It's Never too Late - By Tara Taylor Quinn Page 0,90
hurried down the hall toward the light at the end of it, belting her robe as she walked.
He’d turned on a light? Or had they left it on when they’d gone to bed?
Whatever she’d been expecting to see when she reached the kitchen fled from Addy’s mind as she saw what was waiting for her.
Mark stood, staring at her, a sheaf of papers in his hand.
And, too late, she remembered that she’d been working before she’d gone outside the night before. She’d pulled more papers out to refer to during the phone call from Greg Richards.
“You’re researching me.” His tone was not fully accusatory. There was question there, as well, and Addy scrambled for words.
How much did he know? How much time did she have?
What did she have to say to keep him believing in her?
“This looks like some kind of background check.” Not something she’d have thought of, but it could appear that way, she supposed.
“You’ve got my GED scores here. They’re circled in red.”
When one was being accused, the best defense was silence until the accuser spilled everything he knew and the conclusions he’d drawn.
“I had to get home in case Nonnie woke up and needed me. I was going to leave you a note.”
She believed him.
And was in no position to lay blame in any case. She’d known, going in, that she was the bad guy here. She couldn’t blame Mark for anything. No matter what happened from here on out.
He held up the paper he’d pulled from the stack. “This is a spreadsheet of Montford students who didn’t meet entrance criteria,” he said. The list of eleven.
Addy nodded. She knew she’d have to answer to this. She just hadn’t realized it would be this soon.
She’d thought she’d be the one initiating the conversation.
And she’d expected to be dressed.
He was.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I did a lot of research. I was asked to look through a lot of tedious records and see if I could find anything that flagged itself as a potential lawsuit against the university.” Was he going to hate her?
“I am a potential lawsuit?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
She could have explained about the proven external economic value inherent in a Montford education. And how any deviation from equally applied principles for all applicants put the university at risk of lawsuit.
He was staring at her. “Is my education at risk?”
“It could be.”
“Because you found me on this list?”
“I compiled the list.” He was going to know eventually.
“Who else knows I’m on this list?”
“No one.” Her “yet” was implied.
“What about the other names here?” His questions were getting harder to answer. “Does anyone know about them?”
“Only the one name I was originally looking at.”
“Which one?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
He was frowning. Studying her.
“But it’s not me.”
“No.”
“Does our...association...have anything to do with this?” He held up the papers, his drawl more pronounced than it had ever been.
She’d looked up his file because of their association. But his name on that list of eleven—that would have shown up regardless if she’d known who he was or not.
“No.”
“You didn’t move in here to spy on me?”
Folding her arms over her chest, Adrianna forced herself to withstand his inquisition without getting defensive. She had it coming. “Absolutely not.”
“Did you have sex with me to get more information out of me?”
“No.”
His shoulders dropped. So did his chin. He continued to watch her—his gaze narrowed and piercing.
“For what it’s worth, I was trying to tell you last night, on the patio.”
“And then the phone rang. It had to do with this, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“What happens next?”
“I have a decision to make.”
A raised eyebrow was the only response she got, and she knew her time to speak up or miss out on the chance forever was at hand.
“I have to decide whether I do what is ethically correct and turn over this list of names to the authorities that asked for them, or whether I throw it in the trash and pretend I never saw it.”
“If you throw it away—this whole thing goes away?”
“Where your education is concerned, you mean?”
One nod—a very succinct up and down motion of the head she’d cradled between her breasts such a short time ago—was all she got.
“There’s a chance that it will, yes.”
“A chance?”
“They’re looking at cases that could make the university vulnerable to lawsuits,” she reminded him. “Someone else could feasibly find this same information. If they knew to look for it.” She would be honest with Mark in terms of her own duplicity, but