He lashed out, said the first thing that popped into his head. “I should have let you go. That night in the parking garage I should have just let you take off with the envelope and saved us both a hell of a lot of trouble.”
The color leached from her face, leaving her nothing but white skin and freckles. Tears rose, startling him into swearing out loud.
“Shit, Reese, I’m sorry.”
Jesus, he hadn’t meant to make her cry. Reese and tears didn’t go together, and he had brought her to that.
She drew a shaky breath, while he watched her battle to control herself. Not a single tear actually fell down her cheek. She widened her eyes and squeezed her lips shut. “Don’t apologize if you meant it. Just get out of my room.”
At the last second her voice wavered and Derek felt so lousy he just wanted to scoop her into his arms. Why the hell were they fighting? Did any of it really matter?
“Peaches…” He reached for her.
She took a step back and held out her hand. “I’m serious. Pack your stuff and get out or I’ll take you down like I did in that deli.” She glanced down at his crotch, her voice hard, high, and heading towards hysterical. “Only now I know what side you pack your piece on.”
He didn’t actually believe her. But that spike-heeled shoe went back onto her foot for emphasis and Derek knew it was time to leave.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Reese was halfway to drunk,debating the merits of another apple martini and wondering how long it would take Knight to pack, when Markson sat down next to her in the hotel lounge.
She didn’t even try to be polite. “Get away from me.”
“Reese, I wanted to apologize for that bit in the hall earlier.”
She didn’t look up from her glass, just swirled the liquid around and around, amazed at how much it looked like green Kool-Aid. “It’s fine, Stan. I don’t care.”
It was the truth. Nothing really seemed to matter at the moment, except for the fact that she was in love with an idiot.
“I know you’re probably angry with me, but I thought it was best for both of us if the other executives thought our...relationship was over, and it seemed like a good way to make that absolutely clear.”
A snort sailed out of her mouth. “Yeah, it was clear.” Reese tilted her head to the right and wondered why the little thatched cabana where you ordered drinks seemed to be undulating like an underwater plant. She was only on her second martini and it wasn’t even empty, but she felt a little funny, like she’d ridden a roller coaster three times in a row.
“Well, I’m sorry if I caused you embarrassment. It seems like I’ve really botched everything up for the last six months. I just want to go home and have this be over.”
Having forgotten that anyone could possibly have a problem except her, she glanced over in sympathy at him sitting in the wicker chair next to her. “You haven’t screwed anything up. Without you, the FBI wouldn’t even have a case.”
He lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. She noticed his jacket was off and his tie was crooked. He looked exhausted.
He said, “Have you ever wondered if you’d done the right thing? That maybe, even though you thought you knew everything there was to know, that just maybe you were wrong?”
Besides right now? Maybe Knight was right, maybe she shouldn’t have expected him to tell her classified information. Maybe she could have respected his tenuous position a little more.
“And you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve changed your life forever for the worse.”
She sniffed. Yeah, she knew that feeling.
“And that it’s not about getting to the top at work, or making more money, it’s about the people you love, taking care of each other and sharing the little things every day.”
A sob slipped out and Reese dropped her head down onto her arm. Crapola. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, but she was starting to think if she had to choose between Knight and a career, she’d choose him.
She felt a warm awkward pat on her hand. “Hey, are you okay?”
“No. Knight and I broke up.” Blowing hair out of her eyes, she stared through the martini glass, face barely off the table. She added, in case he was unclear of her feelings, “I want to vomit.”
Markson sucked in his breath. “Please don’t! The restroom is right over there.”
That made her snort. “I wasn’t serious. I was being dramatic. I shouldn’t have said that. But I feel like a train wreck.”