Surrender (4 page)

I try my best to focus on the things I have to do, and it helps for a while, but later in the day, when most of my work is done, and I have nothing to occupy my mind, it goes back to David, and even though my brain is warning me to control myself, I find my fingers reaching for the beckoning phone.

It’s not only because I want to hear his voice, I tell myself as my fingers dial the familiar numbers on the keypad. It’s not because I miss him. It’s only because I need to tell him that I don’t want his money. That is the only reason why I’m calling.

It suddenly occurs to me that he may not have my new number. What if he doesn’t pick up? I think in panic as the phone starts to ring on the other side. My stomach knots expectantly. My fingers are clammy and trembling, and there’s suddenly not enough air in the room. Maybe I really shouldn’t be doing this, I think frantically, feeling weak as his phone continues to ring. I’m about to stop the call when I hear a small click, and then the voice I’ve been longing to hear for weeks, deep and sensual, just the way I remember, and yet somehow, more incredibly seductive.

“Sophie.” That’s all he says, but in that moment, I completely forget how to breathe.

It’s the way he says my name. I think helplessly as my whole body starts to ache. It feels like a caress, moving from my ears to enfold me like smooth velvet. I feel paralyzed, overwhelmed by emotion. How can he make me feel like this with just one word? I should say something, but I can’t seem to find anything in my head that makes sense, all I want is to hear his voice again.

“Sophie?” He says again. This time it’s a question.

“Hello.” I choke out with a voice that sounds nothing like my own. I’m desperately trying, and failing to get my thoughts and feelings in order. He is silent, but I can imagine him listening, waiting for me to say something. I can imagine the frown on his brow. I can imagine every inch of his beautiful face, his perfect body.

“Sophie, are you all right?”

I hate that he sounds so concerned, because it makes me want to believe that he cares about me. It makes me want to admit that I’m not all right, that I miss him, that I’ve missed him every moment since I walked away from him.

“I’m fine.” I say through the sudden thickness in my throat. Somewhere in my brain, there’s the knowledge that I had a reason for calling, but I can’t seem to remember.

We’re both silent. I search for words, desperate to say something, to communicate anything other than how affected I am just by the sound of his voice.

“I was just thinking about you.” He says softly.

My chest suddenly feels too tight. I hate myself for how those words make me feel. I hate the hope that soars in my heart at the simple announcement, and the urge to convince myself that he wouldn’t be thinking about me unless he cared.

“David...” I begin tentatively, unsure what I’m going to say. My emotions are all over the place. I’ve never been so confused. He has only said a few words, but he’s already succeeded in stirring my memories, my body, and my heart.

Get real sweetheart, this has always been about sex.

The recollection of his cruel words pulls me out of my traitorous, yearning thoughts. I’m being a fool, I realize, in allowing myself to want him so much it colors my reasoning. Of course, he doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t love me. He told me so himself, and there no reason to assume otherwise just because he has a voice that sounds like temptation.

“You can’t keep sending me money.” I say abruptly, forcing all the yearning and desire from my mind. “I already told you I don’t want anything from you.” Except your love, I add silently.

When he replies, his voice is brusque. “I won’t argue about this, Sophie,” He says, “The money is yours.”

“Why?” I retort, annoyed that he would dismiss my request so swiftly. “As I remember, our marriage was always about sex, according to you, and I’d rather not be paid for sex, David.”

“And this is why I finally got a phone call from my darling wife,” he says, with a hint of sarcasm, “to be accused of paying you for sex, in addition to all my other crimes.”

I flinch at his tone. “I’m not accusing you of anything,” I reply stubbornly. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want your money.”

“Then do whatever you want with it.” He says dismissively, sounding annoyed. “You can burn it in the street if you like, along with everything else about me that you now find so distasteful.”

“Maybe I will.” I fling back.

“For God’s sake!” He exclaims exasperatedly. I hear him take a deep breath. “Sophie,” he starts calmly, the anger in his voice suddenly replaced by something else, something soft, and tempting, something I don’t want… can’t bear to hear.

“I shouldn’t have called.” I mutter into the phone, interrupting whatever it was he was going to say, “I don’t know why I thought that anything I want would mean much to you. It never has and it obviously never will.” I sigh. “Goodbye David.”

I end the connection before he can reply.

All of a sudden, I feel tired, weak, and spent. If David can make me feel like this just from a phone conversation, I have to concede that there’s no way I can be hopeful of my chances of getting over him anytime soon.

The rest of the evening is uneventful. I have ample time and opportunity to obsess about the phone call and every word we exchanged. I’m still going over it in my mind when Jan emerges from the back office with a stack of sheets and hands them to me.

They’re all sketches for new designs. Sometimes, he or Larry would have a burst of inspiration and actually produce some new work, which they always ask me to look at.

“What do you think?” He asks as I look through the drawings. They’re not bad, just a little old fashioned. We always put the new designs up on the website, but people hardly order them. Our sales are from people who remember how the old t-shirts made them feel a long time ago, and order the same ones to try to recapture the feeling.

People living in the past, like me.

“They’re good.” I tell Jan. “I like them.”

“Oh well.” He shrugs, looking skeptical. “So…” His tone turns friendly, “What’re you doing tonight? Hot date?”

I almost laugh. “Not really, no.” I say, shaking my head.

He tuts. “Honey,” he says patiently, he calls everybody honey, even the pizza delivery guy, “You can’t nurse a broken heart forever.”

I frown. Is it so obvious then? Can everyone see the pain I’m feeling inside just from looking at me?

I take a deep breath, but before I can respond to what he said, I hear the sound of the door opening, and I look towards the entrance, ready to smile and say ‘Welcome to Empathy Zone!’ but the smile freezes on my face, and for the second time in one day, I lose the ability to breathe.

