by Tricia Jones
“I’d have thought if the package was addressed to you, you’d have a right to know about it.”
“Exactly.” Mia let out another breath, comforted to know another woman understood her feelings. “But he doesn’t get that.”
“They seldom do.” Lily gave a resigned sigh and a worldly expression that made Mia bite back a smile. “He’s hot as hell, though.”
And the real Lily is back, Mia thought giving in to the smile. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Are you going to call him then?”
Mia shrugged. She wanted to because she really missed him. Which was weird seeing he hadn’t exactly been in her life for that long. “Not sure.”
“I’d call,” Lily decided with a sneaky expression on her face. “But make him work for it.”
“How do I do that?” Mia couldn’t believe her lack of experience in this area, compared with the younger Lily who obviously had a wealth of it.
“Hmm. Be a little offhand, as if you’re doing him a real favor condescending to speak with him. And withhold any favors for a while, if you get my drift. That goes without saying.”
Mortified, Mia felt her cheeks heat. “Bloody hell, Lily.”
“They have to learn. It’s for their own good. We owe it to the sisterhood to train men for the next woman that comes along.”
Mia didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t want to think of Saul with another woman. Hell. What was happening to her? Why should she care that much? It was a temporary thing between them. Until he went back to New York.
But it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. Along with that came the realization that she had feelings for him. Despite everything. And if the sense of loss she felt at losing him was any indication, those feelings weren’t going away anytime soon.
She already knew that she’d soon be dialing his number. That she wouldn’t be able to resist talking to him, seeing him again.
“Okay. I’ll call him after my tutorial.” When Lily clapped her hands, Mia smiled. “And I’ll try and remember your advice.”
****
Saul felt like he was between the devil and the proverbial deep blue sea. Doomed if he did and even more doomed if he didn’t.
Mia had finally called, which was just as well seeing as he was on the verge of storming over to the university and demanding she speak with him. The conversation had been stilted; she was still pretty pissed with him. But at least she’d agreed to meet him in the park during her lunch break.
He stood waiting in line at the sandwich bar, staring at the blackboard and trying to decide what type of filling Mia would prefer in her sandwich. He’d better get it right, seeing as he had some major sucking up to do.
Damn. He wasn’t sure how to play it. Apologize for not telling her about her father meeting with Colcannon? And if by chance she accepted the apology, what was he supposed to do then?
Because he was about to do the very same thing all over again. Lie to her. By omission.
Ten minutes later, he sat waiting on a park bench recalling his conversation with Armstrong Freeman. While he didn’t doubt he’d done the right thing by telling Mia’s father about the letter he’d received, he strongly doubted agreeing with Armstrong’s request not to tell Mia about it or its contents. And with that agreement he’d dived straight back into dangerous waters, because any bridges he built with Mia now would be destroyed if she found out.
Saul looked down at the brown carrier bag containing sandwiches and soft drinks. He wished he’d taken the time to nip into a bar and down himself a large whisky. Maybe that might have calmed the nerves charging around in his gut.
Sensing her, he turned and watched her enter the nearby gate. Something squeezed in his chest as she spotted him and started toward him. The slight breeze blew her hair around her face, flapped the long raincoat around her legs. She strode toward him on sensible flat shoes, her long legs eating up the ground. She was all he saw. So damned magnificent, that she took his breath away. Everything around him disappeared into a blur of nothingness, of shadows, of unimportance. There was only her.
His stomach, on edge with unease moments ago, now leapt with something entirely more pleasurable, even his heart thumped wildly in accompaniment.
Shit, he thought willing himself to breathe. He was in deep trouble and, what was worse, he didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
“I don’t have long.” She sat inches away from him on the bench. “So let’s just say what we have to and get on with it.”
Saul wondered if a slap across the face with a wet towel could have jolted him from his reverie any faster than her brusque tone. Since he didn’t entirely know what response to give, he offered her the bag. “I got tuna mayo or cheese and tomato.” When she only stared at him, he shrugged. “I figured we may as well eat as we talk.”
Without moving her head, she peered down into the bag, then reached for the packet containing cheese and tomato and also selected a bottle of water.
Turning away to face the park, she laid the sandwich packet in her lap and snapped off the top of the bottle to take a small sip. “No sign of rent-a-cop,” she said haughtily. “I suppose Dad must have called off his hound at last.”
Saul looked toward the gate. “I called him and told him you’d be with me during lunch, so he could go grab a bite to eat.”
Her chilly glance could have frozen ice. “Well, aren’t we all chummy? Sharing phone numbers and secrets. Still, I suppose boys will be boys.”
Okay, Saul thought. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she was obviously prepared to make him crawl. The unease splintered back into his stomach. He needed to apologize, make it right between them, but dammit, he didn’t want to lie to her any more. She deserved a whole lot better than that.
Saul took out the remaining bottle of water and uncapped it. “I never meant for you to be hurt by all this.”
Still looking out toward the park, she huffed. “Well, that’s all right then, isn’t it? As long as you didn’t mean it.”
