The Cutting Edge Read online

  “I know,” he said.

  He was restless after they had cleaned the dishes, and he prowled around her small apartment. Several times she started to suggest that he go to work, since he was obviously bored, but there was a growing edge to his temper that made her reluctant to suggest anything to him. She had been depressed and listless, and had let her normal chores slide, but her old energy was back, and she had plenty to do in cleaning and catching up on her laundry, so she generally ignored him and let him prowl. When the telephone rang early in the afternoon, and he leaped for it, she suddenly realized that he’d been waiting for the call.

  Hurrying to his side, she tried to piece together the conversation from his noncommittal responses, but he was a master at one-word answers. His eyes were flinty, his mouth a hard line as he listened.

  “Okay. I’ll be right there,” he said, and hung up.

  “What is it?” she asked anxiously, dogging his footsteps as he went into the bedroom and began pulling off his clothes. “Have they found out who did it?”

  “Maybe,” he grunted. He was in slacks and a dress shirt before she realized that he wasn’t going to tell her anything else, and as he began capably knotting a tie around his neck, her brows snapped together.

  “Oh, no you don’t, Brett Rutland! You’re not leaving me here without telling me anything!” She kicked off her shoes and wiggled out of her jeans. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not.” He hooked his jacket over one finger and seized her by the nape of the neck, holding her still while he bent and kissed her roughly. “It could get dirty, and I don’t want you hurt, not any more than you already have been. See you later.”

  “Brett!” she yelled furiously at his back, and her voice cracked.

  He stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder at her. For the first time, she saw the murderous look in his eyes, and she shivered, suddenly glad that that look wasn’t directed at her. “I’ll be back,” he said evenly.

  The apartment was silent and empty without him, and her nerves crawled when she remembered the way he had looked. If that look had been meant for her, she’d have died of fright on the spot. He was always controlled. She couldn’t imagine him in a rage, yet she sensed that he had been holding on to his control by only the narrowest of margins. He knew who had done the embezzling, who had deliberately blamed it on her, but he hadn’t told her. Who could have done it, that he would hesitate to reveal the embezzler’s identity to her? Someone she trusted?

  She had been too frightened to really wonder about the identity of the criminal, even though she realized the necessity of discovering who it had been. Whoever it was had to hate her, and again Tessa’s conception of herself was shaken. What had she done to deserve such hatred, such vindictiveness?

  Her thoughts tumbled about like a mad squirrel, trying to recall every woman who worked at Carter Engineering, trying desperately to think of something she had done, but nothing came to mind. She hadn’t stolen anyone’s lover, or broken up a relationship. She couldn’t remember doing anything that would earn her an enemy, yet she had.

  Tortured by her inability to find a reason for what had happened, she began to cry, soft, soundless sobs that were full of misery. Where was Brett when she needed him? Didn’t he know how painful it was to be so totally in the dark? No, how could he know? Brett had never been in the dark; he was always in control, always on top of the situation. She had reached out to him during the night trying, almost in spite of herself, to mend the rift between them. She loved him; she wanted to trust him with her love, and she wanted to be certain that he loved her in return. Yet he had left her alone with her thoughts, knowing that she must be wild with anxiety and uncertainty. Was that love? Had he walked out to give her the chance to make her decision, taking the chance that, when he returned, she wouldn’t be there?

  The afternoon became night, and Tessa’s nerves were so jittery that she jumped and stifled a small cry when a key turned in the lock and Brett entered, his face tired and lined. Sammy was with him, looking as pale and tired as Tessa felt, but his presence barely registered on her consciousness. She stared at the key in Brett’s hand. “You took my house key,” she said numbly.

  He looked at the key in his hand and grimaced. “Yeah,” he said, putting the key back into his pocket. Coming over to her, he looked down at her critically, examining every inch of her. “You’ve been crying again, damn it,” he said fiercely.

  “Did you…find out anything?”

  Instead of answering, Brett asked, “Is there any fresh coffee? I need something to keep me going.”

  “No, there isn’t. Brett, answer me!”

  “I’ll make a pot.”

  She stormed to her feet. “I’m going to throw the pot at you if you don’t answer my question!”

  An unwilling grin twisted his mouth and brought a gleam to his eyes. “Hellcat,” he said with tender affection. “Sammy is going to tell you what’s going on.”

  Tessa whirled on Sammy, who stood with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His blue eyes were miserable. “It’s my fault,” he said grimly. He had always seemed so boyish, even though he was older than she, but he looked as if he had aged ten years overnight.

  She shook her head. That didn’t make any sense at all. “How could it be your fault? You’re not the embezzler.”

  “It’s Hillary. She did it for me.”

  It was as if someone had drawn a curtain aside. Tessa stared at him in horrified realization, immediately seeing the whole of it. All of it was there. Poor Hillary, so shy and unsure of herself, and so much in love with Sammy. Sammy had needed money to develop his electronic ideas; Hillary had gotten it for him. She had had all the opportunity she could want: She worked in a bank; she worked with Sammy, and through him had access to the computers at Carter Engineering; and she was smart enough to know how to do it. Even choosing Tessa as the scapegoat made sense, because Sammy so obviously admired Tessa, because Tessa was bright and charming and confident, relaxed with men, while Hillary froze with shyness.

  She looked at Sammy, her eyes brimming with sympathetic tears.

  “I traced it,” he said hoarsely. “She accessed the computer several times from my apartment. She has a key… . She came and went anytime she wanted. My God, I practically set it up for her! Tessa, I traced it back to my own number!”

  He was shaking; she went to him and put her arms around him, and they clung together. “What happened?” she whispered, aching for him.

  “We met her when she got off work at the bank, Mr. Rutland and Evan and I. She saw us and just…started crying. She knew.”

  “Has he had her arrested yet?” Tessa asked shakily.

  “No, I haven’t. I wanted to talk to you first,” Brett interrupted coolly. He had been leaning, unnoticed, in the doorway. Now he straightened and walked over to Tessa. “My first instinct is to lock her away, for what she did to you more than for taking the money. But I don’t want revenge to be my motive for doing anything, so everything’s on hold. Evan is with her now, babysitting and waiting for my call.”

  Appalled, Tessa stared at him. He was asking her to decide the fate of another human being. It was up to her whether he prosecuted Hillary, or let her go. Why was he so certain that revenge wouldn’t color her thinking? She was human, too! “Brett, don’t do this to me.”

  “I know what I’m asking,” he said flatly, not taking his eyes from her. “But you see, baby, I trust your judgment.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  TESSA TREMBLED ALL over as she stood there staring at him, her eyes begging him. She was hurting, he knew; she was acutely sensitive now, reacting to every nuance in the air. This had changed her. Where before she had been effervescent, sparkling like a vintage champagne, now she was quieter, the laughter stilled. He hoped it hadn’t gone forever. The charm of that joyous laughter had been what first lured him, yet he loved her anyway; he loved the woman, and her gift of joyousness had been only a part of the reason why h