If I Loved You

by Kress, Alyssa

The police! Zane's eyes widened. Lisa Cranston had nerve. Her husband might be guilty of murder, yet she was willing to have the police come and dive into the whole mess?

  "Actually," Pattie said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'd like to talk to the police."

  Oh, no, she wouldn't. Not when she and Zane had so little to show for all their suspicions. "Pattie," he said, low.

  She sniffed. "I'm not afraid of the police."

  "No, not if we're outside," Zane agreed. "But while we're inside, we're trespassing." Thinking Mrs. Cranston perfectly capable of braving the cops, Zane took Pattie's arm.

  She resisted his gentle tug, throwing him a dirty look. "I'm not afraid."

  "But I am," he claimed. "I don't want to be arrested." He paused, thinking quickly. "Come on, Pattie. We don't want to let them be in the right."

  That idea got through. Her haughty stance faltered. "They aren't in the right. Savannah wasn't—"

  "I know, I know," Zane soothed, though he had no idea what Pattie could deny about her sister. "But that's not how the police will look at it, at least not today."

  She gazed directly into Zane's eyes. The moment seemed like forever, but was probably only a second. In that second, Zane saw the vulnerability Pattie was struggling so fiercely to hide. She was actually hurt by the way her sister had been characterized. Then the moment ended and a mask of scorn fell over her face.

  She shook off his hand. "Okay, fine. We're leaving." Whirling toward the door, she abruptly changed tack, adding, "As if I would let anything regarding Savannah get me in the slightest bit of trouble."

  Zane had to jog to keep up with her as she swept from the room, down the marble hall, and out the front door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Even though Pattie was ahead of Zane as she stalked out of the Cranstons' mega-mansion, she knew he was calm. He was super cool and controlled. Despite all the garbage Ted Cranston and his witch of a wife had spouted, Zane had kept it together.

  His composure annoyed the hell out of her as she angrily negotiated the granite stepping stones and came to a stop at the curb. For her part, she was shaking like a leaf.

  She was shaking in anger, of course. Lisa Cranston was a pure piece of work. There she'd stood, cold as ice, and claimed all the blame for the scandal was Savannah's. Please! Oh, sure, Savannah'd been no saint, but she couldn't have gotten pregnant all by herself. Ted Cranston—married man—had certainly done his part. And no doubt he'd done it with enthusiasm.

  Deliberately stepping off Cranston property and onto the street, Pattie turned toward Zane. He was wearing his best game face. Yeah, as if he hadn't misbehaved at all.

  Her lips pressed together. She'd arrived this afternoon with the decision to try acting more reasonable with Zane. She didn't want to behave like a crazy woman. But look where it had gotten her. He'd barged right into her conversation with Cranston, babbling some nonsense about Pattie having done the right thing. As usual, Zane had acted the part of a knight rescuing a damsel in distress.

  She hadn't been in the slightest distress. Pissed off, maybe, but not distressed.

  After stepping off the curb to stand in the untrafficked street with her, Zane took her arm.

  She pulled away. "No, no. Don't worry. I've left the premises. Not trying to shove my way back. I don't need restraint."

  An odd expression—hurt?—crossed Zane's face. He lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay."

  Pattie closed her eyes and breathed. She felt way out of kilter, she wasn't even sure why—or maybe there were too many reasons why. She also felt at a severe disadvantage. Why couldn't Zane be a little upset, too?

  "That was a complete waste of time," she declared, opening her eyes again. "Pah! At least we can give Bob the Builder Cranston's address, though, so she can collect her judgment for the money he owes her." Heat blasted up from the asphalt of the wide street—or maybe that was just Pattie's temper still riding high. "But we didn't learn a damn thing, on top of which now Cranston has an alibi for the night Savannah died."

  Shoving his hands into his front pockets, Zane blew out a breath. "True."

  Pattie narrowed her eyes. He was unflappable. Ah, but she wanted him closer to her own state of mind. She wanted him off-balance, too, so she wouldn't have to feel so...weak. "Why didn't you stay out of it?" she demanded, adding forcefully, "Like you promised."

