Little White Lies (19 page)

The only thing that kept her from falling to pieces was knowing Claire-the-human-clinging-vine would have to detach herself from Holt once they reached the parking garage.  Miranda had planned to let loose on him the minute they were alone in the car, but even that was denied her when Edward insisted they all ride in his limousine.  Claire went first, claiming a spot on the seat facing the back of the vehicle and didn’t even cast a glance Miranda’s way when she climbed in next and took the seat opposite her.  Both women looked expectantly at Holt when he ducked inside but Claire didn’t hesitate to go after what she wanted. 

Claire patted the seat beside her.  “Sit with me.”  With a slow, sexy smile she added, “I promise I don’t bite.”

Holt’s husky laughter killed what little hope remained in Miranda’s heart that he genuinely cared about her.  Nothing he’d told her the night before had been sincere.  The pain that ripped through her was almost crippling, but it was nothing compared to the crushing blow that he wasn’t the man she thought he was.  She’d always believed his indifference to women was something he would overcome, that he would realize what an enormous capacity for love he had once he met the right person; namely her.  Now she understood just what an illusion it had been.

She wanted to scream and cry, to run as far away from there as she could and never look back.  She’d been blinded by her love for Holt and hadn’t seen he could never feel for her the way she did for him.  And in choosing to spend the night with him, she’d also destroyed her relationship with Jack.  Even if she never confessed what she’d done, Miranda would know.  No matter how much she hated to admit it, she had to face the fact her love for Jack had developed as a result of his resemblance to Holt.  True, a part of her loved him because of the man he was but it wasn’t enough, not for either of them.

“Miss Carrington, are you okay?”

Miranda turned away from the window, offering Edward Seymour a thin smile.  “I’m afraid lunch didn’t agree with me but I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Her eyes moved around the boardroom and the small groups of people, searching for Holt.  She spotted him near the back of the room talking with Claire and Jared. “Is the meeting about to start again?”

“You really aren’t feeling well, are you, my dear?  We’ve decided to put it off until tomorrow so Claire can give you and Holt a tour of our company.”

What little color remained in her face quickly drained.  “I…I’m sure they don’t need me tagging along.  I’m just…”  Miranda choked down the boulder that had lodged itself in her throat.  “I’m just Holt’s assistant.”

Edward’s brows drew together.  He looked over at Claire and Holt then turned back to her.  “I don’t like what’s going on here,” he said with a frown.  “It’s gone too far and I can’t allow it to continue when it so obviously distresses you.”

Panic welled up inside her.  She would be absolutely mortified if he said anything to Holt.  “Please, it’s okay.”

“It is not okay,” he insisted.  “What’s going on between Claire and Holt isn’t…”

“Mr. Seymour, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t your place to intervene anymore than it’s mine.”  The smile she gave him matched the sadness in her eyes.  “Whatever feelings I have for Holt aren’t reciprocated, I promise you.  Please, I’m begging you not to let this affect your decision to do business with him.  He’s an amazing man and you couldn’t get a better company than Devlin Shipping.  I have a great deal of respect for him and the way he runs his company.  You won’t regret signing those contracts.”

“Your loyalty is admirable, Miss Carrington, but I still think…”

Claire’s arrival put a halt to the conversation.  She looped her arm through his, her expression reproachful.  “You’ve monopolized Holt’s assistant long enough, Edward.  I’d like to show them around and then clear out for the day.”  Her eyes locked with Miranda’s.  “I have plans for this evening and don’t want to keep my date waiting.”

Edward looked genuinely piqued.  “I think you and I need to have a little talk before you go anywhere.  As for Miss Carrington, she’s not feeling well so I’m going to escort her back to the hotel.”

Claire’s self-assured demeanor slipped.  “But you have to come with us,” she insisted, “it will ruin…I mean, Holt specifically…” her voice trailed off, obviously realizing she’d revealed too much.

An agonizing jolt of pain shot straight through Miranda’s chest as the meaning of Claire’s words sank in.  My God, he’d planned this!  Bile rose in her throat, the cruelty of his actions making her physically ill.  Holt wanted her along to witness the two of them together, but why?  Was it so Miranda would see what she’d passed up, a way of making her suffer for turning him down last night?  Surely he knew what torture it would be for her to watch Claire touching him and batting those bedroom eyes at him. 

Miranda staggered backwards, the assault on her overwrought emotions was just too much.  She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fill her lungs with enough air to keep her head from spinning.  The room tilted, the concerned faces of Claire and Edward fading in and out then becoming a hazy blur.  From far away, she heard Holt call out her name and then the darkness took hold and there was nothing.

Holt barreled past Claire and Edward just as Miranda’s knees began to buckle.  For a fraction of a second, he caught the gut wrenching look of despair in her eyes before she lost consciousness and collapsed in his arms.  Cradling her to his chest, he followed Edward back to his office and eased her onto the leather sofa, his throat constricting at the sight of her pale skin.

“What happened, Edward?”

“It’s my fault,” Claire said from behind him.  “I tried to make her think my dinner date was with you and…oh, Holt you should have seen her face!  I know we were supposed to make her jealous, but there was so much more to it than that. I’ve never seen anyone look so hurt, so…devastated.”

Holt smoothed the hair back from Miranda’s face.  “It’s not your fault, it’s mine.  She
was
jealous, she told me so last night and admitted how much she cared for me.  But this morning…” he shook his head.

Edward handed him a cold cloth.  “You couldn’t have known she would react so badly.  I seem to recall pulling a stunt like this on Jared’s mother years ago in my first year of college.”

Holt gently placed the cloth across Miranda’s forehead.  “Apparently, it worked better for you than it did for me.”

