The Ties That Bind (12 page)

Shannon's eyes widened with sudden realization. "And you're afraid that if I spend too much time in this world, I'll learn my way around in it, aren't you? That's why you don't want me here. You want to keep me safely tucked away on the coast where you can enjoy me on occasional weekends."

"I don't want you mixed up with the kind of people I deal with on a day-to-day basis," Garth said through gritted teeth.

Shannon saw the pain that flashed in his eyes, and all her defensiveness dissolved beneath the overwhelming desire to reassure and comfort him. He had been brutalized by his world, and his instincts had been to keep her out of it. He had been trying to protect her and himself. Shannon smiled tremulously and went forward in a small, soft rush, wrapping her arms tightly around his rigid body. She nestled her head against his shoulder, willing him to relax.

"Garth, I'm not Christine. Please trust me."

He exhaled heavily, enfolding her in a harsh embrace and burying his face in her hair. "It's not a question of trust. I'm only trying to protect you."

"I'm not that fragile. Or that weak." She lifted her head and met his eyes. "And my emotions aren't that superficial. I love you, Garth."

He stared down at her for a long moment, as if a declaration of love had been the last thing he'd expected to hear. Then, with a low groan, he took her mouth.

Shannon made no protest, though the kiss was ruthless in its intensity. She could feel the urgent need for reassurance behind it, and in that moment all she wanted to do was provide what Garth needed.

"Shannon, sweet Shannon," he ground out against her mouth. His hands kneaded her slender back, working their way down to her waist. She could feel the strength of them through the thin silk of her dress.

"I love you. Garth, I love you." Closing her eyes, she clung to him. He was fumbling with the delicate fastenings of the silk now. She didn't care when she heard the faint tearing sound. Garth swore under his breath.

"Damn it to hell, I'm as clumsy as a kid on his first date tonight."

"It's all right." She soothed him, her fingertips working with gentle urgency on the sleek muscles of his shoulders. "I don't care about the dress."

"I'll buy you another one." He pulled the dress down to her waist and then over her hips. It fell into a pool of brightly patterned gold at her feet. "Say it again, Shannon. I want to hear you say it again."

She ran her fingertips through his hair, her eyes brimming with emotion. "I love you, Garth."

The lambent flame of his gaze seemed to be melting all the ice she was accustomed to seeing in his eyes. "Undress me, Shannon. I want to feel your hands all over me."

Obediently she began struggling with the buttons of his white shirt. For some reason it was a difficult task. Garth didn't seem to mind. He toyed with the tendrils of her hair and grazed her nipples with the pad of his thumb while she worked.

The pieces of his clothing fell away in agonizing slowness. By the time she had finished, Shannon was violently aware of her own flaring desire. When at last they both stood naked she ran her hands over the hard contours of his chest.

"I would have missed you so much this weekend," she breathed. "I couldn't stay away."

"Shannon, you don't know what you do to me." He kissed her until she melted against him, and then he slowly sank down to his knees in front of her, his lips finding all the gentle curves and hollows of her body. His fingers tightened on her buttocks as he brushed his mouth across her thigh.

"Garth." His name was a sweet, soft gasp of pleasure and need. "Please, Garth."

"Yes, honey. I'll please you. Come here and let me make love to you." He pulled her down beside him and then tumbled her gently onto the rug. He filled her mouth with his kisses as he luxuriously lowered himself along the length of her body. He was rigid with a need that had flashed into existence with the white-hot rapidity of a forest fire.

Shannon opened herself to him with a feminine honesty that brought Garth to a raging peak of desire. She could feel him fighting to control himself as he drove into her.

"Hold me," he pleaded through clenched teeth. "Hold me, Shannon."

