The Ties That Bind

her lashes and took another sip from her glass. "And I don't look bright enough or sophisticated enough to have arranged a very complicated setup?"
    "Shannon..."
    "No, that's all right, Garth. I don't want to hear any more of your logic. It's not very good for the ego to know that someone thinks you might be innocent by reason of naivete . But what if it was all part of a very subtle plot concocted by me?" she mused. "Perhaps Ed Kenyon hired me a couple of months ago to get close to you. Perhaps I rented this cottage and set up the silk-screen work just to give myself a cover as soon as I found out you'd rented the cottage next door. I can see it all now, Garth. The beautiful complexity of it boggles the mind. Annie and Dan would have had to be in on it, too, of course. And I might have had to bribe Bonnie. Then there was that clever business with the totes the night of the party. My God, if you look at it that way, I'm a genius."
    "If you look at it that way, I'm a complete idiot."
    "Well, you wouldn't come off looking like the smartest sort of high-tech executive," she agreed.
    He leaned forward, capturing her chin in his hand. In the shadows his eyes gleamed. "Well? Am I a complete idiot? Was this all a giant setup? Am I the fly caught in a web that's so intricate I can't even see the outlines of it?"
    "What do you think?" Shannon asked breathlessly.
    "I think," Garth said, "that if this really is an involved plot you've concocted, I'm out of my league. I might as well give up now." He brushed his mouth against hers, his kiss warm and persuasive.
    "But you don't believe me, do you?"
    "No," he admitted, not releasing her. "I think I have only myself to blame for letting you get too close to a world you know nothing about and aren't equipped to handle. You got used by someone in that world and it's my fault. I didn't do a good enough job of protecting you."
    "Who is it you want to protect, Garth? Me or yourself?"
    "I think, in the end, it amounts to the same thing," he said.
    "You want a woman with whom you can relax. Someone who can provide you with a temporary weekend escape from your business and all that en "
    He smiled a little. "Is that so bad?"
    "It's not enough. Not for me."
    "I'm offering marriage, Shannon. That should reassure you."
    "It's still not enough," she whispered.
    "You're fighting both of us, Shannon. It's not just me you're struggling against, it's yourself. You love me, remember?"
    "But you don't love me or you wouldn't be offering just a weekend marriage." Very deliberately Shannon put down her glass and got to her feet. "I think I've had enough to drink, Garth. Good night."
    He made no move to stop her as she brushed past him and went down the hall to her bedroom. Garth waited until he heard her door close and then he poured a little more whiskey into his glass.
    He would give her time. That's what she needed. She'd had an unsettling experience last weekend, and he could hardly blame her for reacting the way she had. She was an artist, he reminded himself. Artists were known for their temperamental behavior. So were women, come to that. The combination of the two was probably dynamite.
    Marriage would have been his first choice. He'd reached that decision on Sunday while he'd wandered aimlessly around his home, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle, but if all he could get from Shannon now was a continuation of the affair, he'd settle for that temporarily. He hadn't been joking when he'd told her he'd take what he could get. He needed Shannon, and he was only now beginning to realize just how much.
    Garth finished the last of the whiskey and sat contemplating the darkness. A man had to fight for what he wanted in life. It seemed there was always someone waiting to steal the prize. He'd learned that the hard way. But Garth was accustomed to the battle. He'd fight for Shannon.

* * *
    THE SMELL OF COFFEE brought Shannon out of a troubled sleep the next morning. She lay still for a moment wondering why she should be able to smell coffee from her own kitchen when she hadn't yet gotten out of bed to make it. Then memory flooded back. She pushed aside the covers and grimly headed for the bathroom.
    Half an hour later, dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, she walked into her kitchen, prepared to dig in her heels again if Garth began talking about marriage. She might be naive and not too bright in some ways, but she could be stubborn when she chose. Every woman had some strong points,