Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) (15 page)

As soon as she signed for her breakfast, she took a cup of hot tea and
a piece of dry toast with her into the bathroom.  She needed a shower badly. 
Her hair looked like someone’s beginning attempts at dreadlocks, and her skin
felt coated with a layer of dried sweat from the fever she knew had finally
gone away.  She ducked out of the Utah sweatshirt Joe bought her and pulled off
the matching sweatpants.  They had been perfect sleepwear the night before, but
now she wanted the feeling of clean clothes against a clean body.

A fresh hotel robe hung from the back of the bathroom door.  She didn’t
remember putting it there, and wondered if Joe had, since housekeeping hadn’t
been in there for days.  Joe kept the Do Not Disturb sign on Sarah’s door, and
she agreed with that, since she didn’t want to pass along the flu to some poor worker
like her mother, who would then have to spend her holiday flat out in bed
instead of relaxing with her family.

Sarah thought again of Joe saying he had cleaned up after her.  It had
to be true.  She knew the Monday morning explosions left splatters everywhere. 
Now there was no evidence of it.  Why would a man—any man—do that?  And how was
she supposed to feel about Burke going so above and beyond the call of duty? 
Especially since it wasn’t his duty to take care of her at all.

Sarah took another bite of toast and drank half a cup of tea.  She
wanted to take it slowly, to give her stomach time to settle with each new
addition.  But so far, everything felt fine.

She stood under the hot water for a long time.  Shaved her legs and
armpits, both of which had grown stubbly in the last few days.  She washed her
hair with the special shampoo she brought from home, rubbed conditioner into
the ends, let the rough curls slip through her fingers as she separated them
and sorted them out.  She felt well enough that she thought she could bear
standing at the sink for half an hour or so while she blow-dried her hair
straight.  She wouldn’t bother with the hair iron—that sounded like far too
much effort at the moment—but at least she could do the minimum to bring her
mop back under control.

She came back out of the bathroom wearing the hotel robe and toweling
off her hair.  She found Burke sitting on the couch working on his laptop.

Sarah glanced over at her own laptop, still open on the bed.  She
casually walked toward it.

 “I like how you just come and go as you please,” she said.

“You haven’t seemed to mind it.”

“I assume that’s my room key you’re using?”

“Didn’t think you’d need it.  But I can see you’re feeling better.”

“I am,” she answered as she closed the lid on her laptop.

When she turned around, Joe was looking at her.

There was no mistaking the anger in his eyes.

“You don’t really think I’d do that, do you?” he asked her.

Sarah thought of the documents she’d been reading and left open on her
screen when she went to take a shower.  But the idea that Joe would sneak a
look while he heard the water running didn’t actually ring true.  He had plenty
of opportunities over the past few days to go through all of Sarah’s files if he
wanted, and to read anything on her laptop since she hadn’t bothered to
password-protect it, but Sarah couldn’t believe he would do that.  Joe Burke
might be a lot of things, but unethical wasn’t one of them.

“No,” Sarah admitted, feeling slightly ashamed of herself, “I don’t.”

Joe held her gaze for a moment more, then nodded and went back to
work.  But Sarah could still feel the tension in the air.

“I am feeling better,” she said, hoping to shift things back to normal. 
“I looked up the schedules, and there’s a nonstop tomorrow morning at eight
o’clock.  I think I’ll book it.”

“Good,” Joe said.  “I will, too.”

“You don’t . . . have to stay today if you don’t want to,” Sarah said. 
“I’m sure you have plans tomorrow for Thanksgiving.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to get a flight out at this point,” Joe said.  “It’ll
be easier to go in the morning.  Fewer people traveling.”

“Right,” Sarah said.  “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I try to be right,” Joe said almost automatically.

Sarah knew she should say more:  thank him for everything he’d done.  But
she couldn’t seem to form the words.  They felt like too much of a concession. 
Too weak.  Too . . . honest.

She listened while Joe made arrangements with his office to change his
return ticket.  Sarah called her own office and did the same.  Her hair had
dried into a thousand mini spirals by the time she realized it, and she
wondered how she lost track.  She usually obsessed over every little thing her
unruly hair was doing, especially if there were anyone else in the vicinity to
see it, but for some reason she forgot to be self-conscious about it around
Joe.

Of course, it could be because what he said before was true:  he had already
seen her.  In and out of a shower, in and out of clothes, hair perfect, hair
wild, Sarah laughing, Sarah in ecstasy, Sarah crying.  What did she possibly
have to hide from him anymore?  At least where it concerned her appearance.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Joe leaned back against the couch and
linked his hands behind his head.  “Feel like getting some fresh air today,
Red?  You look like you might be up for it.  Get out of this hotel room, go for
a drive.”

“Yeah, actually, that sounds nice,” she said, already loving the idea
of it.  She had work to do, but that could wait.  Her parents wouldn’t mind if
she spent some of the time she was with them that weekend poring over
documents.  She knew they liked to see her doing her law work, the same way
they liked watching her study over the holidays while she was in law school. 
They took great pride in Sarah’s accomplishments.  She liked knowing that.

On the other hand, it was why she found it so impossible to call them
right away after the events of April 6.  She waited days to build up the
courage to tell them.  By then they already knew, of course—it had been all
over the news both locally and nationally—and they left phone messages checking
to see if she was all right.  All she could do when she called them back was
stutter a few words before she spent the rest of the phone call sobbing.

“It’s cold out,” Joe said.  “You’ll want to layer as much as you have.”

Sarah pulled from her luggage the workout capris and T-shirt.

“That’s a start,” Joe said.  Then he dialed his phone to make another business
call.