She moaned softly and pulled him to her, her thighs enclosing him as he began the powerful, sensual rhythm. Her teeth sank delicately into his shoulder, and Garth responded with almost violent passion. His own teeth found the sensitive skin of her throat, and he nipped carefully. Shannon's mind swirled with excitement. Within moments she was crying out his name and shivering in his arms. When he lifted his head and saw the dazed discovery in her face, Garth let himself be sucked into the shimmering vortex. Together they hung suspended in space and then, very slowly, returned to a waiting reality.

For long moments Shannon lay beneath Garth's weight, delighting in the feel of him on virtually every inch of her body. Her fingers moved lovingly on his shoulders and at the nape of his neck. For a while she thought he had gone to sleep, then Garth spoke softly.

"I'm sorry I raked you over the coals tonight, Shannon."

"I understand. Did you love her very much?"

"Christine?" He rolled to one side, lying beside Shannon on the gray carpet. He touched the valley between her small breasts, stroking the dampness there in absent wonder. "Christine and I had what seemed like a well-organized and successful marriage. She was beautiful and ambitious. She married me because I was going places, and I married her because I knew she'd look good beside me when I got to those places. We had a lot in common. She had worked in the high-tech world ever since she had graduated, and she was interested in my work. More interested than I realized, as I found out when she and Jim left with several company proprietary designs." Garth put his arm across his eyes. "I guess Jim felt he had a right to those designs. After all, he'd been my partner for two years. What got to me was that they were my designs. Ones I had done on my own. I wouldn't have cared so much if he'd just taken company stuff." There was a pause before Garth added, "It was Christine who turned my work over to him. I'd been doing some revisions at home in the evenings, and she knew all about them."

Shannon touched him. "I'm not Christine, Garth." .

"I know." He cradled her against him. "I know that, Shannon. I have never mistaken you for her. I couldn't. Not in a million years. I couldn't get you mixed up with any other woman I've ever met. You're unique."

He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, settling her gently into the wide bed and then he was pulling her close again, whispering words of need and passion and fire. Shannon responded with an answering spiral of emotions that flared to match his own. It was a long while before they slept, their legs tangled together and Shannon nestled safely in Garth's embrace. Shannon was comfortingly aware of Garth's strength just as she closed her eyes. The future would be good, she thought. She would make it work.

IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER DAWN when Shannon first stirred the next morning. She came awake with a vague sense of disorientation and lay quietly for a moment wondering why some element in the atmosphere felt wrong. Garth's bed was a large one, and she couldn't feel his weight beside her. That was a definite change. All night long she had been pleasantly aware of his warmth and reassuring weight lying next to her.

Opening her eyes with sleepy curiosity, she turned over and blinked at the empty space on the other side of the bed. A small frisson of alarm went through her. There was no cause for it, she assured herself. He must be already up and in the shower. But there was no sound of running water from the adjoining bath.

"Garth?"

"I'm right here, Shannon."

The darkness in his voice sent another shiver through her. Panic leaped alive in her veins, consuming the contentment that should have been hers this morning. Something was terribly wrong. Slowly Shannon sat up against the pillows and looked at Garth.

He was sitting in the chair beside the window, dressed in a pair of slacks and a shirt that was only half buttoned. In the morning light his face looked like that of a predator. All the ice she thought she had melted in him last night was back in his eyes. There was a stapled document on the table beside him. It was the only thing cluttering the austere tabletop. Shannon froze, sensing utter disaster and not yet knowing from what direction it would come.

"Garth, what is it? What's wrong?"

Wordlessly he reached out and picked up the document. Tossing it down on the bed beside her, he sat waiting for her to pick it up and read it.

The first thing Shannon saw was the Confidential stamp on the cover. The letters were in black, instead of the original red, which meant she was looking at a photocopy. In the lower right-hand corner the name
Sherilectronics
was typed in neat capital letters. The company logo was printed beside it. In the center of the cover page were the words "Submitted to
Carstairs
, Inc." Shannon let the document slip from her fingers as she lifted her eyes to meet Garth's steady, brooding gaze.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"A few minutes ago I went out into the living room to collect your clothes and your tote bag. When I glanced inside the bag I saw that rolled up and stuffed into a corner. Recognize it?"

