Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
RONAN’SHANDSWERESHAKING. Hell, his whole body was shaking. But he forced his fingers to clench into a fist, and he pounded on the door. There was a bell. He could have used it, but he suspected his hand was shaking too much for his finger to find the small button.
He’d had no problem finding every one of Muriel’s buttons. And he’d pushed them. Just like she’d pushed his. They’d driven each other wild. Maybe that was why he was here.
He was crazy. He had to have been crazy to leave The World’s Most Beautiful Woman lying naked in her bed. But he’d had the feeling—that urge that he’d had when he was a kid and he’d been overwhelmed with his parents’ fighting—the feeling that compelled him to flee.
So he’d fled.
He hadn’t gone far, though, just a few floors up to another apartment in the same building. He lifted his hand to knock again just as the door finally opened. He was taken aback for a moment by the face that stared at him. While it was familiar, it wasn’t the one he’d expected to see, although he should have known Simon would be with Bette Monroe if she was home. He suspected his friend spent every free moment with his former assistant. Simon’s shirt was off and his blond hair was mussed, so it wasn’t difficult to imagine what they’d been doing.
The same thing he’d been doing with Muriel...
Simon looked more shocked to see him, his blue eyes narrow and his brow furrowed with confusion. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you get lost?”
Despite feeling a little lost—the way he had when he’d run away all those years ago—Ronan shook his head.
Just as Simon had back then, he took Ronan in. He opened the door to Bette’s apartment and led the way down a short hall to a good-sized living room. The apartment was bigger than Muriel’s and nicer, with highly polished hardwood floors and dark trim. Maybe designers actually earned more than models.
Or maybe Muriel hadn’t been able to afford anything bigger after paying out the divorce settlement Ronan had gotten for her ex...
He flinched as guilt stabbed him. Of course that didn’t matter anymore. With all her recent accolades, she had to be back on top now.
On top...
Why the hell hadn’t he tried that position with her? But then she would have been able to set the pace and drive him even more out of his mind than she already had. When she’d gone down on him, he’d nearly lost consciousness, the pleasure overwhelming him.
Simon turned back toward him and asked, “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to try to seduce the truth out of Muriel tonight.”
“What?” Bette exclaimed as she walked up behind her boyfriend. She was pulling the belt tight on a silk robe that was probably all she wore. “That’s horrible!”
Ronan wasn’t about to remind her that was what Simon had done with her. He had already caused enough trouble between them.
But apparently Bette hadn’t forgotten because she slapped Simon’s shoulder and said, “It was bad enough when you tried that with me.”
“It was bad?” he asked, as he turned toward her and arched one of his blond brows.
She uttered a wistful sigh, and her mouth curved into a naughty smile. “Very bad...”
Simon stepped closer to his girlfriend and wound his arm around her small waist, drawing her against his side. His hand smoothed over her hip, and his gaze dipped toward where the neck of her robe began to gape over her full breasts.
Ronan snapped his fingers. “Hey, I’m still here!” He didn’t mind being part of a threesome—if the other two were women. That was the only way he didn’t mind sharing. But somehow he didn’t think that would be the case with Muriel. He wouldn’t like sharing her with anyone.
But if her reputation was to be believed, she wasn’t seeing only him. There had been all those flowers in her apartment, too, and only people she knew would have known where to send them. According to her ex, one man had never been enough to satisfy her. Of course, that one man hadn’t been Ronan.
He could satisfy her. At least, he thought he had.
“Why are you here?” Bette asked him. She obviously wasn’t very happy to see him, not that he could blame her. He hadn’t been very nice to her at her going-away office party.
He wondered if she would ever forgive him. And if she couldn’t, Muriel certainly never would. But what was there to forgive?
He had only been doing his job. Ronan was not the one who’d done anything wrong. Muriel was. Wasn’t she?
“I came here to ask you about Muriel,” he replied.
“Bette already told you she had nothing to do with those documents that were given to the bar association,” Simon said. And now his voice was as cold and unwelcoming as his girlfriend’s.
“Muriel said those documents were given to her,” Ronan said.
And she was the one who’d given them to the bar association. But why? If she had really done what those witnesses had said, why would she have been so upset? And why would she seem so certain that those witnesses had lied?
His blood chilled with the thought that they might have committed perjury. But no. He couldn’t be wrong.
“And I don’t know who gave them to her,” Bette said. “Muriel doesn’t even know.”
“How well do you know her?” Ronan asked.
Bette glared at him now, and there was a defensive snap in her voice when she replied, “Very well.”
He didn’t want to piss her off, especially not with Simon present. But he had to ask, “How do you even know her at all?”
“What do you mean?” Simon shot that question at him, and his voice was sharp, too, in defense of his girlfriend. “What are you getting at, Ro?”
