Goodness Had Nothing to Do With It (17 page)

"You will, baby, you will, but I repeat, it won't be under the duress of blackmail. I won't give you that face-saving out. You'll have to admit you want me."

Man, he wanted to kiss her. Her tantalizing lips were so close and yet he knew this was the last place he could give in to his craving for her. She deserved better than to have her coworkers gossiping behind her back about the relationship between her and the new consultant. Steeling his resolve, he released the arms of her chair and moved away.

She swallowed, her mouth working and then amazingly, relief flickered briefly in her eyes,

"So, our past stays just between us," she said, ignoring his assertions about making love.

He tensed, wishing he could promise her that, but knowing he couldn't. Not if she was guilty of corporate espionage.

"I won't say anything as long as there's no reason to do so," he said, by way of a compromise.

She drew herself up stiffly in the chair and asked in an almost whisper, "What would constitute a reason to do so?"

"If I thought you were back to your old tricks."

"One fall from grace in a moment of desperation does not constitute old tricks, Marcus." Her voice was taut, her expression frozen but for the pain in her eyes.

He shrugged, wanting to look a lot more casual than he felt. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

He really wanted to believe that. He'd come to her cubicle feeling better than he had in days now that he had a solid suspect not named Veronica Richards. Her actions since his arrival could be explained if she was nervous about his messing up her barely together life by dredging up past mistakes.

Or she could be feeling guilty about present sins and scared to death of being caught.

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and nibbled on it. "What if youthought I was guilty of doing the same thing again, but I wasn't? What if it looked like I was?"

He felt as if all the air had suddenly been sucked out of his near vicinity.

"The same thing?" he croaked, realizing cool and casual had just gone out the window. "You mean corporate espionage?"

She jerked in reaction to the words, her face going pale. "Yes. That's… that's what I mean."

It took all of his experience as a corporate investigator to maintain an impassive expression when all he wanted to do was shake her and demand a reason for her questions. A reason he could live with.

"I'd make sure I was right before I said anything."

Hell, wasn't that what he was doing, what he'd been doing since their first shock-to-his-toes encounter? He couldn't help feeling like a fool, though, wondering if he was just wasting his time and Kline's money. Because she sure acted like a woman racked with guilt and fear of being caught.

He turned away, deeply regretting the impulse to come and talk to her. He'd felt so good, damn it.

She grabbed the fabric of his shirt. "Wait."

He spun around to face her, bothered by the desperate tone of her voice. "What?"

She had stood up and faced him with tense expectancy. "What would you do to make sure I was guilty? You're not exactly a corporate investigator."

Her words were so ironic he couldn't suppress a wry smile. "Then I guess I'd just have to go with my instincts in gathering information."

Her hands clenched at her sides.

"So, hypothetically speaking, if there was a corporate spy here at Kline Tech, what would your instincts tell you to do in order to figure out who it is?" she pressed, depressing the bejeebes out of him.

Did she know he was an investigator? Was this all an elaborate plot to find out his method of ferreting out the guilty party?

He frowned down at her. "I'm not interested in answering hypothetical questions."

He sounded mean and curt and wasn't surprised when she took a hasty step backward.

She nodded jerkily. "Of course. I was just curious, is all."

Not likely.

"Did you have a good lunch with Jack?" she asked, in an obvious bid to change the subject.

"It was informative." The other man had been subtle in his desire to know what direction Kline planned to go with expansion, and Marcus had deftly parried his questions while digging for his own information.

He'd learned that Jack thought Kline Technology should take a much more aggressive stance in the market and diversification. That hadn't surprised him. Whathad surprised him was the information that Ronnienever dated.

Jack had made the comment that he thought she was too wrapped up in her role as a single parent. Marcus hadn't thought to apply that term to a woman who had gained custody of her teenage sister after the death of their parents, but he realized now that it was apt. Her role as a single parent hadn't stopped her dating him, he thought with satisfaction.

But it had torn their relationship apart when she betrayed their company to come up with the money she needed to take her sister toEurope for medical treatment.

Ronnie smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her skirt, drawing his attention to the shapely legs beneath. "Good. I'm sure you enjoyed the drive there and back withSandy . She can be very entertaining."

The blonde had been more than entertaining; she'd been transparent. "She wants to know what Kline Tech's future holds. I told her I wasn't a crystal ball."

Ronnie reclaimed her chair and positioned herself in front of the computer monitor again. "I'm sure that's notall she wanted."

No.Sandy had been interested in him, too. She'd made that clear enough.She wouldn't make any sweeping statements about never darkening the door of his bedroom. And suddenly the fact that the brassy blonde wanted him and Ronnie didn't just made him mad. He'd beencelibate and all she could talk about was how she wasnever going to bed with him again.

"I don't think she'd bring me to an aching erection and leave me hanging, if that's what you're implying."