Shannon was trembling. "I can read. It's that bid package you've been working on for the past few weeks."

"Months," he corrected calmly. "My company has been working on that proposal for months, not just a few weeks. I want that contract very badly, Shannon."

If only there were some emotion in his voice, Shannon thought frantically. She might have been able to deal with emotion, even if it was fury. But there was nothing, no anger or pain, not even accusation. Shannon's mouth went dry. "I don't understand, Garth."

"Don't you? It seems simple enough to me."

"You think I stole this?" Shannon asked so softly that she could barely hear the words herself.

Garth didn't say anything for a while, and then he got to his feet. "Get dressed and come on out into the living room. I don't think the bedroom is the place for this kind of conversation. Although God knows I didn't do such a clever job of handling you in the living room last night, either."

Shannon came out of her paralysis and reached for his hand as he brushed past the bed. "Garth, wait," she pleaded, "tell me exactly what you think I've done. I have a right to know what the accusation is this time."

"This time?"

"Last night you accused me of letting Ed Kenyon make a pass," she reminded him through tight lips.

He shook off her hand, glanced down at the proposal and continued toward the door. "On the surface this all looks connected, doesn't it? Kenyon is my main opponent in the battle to get the
Carstairs
contract. Last night he was trying to get you into bed, and this morning I find that copy of the bid package in your purse. It should make for an interesting story. I can't wait to listen to it."

He was gone before Shannon could think of a single word in her own defense. Stunned, she sat looking blindly at the damning document lying amid the tumbled sheets and blankets. Garth had found this terrible thing in her tote bag.

It was more than she could handle this time. Numbly Shannon climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. It was too much. She felt totally overwhelmed. Last night she had been prepared to argue her own case. She was not a coward. She was willing to fight for her love. But this morning the evidence was too awful, and the jury was already prejudiced against her. There would be nothing left for Garth to do except carry out the sentence.

Shannon stood shakily in front of the sink, looking into the reflection of her own eyes. Her stomach was churning and she prayed she wouldn't get sick. She hardly recognized the desolate stranger standing in front of her. All hope had flown from that empty gaze. Her eyes were only mirroring the emptiness in her heart.

"Oh, my dearest love," she whispered, "there's nothing I can say or do this time. It's gone too far. You will never trust me or love me now." Her eyes burned but she couldn't even find the release of tears.

A faint sound from the kitchen reached her, jarring Shannon out of the numb contemplation of her own image. Garth was out there, waiting for the final confrontation. She knew in that moment she couldn't face him. He must hate her.

Through the open bathroom door she saw her tote sitting on the floor beside the dressing table. Her keys would be inside and her little Fiat waited in Garth's driveway. Escape was the only goal now. She had to get out of Garth's house. She couldn't look again into the face of the man she had loved, knowing what he thought she had done.

Shannon fumbled with the shower, turning on the water but not stepping into the stall. As long as the water was running Garth would assume she was in the bathroom. Moving awkwardly at first and then with increasing speed, Shannon dressed from the small suitcase she had brought with her. When she had fastened her jeans, pulled on one of her own silk-screened T-shirts and found her sandals, she picked up her things and headed for the sliding glass door of the bedroom.

A moment later she was letting herself out of the garden through the gate that opened onto the common grounds shared by the condominium owners. Without giving herself a chance to think, she dug her keys out of the tote and raced toward the front of Garth's place. The Fiat was sitting where she had left it yesterday, after following Garth home from
Sherilectronics
. She was inside, her tote and suitcase tossed behind the seat in a matter of seconds.

Shannon turned the key in the ignition. A moment later she was fleeing out onto the street, racing away from the doom she couldn't face.

Inside the condo, Garth heard the Fiat's engine and realized too late what was happening. He wrenched open the front door in time to see the little red car disappear down the street. He stared after it, his hand curling into a fist as he braced himself in the doorway.