Ronan sighed with frustration. “I just don’t understand their friendship.”
Bette obviously understood what he was getting at because she answered Simon. “He doesn’t understand how we can be friends because Muriel’s beautiful and famous, and I’m not.” Hurt flashed in her dark eyes.
And Ronan flinched. That wasn’t what he’d really meant, but it was a valid reason for them not to be friends. They seemed to have very little in common.
Simon’s arm tightened around his girlfriend’s small waist. “You’re beautiful and famous, too, sweetheart.”
She laughed, but with no bitterness or resentment. “Not like Muriel.” But she didn’t appear to be jealous of her friend. “She’s The World’s Most Beautiful Woman.”
Ronan agreed with her, but Simon apparently didn’t. Before he could argue with her, Ronan interjected, “That’s not what I meant at all. Bette, you’re sweet and nice and honest...” At least, he hoped, for his friend’s sake and his, that she was. “And Muriel Sanz is not.”
Bette laughed again. “Yes, she is. And that’s why we’re friends. I have never met anyone more straightforward or honest than Muriel is.”
He shook his head. It wasn’t possible. “But...that’s not what all those witnesses said.”
“They lied,” Bette said as if it was just that simple.
His doubts escaped in a snort of derision. “Really? All of them?”
“Why is it so easy for you to believe that Muriel is the one who lied?” Bette asked. “Because she’s a woman? Because she’s beautiful?”
Ronan narrowed his eyes now. How much did Bette know about his life? About his past? He turned toward his friend.
Simon shrugged. “She’s intuitive.”
“And a good judge of character,” Bette added. “I trust Muriel. I believe she’s telling the truth.”
Ronan didn’t want to believe it. Because if she was telling the truth, then she had every reason to hate him. Hell, he would hate himself.
He shook his head, refusing to accept it. All of those people wouldn’t have lied. No. Muriel was the liar and the manipulator, perhaps better even than his mother had been. He had to be careful. He had to protect himself before he got in too deep.
But he had a sick feeling that it might already be too late for that. He’d been smart to leave her alone in bed tonight and run. He probably should have run farther than he had, though, because he would have a hard time stepping back into that elevator and not pressing the button for her floor, not going back for more of her.
For the first time in his life, Ronan was beginning to understand his father. He was beginning to understand how a woman could become an addiction.
What would it take to cure him?
Losing his license?
Would that finally kill his attraction to her?
* * *
The doorbell rang, and even though she’d been waiting for it, the sound startled her. And Muriel realized she’d dozed off on the couch. She opened her eyes and squinted against the sun streaming through the tall windows.
After what they’d done in the bedroom, she wouldn’t have been able to sleep there, not on the tangled sheets that had smelled of Ronan and sex. She wouldn’t have been able to sleep there because she would have just lain awake, wanting more. But she must have been the only one who’d wanted more, because Ronan had taken off in a hurry.
Had he been late for a date with another woman?
Not that their dinner together had been a date. He hadn’t asked Muriel out; he’d just shown up with take-out. And, embarrassingly enough, she had been home alone on a Friday night. But it had been a Friday night, so of course, he’d had plans. No wonder he’d left in such a hurry.
But she’d been certain he would come back, that he had been as affected by the attraction between them as she was. But he hadn’t returned.
Unless that was him at the door, persistently ringing the bell. Maybe he’d brought her breakfast.
Her stomach rumbling at the thought of food, Muriel rolled off the couch and hurried down the short hall to the door. When she pulled it open and found her friend standing in the hall, disappointment flashed through her.
Feeling guilty, she pushed it aside and gave Bette a bright smile. The pretty brunette held a beverage carrier and a bag that was already getting soggy from whatever greasy bounty she’d brought with her. Muriel stepped back, but her friend remained standing in the hall.
“Is he here?” she asked.
Muriel tensed. She hadn’t told Bette that she’d run into Ronan—a couple of times—lately. No doubt Bette would think she was a fool for even talking to him, let alone letting him get as close as he’d been to her.
Inside her...
She shivered despite the fact that she’d pulled on her yoga pants and a sweatshirt after he left. “Is who here?” she asked, stalling for time.
Could Bette think she’d been hooking up with someone else? Maybe some magazine had printed some more lies about her. But Bette knew better than to believe what she read about Muriel.
“Ronan Hall,” Bette said.
The heat of embarrassment rushed to Muriel’s face.
“He’s playing you,” her friend warned. “He’s trying to seduce you into dropping your complaint with the bar association.”
A pang struck Muriel’s heart. Not that she was hurt or anything...
She’d suspected Ronan was up to something, that he’d had a reason for seeking her out in the elevator and at her photo shoot.
She plucked a cup of coffee from the beverage carrier Bette held in one hand. “At least let me have some caffeine before we start this conversation.”
