Little White Lies (3 page)

Before long, the women were joined by a few men and then a couple of more until it seemed half the office staff surrounded her.  When one of the men asked her to dance, she surprised herself by accepting at once and within minutes was being swept around the dance floor.  When the song ended, another glass of champagne was thrust into her hands, which she’d nearly polished off before being whisked out onto the dance floor again. 

It was a slow dance, and the young man was holding her too close, being way too liberal with his hands and doing his damnedest to get her to kiss him.  Miranda tried to laugh it off and kept turning her head every time his lips swooped in for the kill, but it was getting excruciatingly warm and she was starting to get dizzy.  The song went on and on until she thought she was going to suffocate right there on the dance floor. In a moment of panic, she twisted free of his grasp and darted through a small gap between the swaying bodies, making a mad dash towards the doors.

Outside the air was cold and crisp, but it felt good after being inside the overheated Convention Hall.  Without thinking, Miranda headed towards the parking lot, convinced that the shakiness in her legs would go away if she walked it off.  She would take a little stroll until she felt better then get in her car and go home.  Assuming she could find her car, that is. 

Standing in the frigid weather in the middle of the night without a single clue as to where her parking space was suddenly struck Miranda as about the stupidest thing she had ever done.  It was right up there with wearing Bri’s dress in the hopes of catching Holt’s eye.  She took a few unsteady steps forward and couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was out here when it was obvious she was in no condition to drive. Not that she was drunk, but she was definitely tipsy.

“You look lost,” a masculine voice sounded just behind her.

Miranda jumped, letting out a startled squeak.  “I…you scared me half to death,” she said, recognizing the young man she’d been dancing with a few minutes before.

“You left so fast, I was worried you were sick or something.”

She shook her head, then groaned when a wave of nausea washed over her.  “I need to go home.” 

“That’s a shame,” he looped an arm around her waist and began propelling her through the parking lot. “I was looking forward to the countdown and ringing in the New Year with a kiss from the prettiest girl there.”

Miranda glanced wildly around.  It was dark and there wasn’t another soul in sight.  “Where are you taking me?”

“Home.  Isn’t that where you wanted to go?”

His smile was warm, and for a few moments she let him lead her through the rows of cars when it occurred to her that he didn’t know where she lived.  “My home,” she told him firmly.  “I want to go to
my
own home.”

His grip on her tightened.  “Don’t worry, honey, you’ll get there…eventually.”

She tried to pull away, but was no match for his strength.  Unused to the heels she was wearing, Miranda stumbled and would have fallen if the young man hadn’t caught her. The gratitude she felt was short lived; whisked away by the shock of being yanked up hard against his chest, where he proceeded to kiss her with the familiarity of intimate lovers.  She struggled to free herself, her fists pummeling uselessly as he continued to plunder her mouth, and all the while her confused mind couldn’t quite grasp how she’d gotten herself into such a predicament. 

When he finally pulled his mouth away and dropped his hold on her, she was shaking so bad it was all she could do to remain standing.  He didn’t say anything as she inched herself away from him, but the drunken grin on his face told her he had no intention of letting her get far.  Miranda eyed him warily for a few seconds then whirled around and bolted.  The man only laughed, catching her before she’d even gotten two car lengths away.

“Let me go!” she cried, kicking and hitting as he hauled her back into his arms.

“Come on, honey,” he crooned, “there’s no need to make such a fuss. I just want to collect the kiss you owe me and then I’ll let you go.”

Indignation lent her a moment of bravado. “I don’t
owe
you anything. Now get your hands off of me!”

“Easy, sweetheart,” he laughed at her futile effort to get loose. “It’s just one little kiss. If you hadn’t decided to bail on me before midnight…”

“I didn’t bail on you. I don’t even know you!”

“So here’s your chance to know me,” he said.  

The air was forced from her lungs when he pressed her back up against a pickup, pinning her to the cold metal with his body.  Trapped as she was, Miranda was virtually helpless. The only thing she was capable of doing was twisting her head from side to side in an attempt to avoid being kissed against her will. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, and though he hadn’t tried to harm her physically, Miranda was terrified it would escalate to that point.

She struggled for several minutes, her pleas to stop and let her go coming out in breathless gasps, but he kept insisting she owed it to him and wasn’t going anywhere until she gave in. Finally, out of sheer desperation, Miranda stopped fighting. Just as she’d hoped, his grip loosened, allotting her enough time to gulp in air. She didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the brief reprieve. Forcing out a high pitched scream that echoed across the parking lot, she experienced a moment of triumph when he jerked his head back and glanced around as if he was contemplating the best direction to run. Miranda took another deep breath and unleashed a second ear piercing scream.

This one lasted mere seconds before he smothered it by clamping his mouth over hers. Miranda felt the shift in his mood immediately and realized what a huge mistake it had been to scream when he speared his fingers through her hair and yanked her head back. He was no longer kissing her with the over eager tenacity of a drunk who couldn’t comprehend she was an unwilling participant. Anger fueled his rough kisses as he ground his mouth into hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, too numb with fear to fight any longer. And then…miraculously, his weight was suddenly gone and she was free.

She heard a sickening crunch and opened her eyes just in time to see the man crumble to the ground.  Blood gushed from his broken nose and he howled with pain as the large figure hovering over him grabbed at his shirt and took another swing.  This time, the man’s jaw took the brunt of the hit.  His assailant let him drop back to the ground then leaned over and spoke in a low, deadly voice.  The man nodded, mumbled something unintelligible then just lay there nursing his wounds. 

