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then stood, folded it and put it into his pocket.
    "Hey, I want a copy of that. Alice should have one too," Miranda protested.
    "I'll do it at the office tomorrow," Drake soothed. "Now get your things and let's go home." He couldn't wait for a glass of brandy. Now that his reason for being here was accomplished he was twice as cold as when he first walked in.
    "I'm not going anywhere," Miranda insisted.
    "You agreed to maintain our marriage. That implied cohabitation."
    "I intend to cohabitate right here," Miranda stated. She folded her arms across her chest and lifted her chin.
    "Another little spat," Alice said with a sigh. "I'll leave you to work this out. Just remember that compromise is the basis of a sound marriage." She patted Miranda's cheek and left.
    "You can't believe for an instant that I'll live here?" Drake demanded. He looked around him, for the first time taking in the cozy living area, tinier kitchen and the door that must lead to the bedroom. "We'll be in each other's way every second. You can afford a bigger place on the salary I pay you."
    "How I spend my money is none of your business," Miranda shot back. "I've agreed to your silly marriage solely because I'm unsure of what really happened on our so-called wedding night. I refuse to uproot myself further so as not to inconvenience you. I'm staying here. What you choose to do about it is your business." By the time she finished, her voice had risen to a shout.
    Moving closer and keeping his voice soft, Drake said, "It seems compromise would be a good idea."
    She trembled but didn't back away. Were those unshed tears glistening in her eyes? She turned away before he could be sure.
    "This is home," Miranda insisted, her voice tight with emotions that Drake couldn't begin to understand. For some reason he couldn't put a finger on, he wanted to understand.
    The Miranda of the boardroom was gone, leaving this fragile, vulnerable woman in her place. A woman Drake uneasily understood that he wanted to know better--better than the Miranda who worked with such professional efficiency. This woman lived in a small, one bedroom apartment when she could easily afford an elegant condominium. Plants vied for window space, framed pictures glinted from every surface, and fat pillows took up space on the couches and chairs. That dog looked at home in the middle of the braided rug.
    This was a woman secure in her home. If he wanted her cooperation, he'd better give in a little. Besides, he liked it here. The observation surprised him. He tamped down the warm emotion and turned Miranda to face him. Her swollen lips trembled, but the look in her eyes undid him. Glaring and strong, yet at the same time huge and entreating.
    He was her husband, sort of. Perhaps he should take a moment to remind both of them of that quasi fact.
    The expression on her face turned to panic as he touched her lips with his. Sweet, she tasted soft and hot and sweet, Drake mused.
    He delved deeper, holding her arms against him to keep her from pulling away. She gasped. He took it as an encouraging sign until a hard hand descended on the back of his neck and yanked him away.
    "I think it's time you left, mister," the behemoth snarled. He spun Drake around and out the door before anyone else had a chance to speak.
    Wow, Drake thought, you really do see stars before you pass out.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    "Tough weekend, boss?" Nicole asked.
    Drake ignored his executive assistant’s question. An echo of a headache throbbed from the bruise on the back of his head. He was glad Miranda had a protector in Ted; he just wished Ted didn’t feel the need to protect her from him.
    "Make these changes to my personnel records, please. Fax the change in beneficiary to my insurance company today." He tossed Nicole the address and telephone number changes then angled away, keeping her face in the corner of his eye to judge her reaction.
    Her double take followed by a tiny gasp gratified his warped