Free Getting It Right This Time by Rachel Brimble Page B

of one of the sofas, her eyes locked on his as he sat down beside her. She immediately clutched his arm, her bright red nails pinching the flesh.
    “Are you angry with me?” she asked.
    Mark stared at her. “Why? Should I be?”
    Her gaze darted over his face. “Well, your date…”
    “Why did you bring the paps here, Marcia? What did you want them to see? You? Me?
    Kate? All of us?”
    “You’re angry. Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think I--”
    “I don’t know what to think.” He pulled his arm from her grip. “All I know is, they’ve never come here before, so why tonight?”
    She swiveled toward the plate glass window beside them. The street was deserted. The paparazzi having either been sent on their way or more likely, come to the conclusion nothing of any substance was going to happen for the rest of the night. Mark waited. He refused to fill the silence. If Marcia brought the press to his office knowing full well he was spending the evening with Kate…
    At last, she turned. Her eyes bored into his. This was the real Marcia. The tears were no more than a smokescreen; the real Marcia was staunchly determined and ferociously ambitious. It would take more than a few photographers to faze her, and Mark’s gut told him that tonight was a publicity endeavor, orchestrated by Marcia herself.
    “They were here when I arrived. I received a phone call.”
    He leaned back on the sofa, carefully watching her. “A phone call?”
    She nodded. “They threw a load of questions at me. Asking what it felt like to be replaced so easily. How did I feel now you have a new number one client?”
    “A new client? What are they talking about? Do they mean Kate?” He laughed. “They’re fishing, Marcia. Surely you knew that as soon as they started asking the questions. Tell me you didn’t fall for their crap after everything I’ve taught you about the press?”
    Her gaze hardened. “Of course I didn’t.”
    “Then why ring me asking me to come here instead of staying in your own apartment out of their way?”
    “If you have to ask that question, they are absolutely right.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Kate, Mark.”
    “What about her? She doesn’t affect you.”

    Rachel Brimble
    41
    She shook her head, looked to the ceiling. “Of course she does. How much time have you spent with me since she turned up, huh? How many times have we been pictured together? You didn’t even come to that restaurant opening with me last night.”
    Heat burned low in Mark’s abdomen as he took in the set of her jaw, the cold determination in her eyes. “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf,” he said slowly. “Maybe I’ve decided I want a bit of a personal life instead of running around after my clients twenty-four seven.”
    “But--”
    Abruptly, he stood, flung his arm out toward the doors, cutting her off. “Go home, Marcia.
    I’ll ring you in the morning.”
    She stared at him. In the back of his mind, Mark knew he risked upsetting a potential fortune in the making, but the woman waiting upstairs was worth more than any amount of money--there was zero competition between Kate and Marcia, and nothing Marcia could say or do would make him falter.
    “Fine.” She leapt to her feet and hitched her bag roughly onto her shoulder. “Let’s hope when you’ve scratched whatever itch it is with Kate, you’ll be better able to focus on your job.”
    “Good night, Marcia.” He bowed toward the door once more.
    “I’ll leave, Mark, but I’m telling you right now, this is not the last you’ve heard from the press. They want to know who Kate is and why she’s so important to you.”
    Mark kept his face impassive, even though the knowing way she said those words made the hairs at the back of his neck rise. “Do they?”
    “Of course they do! Underwood was snapping his camera like a man possessed when Kate got out of the car. You know what he’s like as far as you’re concerned, he wants you