Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) (16 page)

And it wasn’t just that one.  In the five months they had left of
school, Sarah saw him with two, three, four different girls.  Maybe there were
even more—those were just the ones he made a point of kissing in front of her,
until Sarah did everything in her power to stay as far out of his range as she
could so she never had to witness any of it again.

And meanwhile her heart became molten metal, pooling at the bottom of
her lungs, then freezing again, then breaking into shards at the slightest
reminder of anything he’d said, any way he touched her, anything she had ever felt
for him.  Her last semester of law school passed like a fog, blotting out
everything but what she had to do this minute, this class, then go home and not
think about him, go to sleep and not remember him, go to school the next
morning and never, ever look his way.

At graduation she braced to hear his name, then purposely stared at her
program while he took the long walk to receive his diploma.  When it was her
turn, she kept her eyes locked on the dean, afraid that if she glanced even a
fraction of an inch to the side, she might see Joe there in his cap and gown
and realize this was it, she never had to see him again anywhere.  California
was a huge state.  The chances of ever running into him again were small.  She
would be safe, if she could just make it through that one last day.

But her eyes were too used to finding him.  So even though Sarah had
done everything she could to spare herself, still her gaze shifted just enough
to see him off in the distance after the ceremony, standing with his father and
brother, all three of them hugging, his father crying.

Tears burned Sarah’s own eyes as she turned back to her parents and let
them tell her again how proud they were of her.

“Come on,” she said, taking her mother by the arm and leading them both
away.  “Let’s go eat Mom’s pie.”

When what she really wanted to do was get drunk.

Seventeen

Joe pulled in to the Snowbird ski area and found a parking spot at the
end of a long row.  The ski area had already opened the week before, and Sarah
could see figures up on the mountain zigzagging their way down.

She traded her sneakers for the boots, then stepped out of the car onto
the cold ground.  The air felt so dry it was almost powdery.  It seeped between
the threads of her clothes like fine dust, making her wish she wore at least
one more, thicker layer.

“Here,” Joe said, reading her mind and taking off his coat.

“No, you should wear that.”

“Sarah, you don’t have to fight me on everything, you know.”  He helped
her into the roomy coat, which really did feel wonderful, she had to admit.  It
reached down to middle of her thighs, blocking out the wind.  She rolled the
sleeves up, then put her gloves back on.

“Hot chocolate?” Joe asked.

“Sounds good.”  Now that they were somewhere else, somewhere unusual
and new, Sarah found she could speak again.  Any minute she would feel like
herself again, and regain her footing with Joe.  But right now she still felt
like she was catching up.

They trudged up to the base area where there were rental shops and
restaurants.  Joe pointed to one with outside seating.  “Will you be warm
enough?” he asked.

“We’ll see,” Sarah answered.  Joe left her at one of the picnic tables
while he went inside to buy their drinks.

He returned with a cup of hot cocoa topped with an enormous mound of
whipped cream.

“Oh,” Sarah said.  “I don’t really do that anymore.”

With anyone else, she might have worried about hurting his feelings,
but Sarah needed this, she realized.  Needed to feel on top of her game again.

She carried her cup to the nearest trash can and scraped off the whipped
cream.  Then she sat back down across from Burke and sipped the nearly boiling
drink.

He took a swallow of his and studied her.  “I already guessed
vegetarian,” he said.  “From the tofu in your salad.  But vegan?”

“Yep.”  Usually Sarah let people think she was a vegetarian because
vegan sounded so extreme.  But she didn’t care what Joe thought about it.

“Can I ask why?” he said.

“I wanted to make some changes last year.”

Joe nodded.  And cast a look from her face down to her body.  “I
noticed.”

“Noticed what?” she said.

“When you were in your underwear.  Puking.  You looked good.”

Sarah couldn’t help but laugh.  “I don’t usually get that compliment.”

“I’m surprised,” he said.  “Because you deserve it.”

Sarah allowed herself a moment of staring into his eyes across the
table.  Then something in her couldn’t stand the charade anymore.  Didn’t want
to let another minute go by without saying something true for once.

“Burke, what is all this?” she asked quietly.

To his credit, he didn’t ask, “All what?”  He didn’t try to stall or
make Sarah uncomfortable by pretending he needed her to restate the question.

“My apology,” he said.

The answer sucked the wind from her lungs.  Her lips parted and she
forced herself to draw in a few small breaths.  She was sure her eyes must have
looked shocked and wary and afraid, because Burke reached across the table to
cover her hand in his as if she needed the comfort.

She pulled both of her hands into her lap.

“What if I don’t want it?” she managed to choke out.

He never took his eyes off hers.  “Then that’s your choice.  I’m just
doing what I think I should.”

Sarah bolted up from the table and took off across the snow.  Her boots
squeaked as they pressed footprints into the white.  She’d been stupid to let
him bring her up there, she realized.  So far away from where she could simply
take her key away from him and lock him out and not have to speak to him
again.  Not personally, anyway.  They could meet across a deposition table any
day, and she would learn how to stop letting it affect her.

The air was cold, and it was thin.  They were thousands of feet higher
than where they had been in the city, and Sarah began to feel the effects.  She
had barely eaten that morning, and even less the days before.  And she was
having a hard time breathing, both because of the altitude and because of Joe.

There was a mound of snow above her, close to one of the buildings.  If
she could make it that far she could rest.  But her legs felt heavy, like she
was trying to walk through pudding, and she felt a familiar blackness at the
edges of her vision.

Not again.