When it became obvious he intended to wait there while she changed,
Sarah dug into her luggage for a fresh pair of underwear and her workout bra. 
The black lace one still bore traces of her illness, and she intended to give
it a thorough scrubbing once she got home.  She took the workout clothes and the
Utah sweats with her back into the bathroom and shut the door.

Once she was dressed, she evaluated her hair again in the mirror.  She
could take the time to wet it down and then straighten it, but decided she’d
rather get outside sooner and feel the wind on her face instead of the breeze
from the blow dryer.

She did, however, take the time to add a light layer of makeup, just
mascara, a little blush, and some lip gloss, so she wouldn’t look so sickly
even to herself.  And in a way she intended it as a gift to Joe, who was
probably tired of seeing her look so pale and clammy over the past few days.

Joe wrapped up the call when he saw she was ready, then closed his
laptop and left it on the table.

“Where are we going?” Sarah asked him.

“Up the mountain,” Joe said.  “I just need to make one quick stop along
the way.”

***

As soon as Sarah saw which parking lot they were pulling into, her
throat went dry.

“Burke . . . ”

“You’re never dressed for the weather,” he said.  “Come on.  This will
only take a minute.”

He led the way into Walmart while Sarah hung back.  Then she realized
she was being stupid.  She could walk into a Walmart with Joe.  She wasn’t a
child.

He didn’t wait for her, but headed off toward a familiar section of the
store.  When Sarah arrived, he already had a set in his hands.  “Blue still
good?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.  Joe handed her the hat and gloves,
then started walking again.

If he heads for the condoms . . .

But of course he didn’t, Sarah realized a moment later as Joe angled toward
the shoe section.  He scanned the shelves until he found what he was looking
for.

“They don’t have to last forever,” he said.  “Just today.”

Sounded like his philosophy in a nutshell, she thought.

Sarah reached for a pair of light hiking boots in her size.  She kicked
off one of her sneakers and tried it on.  Then she put it back in the box.

“Ready?” Joe asked.

Sarah nodded.

She knew she should say something about all of this, but her tongue
felt glued to the roof of her mouth.  If they had no history together, all of
this would seem perfectly normal—nice, even.  Opposing counsel taking his sick
but recovering colleague to a discount store where she could buy a few items to
make her more comfortable.  Perfectly cordial.

They walked together to the checkout lanes, Joe leading the way.  He
waited beside her while the cashier scanned her items.

And finally daring to look Joe in the eye, Sarah could see the mischief
there.  The clear understanding of what he was doing.  The invitation for her
to call him on it, to say something real for a change instead of always
weighing her words.

“Burke.”

“Yes?”

But at the last second she decided not to give him the satisfaction. 
Instead she stared at him blandly as he looked back at her with an innocent
smile.

“Bastard,” Sarah couldn’t help mumbling.

Joe rested his hand against the small of her back as he leaned over to
whisper, “I just wanted you to remember it wasn’t all bad.”

Of
course
it wasn’t bad, Sarah wanted to tell him.  That was
exactly the problem:  it was
great
.  Just that brief touch to her back
was enough to remind every cell in her body how much she wanted him before, and
how easy it would be to want him again.

Sarah paid for the merchandise, then the two of them left together,
side by side.  Not holding hands, like the first time, not desperate to fall
back into each other’s arms, no making out against the side of the rental car
this time, no one honking in approval.

A part of her wanted to call off the outing.  Have him take her back to
the hotel where she could spend the day reading through documents and
pretending the last ten minutes hadn’t happened.

He had to know it would affect her.  He could have taken her anywhere: 
Target, a sporting goods store, probably even convenience stores there carried
winter wear.  He had to know her eyes would have widened at the Walmart sign,
her heart would have sped up, her heart would have hurt.

Was he trying to hurt her?  It was hard to believe after all the care
he’d taken of her the past few days, but why else would he would want her to relive
a moment like that with him when he knew everything else that flowed from it?

If their relationship had ended differently, if they’d parted friends,
then maybe Sarah could have joined him in a happy little walk down lovers’ lane,
pointing out the landmarks: 
“Yes, this is where I first couldn’t get enough
of you.  Over here is where we lost our minds over each other.  Oh, look,
there’s where you first told me that you loved me.”
  But it was like
returning to the scene of the crime with an arsonist: 
“Remember that
beautiful house you used to live in?  How did you feel when I burned it all to
ashes?”

Sarah stared out the window as Joe drove them up the mountain.  Watched
the pine trees going from unspotted green to laden with heaps of white.  The
higher they climbed, the more snow on the ground and the windier the road.

Sarah noticed that Joe was taking it slowly.  A few cars passed them,
but he kept a steady pace.  She wondered if that was for her sake, to spare her
stomach from any more trauma.  If so, then he was one of the most considerate
men she’d ever met, and his compassion should never fail to impress her.  Or
maybe he was one of the cruelest men she knew, and she didn’t understand any of
his motives at all.  Her assessment of that could change every minute.

“Warm enough?” Joe asked.  He tilted the vent so it blew on her more
directly.  Sarah clasped her gloved fingers together, feeling the soft fleece
against her skin.  Yes, she was warm.  Yes, it was nice of him to make sure she
had the proper clothes—the hat and gloves, the boots, the sweatpants and
sweatshirt he bought for her earlier.  Nice, nice, nice.

Except nice guys didn’t tell their girlfriends how much they loved them,
how crazy about them they were
—
didn’t ask their girlfriends to
marry
them, for God’s sake—then go away for the winter break and return completely
changed.  Never answer a phone call, avoid any attempts to speak in person, and
finally, because Sarah obviously hadn’t gotten the message, grabbing the ass of
that very willing second-year he pulled into a dark corner of the library with
him, and pressing her against the wall and grinding up against her while he
explored her mouth and her breasts, knowing Sarah stood only ten feet away
because she finally tracked him down.