Murphy's Law

by Lori Foster

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?”

  At her sarcastic best, Ashley laughed. “It’s Murphy’s Law, ya know? I had more to say to Quinton besides quitting this job, and like an idiot, I chose the same time that your stupid bracelet goes missing. Of course, I had no way of knowing I’d be blamed for something like that—”

  “It’s not a stupid bracelet,” Warren charged. “It’s worth over fifteen thousand dollars.”

  Ashley whistled. “Fifteen grand? And you lost it? Damn, Warren, you should be more careful.”

  His teeth locked. “You took it.”

  “That’s it.” Ashley propped her good arm on her hip. “I’m damn tired of hearing you say that. If you believe it, call the cops. Right now.” She strode to the desk, picked up the phone, and tossed it toward Warren. It almost struck him, but at the last second he caught it, juggling it a second or two before getting a firm hold on it.

  “Maybe I will,” Warren threatened.

  Ashley’s smile looked more like a snarl. “I insist that you do.”

  Quinton knew he had to take control of the situation before it entirely exploded. He could feel Ashley’s emotional retreat, could feel her slipping away from him, and he refused to let that happen.

  With iron will and forced calm, he said, “No one is calling the cops.”

  “If he doesn’t, I will.” Ashley tightened her mouth. “I don’t have anything to hide. And I’ll be damned before I stand here accused.”

  Adrianna appeared in the doorway. “Accused of what? What’s going on here?”

  Warren clammed up, but Ashley had plenty to say. She gestured toward Warren. “This idiot thinks I lifted his stupid bracelet. He even has Quinton convinced.”

  “He does not,” Quinton denied.

  She rounded on him, vibrating with fury. “Don’t you lie to me, Murphy. You think I took it.” Her voice broke and she went red in the face. “After everything, you still believe I’d do something like that.”

  “You were ready to confess!” Warren reminded her.

  Once again, Quinton tried to take control. “Adrianna, get Warren out of here before I strangle him. And Ashley, for God’s sake, stop jumping to conclusions about my thoughts.”

  Ashley opened her mouth—and Adrianna said, “I took it.”

  Everyone turned to her in shock.

  “That’s right. Me. I took the bracelet.” Her stride long and graceful in her spiked heels, she glided through to the inner office.

  Mouth hanging open, Warren followed her as far as the door.

  Adrianna went to her desk, opened a drawer, and lifted out a beautiful gift box. It came winging through the doorway and smacked Warren in the belly. He said, “ Oof” and let it fall to the floor.

  Warren had his share of projectiles aimed at him today, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stepped over the box without retrieving it. “Adrianna, I can explain.”

  “No need, Warren. We’re through.”

  “But…!”

  “But what? You love me? I’ve heard it too many times, over too many years. You love your good name and social standing too much to ever divorce Ivana, and you know what, Warren? You shouldn’t. You two deserve each other.”

  Frozen in disbelief, Quinton watched the drama unfold. How could he have been so obtuse? Yet… Many things now made sense: looks between his uncle and Adrianna, how Warren often volunteered to stay after work when he and Adrianna worked on a project, the way Adrianna could handle Warren when no one else could.

  He frowned over his own stupidity—until he realized Ashley had turned and walked away.

  “Goddamn it!” On his way out, Quinton paused, grabbed Warren by the shoulder, and yanked him around to face him. “You’ve got some explaining to do.”

  Shamefaced, Warren said nothing.

  Quinton pointed at Adrianna. “Don’t you dare think about quitting on me just because of this. I need you. The boys need you.”

  She shooed him away. “We’ll talk later, Quinton. Right now you have more important things to do. She’s getting away.”

  With another curse Quinton bounded out of the room. He barely reached the elevators before the doors started sliding shut, with Ashley inside.

  He leaped—and made it in.

  Ashley reached for the “door open” button, but Quinton caught her arm. “Oh, no, sweetheart. We need to talk. And the elevator surely provides more privacy than my office did.”

  “I have nothing more to say to you.”

  “Bullshit.” She glared at him, and he glared right back. “You had some grand confession, remember? You were full of apologies for something. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “The hell it doesn’t. Ignore my uncle and his vagaries. Tell me what has you upset.”

  She shoved him back a good foot. “Damn you, you should know me better than to think I’d steal!”

  “You won’t let me know you.” He crowded her into the corner of the elevator, uncaring where the car took them or what might be transpiring in his office. “I’m constantly working my ass off to get closer to you, and you’re constantly shutting me out.”

  She turned away.

  But Quinton caught her chin and brought her face back to his. She was bruised and tearful and now red-faced with anger. And she was so beautiful to him, she took his breath away.

  “I would never deliberately hurt you, Ashley. You have to know that.”

  She worked her jaw, and tears clung to her lashes.

