by
Diane Maxwell
Manuscript Complete / 200,000 words / Contemporary Romance
Copyright 2001 All rights reserved to the author
No copying in any form electronically or by any given means without the expressed written consent of the author
Chapter 27
"I've ordered dinner."
She looked up from her papers. "Thanks. But I'm not hungry."
He shrugged. "Then you can watch me eat."
As the tempting aroma of chicken and vegetables baked in flaky pastry wafted through the room, she took the place set across from him at the table and dug into the meal.
He'd doubted she'd resist the smell. Such a delight to dine with someone who didn't pick at food like it contained poison. Pay good money for dinners made by the world's finest chefs and then have a date who wouldn't eat it. Dieting, not hungry, late lunch or some other nonsense made him grind his teeth nearly to nubs.
Rose ate like a person was supposed to. Everything she served onto her plate. Savoring every bite, eyes closed in pure enjoyment. An expression of ecstasy crossed her features as she dug into the crystal bowl of rich chocolate mouse.
Her little pink tongue slowly licked the spoon clean. Over and over, up and down, backwards and forwards. She looked as she had when his body entered hers and she tightened and milked him, drained him with a climax so powerful, so explosive he'd still yet to recover completely.
Michael squashed that thought and its accompanying image.
She wiped her mouth, sighed then glanced across the table. Their gazes met. She flushed. And good God, how he wanted her.
He shoved back his chair. "Did you find anything in those papers?"
She also left the table. "Nothing useful. Diary accounts, marriages, births. That sort of thing."
"Anything about the IRA?"
"Plenty." She sat in the chair across from him and wrapped her arms around her waist. "So much violence. And get this. Most of the fathers asked their children to marry and produce as many sons as possible."
"Human nature to want immortality through children."
"You want children, too?"
He looked straight at her, forced himself to be cold. "No."
"Never?" She shivered. "Why?"
He looked down. "What else did you find?"
She sighed then snapped her fingers. "Hey! Where's that report Sloan MacKenna was supposed to have for me? The one about you?"
He retrieved a manila envelope from his briefcase and handed it to her. "Want me to leave while you read it?"
"You were there while I read mine. Stay and answer any questions I have."
He pretended to ignore her as she flipped through papers. There wasn't that much. School reports. His scholarship to study architecture and engineering at Harvard. Graduated first in his class. Devon as his room mate and best friend. His projects. His acclaim in the architectural world. Composites of property, car, townhouse. Charitable contributions. Society functions he headed.
"Where's the info on your family?
He'd dreaded that, wanted to ignore her, but he wouldn't. Somehow, he couldn't. "Anything you want can be found in the New York state public records. Ask for info on Judge St. Lawrence. They'll give you all you want. And then some."
Her head jerked. She gaped at him, as he'd known she would. He hadn't expected her eyes to be so startled, though. Or so devastated. Devastated? What the hell?
Her voice squeaked like the rusty gate at the back corner of Huntington house. "Your dad really is the Judge St. Lawrence? The one who--"
"Will become the next member of the Supreme Court." He narrowed his eyes on her suddenly colorless face.
"Wow," the soft whisper left as a passing breath, strangely sad and final. "You don't have any brothers? Or sisters?"
He shook his head, wondering at the pain in her eyes. "Why?"
She dropped her gaze. "Dear Lord. No wonder."
Against his will, his heart lurched. His arms ached to cradle her. That sad little face and haunting voice. "No wonder what?"
She dropped the file on the table and stood. "No wonder you don't want anything to do with me. The publicity I'd bring would ruin his chances of being appointed." She walked away, head bowed. "I'll leave right now."
His hands clenched into tight fists. "You don't have to leave."
"Oh yes I do. Murdered partner, strange accidents, questionable parentage with ties to the IRA, all that stuff with the Governor's Mansion and Louis-- I'm nothing but a liability any way you look at me."
Michael surged to his feet. "Stop."
She continued. "Dear Lord, this is a tabloid's dream. Your association with me could cost your father his nomination."
"Rose."
She waved a hand behind her back. "I won't contact you outside the project. And I'll stay far away from you. Starting right now."
He had her in his arms before she could twist the doorknob of her room. "Damn it. I said you don't have to go."
She raised her head and blinked at tears. His breath caught at the pain and loss in her eyes. "But your father. Your reputation."
"You think I care?" He twined her hair around his fingers, tilted her head to look deep into her eyes. He let her see all the desire he'd held so tight in check.