  She figured the reference to a promise broken would get through his calm. Hopefully, he'd get annoyed enough he wouldn't think to point out the obvious. If he had, in fact, stayed out of it, she'd probably be sitting in the back of a police car right now.

  But Zane didn't lose his cool. "You're right, I did promise." He shook his head. "But I couldn't stand there and let Cranston say you'd done anything wrong. You haven't. From top to bottom you've actually done right by everybody."

  To Pattie's horror, Zane's words brought hot tears to her eyes.

  She didn't want to break down. Not now. It might have been understandable if she'd broken down in Cranston's living room, but it'd be ridiculous now, just because Zane was praising her.

  Quickly, she averted her gaze. "Yeah, right. I've done everything just perfect...that's why I still don't have a scrap of evidence that anyone killed Savannah."

  "No, we don't have any evidence, but my money's on Cranston for Savannah's overdose."

  To her mortification, Pattie's tears surged forth again. Zane took it for granted Savannah hadn't killed herself, even by accident.

  Dammit, could he stop being so nice? He was making it very hard to keep her composure. She drew in a deep breath. "What if Cranston isn't the one?"

  Zane blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "What if Cranston isn't the one who fed Savannah that overdose?" The idea popped into Pattie's head, not as a serious thought, but as a way to shift Zane from this tear-producing stuff, and hopefully lure him into an argument.

  It worked. With a quick glance over his shoulder toward the Cranston residence, Zane took Pattie's arm and started them walking down the street toward her car, parked a house away. With a deep scowl, he muttered, "You can't think that. Yet another person with motive to murder Savannah?"

  Pattie was so pleased she'd disturbed his calm that she put up with his arm hold. "Why can't I think it?" Now that she'd floated the idea, it kind of made sense. "Cranston can try lying he wasn't at the same party as Savannah that night, and even his wife can lie—but if he'd actually been there, the lie would fall apart. Someone would have seen him. I think he's telling the truth." Okay, maybe he was telling the truth, Pattie added to herself. It was a possibility.

  Zane stopped beneath the banana tree that shaded Pattie's car. Behind him, large spreading leaves framed the concern on his face. "But he's got all the motivation in the world to have killed her."

  Pattie shrugged. "For all we know, someone out there has even more." The idea she still had a chance to nail Savannah's killer was greatly appealing. It was far more appealing than the idea she'd just gotten kicked out of the living room of a guy she'd never be able to pin with the crime.

  "But you can't— No—" Zane finally looked ruffled. Unfortunately, his dismay didn't last long. He stopped himself with a brisk shake of the head. Pattie watched him take a deep breath and grab back his self-possession. "Okay," he muttered, then gave her a grave look. "I know what's going on here."

  "Huh?"

  "Pattie." He spoke in a strange, gentle tone. "You can keep looking for your sister's killer, but it isn't going to do you any good. It isn't going to bring her back."

  "What?" Startled, Pattie took a step backward. "Bring her back? I'm not trying to bring Savannah back."

  "I think maybe in a way you are." Zane was still using that strange, gentle tone. His face looked all soft and understanding. "I'd thought I understood why you were looking for Savannah's murderer, but I was wrong."

  If he supposed he was reassuring her, he was mistaken. He was having the exact opposite effect. Deep inside Pattie's frustration and an
ger, a seed of terror sprouted. "I don't know what you're talking about." And she had a powerful feeling she didn't want to know.

  But he told her anyway. "I thought you simply wanted to do the right thing, but that's not it at all. You've been searching for the truth about your sister's death because, despite everything, you loved her."

  The seed of terror inside Pattie burst. "I loved Savannah?" Emotion narrowed her voice to a harsh whisper. "That's what you think? I loved her?"

  Zane gave her a tired smile. "She was your sister."

  "She was my—" Pattie's throat got too tight to go on. How could he say this? How could he say something so— outrageous? She'd loved Savannah? She would have to own rock-bottom self-esteem in order to love someone who'd worked so hard to damage her. Pattie wasn't that kind of a loser.

  But apparently Zane thought she was.

  "I didn't love Savannah," she shot back. "I hated her."

  Zane's tired smile froze.