She turned around to find Joe trailing her.  He wasn’t so far away.  He
stood there looking like a lumberjack, not a lawyer, in his jeans and boots and
sweater, slight stubble on his face, so handsome and masculine and concerned.

Sarah shook her head at him, even smiled weakly, acknowledging what she
knew was about to happen.

Then her legs folded beneath her and she melted onto the snow.

***

She awoke feeling sweaty and feverish and foolish.

A woman bent over her, shining a small penlight into her eyes.

“Did she hit her head?”

“No,” Joe said, “I don’t think so.”

“Did she lose consciousness?”

“Yes,” he answered, “briefly.”

“It may just be dehydration,” the woman told him.  “You said she’s been
sick?  Vomiting?  She’s probably lost a lot of fluids in the last few days, and
then coming up here . . . ”

Joe rubbed his hand down his face.  “God, Sarah, I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head.  She was such an idiot for storming off like that. 
She should have known her body wasn’t up for it.  She hadn’t worked out in
days, and she let her nutrition completely fall apart.  She had been learning
her physical limits all year long—and learning to push them—but this?  This was
just stupidity.

Sarah started to sit up and felt the room sway a bit.  Joe steadied
her, one hand on her back, another holding her arm.

“She should be fine,” the woman said. Sarah couldn’t tell if she was a
nurse or a doctor.  The woman wore heavy canvas pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt,
and a down vest.  It was obviously a proper uniform for medical personnel up on
the mountain, since Sarah looked around the clinic and saw several others dressed
that way, but it didn’t give a patient much information.

“Can I take her home?” Joe asked.

“Let her have a few sips of water while she’s here and I’ll be back in
a few minutes.  But if she seems fine, then yes, you can take her.”

Joe reached for Sarah’s hand, and she let him.  And as easy as it would
have been for her to let him take the blame and feel guilty about what had
happened, Sarah knew she couldn’t do that.

“I’m not a delicate flower,” she told him as soon as they were alone. 
“I’m actually very strong.  You’re just catching me on a very bad week.”

“Sarah, I never should have . . . ”

But he let the rest of the sentence trail off, and Sarah understood
why:  never should have told her the truth?  Never should have tried to
apologize?  Neither of those was right.

“You just took me by surprise,” Sarah said.  “Classic mistake.  I asked
a witness a question without knowing the answer first.”

Joe clutched her hand harder, then leaned forward and gently pressed a
kiss to her lips.

Too soft, Sarah thought somewhere in her animal brain, too soft when
there was obviously a deeper kiss hidden behind it, and all she had to do was
reach for him, pull him toward her by the back of the neck, angle her head,
open her lips, feel his tongue and his teeth, block out reality for just a
moment and take comfort in a feeling that she missed and remembered too well.

But he was careful, too careful, and that was right. 
I try to be
right.

The kiss lasted only a moment, but its effects lingered on.  Sarah’s
stomach felt queasy.  She had to close her eyes and bend her head forward while
she pressed her finger against a spot between her brows.  It helped her
sometimes to get rid of headaches.  Right now the only thing it accomplished was
sparing her from having to look at Joe.

He handed her a bottle of water.  Sarah took a few sips.  She looked
around the clinic at the people who obviously needed to be there—people in leg
splints and arm splints, presumably doped up since they were sleeping instead
of screaming.

“Let’s go,” she told Joe.  She waved to the doctor or the nurse,
whichever it was, across the room.  “I’m fine,” she said.  “We’re going home.” 
Then she let Joe put his arm around her as they walked toward the door.

The cold air hit her again, drying the sweat from her face.  It felt
good, bracing, alive.

“I know you won’t believe this,” she said, “but I’m still glad we came
up here.  This is better than being in my room all day.  I felt like an
invalid.”

Considering that she was slowly shuffling away from the medical clinic,
she knew that probably didn’t make much sense.

Joe hadn’t said anything for a while.  Sarah glanced to the side to
gauge his condition.

“Burke.  Stop.  Look at me.”

She knew she was too cold to stand there for long, but what she needed
to say couldn’t wait until they finally reached the car.  He might have broken
her heart once, but she wasn’t looking for revenge.  At least not so much
anymore.  Regret?  Yes.  She’d love for him to feel regret, and lots of it, if
she could help it.  But she wanted him to suffer for legitimate reasons, not
this one.

“You’ve been a saint this whole week,” she told him.  “Nobody in my
life except my parents would ever do what you’ve done for me.  Thank you.  I’ll
never be able to thank you enough.  But it’s for this, all right?  This is
separate.  No matter what you did in the past, this was something good.”

“Sarah,” Joe growled.  His eyes flashed with intensity.  He grabbed her
by both shoulders, and she could feel the tension in his hands radiating
through her body and practically lifting her from the ground.

Then Joe seemed to stop himself from whatever he was going to say or
do, and instead looked up at the sky and shook his head.  He let go of her
arms.  Then he turned to the side again and curved his arm around her waist and
steadied her toward the car.

What just happened?
Sarah wondered.  She could still feel the energy pulsing through his
arm and his hand, electric against her back and her hip.

She moved closer to him, maybe only an inch or two, until her leg bumped
against his as they walked.  It was better for her balance, she told herself. 
This way he could hold her more closely and brace her.

When they reached the car, he opened her door and held her hand while
she got inside.  Then he knelt down and unlaced her boots.  He removed one and
closed his fingers over her toes, warming them in his hand.

“Joe, I told you, I’m fine—”

“Would you stop arguing with me for once, Henley, and just take it?” he
snapped.