You can’t believe I would actually fall for you.”
He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. She made it sound ridiculous that she could care for him. Plenty of other women claimed that they had. But then, he hadn’t had the relationship with those other women that he had with her. Actually, he hadn’t ever had a real relationship with anyone.
Just sex...
And he would like to have that with her, even though she was trying to destroy his career. Because from that kiss, he knew it would be good between them. Hell, it would be better than good; it might be great.
He hadn’t had great in a while—probably because every time he’d been with a woman the past few months, he’d imagined that woman was Muriel and he’d been disappointed when he’d realized she wasn’t.
“I would never make the mistake of thinking you could love me,” he assured her. “I don’t think you’re any more capable of really falling in love than I am.”
“I was married,” she said, “until you ended that.”
“You ended that with your cheating.”
She lifted her hand, but before she could swing it toward his face, he caught her wrist. Through gritted teeth, she told him, “I did not cheat.”
He snorted again, almost amused over her show of righteous indignation. She could be one of those models who easily crossed over into acting; she had the skills. “So how did your ex find so many witnesses who testified otherwise then?”
Her green eyes widened. “My ex...? He found the witnesses? I thought you did—you or that PR firm.”
“Yeah, that was your second mistake when you forged those notes that supposedly came from my case files,” he said. “You made it sound as though I found the witnesses.” He shook his head. “And that wasn’t true.”
She glared at him. “What those witnesses said wasn’t true. They perjured themselves and you knew it.”
“And that was your first mistake,” he said. He stepped closer now, pressing his chest up against her breasts. “Trying to blame me for your bad choices.”
“Bad choices?” she repeated. “My only bad choice was getting married in the first place.”
He nodded. “In that, we are in complete agreement. Marriage is always a mistake.” His parents’ marriage had showed him that. Their constant fighting was why he’d run away from home for a while in his teenage years. “People aren’t meant to be monogamous.”
“Many people are,” she said.
He shook his head now. “Not people like you and me, Muriel.” He skimmed his fingertips along her jaw, down her throat to push her sweater from one shoulder. Then he toyed with that bow again. He was so tempted to tug it loose. So damn tempted.
His fingers twitched and the bow began to loosen. Then the elevator dinged and the doors slid open.
Muriel stepped back through the doors. But as she did, she reached out and struck a button on the control panel. The doors closed as she turned and ran down the hall.
Ronan wasn’t sure what floor they had stopped on, or if it had even been her floor, or if she had just really wanted to get away from him. Before he could look at the numbers above the doors, the elevator began to move again—heading down—until it stopped in the lobby.
He hesitated a moment before he stepped through the open doors. He’d changed his mind about trying to apologize to Bette again. It was probably better for Simon if Ronan didn’t talk to her at all. He suspected she’d already told him all that she knew. No. If he wanted to get to the bottom of the documents that had been given to the bar association, he needed to talk to Muriel again. But he would have to do that another time—because if he tracked her down now, after that kiss and seeing her nipples pushing against that camisole, he would do a hell of a lot more than talk to her.
* * *
Legs trembling, heart pounding, Muriel leaned back against her apartment door. She’d turned the deadbolt, so even if he’d followed her, he would not be able to get inside her place. But she didn’t think he’d followed her. The elevator doors had closed before he’d had a chance to step through them.
But he could track her down...especially now that he knew where she’d moved after the divorce. While the building was nice, her apartment was small—much smaller than her old place. Maybe Ronan didn’t realize she lived here; maybe he’d thought she was just visiting Bette.
Then she should have gotten off on another floor...because she wouldn’t put it past him to knock on every door until he found her.
He was furious with her for reporting him to the bar association. Why was he so angry? Because he’d been caught? Or because he hadn’t suborned perjury, as he’d tried to claim?
She could understand his anger if he’d done nothing wrong. That was how she’d felt over her divorce proceedings. She’d been maligned in court and in the media, and she hadn’t done anything of which she’d been accused. She had definitely not cheated.
She’d taken her vows seriously. She’d been monogamous. That was all she knew. Even before she’d gotten married, she’d never dated more than one man at a time. And since the disastrous divorce, she hadn’t even started dating again.
Maybe that was why Ronan Hall had affected her so much. Or maybe it hadn’t been him at all. Maybe it had been the elevator malfunctioning and making her fear that they were about to plunge to their deaths. With her emotions so heightened, it was no wonder she might feel attracted to him.
And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t good-looking and sexy...
But still, she should hate him, not desire him. And she did hate him.
But what if he wasn’t responsible for those witnesses coming forward? What if those memos from his Street Legal law practice had been forged, as he’d claimed?
No. She couldn’t believe that. She knew every one of those witnesses who’d testified. While they hadn’t all been close friends of hers, they were acquaintances. They wouldn’t have lied about her without some serious coercion. Arte wouldn’t have done that. He hadn’t been the man she’d thought he was, but he wasn’t a monster or she wouldn’t have married him in the first place. He’d once been so sweet and charming.
No. Ronan Hall was the monster. And she would prove it. In case those memos weren’t sufficient evidence, though, she needed to find more.
Ronan had been attracted to her, too. And she didn’t think it was because he’d been scared. No. He was attracted to her because of how she looked. Her looks were why—despite her reputation being smeared—her career hadn’t suffered like she’d worried it would. Magazines and designers said she sold copy and clothes, maybe even more so since she had become so notorious.
But she hadn’t wanted to be notorious. And she was mortified that so many people believed those lies about her and that her grandparents—the sweet couple who’d raised her—had heard those lies. About affairs and orgies and sex parties...
While they knew her too well to believe them, they had to contend with the comments from their friends,
