It was a fair question. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to give Lillibeth the chance to cut him down again. But he'd promised his parents that he'd put a good face on it and make sure the Warren name still meant power and money.
"And for the record," she went on, "I think doing that Feeding Frenzy reality show is also a bad idea. The whole problem with Lillibeth was that your private life suddenly became public fodder. Going on television to bid on investment ideas? You're just inviting people to further make a commodity out of you."
"It's supposed to be a good way to build my brand."
Liberty rolled her eyes again, as if that was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Seriously? You've built a successful venture capital firm without being a celebrity. You have plenty of people dying to pitch to you. Heck, I'm surprised we haven't been accosted by a 'jogger' lying in wait to pitch you his million-dollar idea yet."
He tensed at the idea of being accosted by anyone. But no-no suspicious vehicles with armed men were around. The past was in the past.
"But you know what?" Liberty took a step toward him, jabbing at him with her index finger. She could be a formidable woman in her own right. "You do this reality show, that's exactly what's going to happen. You won't be able to run along the lake without plowing through idiots in running shoes who want a piece of your time and your fortune. Don't feed the machine, Marcus. Don't do what 'they' think you should do. For the love of God, do what you want."
Marcus. Had she ever called him by his first name before? He didn't think so. The way her lips moved over his name-that was the sort of thing he'd remember. "Maybe I want to take you to the wedding."
It was hard to say if she blushed, as she was already red faced from the run and the heat. But something in her expression changed. "No," she said flatly. Before he could take the rejection personally, she added, "I-it-would be bad for you."
He could hear the pain in her voice. He took a step toward her and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, her eyes wide and-hopeful? His hand drifted from her shoulder to her cheek and damned if she didn't lean into his touch. "How could you be bad for me?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized he'd pushed this too far. Yes, Liberty Reese was an exceptional assistant and yes, she was beautiful-when she wasn't struggling through a summer run.
But what had started as an offhand comment about a date to a wedding now meant something else. Something more.
She shut down on him. She stepped out of his touch and turned to face the lake. "It's getting warmer," she said in a monotone voice. "We need to finish our run."
"Do you have any water left?"
She looked sheepish. "No."
He held out his hand. "Give me your bottle. There's a water fountain a couple hundred yards away. I'll fill it up."
She unhooked her bottle and handed it over. "Thanks," she said, sounding perfectly normal, as if he hadn't just asked her out and touched her face. As if she hadn't turned him down flat. Somehow, it made him admire her even more. "I'll wait here. Try not to get any brilliant ideas, okay?"
Marcus took off at top speed. He heard Liberty shout, "Show-off!"
He laughed.
The water in the drinking fountain was too warm. He let it run for a few seconds, hoping it'd cool off. As he waited, he looked around. There was a trash can only a few feet away, boxes and bags piled around it on the ground. Marcus scowled at the garbage. Why couldn't people take care of the park, dammit? The trash can was right there.
As he filled the water bottle and debated calling the mayor about the garbage pickup schedule, he heard a noise. It was a small noise, but it didn't belong. It wasn't a gull crying or a squirrel scampering-it was closer to a...a cat mewing?
Marcus looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. A shoe box on the ground next to the trash can moved.
Marcus's stomach fell in. Oh, no-who would throw a kitten away? He hurried over to the box and pulled the lid off and-
Sweet Jesus. Not a cat. Not a kitten.
A baby.
Two
Breathing hard, Liberty admired the view as Marcus sprinted away from her. When he reached the water fountain, she turned her attention back to the lake. It wouldn't do to be caught staring at her boss's ass. Even if it was a fine ass. And even if the owner had just made one of himself.
Instead, she took the time to appreciate the gift that was this morning. She hadn't set foot in a church in a good fifteen years. But every morning she stood here and looked out on Lake Michigan and gave thanks to God or the higher power or whoever the hell was listening.
She was alive. She was healthy. She had a good job that paid for food and a safe apartment. There was even some money left over for things like running shoes and haircuts.
"Liberty?" Marcus yelled from the water fountain. "Liberty!"
Even though Marcus couldn't see her, she glared at him. What the hell had gotten into him this morning? One of the reasons she worked for him-aside from the insane salary he paid her-was the fact that he treated her as an equal. It was a bit of delusion on her part to pretend that she was on par with the likes of Marcus Warren, but it was her delusion, dammit.
And that delusion worked only because it was just her and Marcus on these runs, both in running clothes. The delusion didn't work when he was wearing a four-thousand-dollar suit and she had on the finest suit she could find on 80 percent clearance at Macy's. And the delusion sure as hell wouldn't work if she accompanied him to a three-day destination wedding extravaganza that no doubt cost more than she'd ever earn in her lifetime.
Someone would see through her facade. It'd get ugly, fast.
"Liberty!" He was even louder this time.
Was he not used to women saying no to him? Oh, whom was she kidding? Women didn't say no to him. Why would they? He was gorgeous, single, richer than sin and eminently respectable. "What?"
"I need you!" he yelled over his shoulder. "Hurry!"
She realized he wasn't standing at the water fountain anymore. He was on his knees by a trash can in the gravel that surrounded the fountain. His shoulders were hunched over and he looked as if-oh, God, he wasn't having a heart attack, was he?
Liberty began to hurry. The three years of daily morning runs with Marcus had given her enough stamina that she broke into a flat-out run.
"Are you okay?" she demanded as she came up to him. "Marcus-what's wrong?"
He looked up at her, his eyes wide with fear and one hand over his mouth. Just then, something in front of him made a pitiful little noise.
She looked down. What she saw didn't make sense at first. There was a box and inside was something small and dark and moving.
"Baby?" Marcus said in a strangled voice.
"Baby!" Liberty cried with a start. She didn't know much about babies, but this child couldn't be more than a week old. The baby was wrapped in a filthy rag, and dark smudges that might have been dirt but were more the color of dried blood covered its dark skin. Wisps of black hair were plastered to its tiny little head. Liberty stared in total shock, trying to make sense of it: an African American newborn in a shoe box by the trash can.
"It was-the box-it was closed," Marcus began to babble. "And I heard a noise and-baby. Baby!"
The baby opened its little mouth and let out another cry, louder this time. The sound broke Liberty out of her shock. Jesus Christ, someone had tried to throw this baby away! In a box in this heat? "Move," she commanded and Marcus dutifully scooted out of her way.
Her hands shaking, Liberty lifted the baby out of the box. The rag fell away from the impossibly tiny body-no diaper. A boy, and he was caked in filth.
"Oh, my God," she whispered as the baby's back arched and it let out a squeal. His little body was like a furnace in her hands.
"What do we do?" Marcus asked. He was clearly panicking.
And Liberty couldn't blame him. "Water," she realized. "He's too hot."
Marcus held out her water bottle, the one he'd been filling. She grabbed the rag and said, "Soak that in the fountain," and took her bottle.
The baby squirmed mightily in her arms and she had this moment that was almost an out-of-body thing, where instead of looking down at a little baby boy she'd just plucked from a shoe box, she was looking down at William, the baby brother she'd never gotten the chance to see, much less hold. Was this what he'd been like, after their mother gave birth in prison and the baby was taken away to a foster home? Had William died like this?