Claiming His Love-Child. Sandra Marton

would I know? Only thing I’m sure of is that it’s a pain in the butt, trying to cover for her so the boss doesn’t realize she’s not here.”

      “Then why do it?”

      The waitress’s expression softened and she leaned toward him. “’Cause she’s a nice kid. Always did her fair share until now.”

      “And that changed?”

      “It sure did. She says she’s just been feeling under the weather.” The blonde shifted her gum. “You ask me,” she said slyly, “the trouble with her is that she’s—”

      “She’s what?”

      Something in his tone must have given him away. Blondie drew back. “What’s with all these questions?”

      “I’m just making conversation, that’s all.”

      “Well, you got questions about Marissa Perez, ask her direct. She just came in. I’ll put your order in, but it’ll be her takes care of—Mister? Mister, what’s the problem?”

      What was the problem? Cullen didn’t know where to begin. Marissa was coming from behind the counter that ran the length of one side of the room, but this wasn’t the Marissa he’d spent countless nights dreaming about.

      Her face was devoid of color; there were rings under her eyes. Her hair, which he remembered as being as lustrous as a crow’s wing, was dull and lifeless.

      Something was terribly wrong with her.

      He shot to his feet.

      She saw him as he did.

      She paled—though how she could get paler than she already was, he thought grimly, was hard to comprehend. He saw her lips form his name as she took a step back.

      “Marissa,” he said, but he knew she couldn’t hear him, not over the din of music and loud voices.

      She stared at him. Her lips formed his name. For a second, he thought she was going to pass out. He mouthed an oath, took a step toward her, but she pasted a bloodless smile to her lips and started toward him.

      “Cullen,” she said in a thin voice, “what a nice surprise.”

      It didn’t take a genius to know that her smile was a lie. She was surprised, all right, but nice? No way. She was about as glad to see him as a lone gazelle would be to see a lion.

      “Yeah,” he said coldly, “what a nice surprise.” His hand closed around her wrist. “You look terrible.”

      “Are you always so free with compliments?”

      “Cut the crap.” Why was he so angry? So what if she looked like death warmed over? It wasn’t his business, he told himself, even as his eyes narrowed and drilled into hers. “Is that why you didn’t call me? Have you been sick?”

      “I didn’t call you because I didn’t want to call you. I know that must come as a shock, Cullen, but—”

      “Is that the reason you left school?”

      Her face colored. “Who told you that?”

      “You were the best student Ian Hutchins had, and you quit. You moved out of your apartment, you’re working your tail off in a joint like this and you look like hell. I want to know why.”

      “Just who do you think you are, Mr. O’Connell? I don’t owe any explanations to you or anybody. My life is my—”

      “I’m making it my business. Last time we saw each other, you had the world by the tail. I want to know what happened.”

      “But you’re not going to find out. I told you, I don’t have to—Hey. Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

      Cullen was tugging her toward the door. Marissa tried to dig in her heels, but he paid no attention.

      “Stop it!” she said in a frantic whisper. “Are you crazy? You’ll cost me my job!”

      “Tell her you’re taking a break to talk to an old friend,” he growled when Blondie hurried toward them.

      “Marissa? You okay? You want me to call the cops?”

      And turn this bad dream into a full-fledged nightmare? “No,” Marissa said quickly, “No, I’m fine. I’m just—I’m taking a break…”

      The next thing she knew, she was tucked in the passenger seat of Cullen’s car and they were pulling away from the curb and into traffic.