Hidden Riches

Jed headed for the door. “Flowers are sentimental. Jewelry’s mercenary.”
    “Yeah, and there’s nobody more mercenary than an angry woman. Just ask my wife,” Brent shouted when Jed kept going. “Hey, Skimmerhorn! I’ll be in touch.”
    Chuckling to himself, Brent went back to his desk. He called up the Speck file on the computer.
     
    Jed was surprised to find Dora still at her desk when he returned. He’d been gone more than three hours, and in the short time he’d known her, he’d never seen her huddled with paperwork for more than half that time. Dora seemed to prefer the contact with customers, or perhaps it was the satisfaction of collecting money.
    Probably both.
    It didn’t surprise him that she ignored him every bit as completely as she had that morning, but this time he thought he was prepared.
    “I got you something.”
    Jed set the large box on the desk in front of her. When she glanced at it, he had the small satisfaction of spotting the flicker of curiosity in her eyes.
    “It’s, ah, just a robe. To replace the one that got torn last night.”
    “I see.”
    He moved his shoulders restlessly. He wasn’t getting much of a reaction from her, and he figured he’d paid big time. Poking around a woman’s lingerie department with the salesclerk beaming at him had made him feel like a pervert. At least he’d been able to settle for practical terrycloth.
    “I think I got the size right, but you might want to check.”
    Carefully, she closed her checkbook and folded her hands on top of it. When she looked up at him, the curiosity had been replaced by glittering anger. “Let me get this straight, Skimmerhorn. Do you think that a bunch of pathetic flowers and a robe are what it’s going to take to clear the path?”
    “I—”
    She didn’t give him a chance. “You figure a handful of daisies will charm me into sighs and smiles? Is that what you think? I don’t know how you’ve played it before, pal, but it doesn’t work that way with me.” She rose fromthe desk, slapped her palms down on the department-store box and leaned forward. If eyes were weapons, he’d have already bled to death. “Inexcusable behavior isn’t reconciled by a couple of lame gifts and a hangdog expression.”
    She caught herself on the edge of a shout and paused to fight for control.
    “You should keep going,” Jed said quietly. “Get the rest of it out.”
    “All right, fine. You muscle your way into my apartment flinging accusations. Why? Because I was handy, and because you didn’t like the way things were moving between us. You didn’t even consider that you might be wrong, you just attacked. You scared the bloody hell out of me, and worse . . .” She pressed her lips together and turned away. “You humiliated me, because I just took it. I just stood there trembling and crying. I didn’t even fight back.” Now that she’d admitted it, she felt calmer and faced him again. “I hate that most of all.”
    He understood that all too well. “You’d have been crazy to take me on in the mood I was in.”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “It is the point.” He felt anger stirring again, viciously self-directed. “For Christ’s sake, Dora, you were facing a maniac who had you by better than fifty pounds. What were you going to do, wrestle me to the ground?”
    “I know self-defense,” she said, lifting her chin. “I could have done something.”
    “You did.” He remembered the way her terrified tears had defused him. “You’re crazy if you let yourself be embarrassed because you were afraid.”
    “I don’t think insulting me is going to smooth the waters, Skimmerhorn.” She lifted a hand to push back her hair. It wasn’t her usual casual gesture, Jed noted. It was a weary one. “Look, I’ve had a rough day—”
    She broke off when he took her hand. Even as she stiffened, he gently straightened her arm. She’d pushed up the sleeves of her jacket to work. There was a light trail ofbruises on her forearms, marks he knew would match the press of his fingers.
    “I can keep saying I’m sorry.” His eyes were eloquent. “That doesn’t mean a hell of a lot.” He released her, tucked his hands away in his pockets. “I can’t tell you I’ve never put bruises on a woman before, because I have. But it was always in the line of duty, never personal. I hurt you. And I don’t know how to make it up to you.”
    He started for the steps.
    “Jed.” There was a sigh in her voice.