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Cullen sat back and drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel. The offices would be closed for the weekend. Ian was the logical choice, but he’d want to know why Cullen was trying to get in touch with Marissa.
He was digging himself in deeper and deeper.
A sane man would turn around and head for home but then, a sane man wouldn’t have come out here in the first place.
He started the car. It lurched forward. The engine bitched when he tried to coax more speed from it, but it finally gave a couple of hiccups and complied.
Even the car knew he wasn’t in a mood to be screwed with, he thought grimly.
He only hoped the Perez babe could read him just as quickly.
THE Hutchinses lived in a big Victorian on a tree-lined street in North Oakland.
Music, and the sound of voices and laughter, spilled from the yard behind the house. The air was pungent with the mingled aromas of smoking charcoal, lager beer and grilling beef.
Cullen climbed the porch steps, took a deep breath and rang the bell. After a minute, Hutchins’s wife, Sylvia, opened the door.
“Hello,” she said, her lips curving into a cautious smile that suddenly turned genuine. “Cullen O’Connell! What a nice surprise.”
“Hello, Sylvia. Sorry to barge in without notice, but—”
“Don’t be silly!” Laughing, she took his arm and drew him inside the foyer. “I was afraid you were the fire marshal. Ian’s grilling steaks.”
Cullen chuckled. “The Hutchins method of incineration. Nothing’s changed, huh?”
“Not a thing,” Sylvia said cheerfully. “Come inside, Cullen. I had no idea you were in town. Ian never said a word.”
“He doesn’t know. And I apologize again for not phoning first. You have guests.”
“We have half the Bay area, you mean. You know these barbecues of Ian’s—students, faculty, friends, every person he’s ever met on the street. Besides, why would you call first? You’re always welcome. Let me get you a drink and introduce you around.”
“Actually, I just need a couple of minutes of Ian’s time.”
“Oh, come on. There are a couple of unattached women here—Ian’s third-and fourth-year students—I’m sure would love to meet you.”
“Is Marissa Perez one of them?” Holy hell. How had that slipped out? Cullen felt his face burn. “I met her that last time I was out here. She drove me around all weekend.”
Sylvia arched an eyebrow. “Marissa? No, she’s not here. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in a while.” She winked. “I’m sure we can find a replacement.”
“Sylvia,” Cullen said quietly, “if you’d just tell Ian I’m here…I need to ask him something and then I’ll be on my way.”
“Ah. You’re really not in a party mood, are you?” Smiling, she patted his hand. “I’ll get Ian. Why don’t you wait in his study?”
Cullen bent and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”
The professor’s study was a small room off the foyer. Cullen had always liked it. An old sofa covered in flowered chintz faced a small fireplace; an antique cherry desk stood in a corner. The walls were hung with family photos, and an ancient Oriental rug lent a mellow touch to the hard-wood floor.
The place felt familiar and comforting. And when Ian Hutchins crossed the threshold with a beer in either hand, Cullen smiled.
“As always,” he said, taking a glass from Hutchins, “the perfect host.”
“It’s not the fatted calf—I’ve got that laid out on the barbecue—but I figured you might be thirsty.” The men shook hands, then sat down. “If I’d known you were going to be in town—”
“It was a last minute decision.”
“And Sylvia tells me you can’t stay for our party.”
“No. I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m just passing through and I wondered…” Get to it, O’Connell. “Remember when I was here to give that speech?”
“Of course. We had a lot of excellent feedback. Matter of fact, I was going to give you a call, see if you’d be interested in—”
“The woman who was my liaison. Marissa Perez.”
Hutchins cocked his head. “Yes?”
“I’m trying to get in touch with her.” Cullen cleared his throat. “Turns out she’s moved. I thought you might have her new address.”
“May I ask why you’re trying to contact Ms. Perez, Cullen?”
Cullen stared at the older man, then rose to his feet. He put his untouched glass of beer on a table and tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“It’s a personal matter.”
“Personal.”
“Ms. Perez and I had a misunderstanding, and I’d like to clear the air.”
“How personal? What sort of misunderstanding?”
Cullen’s mouth narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“I heard what you said, Ian. And, frankly, I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”
Hutchins put down his glass, too, and got to his feet. “Easy, Cullen. I’m not trying to pry, but, well, I owe a certain amount of confidentiality to my students. I’m sure you understand that.”
“Hell, I’m not asking you to tell me her social security number!” Easy, Cullen told himself. Just take it nice and slow. “Look, I want to talk to her, that’s all. If you’re not comfortable giving me her address, then give me her phone number. Her new one’s unlisted.”
Hutchins sighed. “Is it? Well, I’m not surprised. All in all, Marissa seems to have done her best to sever all her university relationships.”
