Goodness Had Nothing to Do With It (27 page)

"I thought that was obvious."

"You didn't tell me."

'There was no need to have you involved."

"I'm your personal assistant."

"Yes, but you aren't my shadow. I'm capable of making a business decision or two without you." The sarcasm stung, but she ignored the pain.

She had grown accustomed to his brusque manner. He made up for it in the off hours. Or at least she'd told herself he did.

"Was I on the list?"

It was the question Veronica Richards had asked. The same emotional devastation she'd seen in the younger woman's eyes filled Allison at the possibility the answer would be yes.

"That's not important. In fact, this conversation is nor a value add. If you're finished, I'd like to get back to work."

"Don't you dare use your business double-speak on me. Answer the damn question."

George laid his papers aside, with exaggerated precision. "Would you care to repeat that, Ms. Jennings?"

"Answer. The. Damn. Question."

His eyes opened wide in shock. He'd expected her to back down when he started his lord-of-all-he-surveyed imitation, but she didn't even care if she got fired right then.

Something far more important was at stake than her job.

Her heart.

"Yes, you were on the list."

"So, you chose not to tell me about the investigation. Because I was a suspect."

"You had access to all the information that was leaked," he said, which was neither affirmation nor a denial of her assertion.

"I had access to information that could have been far more damaging to your company and I didn't leak it."

"You didn't leak anything. The source has been identified as coming from the marketing department."

The physical weight of disappointment pressed against her. "You didn't think that as your lover I deserved something more than to be kept in the dark?"

"You know I don't let my personal life affect my business decisions."

He was so arrogant, he should have been born royalty,

"I thought we had something special."

"I would prefer not to discuss this now."

She stared at him, her body aching from the emotions she was suppressing. "If 1 do want to discuss it?"

"I will remind you that you are my PA, not my wife. When we are in this building, my wishes reign supreme."

When didn't they?

She turned on her heel, intent on getting out of that room before she did something she would regret, like tell the arrogant SOB just what he could do with his job.

"Allison."

She stopped at the door.

"Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded her head in a jerky movement. 'Yes."

"Good. I wasn't looking forward to calling in a temp. There's a lot of work to get through this afternoon."

And that told her. She might make him fee! like a teenager, but sex was secondary to her role as his PA. And sex was all it was, she realized, in a blinding moment of clarity.

He'd never once taken her out on a date.

He'd never introduced her to his grown children or asked if he could meet hers.

The only personal part of their relationship was her role as hispersonal assistant.

And it was the only role she played in his life that really mattered to him. Unfortunately, it was a role she could not play any longer.

Marcus tracked Ronnie down in the supply room for the marketing department.

Althoughroom was too strong a word for the enclosed space created out of one wall separator covered by open shelving and two very large metal storage cabinets. Located on the opposite side of the building from his and Ronnie's cubicles, it had been low on his list of places to look when he discovered she wasn't around when he went to pick her up for lunch.

Looking at the neat shelves, stacked with every sort of office supply imaginable and labeled for efficiency, he had no doubt that Ronnie was responsible for the room's upkeep and the ordering of supplies.

She had the tall metal door to one cabinet open and her head and upper body were hidden in its interior. All he could see was the delectable outline of her bottom and thighs in her neatly trimmed gray slacks.

He would have preferred a skirt cut about six inches above her knee, but the figure-flattering pants were the next best thing. She probably thought they were the perfect disguise for her sexy little body. She thought wrong.

"Weren't we supposed to meet at eleven-thirty for lunch?"

A muffled exclamation emanated from behind the door, and then Ronnie stumbled backward with all the natural grace of a drunk leaving a bar at closing time.

"Marcus." She looked shocked to see him.

It wasn't like her to forget an appointment, but, then, the events of the morning no doubt upset her. He hadn't liked her obvious tension during the meeting in Kline's office, but he had no doubt fear that her past would be exposed had been its source.

She was probably worrying herself sick that he'd told Kline about her actions before leaving CIS.

He would set her mind to rest about that over lunch. And they could tak out some other stuff too, like the fact that he'd had to hide his real reason for being at Kline Technology from her.

She would understand. Ronnie was a sensible soul, and in all fairness, she couldn't blame him for suspecting her of the espionage. She had to admit the circumstances were pretty damning.

Besides, once he told her that he had never ahd any intention of letting her be hurt by it, she would understand that he'd done what he had to do for the job. It had almost torn him apart, but he hadn't had a choice. He had never felt as much releif in his life as he had felt when Kline called to tell him of Ronnie's discovery. He'd known deep in his gut right then that she was innocent.

"It's almost noon, honey. It wasn't easy to find you."

In fact, he'd had to search the entire floor before running her to earth in the supply room.