One second Ronnie had been sitting, impossibly straight in her office chair, and the next she was five feet, four inches of wounded and raging femininity in his face. "You're so crude! Youknow why I left the other night. I wasn't willing to sell my body for your silence. And it didn't take that long for you to forget about me, did it? Not with you flirting like Casanova withSandy andgetting to know her better this afternoon."

Just as quickly as his fury had come, it melted away. "You were jealous."

He'd suspected as much whenSandy had been coming on to him earlier, but pure male satisfaction filled him as Ronnie confirmed it.

She glared. "I wasnot jealous. What you do with your blond bimbos isnone of my concern."

He couldn't resist needling her. "I thoughtSandy was your friend."

Ronnie looked disconcerted, her face tinged pink with shame. "She is."

"Do you call all your friends bimbos, or just the ones who are interested in your ex-lover?"

"I didn't mean it like that," she said, through gritted teeth. "Sandy's a very nice person."

"She's also stunningly attractive."

He was totally unprepared for the moisture that filled Ronnie's eyes or the way her lower lip quivered. She pivoted, giving him a view of her back.

"Yes, she is," she said, her voice stifled.

To hell with one-upmanship. He couldn't stand to see her cry.

He laid his hands on her shoulders and pulled her back toward him until their bodies touched. "Iam an insensitive pig. I'm sorry, baby."

"Toad. Not a real one either. A cement toad and I don't know why you're sorry for speaking the truth.Sandy is gorgeous." Her voice broke on the last word and she tried to pull away from him.

He tightened his grip on her shoulders. "The only woman I want right now is you.Sandy could just as well be a piece of pretty furniture for as much as she stirs my libido."

Ronnie sniffed. "It doesn't matter."

The urge to shake her returned. It damn well did matter. It mattered so much that he'd been celibate for eighteen long months. It mattered so much that his Ronnie, indomitable of will and as dry-eyed as theSahara in the face of life's most upsetting trials, was crying.

"Oh, it matters all right."

She tried to pull away again, but he held tight and turned her to face him. She refused to look at him while straining against the circle of his arms.

"Don't be difficult," he admonished her.

She stopped struggling and dropped her forehead against the bright cotton covering his chest. "I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just trying to be reasonable. Getting involved with you again would not be reasonable."

He agreed. Going to bed with Ronnie would be criminally stupid, but every day that went by only increased his need and he didn't know how much longer he would be able to withstand the tempta-tion. Particularly when he knew she wanted him too. He could feel it in her trembling body as she stood in the circle of his arms.

"Come to my place for dinner tomorrow night."

She shook her head against his chest but said nothing.

"Please, baby."

Why was he begging her? Shouldn't it be the other way around? She was the one who left him.

"1 thought you said you wouldn't have any time for me until next week."

"I was being stupid." He had believed that he could resist her. That thought had used less than a full brain cell to develop.

She hiccupped a small laugh at that. "Yes, you were."

"So, you'll come?"

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"But you'll come." He made it a statement, hoping she would agree. "I'll grill some steaks."

"Just dinner."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, and said nothing. He couldn't promise anything that prosaic. He might have two years ago. Two years ago he had been willing to do or say just about anything to seduce her into his bed. He wasn't playing those kinds of games anymore. If she came to him, she had to know what she was agreeing to.

She pushed away from him and this time he let her.

Giving him a gimlet stare, she said, "I'm not going to have sex with you."

That's okay." He didn't intend to have sex either. He wanted to make love and Veronica Richards was the only woman with whom he'd ever made that distinction.

Chapter Ten

Veronica stood knock-kneed with tension outside Marcus's temporary apartment.

Temporary.

He was only inSeattle for a consulting assignment. Then he would be gone. If she allowed herself to get involved with him again, she'd go through the same devastating withdrawal she'd had to suffer the last time. She didn't think she could survive that kind of pain again.

Dinner. It was just dinner, she reminded herself.

She'd told Marcus she didn't intend to have sex with him and he'd agreed. She had nothing to worry about. He'd also said that he wasn't interested in blackmailing her into bed. So, she was safe. Totally and completely safe… wasn't she?

Lifting her hand, she pressed the doorbell.

The door swung open almost immediately and Marcus stood framed in its portal. He wore his customary Hawaiian shirt, this one in shades of blue, but instead of the Dockers he wore to the office, his legs were encased in faded blue denim. Very sexy, very tight denim.

Sucking in a breath, she thrust the chocolate torte she'd prepared the night before toward him. "I brought dessert."

Smiling lazily, Marcus took the blue-and-white plastic cake carrier from her hands. "Thanks."

He moved back so she could precede him into the apartment. His spicy male scent, made up of equal parts Polo aftershave and Marcus, surrounded her as she was forced to pass by with only a few inches to spare between their bodies. The assault on her sense of smell carried a lot of memories. She couldn't help the brief weakening at her knees as she recalled the way that scent changed to an earthier fragrance after they made love. This wasnot what she should be thinking about.

He closed the door and dangled the cake carrier from one finger by its handle. "It looks delicious, honey. Is it that sinfully chocolate thing you made the one and only night I had dinner in your apartment?"