Murphy's Law (28 page)

“He'll be back shortly.” Warren fought with himself, but good manners, and perhaps concern, won out. He ushered Ashley to a chair. “Sit down, sit down.”

That surprised her. “Thanks, but I'm fine.”

Carrying a large box that blocked her view, Adrianna bumped into Ashley from behind, forcing her into the office after all.

Peering around the side of the box, Adrianna said, “Oops. I'm sorry.” She spotted Ashley, and her frown lifted with a smile. “Ashley, how nice to see you again.”

“You, too.” How that woman could look so chic all the time, Ashley didn't know. She always wore heels, which set off her shapely legs, and her slim skirts proved that although she might be in her midforties, her figure remained trim and youthful.

Warren rushed to Adrianna to relieve her of her load. “Let me help you with that.”

Going icy cold, Adrianna held on and said, “I can handle it.” She set the cumbersome box on the edge of Quinton's desk. After frowning at Warren, she turned to Ashley, and another smile brightened her face before she glanced at her watch. “Was Quinton expecting you?”

Ashley shook her head. The lies were adding up, but she saw no hope for it. “One of my classes was canceled.”

“I see. Quinton will be so disappointed he wasn't here. We're working late tonight to free up time later in the week. He ran out to get us some dinner.”

Was Quinton making time in his schedule for her? He had so many responsibilities, so many things that he took on himself. Ashley hated that she'd added one more responsibility.

Trying to draw Adrianna's attention, Warren clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. She did look at him, but only to say, “You should head on home, Warren. We don't need you.”

Oh ho, Ashley thought. Trouble between Warren and Adrianna? Not that she should be surprised. He was such a pompous ass that a saint would have trouble getting along with him. But still…She almost felt sorry for Quinton's uncle as he floundered at Adrianna's cut.

Blustering through his unease, he said in grave tones, “I have a vested interest in this business.”

Adrianna's smug smile set him back a foot. “Not tonight, Warren.” She patted his chest in dismissal. “We're dealing with some things for the boys, and everyone knows how you feel about that.” Her smile tightened. “Besides, I'm sure Ivana is waiting for you.”

Wide-eyed, Ashley watched as Warren flushed pink from his throat to his hairline.

Adrianna made no pretense about enjoying his discomfort.

“I need something to drink,” Warren barked, and he left the office without his suit coat, storming down the hall to the elevators.

Ashley whistled low. “Wow. Is there a bar in this building that I don't know about? Will he come back snookered?”

“No. He's just after a cola from the vending machines downstairs.” Adrianna glared in the direction where Warren had disappeared. “Pay no attention to him. He'll cool down before he returns.”

Somehow, Ashley doubted that.

Adrianna perched on the edge of the desk. “So how are you feeling? Quinton told me what happened, but I see you're not letting a little thing like a bomb slow you down.”

Ashley grinned with her. “It didn't slow Quinton down, either.”

“I know. If anything, he's gone nonstop. But then, this time of year is crazy for him because of the boys. He puts in extra hours with them around the holidays, plus he organizes special dinners and gifts and gatherings. I admire his loyalty and dedication a lot. So different from
other
men I know.”

Somehow that sounded very odd to Ashley. She started to question Adrianna further when her stomach began another revolt. The worst part of the nausea, in Ashley's opinion, was how quickly it came upon her. She had no time to explain to Adrianna before she slapped a hand to her mouth and dashed into the inner office to the private restroom. She slammed the door behind her while praying Quinton wouldn't return just yet.

Adrianna rapped anxiously at the door. “Ashley! Are you all right?”

“Flu,” Ashley lied, in between bouts of gagging. “Please, I'm fine.”

To her relief, Adrianna said nothing more.

As soon as her stomach quieted enough, Ashley emerged, only to find the main office vacant. Where had everyone gone? They hadn't left for the night because Warren's suit coat rested over the back of a chair, and the box Adrianna had carried in to the desk hadn't been moved.

Maybe Adrianna had gone to look for Warren, so they could resolve whatever differences they had tonight. Whatever their reasons for not being there, Ashley was grateful. It spared her from telling more clankers in explanation of her sickness. At the moment, she wasn't up to believable deceit.

Her skin remained clammy, her stomach iffy, and a quick check of her watch showed she still had plenty of time before she started her shift.

Her new ob-gyn had recommended nibbling crackers and drinking a caffeine-free cola to settle her nausea. She had both in her locker downstairs. Adrianna had said they'd be in the office late, so she'd have a chance to speak with Quinton yet. Better to do it when she wasn't barfing, she decided, and she left, taking the back stairs, before anyone had returned.

Quinton entered his office, arms laden with food, only to slam into his uncle's blast of anger.

“She stole it!” Warren shook a fist. “To think I was stupid enough, gullible enough to sympathize with her, and then she robbed me blind.”

Quinton came to a standstill. “What the hell are you talking about? Who stole what?”

“Your little inamorata,” Warren sneered. “She was here—”

“Ashley?” Damn it, he'd stepped out for only an hour, long enough to get dinner for Adrianna and himself. But surely she hadn't left the building. She'd be starting her shift soon, so he'd find her.