  A sucker punch to the gut couldn’t hurt as much as seeing Ashley cry. “Oh, no, baby, please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

  The elevator dinged and the doors opened. She sniffled, wiped her eyes with her good hand, and said, “Let me out, Quenton.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going home. My home. I don’t…” She avoided his gaze. “I don’t feel well.”

  Damn it. He searched her face and saw the truth of her words in her big dark eyes. Flu? Sheer exhaustion? Whatever ailed her, she did need to rest, so he moved aside to let her pass but then followed her from the elevator. “What is your big confession?”

  She turned to face him.

  He waited, and waited some more, until once again his patience wore thin. “Goddammit, whatever it is, just say it! I swear I won’t—”

  “I’m pregnant.” />
  The bottom dropped out of his world. He inhaled and then choked. Wheezing, he tried to grasp her words. “ What ?”

  Her pitiful, defiant expression changed to one of antagonism. “You heard me, Murphy. I’m preggers. Knocked up.” She thrust her chin toward him in challenge. “There’s a bun in the oven.”

  “But…” Too much had transpired in the past hour, and he couldn’t catch up. “I was careful.”

  “Apparently not careful enough.”

  He looked beyond her, saying as much to himself as to her, “I never touched you without a condom. Never.”

  She flagged her hand in dismissal. “So maybe one of them was faulty or something. What do I know about rubbers?”

  Pregnant? It wasn’t possible. He thought of her damned plans, how he’d already interrupted them, and how this would throw her completely off course. Shit, shit. “Are you positive?” And then with hope, “Have you seen a doctor?”

  “I’m positive, twice over.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  She shrugged. “They checked me at the hospital, before the X-rays, and then I went to a doctor today, too.”

  Quinton’s vision crowded in. She’d known for days now, but had kept the news from him? He tasted bitter betrayal. He stung from her deceit. “That’s why you were sick?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I suppose that explains why you’re quitting this job?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s why you’ve been so quiet and solemn.” Pieces came together, and with it, anger. “You found out at the hospital, but you didn’t think I needed to know? I am the father, yes?”

  “You bastard.”

  He slashed a hand through the air. “I’m to be a father, but you figured I didn’t need to know?”

  She raised her voice to match his until they were shouting at each other. “I didn’t know how to tell you!”

  “Right.” Quinton took in her arrogant stance, that balls-to-the-walls attitude. “You being such a quiet, timid woman and all.”

  He regretted the words immediately, but especially with the way she smiled at him—the same way she’d smiled at Warren. “Don’t sweat it, Quinton. The baby doesn’t have to concern you. I can handle it on my own.”

  That brought his anger right back to the boiling point. She intended to cut him out? Like hell. “You can barely take care of yourself. How the hell do you think to care for an infant alone?”

  Chapter 17

  Never in her adult life had Ashley felt so degraded, so ashamed, or so hurt. Her parents’ lack of love had left her hollow, but it hadn’t made her feel like this.

  And it wasn’t because of Warren’s idiotic accusations. She’d expected no better from him, so how could he insult her?

  No, Warren could say whatever he liked. He mattered not a bit to her. But Quinton’s skepticism, his meanness, made her feel contemptible—because it hurt her feelings. Because she loved him.

  Because she had hoped he might love her, too.

  Ashley began backing up. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d be bawling her eyes out like a fool, and she’d rather eat dirt than let him see that.

  As detached as possible, she gave him details. “The baby is due in July. It’s really early to know, but a fact all the same. Just think, if it wasn’t for Elton and my stupid broken arm, I might not have known for another month or more.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you.” She continued to retreat. “Pregnancy does funny things to women. It makes them tired. It makes them maudlin. It makes me want to kick your sorry ass. But with only one arm, I doubt I’m up to it.”

  “You want to slap me? Fine. Do it and get over it so we can talk.”

  He looked like he’d really let her. “We don’t have anything else to talk about. I told you, so now you know.” She shrugged. “I’m going home for a nap.”

  With each step she retreated, he advanced. “My home?”

  She laughed. “No, my home. And don’t worry, I’ve already forgotten all about your offer for me to move in. You’re off the hook with that one.”

  Quinton rolled his eyes. “It’s not over between us, so quit acting like it is.”

  “Feels over to me.”

  “That’s because you’re upset. And maybe you’re feeling a little guilty for not leveling with me right off, as you should have. But if you’ll just stop to think—”

  “I can think, Murphy, just as I can see, and the look on your face said it all. You believed your uncle.”

  Taut with irritation, he growled, “No, I did not. Not until you started apologizing and saying you had something to confess. But even then, I assumed that if you had taken the bracelet, you had a good reason. I had no way of knowing you had something bigger than a stolen bracelet to share with me. You”—he pointed at her—”are the one at fault here. You’re the one who lied to me by omission. So don’t keep throwing my uncle’s idiotic assumptions in my face.”