“That’s not…” Shit. He wasn’t exactly off to a stellar start. He took a moment to recall the words he’d mentally rehearsed on the way over here, every single one of them having disappeared from his head the moment he set eyes on her again. “There seemed no point in worrying you until I knew what the relationship was between your father and Colcannon.”
“Yet you didn’t seem at all hesitant in questioning me to see if I knew. What were you planning, to put my take in your seedy little article? Maybe you thought you could throw some dirt on my father into the process and get yourself a double whammy of a story.”
Saul balked at the accusation and felt his temper smart. “That’s not how it was, and you know it.”
“I don’t know anything,” she said, that pretty chin stuck into the air. “Except that you think you can play me. Treat me like I’m some naïve woman you can sweet talk into delivering the information you need for a story.”
“Where the hell are you getting all this?”
“It’s the truth.”
His temper hiked. To hell with a gentle approach. “I screwed up, okay? I get that. But you’re not about to sit there and accuse me of being some low life who coerced you into doing my bidding.”
She turned sharply, her expression thunderous but her eyes full of hurt. “You did coerce me,” she snapped. “You questioned me, when all the time you had answers which you didn’t deign to share with me. Even though this concerns me, and for some reason it concerns my family. It has nothing to do with you other than making some juicy fodder for a story. Your passport to getting back to where you really want to be.”
Because his whole body thrummed with anger, Saul threw aside the bag and stood. He paced a little, working off some of the temper. He took a few deep breaths. “You really believe that?” he demanded. “You believe that my only interest in all this is because of a story?”
“Why wouldn’t I? That’s why you’re in London, isn’t i
t?”
Her eyes were like a wildfire, but hurt simmered beneath the anger. It calmed his own temper like salve to a wound. “I’m here to get a story.” He sat next to her again. “But I also want to help you, Mia.”
He wanted—needed—to reach for her. To feel her hand soft in his, to let her warmth heat the coldness in his veins that had been there since he’d left her last night. But she sat stiff and unyielding, her fingers curled tightly around the bottle of water.
Subtly, he shifted closer. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She swallowed, but turned her head away from him. “What did you talk about with my father?”
It was Saul’s turn to swallow. In truth he hadn’t expected the question, assuming Armstrong would have told her about their discussion. The man had promised to explain as much as he could.
“I told him everything I knew.” Which was true. He had revealed everything to Armstrong—the notes, the gift, the stalker, the photo of him with Colcannon…and he’d also told him about the note from a man claiming to be the source of the correspondence Mia had received.
The only person who didn’t know everything was Mia.
The sting of disloyalty pierced hard through his chest, but he couldn’t break the promise he’d made to Armstrong. He had to trust him to do the best for his daughter, although Saul knew the man was hiding something that had the potential to devastate her.
Saul only hoped she’d let him be around to pick up the pieces.
Mia turned to him. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you tell him everything?”
“Because he had the right to know.”
“And you wanted answers,” she scoffed. “You wanted to know in what capacity he’d met with Colcannon.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you?”
“Yes. He said he’d warned the man to lay off you once and for all.”
Mia gave a slow nod. “Are you going to use it in your story?”
Saul frowned. “Why the hell would I?”
“You want to bring down Colcannon. That’s the whole point of investigating him, isn’t it? By having the additional information that he blackmails people, seeks revenge by using a man’s daughter against him for something that happened God knows how long ago, well I’d think that would add some juice.”
“I’m a damn reporter,” he fumed. “Not some tabloid joker looking for sleaze.”
She looked down at her lap and flicked at the edge of the sandwich’s cellophane wrapper.
Because he couldn’t hold back any longer, Saul took her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said again, propelled by the fact she didn’t snatch her hand back. “Really sorry I hurt you.”
“I’ll get over it.” She looked to where his hand caught hers then up to meet his gaze. “But I won’t tolerate secrets and lies, Saul, especially when they directly concern me.”
Saul swallowed through a tight throat. Her eyes looked so deeply into his that for one terrifying moment he feared she might see the very next lie lining up, and with her father as an accomplice. Using his free hand, he touched her face and ran his finger down the softness of her cheek.
It came to him then, a feeling deep from his core that he’d reached for but had never been able to grasp. Now it glowed in him. A knowingness. A strength. Yet so fragile it had to be nurtured, protected, cherished.
He brought his mouth to hers, touched her lips, feeling the tremble shiver through her, through him. “I understand that,” he said with a clarity that reached from his brain to his toes.
And he did understand. His only problem now was how to convince Armstrong Freeman that his daughter needed to know what they planned to do next.
Chapter Seventeen
Mia knew she should let the whole thing drop. Since her conversation with Saul she’d tried to put it from her mind but something still niggled. Both her father and Saul had given her almost identical recollections of their conversation. In fact it was almost as if they’d rehearsed the whole thing word for word. But what they didn’t say was glaring in its absence.
