiting for.

Jones said, "All I can say is that my source of information within Millennium Tech has dried up. I need a new source. I think you'd be perfect for the job."

Silence and a bit of static held Drake captive. Then the clink of porcelain against porcelain came through. Miranda must have taken a sip of coffee while considering Jones' proposal.

"Come on, Miranda," Drake muttered. "Take the bait."

The steel in her voice caught him, and no doubt caught Jones, off guard.

"I don't like being used, Mr. Jones."

"Bob, please call me Bob."

"What makes you think I would even consider your offer?"

"The fact that your are here with me so shortly after your marriage indicates that all is not what it seems between you and McLain."

"Maybe." A long pause. "I'll need more information before I make a decision. Money is irrelevant, there are other matters of more importance to me at this time," Miranda murmured.

"I understand."

Drake wished he could see Jones' face. Was it sneering or smiling or a mask of concern? He wished this odd luncheon were over. He needed to see Miranda's face, know that his trust in her was well placed.

Miranda spoke again. "Before I meet you again, tell me who your source inside Millennium Tech was."

"No names. Not now. But I will tell you it was someone you knew, ah, intimately."

Drake uttered a sharp curse. With a name on tape he could have prosecuted, or at least he could have gone to the authorities with something more than a gut feeling and inconclusive evidence. Now he'd have to let Miranda go through with another meeting with Jones.

He didn't like that one bit.

He heard Jones and Miranda part company after setting another meeting time and place. Alice's voice came on. "She's out, so is he. I'll meet you in a few minutes."

* * * *

Miranda slipped into the car beside Drake. "I'm glad that's over." She rubbed between her eyes. "I don't think I make a very good femme fatale."

"You were adequate," he replied. He disconnected the recording devices from the car and stowed them away.

"Gee, thanks for the glowing review."

"You didn't get the information I need to send someone to jail," Drake grated.

"It's not like I didn't try. What did you expect me to do? Sleep with him on the spot?"

Drake growled. Miranda couldn't decide if it was a sound of warning or something else.

Alice opened the back door and climbed in. "Communicating again? Wonderful."

Drake started the car and began the drive back to Millennium Tech. "She's going to have to meet with him again."

"Unwise," Alice said. "Jones may come across as bland and unimaginative, but there's something about him that I don't trust."

Miranda nodded. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with that slimeball again.

"Trusting Jones has nothing to do with it," Drake said. "Getting tangible evidence is the only reason we're doing this."

"We?" Miranda turned to Alice. "I know the outcome of this plan is the good of the company and all, but I think Drake should be the one to make a fool of himself the next time. This was it for me."

Drake growled.

Tapping her front teeth, Alice said, "You know, a different strategy might be more effective."

"Like what?" Anything but another vamp number, Miranda hoped.

"If you want to know without a shadow of a doubt who sold technology to Jones, a different kind of bait would be more useful." Alice was silent for a moment, and then her quiet voice said, "I take it you have an idea who you want?"

"Yes," Drake said.

"Who would that be?"

Tense quiet filled the car.

Drake pulled into the parking garage at their office building, parked, and turned off the ignition. Into the ticking silence he said, "Jack and Lucy."

Miranda's throat tightened at the coolness of his voice. Though she knew Lucy was one of his suspects, that Jack might be involved as well made her ache.

"Is that why you fired Jack?" Her voice sounded stretched and tine to her own ears.

Drake nodded. His voice was more than a little fierce when he said, "You were too good for him."

Alice cleared her throat. "I could have told you that."

Though Miranda heard Alice's statement, her awareness remained centered on the man beside her. His gaze caught hers across the cooling air, warmed her with the intensity that always roiled just beneath his calm surface.

"Is that why you fired Jack?" she asked again, meaning something completely different.

She waited as she watched Drake swallow twice. He wrenched his gaze from hers.

"Lunch break's over," he said.

The two women followed him, a solitary figure striding forward. By the time they reached the executive suite Miranda had decided to ignore the feeling that Drake had deliberately not answered her last question. Besides, what did she hope to gain by an answer? Their marriage was doomed from its not-so-auspicious start. She already knew a good deal of his reasons for marrying her. The fact that Jack was involved up to his thinning little eyebrows surprised her, but not as much as it should have.

Alice followed Miranda into her office. The removed the microphones and other spy paraphernalia. When she'd changed back into her business suit, Miranda took a moment to appreciate the new space. Her assistant must have bribed the custodial staff to move all of her personal and business affects up here so quickly. That young man deserved a raise.

Drake was all business when Alice and Miranda joined him in the conference room.

"New plan." He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm giving you just the bait Jones will want, Miranda. Technology. But you'll have to get him to divulge his inside source first. Without evidence I can't prosecute."

"Just what kind of technology are you going to tempt him with?" Miranda asked.

"The best kind. Something so new and revolutionary he's only heard little tiny breaths of it." Drake grinned. "So new it doesn't even exist. You and I will invent it tonight."

Chapter Fourteen

"This is crazy enough it just might work." Alice drained her cup and pushed away from the boardroom table. The surface was strewn with papers, from computer printouts to doodled legal pad remnants.

