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Cullen could feel a muscle knotting and unknotting in his jaw. Hutchins was right. Marissa Perez was entitled to lead her life as she saw fit. If she wanted to sleep with a stranger and then ignore him, she could. If she wanted to drop out of law school and walk away from a future others would kill for, she could do that, too.
And he could do what he had to do. Find her, and find out what in hell was going on.
“You’re right,” Cullen said as the men walked slowly to the front door. “You did everything you could.”
“You’re going to talk with her? Assuming you can find her, that is?”
Cullen laughed. “I have a feeling finding her won’t be hard. Getting her to talk to me might be a different story.”
CULLEN knew exactly where to find the Chiliburger. It was, as burger joints went, an institution.
He had eaten countless fries and burgers within the confines of its greasy walls; he’d studied in its vinyl booths, at wooden tables scarred with the incised initials of at least four decades’ worth of students.
He drove to the restaurant, lucked out on a parking space and strolled inside. A blast of heavy-metal music made him wince. Even the stuff pouring from the jukebox was the same. So was the aroma of fried onions, chili and beer.
He scanned the room. It was crowded. No surprise there, either. Holiday or not, there were always some students who remained in town. It was coming up on supper time, and they’d gather at places like this for a cheap meal and some laughs.
He spotted a vacant booth way in the back, went to it and slid across the red imitation leather seat. The table was still littered with plates and glasses; he pushed them aside and reached for the stained menu propped between the ketchup bottle and the salt and pepper shakers.
As far as he could tell, only one waitress was working the tables, a heavyset blonde of indeterminate age.
No Marissa.
After a while, the blonde appeared at his elbow and shifted a wad of gum from one side of her mouth to the other.
“You know what you want or you need more time?”
“A Coke, please.”
“That’s it?”
Cullen smiled. What she meant was, You’re going to take up space at one of my tables and that’s all you’re going to spend?
“And a burger. The house special, medium-well.” He shoved the menu back into its hiding place, considered asking Blondie about Marissa and decided this wasn’t the right time. “No rush.”
“No rush is right. I got all these tables to handle by myself.”
“Nobody else on with you tonight?”
“Oh, there’s somebody on with me.” Blondie rolled her eyes. “She just isn’t here yet, is all.”
Cullen tried not to show his sudden interest. “She’s late?”
“She’s always late,” Blondie said. “Last couple months, anyway. You want guacamole or mayo on that burger?”
“You pick it. How come?”
“How come what?”
“How come the other waitress started showing up late?”
Blondie shrugged. “How would I know? Only thing I’m sure of is that it’s a pain in the butt, trying to cover for her so the boss doesn’t realize she’s not here.”
“Then why do it?”
The waitress’s expression softened and she leaned toward him. “’Cause she’s a nice kid. Always did her fair share until now.”
“And that changed?”
“It sure did. She says she’s just been feeling under the weather.” The blonde shifted her gum. “You ask me,” she said slyly, “the trouble with her is that she’s—”
“She’s what?”
Something in his tone must have given him away. Blondie drew back. “What’s with all these questions?”
“I’m just making conversation, that’s all.”
“Well, you got questions about Marissa Perez, ask her direct. She just came in. I’ll put your order in, but it’ll be her takes care of—Mister? Mister, what’s the problem?”
What was the problem? Cullen didn’t know where to begin. Marissa was coming from behind the counter that ran the length of one side of the room, but this wasn’t the Marissa he’d spent countless nights dreaming about.
Her face was devoid of color; there were rings under her eyes. Her hair, which he remembered as being as lustrous as a crow’s wing, was dull and lifeless.
Something was terribly wrong with her.
He shot to his feet.
She saw him as he did.
She paled—though how she could get paler than she already was, he thought grimly, was hard to comprehend. He saw her lips form his name as she took a step back.
“Marissa,” he said, but he knew she couldn’t hear him, not over the din of music and loud voices.
She stared at him. Her lips formed his name. For a second, he thought she was going to pass out. He mouthed an oath, took a step toward her, but she pasted a bloodless smile to her lips and started toward him.
“Cullen,” she said in a thin voice, “what a nice surprise.”
It didn’t take a genius to know that her smile was a lie. She was surprised, all right, but nice? No way. She was about as glad to see him as a lone gazelle would be to see a lion.
“Yeah,” he said coldly, “what a nice surprise.” His hand closed around her wrist. “You look terrible.”
“Are you always so free with compliments?”
“Cut the crap.” Why was he so angry? So what if she looked like death warmed over? It wasn’t his business, he told himself, even as his eyes narrowed and drilled into hers. “Is that why you didn’t call me? Have you been sick?”
“I didn’t call you because I didn’t want to call you. I know that must come as a shock, Cullen, but—”
“Is that the reason you left school?”
Her face colored. “Who told you that?”