Chapter Three

I’M TREMBLING. I CAN HEAR the roar of blood rushing in my ears. My skin feels hot and cold at the same time, and my heart is hammering violently against my ribs. I can’t think, and I can’t stop looking at him.

David.

He’s standing in the doorway, with the late afternoon sun spilling in behind him, framing his tall figure like some sort of godly aura.

My body reacts immediately, every inch of my skin drawn to him like he’s some sort of magnet. I want to go to him. I want to touch him. I want to hold on to him and never let go.

I close my eyes and force some air into my chest. I must be imagining things. There’s no way David is actually here, there’s just no way. I know that if I open my eyes, he won’t be standing at the door.

But he is, looking as unbelievably handsome as I remember. Every feature, from his thick, wavy black hair to his classic nose, sensual lips, and firm jaw, is achingly perfect. I’m staring helplessly, unable to control myself. He is just too devastating.

I hear an intrusive sound, and I reluctantly tear my eyes away from David, turning towards the source. Jan is looking pointedly at me. He clears his throat again.

I frown, confused, unable to get my thoughts in order.

He rolls his eyes. “Welcome to Empathy Zone.” He says to David.

I turn back towards the door, where David is still standing, his eyebrows raised as he looks at me, his expression expectant and faintly amused.

Embarrassment heats my cheeks. “Welcome to Empathy Zone.” I mutter.

He grins lazily and steps into the store, letting the door swing closed behind him. I find myself staring again. He’s wearing a dark suit, with a snowy white shirt and a light blue tie. His face is leaner than I remember, but it works for him, making perfect features stand out even more. No man should look this good, I think, unable to tear my eyes away.

David’s eyes never leave my face as he walks towards me, his gaze like flames licking at my skin, and his steps easy and confident. Jan may well not be in the room at all. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of my desk, so close that I can smell the subtle hint of his familiar masculine cologne.

I clench my hands together to try to stop them from shaking. I can’t get my heart to stop pounding. I’m hot, sweaty, and confused. He’s mesmerizing, and I’m mesmerized

“Hello Sophie.”

His voice flows over me like a caress. His face is so close that if I just reach out, I can trace my fingers over every inch of skin I love so much. My mouth is so dry I can’t even swallow. I want to look at him forever. I want to cry. I don’t know what I want.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Jan looking from me to David, but I ignore him. I can’t tear my eyes away from David’s blue gaze, and I don’t want to. Jan clears his throat again, and David turns to him, releasing me from the singular intensity of his stare.

“I take it you’re not here for the T-shirts.” Jan quips half-jokingly.

David smiles pleasantly. “No, not really.” He says, turning back to me. “Sophie and I are …”

“Old friends.” I say quickly, cutting him off.

One eyebrow goes up in an expression that’s so heart achingly familiar, I have to look away.

“Yes we’re old friends.” David agrees, amusement sounding in his voice. “I’m David Preston.” He says, holding out a hand to Jan. “Sophie’s old friend.”

Jan takes it with a smile. “Jan Rippon.”

The door to Larry and Jan’s office opens and Larry steps out. He’s the total opposite of Jan, short, portly, with none of Jan’s gregariousness. Like Jan, he’s dressed like a college boy, with an Empathy Zone t-shirt, jeans, and trendy sneakers.

“Hello?” He says questioningly, looking from me to Jan to David.

“This is Sophie’s ‘old friend’,” Jan volunteers, “David Preston.”

Larry frowns. “Preston Corp?”

There’s only a short pause before David nods.

“I’ve heard of you.” Larry says, “Good to meet you.” I watch as they too shake hands. Maybe now they can all go inside the back office and bond over video games, I think sourly.

“So you and Sophie are old friends?” Larry asks.

“Yes actually.” David smiles charmingly. “I was hoping you would let her leave early today,” he says. “I’m planning to take her to dinner.”

My jaw drops, but before I can say anything, Jan beams. “Of course!” He says, “Sophie never goes anywhere.” He continues, turning to Larry, while I silently plot ways to murder him. “I’m sure we can manage for an evening?”

Larry nods enthusiastically. “That’s if Sophie doesn’t mind.”

They all turn to look at me. I don’t want to go anywhere with David. I don’t.

Under the force of their combined stares, I cave in.

“I don’t mind.” I lie.

“Great!” David smiles at my bosses, who finally decide it’s time for them to leave us alone together, and go back into their office.

David’s eyes find mine again, and I take a deep breath. He’s so close, every inch of my skin is tingling in anticipation. I’m assaulted by the memories of what it felt like to touch him, to feel his lips on mine, to feel his breath feathering across my skin.

“Aren’t you going to say anything Sophie?” He asks, looking slightly amused. His eyes are gleaming dangerously, sensual and provocative. “Not even hello?”

I swallow, feeling my pulse start to flutter wildly. “What are you doing here?” I ask with bravado I don’t feel.

He tilts his head slightly as he looks at me. “I believe we were having a conversation earlier,” He says with a careless shrug, “One that we didn’t finish.”

I shake my head. “I shouldn’t have called you.” I say tensely. “Maybe you should forget that I did.”

He turns away from me to look around the small store. I’m sure he’s not really interested in anything Empathy Zone is selling. I wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s going to say.

He turns back to me. “What if I can’t?” he asks suddenly, leaning forward on my desk. “I don’t want to forget that you called. I want you to tell me everything that’s on your mind.”

His nearness is doing things to me. “I’ve told you everything I have to say.” I retort, folding my arms across my chest in a gesture that’s supposed to be defensive, but which I know would be useless against him. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you either.”

He bends forward, coming closer until our faces are only inches apart. “Well I haven’t told you everything I have to say.” He whispers. His eyes are suddenly dark and fierce, searing into me. He’s not even touching me, yet I can feel him everywhere.