"It is crazy," Miranda agreed. Her stomach rumbled. Long hours had passed since her lunch with Jones. They'd spent the afternoon and into the evening planning this elegant trap.

Drake said nothing. He sat at the end of the table staring into space and tapping a pencil. His quiet intensity encouraged Miranda more than anything else had during this intense day. The staring and pencil tapping presaged a winning strategy. It always did. Why should this be any different?

At that moment Drake shifted from staring at the ceiling to staring into Miranda's eyes. His penetrating look mesmerized her. She felt heat between her breasts. All thoughts of business and espionage fled her mind. Images of Drake and what he'd done to her, in her bed, rushed to fill the void. As if she were experiencing it again, she felt the insistent pressure of his lips on her mouth. She tasted the smoky essence of his whisky-coated tongue as it coaxed hers.

Locked into his gaze she swallowed. A muscle in his cheek twitched as if he knew her thoughts. Struggling not to whimper Miranda forced herself to look away--at the floor, the table, the remains of the crumpled coffee cups--anywhere but at Drake.

A droning filled her ears. She realized it was Alice speaking. "So as long as that's settled I'll talk to you later."

"Oh sure. Thanks for your help." Miranda hurried to stand.

"I haven't had this much fun since I retired," Alice said, the twinkle evident in her clear blue eyes. "Drive safely you two. Looks like more snow coming down."

After Alice left, Miranda stood in front of the plate glass window. White flakes danced in the glow of the orange-yellow streetlights far below. She shivered. Warm hands cupped her shoulders. She resisted for a token second before giving into their comfort.

Drake massaged Miranda's neck and shoulders. The tension that had built throughout the day drained away under the pressure of his strong thumbs and hands. Her eyes drifted shut. She relaxed into him. The way he touched her made her forget why they were together.

He nibbled her neck. She inhaled a faint ghost of his aftershave. He moved to an earlobe. His thumbs rubbed away her earlier anger and anxiety.

Miranda opened her eyes. What she saw made her gasp. Their ghostly reflection in the glass showed a woman on the brink of saying, "yes," to the man behind her.

The effect was like stepping into an icy stream. She straightened away from Drake, pulling her professional mantle around her as she moved. It was the only way she could keep any distance from this man. At the same time a little niggling voice inside taunted her, "You don't want any distance. Coward."

She managed to ignore the voice for now. It would return louder and more insistent as she tried to sleep later.

Drake remained facing the window.

Good, think cold thoughts, she aimed at him.

The look he gave her when he finally turned around was anything but cold. Banked fires gleamed from his eyes to hers.

The Board Room was too small. She had to get away from the hypnotizing effect Drake had on what was left of her intellect.

That's not intellect, the little voice inside her jeered.

Miranda shook away the thought. "I'm ready to call it a day. Pumpkin will be desperate for his walk and I'm hungry. I'll meet you back at your house."

"You were great today," Drake said.

Miranda paused in the act of pulling on her coat. Earlier hurt rushed back. "You might have said that sooner."

"I should have."

His gentle tone mollified her. "Not overdone, then?"

"No."

"Good. I'll see you later?" She hated the question at the end but couldn't help adding it.

"Yes. I'll follow you home."

Home. Miranda buttoned her coat and pulled on her lined leather gloves. It wasn't her home or their home. It was his home. She'd best remember that. When her thirty days was over she'd be leaving it and him.

The flutters in her stomach at the thought were hunger induced. At least that's what she told herself as she drove through the snowy night.

* * * *

The wind howled. Pumpkin shifted uneasily on the rug beside Miranda's bed. Miranda snuggled under the down comforter. The electronic number on the clock on the bedside table read two-fifteen in a red that was straight from hell fire.

Her body wept with exhaustion. Her mind raced through the events of the day and plans for the next day.

She tossed to her other side; fluffed the pillow. A grainy pattering of icy pellets sounded like bony fingers as the wind drove them against the window. Since midnight the storm had increased in intensity.

Pumpkin moaned. Restless, he put his head next to Miranda's on the bed.

"I give up, too, boy." She flung off the covers, pushed her feet into slippers, and shrugged into her robe. "Let's go see what we can find in the kitchen. A cup of hot chocolate would taste good right now."

The childhood days when hot chocolate was all she needed to go back to sleep were long gone. She had to try something, though.

A sliver of light showed under the door to the kitchen. Hesitating for just an instant Miranda pushed open the door. Pumpkin preceded her inside. He did not hesitate as he lumbered directly to Drake.

Miranda's breath caught in her throat as she looked at Drake. In a gray college sweatshirt, worn jeans, and sneakers he looked anything but the successful executive.

He oozed sex appeal.

She resigned herself to a sleepless night.

"I hope you don't mind if I raid your refrigerator," she said as she reached for a mug.

"What's mine is yours," he said without looking up from scratching Pumpkin's ears.

Silence, punctuated by the sounds of the storm, accompanied Miranda as she went about heating milk and adding cocoa and sugar.

This would be a perfect time to talk to Drake. To let him know her concerns about their relationship. To tell him how making love the other night had affected her much more deeply than she ever wanted it to. This would be the perfect time to tell him.