Miranda didn’t wait to see she what happened next.  Scared out of her mind, she ran headlong and heedless back towards the building, sobbing hysterically.  Even with the sound of her own crying and her heart thundering in her ears, Miranda could hear the heavy footsteps closing in on her.  Two strong arms reached out and wound themselves around her waist, pulling her back against a hard, firm body. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart, you’re safe now.” 

Why she believed she was any safer being held captive in his arms than the other man’s she couldn’t say, but she stopped fighting and sagged against him, her energy spent.  He held her that way for several minutes, crooning softly in her ear that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.  Gently, he turned her in his arms then pulled her close again.  Miranda leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and the comfort he gave as she silently began to cry again. 

She wanted to sink into him, to stay there forever, but all too soon he was easing her away from him.  Tipping her head back to see his face was a monumental mistake.  She swayed unsteadily and was embarrassed when her knees started to buckle. With ridiculous ease, Miranda’s rescuer swung her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing.

“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink,” he said as he carried her across the parking lot.

Miranda sighed and let her head drop onto his shoulder.  “I wanted to go home,” she whispered hoarsely.  “He…he wouldn’t let me.”

“He won’t be bothering you again.  You shouldn’t have come out here alone,” he chastised.

“I know.  Thank you for saving me.”  She shivered and pressed herself closer to him.  “Will you call a taxi for me?  I want to go home. 
My
home.”

“I’m going to take you inside so we can get you warmed up first.  When you’re feeling a little better, I’ll take you home myself.”

Miranda went rigid.  “I want to go home now and I want a taxi to take me there.”

“I don’t like the idea of sending you home alone in your condition.”

“I’m not drunk,” she insisted, but her spinning head told her she’d definitely had one too many.

“Of course you’re not,” he laughed softly. 

The sound of his laughter was oddly reassuring and she began to relax.  “Who are you?  Do you work for Devlin?”

He stopped abruptly.  “You don’t know me?”

Slowly, Miranda tipped her head back.  It was dark and she couldn’t quite make out his features, but he seemed familiar.  Her eyelids drifted shut and she nuzzled her face in the warmth of his neck.

“I’m not sure,” she said sleepily.  “You kind of look like my boss. Are you related?”

He started walking again.  “I’m his evil twin brother, Jack.”

Through the fog that was quickly filling her head, she had a vague recollection of Holt mentioning a brother, although she couldn’t remember him saying they were twins. 

“You’re not evil,” she mumbled, “you’re wonderful.  Holt wouldn’t have rescued me.  He would have told me it was what I deserved.”

“You must have a pretty low opinion of him if that’s what you think.”

“It’s true,” Miranda insisted.  “I saw the way he looked at me tonight.  He thought…” her voice wobbled, “he thought I looked cheap and he was disappointed in me.”

Jack stopped and lowered her to the ground, careful to keep a firm hold on her waist.  “You’re wrong about that, but we’ll talk about it later.”  He punched a code into the keypad and waited for the click of the locks before pulling it open. 

Miranda fought gallantly to keep her eyes open and looked around her.  “We’re at the back of the building.  Why are we going in this way?”

“I didn’t think you would want anyone to see me carry you in.”

She smiled up at him.  “That was very sweet of you.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said dryly, “I’m the sweetest man alive.”  He scooped her back up in his arms and walked swiftly to the elevators, leaning down and pressing the button with his elbow.  “Holt gave me use of his penthouse while I’m in town,” he explained.  “I’ll take you there until you warm up then ply you with a little coffee before taking you home, okay?”

“You won’t tell him, will you?  He’s mad enough about the way I dressed without knowing I drank so much I was nearly…” she shuddered to think what might have happened if Jack hadn’t come along.

“I won’t breathe a word,” he promised.  He stepped inside the elevator and set her down just long enough to key in the pass code to the penthouse.  “It was foolish of you to go outside alone, but you didn’t deserve to have that man attack you.  You seem to think it was your fault somehow.”

“Maybe not entirely. But we danced earlier and instead of getting angry when he was pawing at me, I tried to laugh it off.”

“And you think that gave him the right to assault you?”

Miranda considered it for a moment.  “No, I guess not.”

When the elevator doors opened again, Jack was forced to set her down once more so he could unlock the door.  When she insisted she could walk, he simply ignored her and carried her back to the bedroom where he deposited her on the edge of the bed.  Kneeling down, he pulled off her shoes and set them aside then took one small foot in his hands and began rubbing warmth back into it.

Miranda’s breath caught in her throat.  “You…you shouldn’t do that.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “I promise it’s not foreplay, sweetheart.  Your toes are frozen and I’m just trying to get some circulation going.”  He moved onto the second foot, thoroughly entranced with her trim ankles and shapely calves.  When he was done, he took her hand and rubbed it between his own.  “You’re so delicate I’m scared to even touch you for fear I’ll hurt you.”

He glanced up her, and for the first time, Miranda realized just how much he looked like Holt.  If his dark hair was smoothed back and he lost the silly grin he was wearing, she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart.  Well, that wasn’t entirely true because she couldn’t imagine Holt ever dressing the way his brother did.  He was wearing a pair of snug jeans and a black t-shirt that conformed to his chest, showing off every corded muscle in a most unsettling way. 

She was acutely aware of just how masculine he was and felt a strange heaviness pool deep in her abdomen.  When his calloused hands moved up her arms, her insides quivered and a slow heat begin to warm her from the inside out.

“I feel funny,” she said faintly.

Jack arched a brow.  “Funny?”

“Here,” she rested her hand on her belly.

He fought to keep the smile off his face.  “What do you think it is?”  His hands glided slowly up to her shoulders then back down again.