She was exhausted. Not just because of the marathon sex she’d had with Ronan but because she hadn’t been able to sleep after he’d left.
She’d wanted him again. Hell, she wanted him now.
Bette held up the grease-stained bag. “I brought doughnuts, too.”
“I love you,” Muriel said as she ushered Bette into the apartment and closed the door behind her.
“You love too easily,” Bette said.
Feeling like her friend had struck her, Muriel gasped. “I am not in love with Ronan.”
“I should hope not,” Bette said.
“I hate his guts,” Muriel reminded her.
“Then why are you even talking to him, let alone sleeping with him?” Bette asked.
Muriel silently cursed him for being a tool and herself for being a fool. She should have known that he would brag to his friends, and Bette was seeing one of those friends. Simon Kramer wasn’t much better than Ronan. All of the partners of the Street Legal law practice were notorious for being ruthless lawyers and lovers.
“I could say the same about you and Simon,” Muriel reminded her.
“You could have in the beginning,” Bette admitted. “But I am in love with him now. And he loves me.”
She didn’t doubt Bette’s feelings for her former boss, and he actually seemed invested in the relationship, too. He certainly spent enough time at her place.
“That’s not going to happen with me and Ronan,” Muriel said. He’d skipped out right after they’d had sex.
“I know,” Bette agreed. “So what the hell are you doing with him?”
“We’re not sleeping together,” Muriel murmured as she thought of everything they’d done to each other, everything she wanted to do with him still. “I’m playing him, too.”
Bette’s brown eyes darkened with obvious skepticism. “How’s that?”
“I want to get him to admit the truth,” Muriel replied. “I want to make him confess that he coerced all those people to lie about me on the witness stand.”
Bette glanced away from her then. Did she not believe that those people had lied?
“Do you think they were telling the truth about me?” Muriel asked.
“No,” Bette quickly replied. “Absolutely not. But I’m not sure that Ronan got them to lie about you.” She dumped out the doughnuts onto the table.
Muriel reached for a powdered one. She knew it would be custard filled; those were their favorites. Before she took a bite, she asked, “Then why would they?”
Bette shrugged. “Why does anyone do anything?”
“For money,” Muriel replied. “Or fame.”
“Exactly,” Bette said.
The people who’d testified against her had gotten both. The interviews they’d given after the trial had brought them their fifteen minutes of fame, and the magazines and television networks had probably paid for those interviews.
Could Ronan really have not suborned perjury?
“But what about those memos?” Muriel asked.
Bette sighed. “I think they were forged.”
“You believe Ronan?”
“He’s too smart to put anything incriminating in writing,” Bette pointed out.
And she was right. Ronan was smart. If he’d done something illegal, he wouldn’t have risked someone discovering what he’d done. He probably wouldn’t have documented it. Were the memos she’d received forged, as he’d claimed?
She cursed. She wouldn’t have filed her complaint with the bar association if she hadn’t been certain they were authentic. “But why would someone have given them to me?”
Bette sighed. “Someone is making trouble for Street Legal,” she said. “They’ve given case file notes to opposing counsel for another trial...”
“But were those notes real?” Muriel asked.
Bette nodded. “But that doesn’t mean the ones you were given are,” she said. “I really don’t think Ronan would have been so careless.” Her throat moved as she swallowed, as if she was choking on her words, before she added, “And I don’t think he would have suborned perjury.”
“Not even to win?” Muriel asked. Ronan Hall was all about winning. He had freely admitted that in every interview he’d ever given.
“He doesn’t take cases he doesn’t think he can win,” Bette replied. “So maybe he’s telling the truth, too.”
But Muriel couldn’t be certain that was the case. And until she was certain, she wouldn’t withdraw her complaint from the bar association, no matter how many times Ronan seduced her. Yet if getting her to withdraw her complaint was what he wanted, why hadn’t he asked her to do it?
He hadn’t asked her anything during or after sex. He’d dressed quickly and hightailed it out of her bedroom and apartment as if he’d been late for something else.
Or someone else...
Now she felt a curious pang of emotion, one that left a bitter taste in her mouth despite the sweetness of the custard and powdered sugar. It couldn’t be jealousy; it must have just been disgust. Anger surged through her.
“Even if he didn’t know those people were lying, he treated me like trash,” Muriel said. “He dragged my name through the mud. I will never forgive him for that.”
“Good,” Bette said. “I don’t want you to fall for the wrong man again and get hurt.”
“I won’t,” Muriel assured her friend. But she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it wasn’t the doughnut. She’d barely nibbled on that. It was fear.
No. She wouldn’t fall for Ronan. It didn’t matter how good the sex was between them. He wasn’t a good man. But he was the best lover she’d ever had...
Maybe she would just have to have a lot of sex with him, so much that she would get sick of it, that she would get sick of him.