Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [133]
She hugged him, tears threatening again.
“I know that if Mom and Dad were alive, they’d want you to be happy and to be yourself. I know because they loved you every bit as much as I do, and that’s all I want in the world. Since I can’t have the other thing I wanted,” Miranda said, her eyes going to Adam over Jess’s shoulder.
Adam wasn’t opaque any longer. He looked shell-shocked.
“That’s why I sent the manuscript in,” she told him. “I did it the day after Jess was attacked. I’m sorry. It was wrong on so many levels, and two nights later, I decided to pull the manuscript, but it was too late. Rob’s escapades thrust this place into the news again, and I guess it was too attractive a prospect to turn down for some poor, underpaid assistant at the publisher’s offices. But those excerpts on her blog are all anyone will ever see of the manuscript. I returned the advance money a few days ago and filed an injunction to have the material removed from the Web site. For all the good that’ll do. If your business has suffered as a result of all this, I’ll do my damnedest to make it up to you somehow.”
She meant every word of that vow, even if she had no idea what she could possibly do, short of promising him her firstborn (a child who was looking extremely hypothetical at this point), so she was a little affronted when Adam laughed.
“I’ll let you know,” was all he said before turning to Devon. “We done here? I need an off-camera word with Miranda.”
That’s it? she thought in disbelief. That was Adam’s big reaction to her arduous soul-baring?
Devon smirked while waving a languid hand in the air, “Oh, I think that’s a wrap. We’ve got plenty of footage.” Turning to Miranda, he said, “It was everything you promised, and more, love. I hope you’ll think of me for all your self-flagellatory needs.”
Under Devon’s direction, the camera crew started to disperse. The Market crew, meanwhile, swarmed Miranda and Jess. The first clap to her back made her wince, but once it became clear that everyone was thanking her and smiling, Miranda relaxed.
“Took guts, what you just did,” Frankie said. “And spunk. I love a woman with spunk.”
“Don’t be gross,” Jess laughed, smacking him.
Miranda was too dazed to follow the thread of innuendo, but it didn’t matter because Adam grabbed her by the wrist and started hauling her away from the group.
“By ‘off camera,’ I meant ‘private,’ ” Adam said. “Get out of here, you miscreants. It’s been a long damn week and you’ve all earned a night out at Chapel. Tell Christian to put a round on my tab.”
A loud cheer went up from the cooks. Miranda looked over her shoulder to Jess, who gave her two thumbs up and shouted, “Good luck!”
From the iron grip around her wrist and the purposeful haste of Adam’s strides, Miranda thought she was probably going to need all the luck she could get.
There was something about Miranda that encouraged Adam to embrace his inner caveman.
Right now, for instance. He was not unaware of his resemblance to a marauding hunter-gatherer dragging his woman off by the hair. But rather than accepting that as a deterrent, Adam let himself enjoy the image.
Because it felt damned good. And Adam had never believed in curbing his impulses.
The pantry was the closest room with a door. He kicked it open and pulled her in after him, slamming it shut with a satisfying bang.
Miranda jumped at the noise, then stuck her chin in the air as if daring him to do his worst. Adam savored the moment. He’d missed her like he’d miss cooking.
“You know what hurt the most?” he asked conversationally. “It was that you didn’t fight for us.”
“I didn’t . . . what?” Miranda was obviously having a hard time switching gears.
Adam elaborated helpfully. “When I left you, that day at the Greenmarket, you just stood there and took it. You didn’t fight back. I’d never known you to lie