“You were the best student Ian Hutchins had, and you quit. You moved out of your apartment, you’re working your tail off in a joint like this and you look like hell. I want to know why.”
“Just who do you think you are, Mr. O’Connell? I don’t owe any explanations to you or anybody. My life is my—”
“I’m making it my business. Last time we saw each other, you had the world by the tail. I want to know what happened.”
“But you’re not going to find out. I told you, I don’t have to—Hey. Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
Cullen was tugging her toward the door. Marissa tried to dig in her heels, but he paid no attention.
“Stop it!” she said in a frantic whisper. “Are you crazy? You’ll cost me my job!”
“Tell her you’re taking a break to talk to an old friend,” he growled when Blondie hurried toward them.
“Marissa? You okay? You want me to call the cops?”
And turn this bad dream into a full-fledged nightmare? “No,” Marissa said quickly, “No, I’m fine. I’m just—I’m taking a break…”
The next thing she knew, she was tucked in the passenger seat of Cullen’s car and they were pulling away from the curb and into traffic.
CHAPTER FOUR
MARISSA swung toward Cullen.
“Are you insane?” Her voice rose until it was a shriek. “Take me back! Turn this car around and take me—”
“Buckle your seat belt.”
“You son of a bitch! Did you hear what I said?” She lunged toward him and slammed her fist into his shoulder. “Take-me-back!”
Cullen took one hand from the steering wheel and wrapped it around hers.
“You want to hit me, wait until we stop moving. For now, keep your hands to yourself. And put on that belt.”
She stared at him. His profile looked as if it had been chiseled from stone. He was driving fast, weaving in and out of traffic, and she knew she had about as much chance of getting him to take her back to the Chiliburger as she had of changing what happened the weekend they’d met.
You couldn’t turn back time.
Marissa lay a hand protectively over her belly. Then she clipped the ends of her seat belt together.
Given the chance, she wasn’t even sure she would turn it back. At first, oh God, at first, she’d have given anything to erase that night but now—now, things had changed. She’d faced what had happened, gone from hating the changes in her life to hating only herself for her weakness and stupidity, for making the same mistakes her mother had made…
No.
She took a deep breath.
She wasn’t going there. All that was behind her and, anyway, it had nothing to do with the man sitting beside her except in the most fundamental way. Besides, why was she wasting time on this nonsense? She had more immediate concerns. Her job. She’d come in late again, and two minutes later, Cullen had dragged her away. Would Tony take her back? He would. He had to. She’d beg. She’d grovel, if that was what it took. She needed the money desperately.
How would a man like Cullen O’Connell, born to wealth and power, ever understand that?
She’d tell Tony that Cullen was an old boyfriend. That he’d just gotten in from out of town. She’d laugh, make it seem as if it was all about being macho. That was true enough. Cullen did have a macho quality. Tony thought he had one, too, but it wasn’t the same. Cullen’s was the kind some women found attractive.
All right. She’d found it attractive, but that didn’t give him the right to swagger into her life and take over. As for telling him why she’d quit school, changed all her plans…that wasn’t going to happen.
The only way to handle him would be to play on that machismo. Make him think she saw his high-handed interference as gallantry, and that she appreciated it even if it had been misplaced.
Marissa cleared her throat.
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but—”
“What street?”
“What?”
“I said, what street do you live on? I’m taking you home.”
“No,” she said quickly, “you’re not. You’re taking me back to the Chiliburger.”
“You want to give me your address, or you want to drive in circles until we run out of gas?” He looked at her as they stopped at a red light. “Your choice, lady.”
Lady. The way he said it turned the word into something vaguely impolite. So much for finding a way to handle him.
“I don’t think you understand,” she said, trying to stay calm. “I need that job.”
“You have a bachelor’s degree and three years of law school.” He smiled sardonically as he stepped on the gas. “Oh yeah. Right. I’ll just bet you sure as hell need a job serving burgers and fries.”
“How readily you jump to conclusions, Mr. O’Connell. I have a degree in political science. Do you see anybody clamoring for my services? As for three years of law school…‘Sorry, Miss Perez,"’ she said in a high-pitched voice, “‘but we really don’t have any openings in our office for paralegals."’ She looked at Cullen, eyes flashing dangerously. “Translation. ‘Are you kidding? Why would our attorneys want to work with a clerk who probably thinks she knows everything?”’
“Okay. So getting a good job would be tough.”
Marissa sank back in her seat and folded her arms. “Something like that,” she said tonelessly.
“What about your scholarship money?”
“What scholarship money?”
“Ian Hutchins says—”
“I had a scholarship. You have to attend school full-time to keep it.”
“And?”
Look how he’d drawn her into this discussion! Marissa blew back the hair that had fallen over her forehead.
“And,” she said coolly, “this conversation is over.”
They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then Cullen looked at her.