She’d spent the previous evening with Saul. After they’d had supper at a restaurant near her home, and with Lily’s recommendation ringing in her ears, she had been determined not to sleep with him or go back to his place.
Annoyingly he hadn’t seemed put out about it. She had the strangest feeling he was also keeping her at arm’s length, which, in view of how they’d been with each other since meeting, was very disconcerting and almost unbelievable.
It only added to her suspicions that something was still amiss in the whole affair.
Maybe it was time to start making investigations of her own. See what she could glean from following up on some of the questions she couldn’t quite shake from her mind. All she had to do was know where to start. Which was easy enough. She’d go straight to the source. To the instigator. Roger Colcannon.
She waited until Lily took her morning break, then closed the door to the office and walked around her desk. She picked up the phone but halted with it in mid-air. How did one go about gaining access to a leading politician? And one expected to become the leader of the opposition?
Replacing the phone, she drummed her fingers on the desk. Saul would know of course—not that she was about to ask. He’d either try and convince her she was best letting the matter rest or, if he even so much as sniffed a new lead in the story, go off all gung-ho and take matters into his own hands. She could just see him now, barging in with all guns blazing. Telling her not to worry because he’d sort it all out.
To hell with that.
She left her office and headed down the corridor in the direction of Malcolm Tooby, lecturer in political studies. He’d know whom to contact. Plus, he wouldn’t ask too many questions. Even if he did, she could say she wanted to write on a matter of concern about university funding or some such. She didn’t really know what she’d say if he asked, but hopefully she could bluff her way through it.
She and Malcolm had joined the university within a few weeks of each other and had struck up a bond. They’d often shared supper or gone to the cinema together to see the latest blockbuster that Mia thought she should see to keep up with Lily and her students. Since Malcolm was homosexual, there was a genuine friendship without any sexual overtones and expectations.
Half an hour later, and having bribed Malcolm with a coffee and cake from the campus restaurant, she was in possession of not only a contact, but a direct number to Colcannon’s office. Malcolm, bless him, hadn’t even asked her why she needed it.
Mia sent Lily off on an errand and closed the door to her office again. She dialed the number, half surprised when she got through the first time. She gave the assistant her name, number, and when questioned stated her business as being of a confidential and personal nature. After being told her message would be passed through to the office of Roger Colcannon and that someone would respond in due course, Mia hung up and leaned back in her chair.
Now that she had taken the first steps toward making her own investigations, she felt slightly queasy. Again, she wished for Saul and to be able to run it past him, to get him to assure her that she’d done the right thing. Not that he would, of course, but she suddenly felt so alone. And maybe a little scared. There really was nobody she could tell. Nobody to support her in this.
All she could do now was focus on work and wait for the phone to ring. Knowing that, she picked up a student folder and tried to concentrate on marking assignments.
****
Saul arrived at the hotel bar early, took a seat, and settled down to wait. His mood wasn’t particularly amiable, and hadn’t been since he’d kissed Mia goodbye last night. The weight of his deception sat like a brick on his chest. He’d told her he understood her need not to be lied to again or to have things kept from her, and yet here he was committing an act of deception that would make his omission about her father’s photo look like kid’s stuff.
Last night he’
d felt he didn’t deserve to touch her. He’d considered it poetic justice when she bid him goodnight with a chaste kiss. Guilt could slice a man to the core.
He looked up as Armstrong strode into the bar, his face a mask of polite incongruity. He had asked Saul to meet with him before the other man arrived, no doubt so he could have one last attempt at convincing Saul to let him deal with this on his own. Armstrong didn’t seem enamored with the idea that the man had specifically requested the meeting with Saul alone, and since Armstrong had tried in every way possible to persuade him to back off, Saul had only dug his heels in harder, his reporter’s instincts screaming. Whatever information this man had, Armstrong didn’t want Saul to know about it. But since it linked directly to Mia, he wasn’t walking away.
Armstrong looked around the bar and Saul raised his hand, getting to his feet as Mia’s father approached the table.
“O’Donnell.”
“Sir.”
The waiter took their order for coffee then left.
“Thank you for meeting me earlier than arranged. I wanted us to talk before this man arrives. I can only hope what he has to say will bring the situation to a close once and for all.”
Saul nodded.
“I hope you understand my reasons for keeping Mia out of this. I understand it places you in an untenable position, especially since she blames you for not telling her about my meeting with Colcannon.”
“I understand that you want to protect her,” Saul offered. “But I don’t want to lie to her anymore. She has a right to know what’s going on.”
“Even if knowing it breaks her heart?”
“Look, I don’t know what’s at the heart of all this, sir, but I know Mia can deal with a whole lot more than you give her credit for.”
Armstrong gave a weary sigh. “I wish I could tell you the whole story, but what happened was a long time ago. It won’t do anyone any good for those repercussions to impact upon the present day. Believe me, son, in view of your relationship with my daughter, you would be best not knowing anything further. I’m asking you one more time to allow me to deal with this alone.”