She drew herself erect, her expression a cool mask that made him nervous. "Maybe I didn't want to be found."

He didn't like hearing that. And he really didn't like the way she was looking at him, as if he were dog poop she'd discovered on the bottom of her sensible gray pumps.

"Why would you hide from me, baby?"

Her eyes narrowed, and for the space of one second, her expression was lethal enough to send him six feet under.

Then the cool mask fell in place again. "I am not your baby. I am not your honey. I am not youranything . Therefore, I would appreciate you not using meaningless and subsequently demeaning endearments to address me."

Meaningless? Demeaning? This was getting out of hand. The least she could do was find out if he'd told Kline about her past before getting all annoyed and making rash statements like she wasn't hisanything .

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Her perfectly arched brows rose above the black frame of her glasses. "It's quite simple. You can stop your smarmy seduction techniques. I'll cooperate fully with you for the investigation. So, there is absolutely no need for you to sacrifice your body for the job."

She had moved backward until she stood as far away from him as the small space allowed, and it irritated the bejeebes out of him. She was acting like she couldn't stand to be near him, not to mention the fact that she was going on about his investigation as if they were in a secure environment—which they were not.

"I don't think talking about my job is a good idea right now," he said warningly, in a low voice. And then as the rest of her words registered completely, anger surged through him and his voice went up a couple of decibels. "Smarmy seduction techniques!"

Her soft lips compressed in a tight line and he wanted to kiss them until they were red and swollen, until she stopped using them to spout garbage like that.

Forcing his voice to a more even keel, he said, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I can pretty much guarantee we're not going to discuss it here."

No way was he going to get into an argument about thesacrifice of his body where one of her coworkers could overhear, and if she mentioned the investigation again, it might very well be compromised.

"We don't need todiscuss it anywhere. As far as I'm concerned, the only relationship we have from this point forward is a professional one limited to the—"

He cut her off before she mentioned his real reason for being at Kline Tech again. "Ronnie."

She looked cool enough to chill ice cream, but looks were deceiving because she wasn't using her head or a guard on her tongue. She was obviously a lot more upset than she wanted to let on. Once they talked, it was going to be okay, but he had to get her out of the building before she blew his cover.

Not giving her a chance to say something else incriminating or irritating, he grabbed her arm. "Come on. We're going to lunch."

She tried to tug her arm from his grip and he let her go in order to move his hand to her waist. Her already unyielding body went into iceberg mode and he swore under his breath.

Working things out between them after this morning's revelations wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought. He could live with that, but theywould work them out because there was no way in hell he was going to lose her again.

He dragged her by her cubicle to grab her purse and then led her out of the building, stopping on the way to check out with security. He practically had to shove her into the passenger seat of his Jag, but once she was inside she didn't make any idiotic attempts to jump right back out again. For that, he was grateful.

Chasing her across the parking lot could only lead to further complications.

They'd been driving for maybe five minutes when she asked in freezing tones, "Where are you taking me for lunch?"

"My place," he answered, without hesitation.

Rejection radiated from every pore of her stiffly held body. "Forget it."

He flicked his gaze over her before turning his attention back to the road. She stared straight out the windshield and refused to meet his gaze.

"We have several sensitive matters to discuss and that cannot be done in a public setting. It's either my place or yours," he added, hoping to soften her anger by giving her a choice.

Her hands clenched into fists against her thighs. "Why can't we talk in a park, or something?"

He switched on the windshield wipers as spring rain spattered the windshield. "Because this is the Northwest and there are only a handful of days out of the year on which a park would make a good setting for a discussion of any kind. Today isn't one of them."

He'd meant to insert a little humor into the tense atmosphere, but from her rigid profile, he gathered it hadn't worked.

"So, what's it to be?" he asked.

"Your place."

He took that to mean that as little as she wanted to return to his apartment, she wanted him in hers even less. Would she try to slam the door in his face tonight when he showed up for dinner as planned? He shrugged off the thought to focus on the present. It definitely had enough trouble of its own.

He pulled into a drive-through for a Mexican fast-food chain. "What do you want?"

She continued to gaze fixedly out the window, not giving an inch. "Nothing. I'm not hungry."

He ordered her a soft taco and a diet pop. He ordered himself a meal with a large root beer. He'd never acquired a taste for cola. He handed her the bag of food and drink tray before driving off. Once they reached his apartment complex, he took the food back and carried it up to his place.

She followed him, carefully maintaining her distance.

When they reached his apartment door, he couldn't help grinning at her with just a shade of wicked humor. "Could you grab my keys out of my pocket? My hands are full."

He'd meant to tease and she fell for it like a water balloon dropped out of a second-story window. Her eyes got all crinkly and her mouth pursed as if she'd just sucked a lemon wedge, showing she'd taken him seriously.