Part 22 (1/2)
”How the h.e.l.l am I going to get four tickets to a sold-out opera I don't want to see?”
”Your problem, man. I merely plan the setup.” Cam grinned again, not at all fazed. ”I'm only worried about myself. I have to get all knowledgeable about opera and singing, and get all spruced up in a penguin suit.”
Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. ”Why go to all that trouble? Be yourself.”
”Ah, then it wouldn't be a setup, would it? Come on, man, help me out here. Patty will see what she wants to see.”
”And what's that? A penguin-suited garbage disposal?”
”Excuse me. I'm going to be the perfect gentleman, you'll see. It would give her an idea that I can change, be someone she likes. Adores. Wants. Needs.” Cam went off on a tangent, gesturing like an actor.
”Okay, end it there, man. I get the meaning.” Steve sniffed, then went back to his notes. ”Geez, an opera. Why couldn't it be a football game or something?”
”An unexpected twist, don't you agree? And I set it all up, smart me. Clever me. Devious me.” Cam continued gesturing.
Steve laughed, then plucked his lower lip thoughtfully. A setup.
Marlena heard the click of the suite door opening and shutting. Even though she had been expecting him, it was both disturbing and exciting to know it was Stash without checking. It didn't take long for him to find her.
She glanced up with feigned casualness from the magazine she had been leafing through. It was unsettling, this sudden need for a man's presence. She didn't know what to say, what to do. She could only come up with a parody of herself in an ap.r.o.n, duster in one hand, dinner plate in the other. You're getting hysterical, she scolded herself. The only option left was to sit there and wait.
He strolled into the media room without hesitating, as if he'd known she was there all along. He had a familiar-looking knapsack with him, which he tossed onto one of the armchairs. He looked tired, and she fought the urge to jump up and kiss him. It was that ap.r.o.n-wearing image influencing her, she told herself.
She nodded toward the chair with the knapsack. ”This is a familiar scene. Moving in?”
Steve sat down across from her, his dark eyes glinting. ”Yeah. You want me to make you a martini, sweetheart?”
”You want me to make you breakfast?”
”I ate every green bite, didn't I?” he asked with a slight smile.
Marlena glanced at the magazine on her lap. ”You see, I'm not made to be a housewife.” Now why did she blurt it out like that?
”I can read upside down, Lena. You're looking at a recipe.”
She slammed the magazine shut. It had been a whim when she saw the recipe in the cooking section. A whim, that was all.
Steve watched, fascinated, as Marlena tossed the magazine onto the table and settled back against the sofa. In a flash she became someone he was already quite familiar with-the lazy-voiced, bored woman with the mocking eyes. A defense mechanism, he recognized. Once again he had gotten too close.
”I was just reading,” she told him, spreading her arms across the back of the sofa. ”After all, I'm in a team now, got to wait for people, can't just go off and do stuff on my own.”
It was a dig Steve chose to ignore. ”I have information that might be of use,” he said.
Her blue eyes narrowed slightly. ”Continue,” she said.
Steve smiled and shook his head. ”First you have to tell me something.” When she arched her brows in silent inquiry, he continued, ”What is du Scheum to you?”
She was silent for a moment. Then, she drawled, ”Personally? Or just in general?”
”Both.”
”Why?” she asked, crossing her arms. ”What does that have to do with you?”
”Everything, Lena. I don't want to find you in his arms when I sneak into his bedroom to kill him.” Steve saw that he had startled her with his threat. The blue of her eyes deepened to almost violet as she stared at him. ”Is there something between you and him?”
”Are you going to kill off every man I ever slept with?” she challenged.
”No, just the future ones.” He sat up, determined to press home his point. ”It's me and no one else, Lena. I'm not going to have you playing pearl necklaces with other men.”
”Do you think you can stop me?” Marlena got off the sofa and looked down disdainfully at him. ”Do I ask you about your women? Or your past? Do I look like the type you can dictate terms to?”
”Come here,” Steve ordered softly.
Marlena stiffened at the quiet command. How dare he play territorial male with her? She should just leave him sitting there. He held out a hand, and after a slight hesitation she took a few steps closer and placed her hand in his. ”Don't think this is going to be a habit,” she warned, as he pulled her onto his lap. She should resist, but she didn't.
”Tell me about du Scheum,” he said in the same tone of voice.
She had never taken the time to study his face before. She wanted to dissect every little thing that made him so different from other men. The way his eyes glinted with a knowing gleam when he looked at her. The way the dimple in his chin deepened when he smiled. How he plucked his lower lip when he was deep in thought. How one dark eyebrow, a little higher than the other, gave him that rakish air that hid the serious side of him. Little things like that.
It was a face she enjoyed looking at, even when it had that stubborn expression that she was beginning to recognize. When Steve McMillan wanted something, he went for it and hung on like a bulldog.
”It was a long time ago,” she finally said. She ran her fingers lightly up his chest. ”We're just close friends now. I was an orphan trying to get out of the projects and Pierre took care of me. He gave me a future.”
His dark brows knitted together with undisguised displeasure. ”He was too old for you then.” He stroked a possessive hand up her back, digging his fingers into her hair. ”And you can wipe that smile off your face.”
”Stash darling, it was a long time ago,” Marlena repeated, still smiling. She traced the frown on his forehead with a finger. ”Besides, without Pierre you would never have met me. He was the one who sent me to GEM.”
”What is he? The boss in Charlie's Angels?” Steve asked sarcastically. ”He goes looking for hot chicks like you and T. and then he gives the thumbs-up to recruit them?”
She laughed at the image, then pulled his ear hard.
”What?” he growled, flicking his head away from her pinch.
”That's for noticing T. and labeling her a hot chick,” she scolded. ”And no, Pierre isn't part of GEM. He had the connections, and saw that I had the potential for my kind of work.”
”What is that?” The scowl remained. ”He just thought that you'd make a good a.s.sa.s.sin?”
”Darling, look at it this way. I had no schooling, no money unless I played mistress to some rich man, no family to help me out. I could have a boring job as a waitress or I could be trained to take care of myself.” She shrugged. ”I chose the second option and never regretted it. There are advantages to starting a new life. And I was perfect for GEM. The fewer family enc.u.mbrances the better. So next time you see Pierre, be nice to him. Without him, I would still be a naive woman with a Southern tw.a.n.g trying to make it.”
”But you would still be a smart mouth.”
”Oh yes, that, unfortunately, must be in the genes of whoever my parents were.” Marlena smoothed away his soft hair from his forehead. ”So, satisfied with the little story?”
”Not really. But it's a start. What about a significant other? I told you I wasn't married.”
She considered lying, but tried evasion instead. ”There's no one now,” she said. At his frown, she sighed. ”I'm not good at relations.h.i.+ps, Stash. They don't work well where I'm concerned. I've always been a loner, probably from being a wild child growing up, and don't trust easily. Men don't find me good girlfriend material.”
She snuggled against him, and it felt so good. She hadn't snuggled like this since she was a kid. He hugged her closer, and she felt him kiss her forehead.
”What's good girlfriend material? You mean they don't like your cooking?”