  Gasping in a breath, Pattie drew herself straight. Horror slammed into her. Had she just admitted that? Out loud? Loving Savannah would be outrageous, but her hatred was almost as shameful. It was humiliating to feel so much emotion about her sister.

  Naturally, it was Zane who'd pushed her into such an awful confession.

  Meanwhile, his expression unfroze. His eyes filled with compassion. "Pattie..." He held out a hand.

  Furious, she slapped his outstretched hand away. "I don't want your sympathy." How dare he offer it? Her embarrassing emotional state was all his fault. Now she wanted to scream, and she hated that. She hated feeling so—out-of-control.

  "Oh, you must be happy now." Her voice was a mere whisper. "Happy you broke me."

  His head snapped back as if she'd struck him. "What—?"

  "That's what you wanted, isn't it? Me down. Me broken."

  "I wanted you broken?"

  "Right." Pattie sneered. "So I'd need you."

  His mouth opened. For a moment Pattie thought she'd finally cut through his maddening self-control. She felt a thrill of excitement, together with a rush of fear.

  But then he closed his mouth tight, so tight the muscles in his jaw jumped. In a quiet voice he said, "You're right."

  Pattie's nostrils flared. He was admitting it?

  "I do want you to need me." Zane's jaw muscles worked again. "I want you to depend on me. I want you to feel you can." He drew in a deep breath. "I want you to trust me."

  Pattie stopped breathing. Trust? Trust? Was he saying she wasn't supposed to mind being broken? Not mind lying wide open with all her faults and flaws exposed? She was supposed to trust he would like and accept her anyway?

  Maybe it was because she was already so worked up, but a surprising emotion crashed over her, an emotion she'd never expected.

  Yearning.

  What if she could do that? Not mind feeling broken. Instead, trust it was okay if she were cracked and chipped. Believe a person could accept her despite her imperfections.

  Of course, the idea was ridiculous. Nobody could like her that much. For heaven's sake, she wasn't likable. Look at the way she was behaving right now!

  Swallowing, she took another step back. She was almost around the other side of her car now while Zane still stood by the curb. The distance felt good to her, safe. "I don't do trust."

  He inclined his head. "I know." Raising his chin, he looked at her. "I thought you might learn, but I was kidding myself. You aren't interested."

  Pattie had no idea what he meant, but she got the picture. She hadn't come up to snuff.

  He let out a long breath. "I've been fooling myself. And in the process, I did you a disservice. I tried to push you into a place you didn't want to be. I'm sorry for that."

  Pattie's lungs felt heavy. He was giving up on her. Of course, ultimately, that's what she wanted. She didn't want this horrible vulnerability he kept pushing on her.

  And yet a part of her felt deeply disappointed. He wasn't supposed to agree with her. He was supposed to argue with her, try to persuade her to do that scary thing and trust him. He was supposed to convince her that her life could have an entirely different flavor if only she tried.

  Instead, he was dumping her.

  She cleared her throat and stiffened her shoulders. If he was dumping her, she knew what to do. "I'm sorry, too," she claimed. It was obviously the right thing to say. Big. And yet all of her felt heavy now, almost too heavy to move.

  Zane shook his head. "It's not your fault. You— Well, you are who you are." He gave her a small smile. "A person who doesn't need me."

  Pattie stiffened her lips to keep them from trembling. "I don't need anybody." This was very true. She'd never needed anyone: not her parents, not Savannah, and certainly not Zane. She couldn't afford to need them, because none of them had ever come through.

  No, when it came right down to it, not even Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor Zane.

  "Goodbye, Pattie." He stepped up onto the curb and looked down at her. "I won't be trying to break you any more. I won't bother you at all." Then he turned, jumped back off the curb and crossed the street.

  That's it. He was through, and she was alone again. All alone.

  Tears were terrifyingly close. But she held it together as she stood there and watched him stride toward his hornet-green Porsche, his posture strong and straight. There he went, a man who'd almost been able to put up with her, but in the end...not quite.

  Only when he got to the car did Pattie quickly turn. She didn't want the slightest chance they'd meet eyes again. What would be the point? He was gone. As gone as if he were on the moon.