  “And what about the baby?” she challenged. “You sure as hell don’t look happy about it.”

  “You blindsided me. Unlike you, I haven’t had days to process it, to get used to the idea.” His green eyes glittered at her, bright with blame. “What I have processed is your emotional evasion the last few days, and it’s put me through hell. With a fucking lunatic trying to blow us up, I’d rather know you’re unexpectedly pregnant than to be left wondering what’s really going on.”

  She supposed she deserved that. “You’re right.” She clenched her jaw but forced the words out. “I’m sorry. I should have told you right away.”

  “You’re damn right.” He stared down at her, then shook his head. “You’re ready to fall off your feet. Go take that nap, and we’ll talk when I get home.”

  Quinton took her elbow and walked her to her car, but he didn’t say how he felt about the baby, or even how he felt about her.

  For sure, her timing sucked. To think of Warren accusing her…

  And what about Warren and Adrianna? She hadn’t seen that one coming. Adrianna was so warm and kind, and generous, and Warren was… well, almost unbearably obnoxious. Relationships, she now knew firsthand, were tricky to navigate. She didn’t even want to know how difficult it must have been for Adrianna.

  When Ashley unlocked her car and got behind the wheel, Quinton called the guards to make certain they knew of her early departure.

  “Drive careful,” he told her. He hesitated, still frowning, then bent and put a perfunctory kiss to her forehead, closed her car door, and stepped back to watch until she drove out of sight.

  Well, Ashley thought, that was awkward. And she knew she was mostly to blame.

  But damn Warren. If he hadn’t declared her a thief at just that precise moment, she would have told Quinton everything and maybe, just maybe, the outcome would have been different. Instead of talking out the circumstances of an unplanned pregnancy, they’d argued viciously, and a strained tension now existed between them.

  She knew that, despite the rough path her confession had taken, Quinton expected her to go to his house for her rest. It would be too surly of her to do differently. Perhaps by the time he got home, they would be able to talk without the animosity.

  Ten minutes later, when Ashley was almost to Quinton’s place, her phone rang. She had to pull over to the side of the road to answer it. Driving with a cast on her lower arm was awkward, but driving and talking on the phone at the same time would be stupid and dangerous.

  Assuming it’d be Quinton, hoping that he’d be following her home after all, she dug the phone out of her purse and said, “Hey.”

  But it wasn’t Quinton who said, “Hello, Ashley.”

  She raised her brows in surprise. “Stuart?” Why in the world would May’s father be calling her? Fear struck her heart, and she said in a rush, “Is May all right? Has something—”

  “I assume May’s fine. I haven’t heard from her in a few days.”

  “Then…” Ashle
y frowned. He sounded odd, not like his usual obnoxious self. “What did you want, Stuart?”

  “Ashley, I’m sorry.”

  She went cold in renewed dread. “Yeah? Sorry for what?”

  She detected the sounds of a scuffle for the phone, and then Elton laughed.

  No.

  “Yes, Ashley. Stuart is so very, very sorry.”

  Enough was enough. Ashley gripped the phone tightly. “You miserable swine. What have you done to Stuart?”

  “Why not a thing. Yet.” He laughed again. “But I’m prepared to do any number of things if you don’t follow my instructions. If you hang up—which I know you’re anxious to do—I’ll kill him. Without a moment’s hesitation, without remorse, probably with a good deal of pleasure, I’ll snuff the life right out of him.”

  No, no, no.

  “And Ashley, won’t your dear, dear friend despise you for letting her daddy be murdered?”

  Ashley had to keep him talking while she figured out what to do. “Why Stuart? Why pick on him?”

  “You switched phones and I couldn’t reach you. But I assumed, rightly so, that you’d share your new number with those people important to you.”

  “And you think Stuart fits the bill? You’re more deranged than I realized.”

  “Ah well, Ashley, I know you care for May. And I know she cherishes her family, despite their many faults. So you can see the connection. Besides,” he added with a shrug in his voice, “you walked away from your parents, so Stuart seemed a fitting… substitute.”

  God, her head hurt. “Bastard.”

  “You shouldn’t call me names.” As he said it, she heard Stuart moan and knew that Elton was the cause.

  Pleading with him, showing him any weakness, would do her no good. She instinctively knew her best chance was to remain strong. But Elton was right; May would be crushed if anything happened to her family. “Listen up, you worm.” Ashley put a deliberate dose of scorn in her tone. “Hurt him again, and I’ll hang up on you and damn the consequences.”

  “Would you really?”

  “Good-bye, Elton.”

  “Wait!”

  Panicking, heart racing, Ashley gave silent thanks that her ploy had worked. “Enough. Tell me what you want and let’s get this over with.”