“You’re wrong.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Dead sure,” he stated, ignoring the red flag waving madly in his brain. “I’ve been seeing Carol for at least three months.”
“Seeing her exclusively?”
Frowning, he backpedaled mentally through a succession of forgettable evenings, only five of which included a giggling blonde.
The flag lowered to half-mast.
“I didn’t think so,” Lizzy said.
He reached up and yanked the knot of his necktie looser. “How’d we get so off track, anyway? We were talking about your love life, not mine.”
“You were talking. Whatever happened to respecting my privacy?”
He’d found out she had a love life, that’s what happened! She wasn’t bluffing about quitting. He was actually going to lose his second in command to some bozo he’d never met!
Shaken, he reached for an acceptable emotion and clung to outrage. “You’re a fine one to lecture me about keeping financial secrets, Lizzy. When were you planning to tell me you’re engaged, huh? After the wedding invitations were mailed?”
“Please lower your voice.”
“Or maybe you planned to wait and send me a birth announcement after Junior was born? You know, kill two birds with one postage stamp. Yeah, that sounds more like the Miss Cost-Efficiency I know.”
“If you can’t discuss this in a civil manner, kindly leave my office.”
“It’s not your office anymore, is it?”
Her nostrils pinched. She looked away, obviously seeking patience.
Following suit, Cameron focused on the large canvas dominating one wall. He’d paid the artist’s hefty asking price, not only to help out a talented student strapped for cash, but also because the garden scene reminded him of Lizzy. Her calming presence, that is. She was the eye of the storm in a swirl of agency activity that, more often than not, reached hurricane force. Not once had the painting’s vivid roses ever reminded him of Lizzy’s flushed complexion.
Until today.
“You’re right,” she said, drawing his attention to her icy dignity. “It’s not my office, anymore. Goodbye, Cameron. Have a nice life.”
“Wait!” he ordered, halting the backward roll of her chair. “Answer my question, first. Why would a woman who’s never peeped a single word about having a steady boyfriend suddenly announce she’s getting married?”
“Shh!” She flicked an embarrassed glance at the closed door.
But he couldn’t seem to control either his volume, or the territorial possessiveness goading him on, preventing him from letting her go with grace. “Why all the secrecy about your soul mate, Lizzy? What are you hiding? Tell me. And while you’re at it, explain how you can abandon the company that’s built your career just when it needs you most!”
She paled, but thrust out her chin. “How dare you try and make me feel guilty.”
“Pardon the hell out of me for thinking loyalty should still count for something these days.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“You think it’s fair to drop your little bombshell and leave me to rebuild the SkyHawk marketing plan from scratch? You could at least stay until the presentation. You owe me that much, damn it!”
Lush roses bloomed in her cheeks. “I don’t enjoy being manipulated, Cameron.”
“And I don’t enjoy being betrayed.”
“Oh, please. Who’s overreacting now? If anything, you betrayed me. I gave one hundred and ten percent of myself to you and this company for very little return on my investment. I needed…” Trailing off, she shook her head, rose from her chair and raised her palms. “Forget it. I don’t owe you a thing. Even an explanation.”
“Wait!” Desperation harshened his voice. “If this is about owning a piece of the company, let’s talk options. I’m willing to negotiate an agreement—”
The smack of her palms on the desk made him jump.
She braced her weight and leaned forward, her eyes spitting bullets. “I meant an emotional return on my investment. Don’t insult me with an equity offer at this late date. You can’t buy back my loyalty. You wouldn’t even want it back if you weren’t so obsessively competitive. No, don’t roll your eyes. Admit it. You can’t stand to lose, whether it’s a game of tennis, or a client’s account, or a vice president whose title is mere window dressing. You’ve fired plenty of employees over the past ten years, but I’m the first one who’s ever quit, aren’t I?”
“You tell me. You like to answer your own questions.”
The roses darkened a shade. “At least I ask questions! I’m not so self-centered I think the world revolves around my problems and needs. I don’t think everyone owes me their help. I don’t charm or manipulate or throw a tantrum to get it. I’ve worked damn hard for everything I’ve ever gotten.” Unlike you, her silent thought rang loud and clear, an echo of her earlier sentiment.
You aren’t the man you pretend to be. In other words, Cameron, you’re a fraud.
Grimacing, Cameron closed his eyes and massaged his temples. There was enough truth in her accusations to bring his headache back full force. She’d never pulled any punches with him, but he hadn’t realized she thought this poorly of him. The wonder was that she hadn’t resigned sooner.
Then again, she wasn’t a quitter by nature, like he was.
“I have some aspirin in my purse,” she said brusquely, unable to disguise the worry in her voice. “Why don’t you take two more?”
Ah, Lizzy. Sweet, tough Lizzy.
“Thanks,” he said without opening his eyes. “But I’ve already taken about six.”
She made a small sound of displeasure. “Last night it was champagne, today it’s aspirin…hey, I know. There’s some spray adhesive in the art supply closet. Wanna sniff that next?”
One corner of his mouth tipped up.
He opened his eyes. “Nah. I spotted a pan of Rachel’s to-die-for blintzes in the coffee room. Figured I’d try to OD on five or six of those rich suckers in a little while.” Why French fries would clog his arteries, according to Rachel, but rolled crepes filled with cream cheese wouldn’t, only she knew. “Wanna join me?”
Lizzy pressed a hand to her stomach. “Just the thought of two makes me feel queasy. But you go right ahead. I wouldn’t want to spoil your food hangover.”
Despite the encouraging hint of her smile, she did look a little green at the gills. For the first time, he noticed how physically exhausted she seemed. Those bruised half-moons under her eyes hadn’t developed overnight. She’d either been losing sleep consistently, or she’d been ill, or…
A disturbing possibility jarred him.
“Are you pregnant?” he blurted.
Her eyes widened.
A half-dozen emotions bombarded him. His usual glibness fled. “If you are, well…that’s great, honey.” The careless bozo should be horsewhipped “I mean, there’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You’re getting married, right?”
A choked sputter escaped her throat.
He scowled. “You are getting married?”
Her yelp of laughter turned into a string of violent coughs, punctuated by a final chuckle. “Relax, Pa, I’m not pregnant. You can put away your shotgun now.”
Wiping