  She'd been wondering what it would take to get him to reject her. It looked like she'd just found out.

  ~~~

  Loosening his tie, Zane sank into the big leather easy chair in his living room. Deliberately, he kept an appearance of calm, despite the fact there was no one around to notice.

  Besides, he actually was calm, wasn't he? Nothing very unexpected had happened half an hour ago. Certainly, nothing had happened that wasn't overdue.

  He'd broken off his unhealthy relationship with Pattie Bowen—if it had even been a relationship at all. There was no reason to feel sorrowful or upset. He'd done the right thing.

  But it was a pisser how doing the right thing made a person feel like shit.

  On the easy chair, he grimaced, yanked the tie completely off, and pulled out his cell phone. After blowing out a breath, he hit the speed dial for NannyOnTheGo. No point putting off his next unpleasant task.

  "Kincaid here," he said when Darla, the receptionist, picked up the line. He noticed his voice was slightly deeper than usual. "I need to talk to the boss."

  "Aren't you on a job?"

  Zane looked up at the ceiling. "Not any more."

  "Oh." Darla sounded suitably surprised. "I'll put you right through."

  The boss, Alexa, didn't keep Zane waiting. Soon he was explaining to her why the agency no longer needed to supply nanny services to one Pattie Bowen. Though he was making it up on the spot, all of it was true. The school year was starting and Tristan, toilet-trained, was mature enough to be enrolled in a full-day program. The child didn't need a nanny any more. Zane assumed Pattie would figure this out on her own. But even if she didn't, her problems didn't concern him now.

  She'd made herself crystal clear: she didn't need him, not for anything.

  A lump formed in his throat. Deliberately, Zane swallowed it down. Come on. No need to get maudlin here. On the contrary. Pattie had been a mistake. She didn't need or trust him as a companion, partner, or simply her man. She'd said so, straight out. She was the exact opposite of what he needed.

  It had been healthy—it had been necessary—to separate from her. True, he hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to Tristan, but that was probably for the best. He was out of the child's life anyway; why put him through an emotional wringer over the fact?

  But Zane's hand tightened on the phone. He'd liked the kid, dammit. Closing his eyes, he
drew in a deep breath. Fine. But now it was time to get back to reality. He'd spent too long already in a different zone.

  Gazing at the tie he still held in one hand, Zane shook his head. "I'm sorry, Alexa. What did you say? Another job?"

  Zane did his best to listen while Alexa described a frazzled career mother in Thousand Oaks who needed full-time help with her infant twins. "It's right up your alley," Alexa gushed.

  It was? Taking care of other people's children was up his alley?

  Playing second string?

  Out of nowhere, a plume of anger rose. Wasn't he good enough to make first string, to play the major role in somebody's life? To play it in Pattie's? Why couldn't she accept him?

  His tie knotted through his fingers as he breathed through the irrational rage. Hell, what had attracted him to Pattie in the first place had been her feisty independence. He could hardly blame her now for staying true to character. It was more his fault for thinking she'd ever change. Why had he thought that?

  With difficulty, Zane zoned back in to his conversation with Alexa. "Thousand Oaks?" he asked, as if a commute to this neighborhood were any worse than the one he'd been making to Pattie's place in Pico-Robertson. "I'll...have to think about it."

  "Think about it? Oh. Um— Then we'll talk again—?"

  "Tomorrow," Zane promised, even while suspecting that when he next spoke to Alexa he'd be giving her his resignation.

  Nannying had lost its appeal.

  Zane turned off the phone and stared at the opposite wall. Inside he felt cold and barren. So. He wasn't with Pattie any more, not with Tristan any more, and soon not to be a nanny any more.

  He was unattached to anything. He supposed one could call him free.

  Right. Zane's lips twisted. Free. That made it all sound more palatable.

  Damn it. He wondered what the hell he was going to do with himself now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The wraparound windows at Starbucks displayed the noon traffic of early October struggling up and down Robertson Boulevard. Pattie sucked mint frappuccino up a straw and tried not to think about the five hundred-dollar bills folded in her purse, money she was waiting to hand over to Bree for yet another week of printing the Hollywood Rattler.