“Not really,” he chuckled.  “Mrs. Seymour has one hellacious temper.  She caught me in the library sitting next to my partner in crime and used her purse to lay one nasty wallop to the back of my head.  Then she told me I’d damn well better marry her or she would find something harder to hit me with and really knock some sense into me.”

Holt glanced back at him.  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.  Unfortunately, Miranda doesn’t have the temper your wife has.  At this point I’d welcome a good whack on the back of the head if it meant she would order me to marry her.”

Jared slipped through the door, immediately going to Claire’s side.  “How is she?”

Holt turned back to Miranda, the tightness in his chest easing a little when her eyelids fluttered open.  He took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

Confused and disoriented, it took Miranda a few minutes to figure out she was in Edward’s office.  Her gaze moved past Holt.  “I…I’m sorry, Edward, I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

His smile was warm and reassuring.  “You don’t need to apologize, my dear.  Just rest for a few minutes while I have the limousine brought around so Holt can take you back to the hotel.”

Miranda’s blood turned to ice.  “I don’t need a chaperone,” she pulled her hand from Holt’s grasp, “and I’m sure Holt would much rather accompany Miss Dandridge on a personal tour.”

A slap in the face couldn’t have shocked or hurt him more than the chill in her tone, but he masked his own emotions behind a stern look and commanding voice. “I’m taking you so there’s no use arguing.  Edward, if you’ll arrange for that ride.”

“Of course.” 

Claire stepped closer and peered over Holt’s shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said…” she bit down on her lip, exchanging a worried glance with Jared when Miranda turned her head away.

Knowing Claire shared his guilt, Holt told her not to worry.  “I’ll give you a call when she’s feeling better and we’ve had a chance to talk.”

Edward returned to the small group surrounding Miranda.  “It’ll be waiting downstairs by the time you get there.”  He took the cloth Holt handed him.  “You take care of her or you’ll have me to answer to.”  His tone softened when he turned to Miranda.  “As for you, young lady, you’re wrong if you think there is no reciprocation.”

Miranda’s eyes darted to Holt but he was saying something to Jared and seemed not have heard.  She thanked Edward for his kindness then let out a small squeak of protest when Holt leaned down and scooped her up in his arms.  His jaw was firmly set, his expression unwavering; any argument on her part would only fall on deaf ears so she didn’t even bother trying.  She felt silly being carried past all of Edward’s corporate staff and hid her face in Holt’s neck to avoid the curious stares.  She couldn’t imagine Claire Dandridge ever having a panic attack or falling into a dead faint over anything and couldn’t help wondering if Holt was irritated with her for ruining his afternoon with the sultry blonde.

Just as Edward promised, the limousine was waiting right outside the front entrance.  Holt let her down so she could get in, then climbed in himself and took the seat right next to her.  He was so close in fact, their shoulders touched and the whole length of his thigh was pressed up against hers.  She inched away but he only scooted right along with her until she was trapped between the door and his body.  Miranda shot him a withering glare but Holt appeared totally unaffected by it. 

He simply stared straight ahead, his face expressionless, his lips drawn into a straight line.  He
was
angry with her, Miranda thought, but she was far from contrite about it.  She was glad she had messed up his plans with Claire, but her mood quickly took a downhill crash course when she realized he would only miss out on the afternoon tour.  He still had the whole night to spend with the woman and there wasn’t a single thing Miranda could do to stop it.

For the rest of the drive, Miranda kept her face turned towards the window with her jaws clenched tight.  She refused to talk to him and she refused to cry, and not for all the gold in the world would she give Holt the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.  Not that he cared, she thought bitterly.  All that mattered to him was tucking her away in the hotel so he could get back to Claire.

“We’re here,” Holt said as the chauffer pulled up to their hotel.

Miranda ignored the hand he held out for her as she climbed out of the limousine.  “Don’t even
think
about trying to carry me,” she growled when he blocked the pathway to the hotel.

Holt didn’t dare laugh, not when she was looked as if she wanted to take a swing at him.  Absurd as it was, Miranda seemed to have no idea just how outmatched she was physically.  He could have easily subdued her with one hand, but perhaps she knew he would never use force against her, which gave her a decided advantage in this particular standoff.

“You’re white as a sheet and you’re trembling,” he reasoned.  “If you won’t let me carry you at least let me help you up to the room.”

“I don’t want or need your help,” she snapped.  “Now if you don’t mind removing the body block, I would like to go inside.”

Holt smiled indulgently and stepped aside.  “Suit yourself.”

Miranda’s chin jutted up, a fierce determination in her eyes.  She’d show him!  Mustering what little dignity she had left, she took one wobbly step and stopped.  A heated glare made Holt’s outstretched hand drop back to his side.  Aware that she looked like a drunk the way she was weaving up the pathway, Miranda could only pray she didn’t fall flat on her face. 

Her progress was slow and measured; even so, she felt as if every ounce of energy was being expended and could only attribute it to the light lunch she’d eaten, coupled with the emotional strain she was going through.  Preoccupied with simply putting one foot in front of the other, she completely forgot there were two levels of stairs that needed to be conquered before she could even reach the front entrance.  Coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps she nearly burst into tears of frustration; she would never make it on her own.

“Miranda,” Holt said softly, “please let me help you.”

Without looking at him, she nodded her consent and once again found herself being swept up into his muscular arms.  Surrendering to both her weakened physical and mental state, she let her head rest against his shoulder and closed her eyes.  Every movement heightened her awareness of his physical strength and sexual allure, while every breath she drew filled her senses with his masculine scent until she nearly lost sight of why they were returning to the hotel in the first place. 

It was only when they reached her room and he carried her to the bed that Miranda was forced to face the harsh reality of the situation.  His concern for her might very well be genuine but after he dumped her off and tucked her in, he would most likely high tail it back to Claire Dandridge’s waiting arms.