Indivisible Line (13 page)

It took her a long time to respond. First, she took a big gulp of wine, finishing the contents of her glass, and poured another. When her nerves began to settle, she met his gaze.

“Is it true? You forgot to tell me you were married?” The accusation in her voice was evident, and something she couldn’t control.

Greg met her allegation with a dead-set look in his eyes, challenging her to say more. When she stayed silent, he raised his glass to his mouth and took vicious pulls until it was emptied. After that, he poured another and watched her with a hooded expression.

“It’s my business, and I don’t want to talk about it,” he said after a lengthy silence.

This pressed Sarah close to the edge of her patience, although the wine had helped her keep her cool. She doubted she would have remained calm otherwise upon finding out she’d been living in a married man’s home. What did that make her? What would people think? Her father? Oh God, another shame she’d be tacking onto her piled-high blunders. To add to the indignity, Ms. Fashionista had succeeded in making her feel like a child, worthless and small.

Neither one of them spoke for a stretch. They took turns watching each other through heavy lids, and Sarah grew accustomed to listening to her internal ramblings. The room was busy, and their lack of conversation didn’t matter to her. She watched the people around them cut their meat, fork succulent fish, and chew their delectable entrees.

Sarah lost count of how many times she’d refilled her glass. She took another swig, loving the warmth the luscious wine brought her. “Who thought wine could be so good?” She giggled and tilted her glass in Greg’s direction. He seemed ill at ease, which emboldened her even more.

“Sarah, I think you’ve had enough.” He lowered his voice.

“Aw, c’mon. I’m just getting started.” She waved her empty glass around, and Greg did not hesitate to take it away from her.

He leaned closer and hissed in her ear. “You’re drunk.”
 

She giggled when his warm breath caressed her sensitive, flushed skin.

“No, I’m not. Where’s the bottle? I love those Ernest and Julio guys, you know.”

Perhaps it was the wine talking. Sarah became a foolish puppet who couldn’t control her mouth at all. The dreadful thing seemed to have taken a life of its own, blurting every single thought that came to mind. She rested her chin on her hand and followed Greg’s movements while he summoned their server, took care of the check, pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and made a quick call.

He spoke to her, but she only saw his mouth moving. Everything seemed to be muted and going in slow motion. Before she grasped what was happening, Simon was standing right next to her, and he scooped her up as if she weighed nothing.

“Wait, what about dessert?” was the last thing she remembered saying before being deposited into their waiting car and taken home.

Sarah woke up the next morning with a hangover that she swore was bigger than an elephant. Maybe it was an actual elephant sitting on her head, squeezing her skull with every intention of rendering her brain useless. She tried to get up, but the shooting pain in her temple made her sink back against the mattress.

That’s what you get for guzzling wine like there’s no tomorrow.
That irritating voice was back again. Sarah covered her eyes with a pillow and groaned. She could just imagine what Greg must be thinking—she was cavewoman and had embarrassed him in front of high society. He would not take her out to dinner ever again.

Darn! She’d managed to avoid alcohol all her life with conscious effort. Many Gwich’ins had been lured by the modern world to sample the tempting taste and numbing effects of alcohol. Some of them died from alcohol-related diseases or liver problems, which stemmed from their ignorance and the boredom that was so prevalent in their community. What a shame. Sarah knew better than to allow herself to be caught, and during her undergrad years, she’d never had more than two beers, even with the mounting peer pressure. She remembered nursing the same drink at sorority parties all night long, making sure she stayed in control. What had she done last night?

A slight rapping on the door brought her head up and the pillow off her face. “Come in, Matilda.” Her voice came out sounding like a croak.

It wasn’t Matilda who entered but Greg, who shuffled in with a cup in one hand while leaning on his cane with the other. “Are you decent?” he asked before he hobbled closer to the bed.

Sarah wrapped the blanket tighter when she realized she wasn’t wearing anything other than her undergarments. Unable to wrap her mind around the embarrassing situation, she blushed instead of answering.

“I can wait outside.” Greg turned around and started walking to the door.

“No, it’s okay. Just stay where you are until I tell you to turn back around.” Despite her pounding headache, Sarah skittered to the closet and grabbed a robe. After putting it on, she called out, “I’m ready.”

She walked to Greg and took the cup from him. “Why don’t you sit down?” She eyed him with mild concern, knowing full well that his legs had been giving him problems again. Sarah blew the rising steam off the rim of the cup and inhaled, enjoying the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. She climbed back into bed, balancing the cup with one hand and pushing back the covers at the same time.

Greg hobbled to the chair next to the bed and sat down, spreading out his legs in front of him. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Like someone bulldozed everything inside my head.” She grimaced when another throbbing ache shot through her temples, a reminder of her stupidity the previous night. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He shoved a hand through his wild morning hair, and his deep blue eyes gazed at her with intensity. “I came here because I wanted to apologize for Cassandra’s behavior last night.”

“No apologies necessary.” Sarah paused to take a sip of her coffee, moaning as the warmth spread in her throat and trickled down to her stomach. “As you said, it’s your business. I don’t have the right to ask.”

“It’s complicated—”

“That’s what everyone always says. It just got me thinking. If you are a married man, no matter what you’re going through, I shouldn’t be here in your home. What would other people think?”
What does that make me?
she wanted to add but didn’t.

“No one will think anything. You’re my employee,” he insisted.

“I may be your employee, but it still isn’t right. I wasn’t brought up that way. I can’t stay here any longer under the circumstances.”

Greg leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Sarah, listen to me. Cassandra and I are done. Been done. I’m just waiting for her to sign the stupid divorce papers, and it’s all official.”