“Why? What’s going on? Did she transfer out?”
“Worse. She quit. And I’m worried about her.”
“What do you mean, she quit? You said she was one of your best students. Why would she quit?”
“She wasn’t one of my best, she was the best. I don’t know why she withdrew from school. She began behaving strangely, is all I know, and made what I think are some poor decisions, but…” Hutchins took a deep breath, then slowly expelled it. “That’s why I was questioning you, Cullen. I figured, if you and she had become friends, perhaps it would be all right to share my concerns with you.”
“Ian, you’ve known me for years. You know you can count on me to be discreet.”
Hutchins nodded. “Very well, then. Here’s the situation. Marissa’s walked away from a promising future. I know that sounds melodramatic but it’s true. She was to edit Law Review next year and after graduation, she was slated to clerk for Judge Landers.” He spread his hands. “She’s turned her back on all of it.”
“Why? What happened to her? Drugs? Alcohol?” Cullen could hear the roughness in his own voice. He cleared his throat and flashed a quick smile. “We can’t afford to let the smart ones get away, Ian. There must be a reason.”
“I’m sure there is, but she wouldn’t discuss it. I tried to talk to her the first time I realized something was wrong. She flunked one of my exams.” Hutchins gave a sharp laugh. “Understand, she never so much as gave a wrong answer until then. Anyway, I called her in for a chat. I asked if she had a problem she wanted to discuss with me. She said she didn’t.”
“And?”
“And, because I was her advisor, I began hearing from her other instructors. The same thing was happening in their classes. She was failing tests, not turning in papers, not participating in discussions. They all asked if I knew the reason.”
“So, you spoke with Marissa again…”
“Of course. She told me she’d had to take on a heavier work schedule at some restaurant. The Chiliburger, I think she said, over on Telegraph. I offered to see about some additional scholarship money but she said no, she had expenses that would extend beyond the school year.” Hutchins frowned. “She looked awful, Cullen. Tired. Peaked, if you’ll pardon such an old-fashioned word. I asked her if she was sick. She said she wasn’t.” Hutchins shrugged. “Next thing I knew, she’d dropped out of school. I phoned her, got the same message I assume you got. I even went to her apartment, but she’d cleared out.”
“Did you go to this place where she works? The Chiliburger?”
“No. This is America,” Ian said with a little smile. “People are entitled to lead their lives as they wish. Marissa had made it clear she didn’t want to discuss her problems. I’m her advisor, not her father. There’s a certain line I don’t have the right to cross.”
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.
“I’m still waiting. Where do you live?”
“None of your business. How many times do I have to tell you that? Take me back to the Chiliburger.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet your boss would like that. What’s he do, work you twelve hours a day?”
“Tony agreed to give me extra hours, yes.”
“What a prince,” Cullen said sarcastically. “Hasn’t he noticed you look like you’re going to fall on your face any minute?”
Marissa almost laughed. Tony probably had no idea what she looked like. She was a waitress, a commodity about as invisible in a place like the Chiliburger as the film of old grease on the griddle.
But she wasn’t going to tell that to Cullen. She wasn’t going to tell him anything. She’d made that decision months ago.
She could take care of herself. She always had…except for that night. How could it have happened? Hadn’t she learned anything, growing up?
Some girls’ mothers taught them to cook or sew.
Hers had taught her the truth about men, and life.
The day she got her first period, her mother handed her a box of tampons and a bucket of advice.
“You’re a woman now, Mari,” she’d said. “Men will look at you, but don’t you let ’em come near you. They’re all like the son of a bitch planted you inside me, gruntin’ between your legs, then zippin’ up their pants and walkin’ away. The rest is your problem. You remember that, girl. Nothin’ lasts, especially if you’re dumb enough to hope it will.”
She always had remembered, until Cullen. How come? Was it because her mother had omitted one salient bit of advice, that when a man took your breath away, he took away your ability to think?
That’s what had happened to her. Cullen had taken her breath away. One look, and she’d been lost. He was so ruggedly handsome, so funny, so smart…and each time their hands accidentally brushed, it seemed as if a bolt of electricity sizzled straight through her bones.
No matter. She wasn’t her mother, despite what had happened. She wouldn’t confront a man who was little more than a stranger with a truth he wouldn’t want to hear. She wouldn’t beg him to believe her. She knew how things would go if a woman named Perez tried to tell a man like Cullen O’Connell that he’d played a role in a sad little tragedy that was really of her own making.
Her fault, all of it.
She should have been strong enough to ignore the hot attraction between them instead of melting into his kiss. And when he’d asked if she had protection just before he undressed her, she should have remembered that though she took the pill to regulate her period, she’d been off it the start of the month because she had the flu.
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