paying. I told you. I ruined your clothes.’
‘Yeah, you spilled my drink over my five-buck shirt and you’re intending to replace it with stuff that costs three thousand dollars?’ She fended off the suit some more. ‘Three thousand dollars! Look, this seemed a really nice idea, and I’m delighted to have a bandage on my ankle and these neat crutches, but suddenly it’s out of hand. You’ve done enough. I can’t take any more. Can I leave? Now?’
She was backing towards the door.
‘You won’t get in to see Charles,’ Marcus warned. He watched the conflicting emotions play over her face and felt the same conflict himself. He’d been enjoying himself, he decided. It wasn’t half bad—millionaire playing benefactor to very attractive waif. But the waif was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to smile sweetly and acquiesce.
This was like Cinderella saying the glass slipper didn’t fit. Or didn’t look right.
She was still backing, no mean feat on brand-new crutches, and the conflicting emotions were giving way to overriding distress. ‘I just have to deal with Charles my own way,’ she muttered.
‘You agreed to do this.’
‘I was stupid. I must have hit my head on the way down the stairs. So now, somehow, I’m standing in a swish store with a guy who has more money than I’ll ever dream about—and he’s offering to spend enough money on a suit to feed my family for a year.’
‘Your family?’
Her face shuttered even more, and the pain intensified. ‘I don’t need to talk about my family. I’m out of my depth. I need to leave. I’m sorry.’ She backed a bit more until she was balancing in the doorway. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you very much for all you’ve done.’
‘Peta…’
‘I can’t do this. I can’t.’
He caught her three doors down. She’d tried to move fast but she was on crutches.
He’d followed. Of course he’d followed, even though he was unsure why he was still intent on helping. But he let her have a little space until she cooled down.
She was forced to cool down. Her anger could only carry her so far before the pain in her ankle caught up with her. He watched her slow. He saw her steps falter as if she was unsure where to go from here.
He saw her shoulders slump. Saw the despair catch up.
And when he caught her… As he put a hand on her shoulder and turned her around to face him, he wasn’t surprised to see tears welling behind those lovely eyes.
The tears stopped the moment he touched her. She swiped her cheek and pulled back. Swaying dangerously. He put out his hands to steady her but she backed some more.
‘Leave me alone.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You shouldn’t be sorry. You were trying to be nice.’
He carefully pushed away the urge to play fairy godfather some more. He tried to put himself in her place. It was hard, but maybe he could manage it.
Once upon a time he’d been dependant, too, and he knew how much harder it was to take than give. It was just… In the last few years there had been so many takers.
Peta was a novelty. But he could adjust.
‘I was a bit insensitive,’ he managed. ‘I had this idea that I could help. And I’d like to.’
‘You can’t.’
‘I can, you know,’ he said softly. ‘It would be my privilege. If you let me.’
‘Yeah, toss money.’ Another angry swipe at tears she clearly despised and an angry sniff. ‘It’s all you know how to do.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He was stymied. He didn’t have a clue what was happening. How had he got himself in this situation?
He could just stop. He had no reason to persist.
Why did he?
He had no idea what this woman wanted with Charles Higgins. He had no idea whether he could help her.
All he knew was that he wanted to know more.
‘Can we start again, please?’ he asked, and she sniffed once more and stared up at him, her face loaded with suspicion.
‘Start again?’
‘I’ve driven into this like a blunderbuss,’ he admitted. ‘I have no idea what’s going on. I want to help. I don’t even know why I want to help but I do.’ He reached out and touched her hand. He didn’t hold. He simply touched.
He knew that she still had the urge to run. He had it himself.
‘Tell me what you need,’ he told her. ‘What can I do to help? Right now.’
She took a deep breath. Regrouped. Around them were a bustle of Fifth Avenue shoppers—smartly dressed women, suited businessmen. Marcus fitted right in.
Peta didn’t fit in at all. But she obviously wasn’t thinking of her appearance. She stared at him for a while longer and then made a confession—as if she was forced to admit something she was ashamed of.
‘I need something to eat,’ she told him.
‘You’re hungry?’
‘I lost my bagel—remember? I didn’t have breakfast and that was my lunch. And then I need a ticket on the subway to the backpacker’s where I have my things. I need to stay until tomorrow—for Aunt Hattie’s funeral. But that’s it. I was stupid to try to see Charles. I just want… I think now that I just want to go home.’
‘Right.’ He nodded, aware all the time that she was poised for flight. ‘Okay. I’ll organise you transport. But let me feed you first. No.’ He shook his head as she backed again and he gave a rueful smile. He knew what she was thinking. At long last he was getting the idea. Money didn’t impress this woman. Money made her want to run. ‘There’s a great deli nearby and it’s not expensive. It’s simple food but it’s good. Concede at least that I owe you a meal. Can you cope with me for a little while longer?’
She stared up at him, seemingly bemused. She balanced on her crutches while she surveyed him. Her green eyes were suddenly thoughtful.
It wasn’t the sort of look he was accustomed to receiving from the women he moved with. To say it disconcerted him was putting it mildly.
‘You must think I’m really ungrateful,’ she said at last, and it was so far from what he was really thinking that he blinked.
‘I don’t. Let me feed you.’
‘Like something in a cage at the zoo?’
He smiled. ‘I’m sorry. That was badly phrased. Share a meal with me. Please.’
‘Out of charity?’
‘Out of my need to give you recompense.’
She stared at him for a long moment—and in that moment something shifted. The Cinderella image receded still further. There was a strength here, he realised. A latent force.
She was out of her depth. She wasn’t sure what was happening to her right now, but this was a woman who would normally be in charge of her world.
Things were out of control but she was still fighting.
He’d be lucky if she’d agree to have a meal with him.
But she did, and he was aware of an absurd surge of gratitude as she did the thanking. ‘Thank you,’ she told him. ‘I’d like that.’
‘So would I.’ And he meant it.
The deli he took her to was one he hadn’t eaten at for years, but still