He stood and hobbled over to the window, as if he were trying to hide his expression. Greg sighed before turning around to look at her. “Cassandra is a difficult person to please. I wasn’t enough for her. That’s why she screwed around.”

Sarah stared at him with sympathy in her eyes. That had to have been very hard to admit. His wife screwing around must be a hard pill to swallow for any man.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I’m better off without her. She can have half of what I own. I don’t care, so long as I can sleep in peace at night, knowing she won’t make a fool of me anymore.”

“But it still doesn’t make it right for me to be here.”

“You gave me your word.” He shot her a pained expression, something that looked like loneliness. Sad, almost.

I did promise, didn’t I? Oh Lord! What must I do?

Stay and finish what you’ve started. It’s not like you have any other place to go,
the tiny voice reminded her.

Sarah sighed and closed her eyes, vacillating between doing the right thing and staying . . . because she wanted to stay. She hadn’t ever felt this free and alive. When she opened her eyes again, she found Greg staring at her, waiting for an answer.

“Fine.” Her answer scared her.
How can you make important decisions so easily, as if you’re buying candy at a store?
This time, it wasn’t her life that could end up getting screwed, but her heart. At that moment, she didn’t care.

Greg smiled. “I’ll see you in my study in an hour?”

Chapter 9

There was just one thing Greg wanted and hadn’t gotten in the past two months. Finding Cade was proving to be a task more difficult than he’d ever imagined, even with the help of the private investigators. Greg had retained the services of an investigation agency to track down Cade since the botched murder attempt, but somehow, his former friend had been able to evade them successfully.

After he returned from Alaska, Greg heard reports that Cade had moved out of the country. Others said he’d gotten another job out of state. They were nothing but unfounded rumors. He knew one thing for sure—according to the company’s records, Cade had returned the rented aircraft to Fairbanks a few days earlier than anticipated. Greg had spoken directly with Cade’s father, who was adamant that his son hadn’t made contact with him or his mother.

Cassandra continued to be a thorn in his rear. She was a piece of work, all right, and a worthless one. Greg’s anger rose to the surface. He still hadn’t gotten over the rude way she had treated Sarah, talking down to her as though she were addressing a child. Cassandra would be shocked as hell once she found out that the girl she’d insulted had a promising future in the field of medicine.

Cade and Cassandra hadn’t made contact with each other, of this much Greg was certain. When they did, he’d know the full the extent of their relationship and could build a solid case against them. One thing Greg was determined to accomplish: once they found Cade, he’d give him the justice he deserved. It was just a matter of time. All rats, one way or another, were bound to sneak out of their hiding place, and Cade, wasn’t going to last long in hiding. Nothing would be sweeter than showing that bastard how he’d underestimated Greg.

He frowned at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Although he’d made few appearances at work in the past weeks, Greg still preferred to stay home to be with Sarah. His father, the mastermind behind their successful business, had called repeatedly to inquire about his absence. Greg had come up with several excuses that had the added advantage of being true. His wound hadn’t healed as expected, on top of which, he continued to experience dizzy spells and persistent allergies from time to time. All of his excuses were geared to protect Sarah from his father, because he knew from experience that the old man didn’t want to be associated with people below his social status.
 

Pushing the unpleasant thoughts aside, he shifted to a more delightful subject. Sarah. He smiled at the sound of her voice echoing through the house. He had intentionally left the door ajar to listen to her singing while she ran around the house, feather duster in hand. At her insistence, he’d relented and let her help with chores in the house, much to Matilda’s dismay. His nanny-turned-housekeeper extraordinaire governed a tight ship. She kept his home immaculate, cooked the best meals, and doted on him as if he were still a child. No matter how nosey and annoying she got, Matilda had been more of a mother figure to him than his real mother ever had.

His parents had been absent most of his life, so there wasn’t any point in thinking about them now. Sliding his chair back, Greg took a moment to stretch his legs just as Sarah tried to hit a high note in her song and failed. Smiling to himself, he let his darker thoughts trail off.

After the first month of skirting around each other, they had managed to find a middle ground, a means to get along without reference to their arrangement, her life in Beaver that she missed so much, or their dinner-turned-disaster. She made no attempts to question him about Cade or anything relating to the shooting. Instead, they stayed close to safe topics, such as her courses at the university, his work, and, well . . . the New York weather. Every day with Sarah brought him immense satisfaction he hadn’t felt before in his life. She often brought a smile to his face with her actions, her funny take on life, or the quiet times they’d spent together.

Knowing she was safe with him was more than he could hope for. He couldn’t bear the thought of her running around Los Angeles, alone, penniless, and with a hazy future dangling on the horizon. After what she’d done for him, this was the least he could do for her. He’d orchestrated her abduction, made it seem like she owed him and like he needed more help than he did. Greg held no expectations except being able to be with her and enjoy the best time of his life.

He shook his head in disgust, angry at himself for not disclosing the real reason behind his efforts to get her to live with him. Maybe, he had approached the whole thing wrong. He shouldn’t have had her kidnapped and forced her to stay with him under false pretenses. Sure, he had the side-effects of what she’d done, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. Each day that he spent with her made it impossible to feel any anger toward her. Now, all he had burning inside him was the need to take care of her. Was he wrong?

Closing his eyes, he let the image of Sarah drift in, her long, black hair flowing free on her shoulders and then falling to the small of her back. It was a picture he never grew tired of revisiting. Sarah’s eyes were like magnets, the gentle shade of gray mesmerizing and urging him to get lost in them. Her full and robust lips kept teasing him to taste, to feel them against his mouth. Man, that woman had no idea how unraveled he got in her presence. Her body, though a bit on the thin side for his liking, still had curves in all the right places.