The Bad Daughter(47)
“I’m talking about us. I’m talking about the fact that something’s changed with us, and I don’t know what it is and I don’t understand why.”
“My father’s been shot. My best friend is dead.” You’re screwing your assistant.
“You don’t have any friends,” he said. “You haven’t talked to your ‘best friend’ in almost six years. The minute anybody gets too close, you pull away.”
“Whoa. Hold on. You’re the one who hasn’t been returning my phone calls.”
“Because we never say anything,” Blake said. “?‘Hello. How are you? I’m fine. How are you?’ What the hell, Robin? Your life gets turned upside down and you shut me out completely. What did I do to deserve that? When did I become the enemy?”
“You’re not the enemy. I’m not shutting you out.”
“You want to know why I didn’t tell you I was coming? Because I knew you’d tell me not to bother. That you were fine. And maybe you are fine. But we’re not.”
Oh, God. Were they really having this discussion? Now?
“You’re saying you want to call off our engagement?”
Blake looked stunned. “No. Of course I don’t want to call off our engagement. Is that what you want?”
“No, that’s not what I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you.”
“Well, I’m here. And I drove all night to get here. Damn it, Robin. I’m standing right in front of you.”
The first few notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony began emanating from Blake’s pocket. “Shit. Sorry,” he said, pulling out his cell phone and glancing at the caller ID. “It’s the office.”
“Then you’d better answer it.”
Blake turned away, lowering his voice. “Kelly, what’s up?”
Robin resumed walking up the road, the sun beating down on the top of her head like hot liquid gold. She was perspiring heavily. I bet Kelly doesn’t perspire, she thought. I bet the humidity never causes her perfectly straight blond hair to spiral out of control. I bet that when Blake runs his hands through it, it feels soft and silky, not like a ball of steel wool.
“Sorry about that,” Blake said, returning his cell phone to his pocket as he hurried to catch up to her.
“How long have you been sleeping with your assistant?” Robin asked, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“What!”
“Please answer the question, counselor.”
“You think Kelly and I are sleeping together?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. No,” he repeated. “Why would you even think that?”
“Kelly’s a beautiful girl.”
“So what? L.A. is filled with beautiful girls.”
“And you could have any one of them.”
“There’s only one girl I want. You.”
“We haven’t made love in weeks. You’re always working late.”
“It’s been a crazy busy time, that’s all, and you’re always asleep when I get home.”
“Because you don’t get home till after midnight.”
“I know that I’ve been working a lot of late nights. I’m trying to make partner.” Blake’s hands fluttered aimlessly in the air. “Maybe I haven’t been as attentive as I should. I’ve been preoccupied, and I’m sorry about that. But I’m not having an affair with my assistant. I’m not having an affair with anyone.” He hesitated. “I’m not your father, Robin.”
Shit.
“You have to stop projecting his face onto mine.”
“Now who’s playing therapist?”
“I’m just saying…”
“I know what you’re saying, and you’re way off the mark.”
“Am I?”
“I’m not some little girl with daddy issues.”
“Nobody said you were a little girl.”
“Really? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I would never cheat on you.”
“All men cheat,” she heard Tara say.
“You have to trust me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” Blake repeated. “What does that mean?”
Robin looked toward the ground, his words swirling around in her head like a swarm of angry bees. “I don’t know.”
She heard a rumble in the distance, and for a second she thought it might be thunder. Which would be good. Thunder meant rain. And a little rain would cool things off, give them a chance to catch their breath. It was only as the rumble drew closer that she recognized it as the sound of an approaching motorcycle.
The large bike slowed down as it passed. The same one that had picked Landon up last night? The rider wasn’t wearing a helmet, affording Robin a fleeting glance of his deeply tanned face and the sandy-colored hair that stopped just short of dark, deep-set eyes. His arms, stretched out before him on the handlebars, were muscular and bare beneath his sleeveless black leather vest. In the next second, he picked up speed and the motorcycle disappeared down the road.
“You know that guy?” Blake asked.