The Ties That Bind

evenings, and she knew all about them."
    Shannon touched him. "I'm not Christine, Garth." .
    "I know." He cradled her against him. "I know that, Shannon. I have never mistaken you for her. I couldn't. Not in a million years. I couldn't get you mixed up with any other woman I've ever met. You're unique."
    He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, settling her gently into the wide bed and then he was pulling her close again, whispering words of need and passion and fire. Shannon responded with an answering spiral of emotions that flared to match his own. It was a long while before they slept, their legs tangled together and Shannon nestled safely in Garth's embrace. Shannon was comfortingly aware of Garth's strength just as she closed her eyes. The future would be good, she thought. She would make it work.

* * *
    IT WAS SHORTLY AFTER DAWN when Shannon first stirred the next morning. She came awake with a vague sense of disorientation and lay quietly for a moment wondering why some element in the atmosphere felt wrong. Garth's bed was a large one, and she couldn't feel his weight beside her. That was a definite change. All night long she had been pleasantly aware of his warmth and reassuring weight lying next to her.
    Opening her eyes with sleepy curiosity, she turned over and blinked at the empty space on the other side of the bed. A small frisson of alarm went through her. There was no cause for it, she assured herself. He must be already up and in the shower. But there was no sound of running water from the adjoining bath.
    "Garth?"
    "I'm right here, Shannon."
    The darkness in his voice sent another shiver through her. Panic leaped alive in her veins, consuming the contentment that should have been hers this morning. Something was terribly wrong. Slowly Shannon sat up against the pillows and looked at Garth.
    He was sitting in the chair beside the window, dressed in a pair of slacks and a shirt that was only half buttoned. In the morning light his face looked like that of a predator. All the ice she thought she had melted in him last night was back in his eyes. There was a stapled document on the table beside him. It was the only thing cluttering the austere tabletop. Shannon froze, sensing utter disaster and not yet knowing from what direction it would come.
    "Garth, what is it? What's wrong?"
    Wordlessly he reached out and picked up the document. Tossing it down on the bed beside her, he sat waiting for her to pick it up and read it.
    The first thing Shannon saw was the Confidential stamp on the cover. The letters were in black, instead of the original red, which meant she was looking at a photocopy. In the lower right-hand corner the name Sherilectronics was typed in neat capital letters. The company logo was printed beside it. In the center of the cover page were the words "Submitted to Carstairs , Inc." Shannon let the document slip from her fingers as she lifted her eyes to meet Garth's steady, brooding gaze.
    "I don't understand," she whispered.
    "A few minutes ago I went out into the living room to collect your clothes and your tote bag. When I glanced inside the bag I saw that rolled up and stuffed into a corner. Recognize it?"
    Shannon was trembling. "I can read. It's that bid package you've been working on for the past few weeks."
    "Months," he corrected calmly. "My company has been working on that proposal for months, not just a few weeks. I want that contract very badly, Shannon."
    If only there were some emotion in his voice, Shannon thought frantically. She might have been able to deal with emotion, even if it was fury. But there was nothing, no anger or pain, not even accusation. Shannon's mouth went dry. "I don't understand, Garth."
    "Don't you? It seems simple enough to me."
    "You think I stole this?" Shannon asked so softly that she could barely hear the words herself.
    Garth didn't say anything for a while, and then he got to his feet. "Get dressed and come on out into the living room. I don't think the bedroom is the place for this kind of conversation. Although God knows I didn't do such a clever job of handling you in the living room last night, either."
    Shannon came out of her paralysis and reached for his hand as he brushed past the bed. "Garth, wait," she pleaded, "tell me exactly what you think I've done. I have a right to know what the accusation is this time."
    "This time?"
    "Last night you accused me of letting Ed Kenyon make a pass," she reminded him through tight lips.
    He