“Yes, yes, that's who I mean. She waltzed in and hung around long enough to get what she wanted. I've searched the building over for her, but now she's nowhere to be found.”

A hot rush of anger flooded through Quinton. Since that damned hospital trip, he hadn't seen Ashley long enough to get a true sense of her feelings. In many ways it felt as though she held back from him, as if she deliberately cultivated their time constraints, while he did everything in his power to spend more time with her.

When she wasn't around, he missed her. When she was near, he couldn't keep his hands off her. Despite her injuries, she made love with him each morning, and each time was better than the time before it.

But damn it, physical satisfaction wasn't enough. He needed to sit with her at the breakfast table and chat over coffee. He wanted to curl onto the sofa with her in the evening and share the events of their days. He wanted to talk to her about the boys, and learn more about her childhood, and…He wanted her to love him.

Damn it.

Holding himself in close check, Quinton walked to the desk and carefully set down the bags of Chinese. It required two breaths before he felt composed enough to face his uncle's absurd allegations.

He turned, leaned back on the desk, and folded his arms over his chest. “So, Warren, are you telling me that Ashley held you at gunpoint?”

“Don't be idiotic. She was here, I went to get a cola, and when I came back, she was gone. I decided to leave too, but when I put on my suit coat, I realized the pocket was empty.”

“The pocket?”

“Where I had a fifteen-thousand-dollar bracelet for Ivana!”

Quinton raised a brow over that. “Why were you carrying a bracelet of that value around with you?”

“Good God, what does that matter? I had the thing and now it's gone.”

When Quinton just waited, Warren huffed in irritation.

“If you must know, I bought it during my lunch break today.” He flushed. “Saw it in a window display and knew Ivana would love it.”

Aunt Ivana had always bartered forgiveness for diamonds and gold. Because she and Warren were often at odds, Ivana always dripped with sparklers. For Warren to choose such a costly apology, he must have really dug himself into a hole.

Instinctively, Quinton knew Ashley would never let him off that easy. If he angered her, no gift in the world would take the place of a sincere explanation, and when necessary, an apology.

He rather liked that about her.

With a half smile, Quinton said, “Ivana has you in the doghouse, does she?”

Warren gritted his teeth. “It's a Christmas present, damn it.” Righteous anger raised his voice another octave. “Or at least it was until your paramour stole it from me.”

The smile disappeared. “Don't call her names.”

“All right, all right.” Warren moderated his tone. “I'm sorry. But she took it. I know she did.”

Quinton shook off the accusation and turned to open the food packages. It wasn't worth discussing. “Forget it. Ashley would never do that.”

In an effort to convince him, Warren pointed out, “When I saw her, she was jumpy. Nervous.”

That disclosure only made Quinton more protective. “Of course she's nervous. A madman is trying to kill her.” For his part, Quinton found himself observing every shadow, studying every face he passed, constantly listening for whispers.

“That only emphasizes my point,” Warren insisted. “Her life is now at an all-time low—when from what I can tell, it was low enough from birth.”

Quinton tensed, fighting the urge to take his uncle apart. “I'm not listening to this, Warren. You're dead wrong. Now drop it.”

“It's a fifteen-thousand-dollar bracelet, Quinton. I can't just pretend it didn't happen.”

“Ashley didn't take it. You probably misplaced it somewhere.”

He took a step nearer to Quinton. “I left it right there in my coat pocket.” His hands balled into fists. “It's worth enough to set her life straight, to give her a fresh start. I'm telling you, she took it.”

Quinton turned back to Warren. So there'd be no misunderstandings, he narrowed his eyes and infused his tone with grave sobriety. “Listen carefully, Warren. I know you don't like her; you've made that plain enough. But I won't tolerate your idiotic accusations. You'll be polite to Ashley, you'll accept her, or our relationship will suffer.”

“That's absurd!”

“I've asked Ashley to live with me. She's an important person in my life. Deal with it.”

Warren backed up to a chair and fell into it. “You're joking.”

“No.”

“But that's…”

Quinton cut him off. “You were warned, Uncle Warren.”

He snapped his mouth shut, then watched Quinton in stunned silence until, in a huff, he stood and stomped back into the inner office. He slammed the door so hard that it didn't catch and instead bounced open again.

Quinton stared at that door, wishing his uncle could be just a little easier to deal with.

“Am I catching you at a bad time?”

Quinton jerked around and found Ashley standing in the doorway. She looked…dreadful. Pale and limp, and pinched with worry.

“Of course not.” Had she heard his uncle's ravings? “Ashley, I—”

“I need to talk to you, Quinton.”

She sounded so upset, he started toward her. “Are you all right?”

“No!” She held up a hand to keep him at a distance. “Please. Just…stay there.”

Had Elton threatened her again? Had that bastard gotten near her?

Disregarding her order to keep away, Quinton stormed up to her. “What's happened?” he demanded. “What's wrong?”

But when he reached for her, she ducked his hands and backed up as if in fear.

“Ashley?”

Her delicate throat worked as she swallowed. She held her cast bent close to her waist, and with her right hand, hugged herself. “I have to tell you something.”

“Elton?”

“No.”
She shook her head hard. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to think…It has nothing to do with him.”

With her behaving so oddly, Quinton felt not one iota of relief. She wasn't even looking at him, he realized. She stared at his throat. “All right, Ashley.” He retreated to lean against his desk. “This sounds serious.”

“It is.” She turned her back on him but immediately faced him again. “I'm sorry. Please believe that. I didn't mean for it to happen and I…”

Good God. Quinton stared at her, every sick suspicion worming through his mind. “Sorry about
what?”

She rubbed at her forehead, practically in tears when usually, nothing got her weepy. “If I didn't feel so wretched, I'm sure I could do this better. But I was sick again and…” She dropped her hand. “Don't be angry with me. Please.”

Unease stiffened Quinton's spine. He'd never heard Ashley be so apologetic, and hearing it now actually scared him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She nodded, curled her hand into a fist. “I have a confession.”

Those four words echoed in his head like a bass drumbeat: loud, hollow, and deep. Seconds ticked by while he ran through a dozen possible scenarios, but only the worst conclusions came to mind. “A confession?”

“I hope you'll understand. It's not something I planned. It just sort of happened.” And with desperation, “I'd never want to betray your trust.”

His heart began thumping too hard. “I do understand.” If she took the bracelet, she had to have a damn good reason. Never would she steal for personal gain, so it had to have something to do with Elton. Was he somehow blackmailing her?

“I know this isn't the best place for a private conversation, but I was afraid that if I waited until we were home, I'd lose my nerve.” Her mouth trembled. “This isn't easy.”

His patience ran out. “Why don't you just tell me what you're talking about?”

“Okay.” She reached into her purse. “But first, I…I have to give you something.”

Warren erupted from the inner office. “I
knew
it.”

Jesus. He'd forgotten all about his uncle. Quinton didn't think he could draw in a deep enough breath, but he managed to growl, “Shut up, Warren.”

Ashley backed up, appalled to see that they weren't alone after all. “Warren. You're still here? I thought…that is, I just assumed you were gone.”

“Not without my belongings.”

She turned to Quinton with pleading eyes. “This is a private matter, Quinton. I need to talk to you alone.”

Warren advanced on her. “You stole my bracelet. Admit it, and then give it back, and maybe I won't press charges. For my nephew, you understand. Out of consideration for him.”

Appearing lost, Ashley glowered at him. “What are you blathering on about?”

Quinton caught her shoulder. “Warren, you will back the hell up, shut the hell up, or I swear to you, you'll be sorry.”

Holding up his hands, smug in his vindication, Warren went to a chair and sat. He gestured for Quinton to continue.

Ashley looked from Warren to Quinton. “What's going on here?”

“As if you don't know,” Warren piped in again. “You've all but admitted to it.”

“Admitted to
what?”

“You with your grand confession. Your big secret. You hope Quinton will forgive you, and God help him, he probably will. But I insist you return the bracelet immediately.”

Quinton took two long strides to reach Warren and he hauled him out of the chair by his arm.
“Get out.”

Ashley said, “No.”

They both turned to her.

To Quinton's surprise, all signs of nervousness and fear were gone, replaced by chilling pride. “I want to hear what your uncle has to say.”

She was so impassive, so…alone, that Quinton couldn't bear it. “You don't have to do this, honey. We'll talk about it alone, in private, as you asked.”

“It?”

“My damn bracelet that you stole,” Warren supplied, and Quinton wanted to strangle him.

“Ah, so I'm a thief again?” Ashley laughed at Quinton's dark expression. “Oh, come on, Quinton. Don't kill him because you agree with him.”

Damn it, why could things never be easy with this particular woman? “I don't.”

She laughed again, the sound hollow and hurt. “Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes. Some bauble is missing, and you think I took it.”

“I…” Quinton stopped, gave himself a moment to gather his thoughts, then asked calmly, “Did you?”

For a single instant, she looked as though he'd struck her. But it was only an instant, then her eyes sparked with anger, her shoulders went back, and her chin lifted. “How many times do we have to go over this, Murphy? I'm not a thief.”

“Then what do you have to give him,” Warren demanded, “if not my bracelet? What is this big tearful confession you want to make, if not that you stole from me?”

“It doesn't matter,” Quinton barked at him, again ready to toss him out on his ear. “She said she didn't take it, and that's it.”

“Let me put his mind at ease.” Ashley strolled over while withdrawing a piece of paper. She snapped it open. “I was going to show Quinton my letter of resignation for this job. In two weeks, I won't be working here anymore.”

She'd quit one of the jobs? Quinton's first reaction was elation—but Ashley's expression kept all joy at bay.

“I'm glad,” he told her. “You work too hard.”

Warren, however, wasn't satisfied. “Do you plan to make up lost income with the sale of
my
bracelet?”

“I work for what I want, you ass.”

The insult affected Warren mightily, given his outraged gasp. “I don't believe you. Why the hell would you apologize for quitting a job? That doesn't make any sense. Why would that require my nephew's forgiveness?”