Twice in a Lifetime (Carina) (11 page)

Sarah rolled her eyes. “The sex is not a problem. You are great at sex—it is every other aspect of your character that is lacking.”

“I will take that,” he said.

“Only a man would take that as a compliment.”

“You said I was great in bed. That is complimentary, Sarah.”

“I also said you were a deficit to humanity,” she said, completely disgusted.

“All I heard was great in bed.”

The next two days for Sarah consisted of lying on a sun lounger and reading. As far as holidays went, it was fairly relaxing when she managed to put Sam and Liam out of her mind. The first day, she did not see Liam at all. He was away for work before she had woken up and did not return until after midnight. She could honestly say she did not care where he was or who he was with. She would be eternally grateful to him for arranging her grandmother’s operation. Everything had gone smoothly, and the nurses were expecting her to be discharged within a week. Sarah hoped they kept her in long enough to get past her nicotine withdrawal. Chances were, her gran would light up the moment she left the hospital no matter how long they kept her in. Maybe Liam was right: people didn’t change.

When Sarah got home she planned on moving her gran into her two-bedroom flat with her. That had been the plan since Sarah moved in, but her gran had steadfastly refused any assaults on her independence, as she saw them. But now it was obvious to Sarah: it was time to force the issue.

She glanced at the clock on her phone. It was nearly time to order dinner. If today was anything like yesterday, she would manage to avoid Liam completely as long as she was in her bed by eleven or so. That gave her enough time to toss and turn and still be asleep when he arrived home, so she would not have to wonder where he had been, or what he had been doing. She was training herself not to care.

She ordered a sandwich and a cup of tea and then went to wash off the day before dinner arrived. When she finished Liam was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper and listening to the radio. She still had not managed to figure out the radio so she had settled for a music channel on the telly. She thought about asking him to show her how to work the sound system. But that would mean speaking to him, and she wasn’t going to be ready to do that any time soon. She wasn’t angry any more, just hurt and sad. It would take a while for those feelings to fade, but she had time. It had taken ten years to stop loving Liam, but she had got there in the end.

“I didn’t think you would be back so early. I will call and cancel my room service and go down to the restaurant so you can have the flat.”

“It’s already here. I put it in the fridge.”

“Great. I will take it out on the balcony, unless you want to sit there. I am happy to eat in the kitchen.”

“We are going out tonight. There is a charity ball and I need a date.” His face was impassive and impossible to read.

She reminded herself to stop looking for emotions that weren’t there.

“Then order one. You can afford it,” she said. She was being childish, but she wanted to hurt him, wanted him to feel some of the pain she was.

He ignored her dig. “We need to leave in three quarters of an hour. You can eat now, but there will be dinner there.”

“Well, have a great time with that.” She walked past him and got her sandwich out of the fridge.

“You can wear that or wear this gown, but you are coming. I am not going to sit through this on my own.” He held up a grey dry-cleaner bag.

“Call your secretary.”

“She already has a date.”

That was not what she meant. She meant that Gemma could find him someone to go with. But good to know he thought Gemma was a potential date. “I have plans,” she said and took another bite of her sandwich. She did have plans, and they involved Brie and cranberry on sourdough, followed by channel surfing and a swim. And then, if she was feeling really ambitious, she was going to watch her new favourite Arabic-speaking soap opera.

“Sarah, I don’t have time for this. Be spoilt and petulant tomorrow. Tonight I need a date.”

“I’m not spoilt. I’m just not going to spend time with you. We agreed to avoid each other.” Her back stiffened; she was many things, but she was not spoilt.

“No, you said you didn’t want to see me and I decided to give you some time to cool off.”

She rolled her eyes. “That was very kind of you, giving me time to cool off. It almost makes you sound emotionally competent. But I don’t need to cool off. I am not angry, I’m just done. There is a difference.”

“You’re not done until I put your pretty ass on a flight back to Scotland. Now get dressed.”

“Or what?”

“You know what. I don’t need to say it.” He took a bite of the other half of her sandwich.

“I prefer if you do.” She looked him directly in the eyes, challenging him. She needed him to show some sort of emotion: anger, frustration, remorse, anything. She was slowly being driven mad by his self-containment.

“I won’t help Sam.”

“There we go. Thank you for my daily reminder of why I don’t like you. Will you also be requiring that I have sex with you too, because you don’t want to do that alone?” A shamefully large part of her wanted him to say yes, just so she could tell him where to go. She still wanted to be the one who rejected him. If she analysed it too much she might come to the conclusion she still cared, but it was just a residual effect of loving him for such a long time, like when people lost limbs and they were certain they could still feel them.

“No, that would be rape.”

“Nice to see even you have limits.”

“Very few though,” he said dryly. He finished his half of the sandwich and then glanced at his watch. “Now you only have forty minutes.”

“Why do I need to go?”

“I told you. I am not going to sit through one of these things on my own. And think of all the people watching you can do.”

The idea of people watching did interest her but she was loath to admit it. The Arabic soap opera was starting to grate on her—in last night’s episode the crying woman looked as if she was softening towards the swarthy man. At least a charity function would have people she could speak with. “What do you expect me to wear?” she asked dubiously.

He handed her the garment bag.

She eyed it suspiciously. “You picked out a dress for me.”

“No, Gemma did.”

“Of course she did,” she said sarcastically. “What exactly is her job description?”

“She is my secretary. She is happy to run errands—that is what she is paid for. Now stop wasting time and get dressed.”

“She is paid to shop for…” she looked for a tactful way to phrase it and then remembered she wasn’t tactful “…women you are shagging.”

“Are we still shagging? I thought that was off the table? If it’s back on, I’m on board.”

“No, we’re not still shagging. But that’s not the point. How did you ask Gemma to buy me a dress and sunglasses? Did you just say, ‘Hey, buy me a ball gown?’”

“Yes, exactly like that, except I said please. As they say, manners cost nothing. Now get dressed or I will take you naked.”

Sarah sighed as she weighed her options. Truth be told, she could use a night out. There was only so much lying in the sun a person could do. And it would be nice to have a conversation with a person who wasn’t Liam. “Fine, I will get dressed but first tell me what you told Gemma about us.”

“I didn’t. She is my secretary. She doesn’t require explanations. I give her tasks, she does them, and I pay her.”

She sighed again. He was really missing the point, or he was being intentionally awkward.

Sarah laid the bag on the bed and unzipped it. She pulled out the dress. It was a beautiful periwinkle strapless gown; the bust was detailed with clear crystals, sewn seamlessly into an intricate design, presumably to flatter the breasts and give some structure to the otherwise simple and elegant design. Sarah ran her hand over the smooth satin fabric. It was beautiful. Office Barbie had great taste. She could only hope she had got the size right, because, even if it didn’t fit, she had a feeling that Liam would still insist she go.

Sarah slipped the dress over her head and shimmied it down until it fell below her hips. “Well done on the sizing, Gemma.” She exhaled the breath she had been holding; she was home free, except for the zip. She reached behind her and pulled it up as high as she could without dislocating something.

She reached into the bag and found shoes in the same shade. If the secretary gig did not work out for Gemma, she definitely had a shot at a career in personal shopping…or modelling…or a trophy wife… The possibilities were endless. Sarah slid her foot into the shoe, and winced as her toes crushed together as she forced them into the heels. With a push and a gasp she was able to wedge her heel in. “Spoke too soon, Barbie, don’t give up the day job.” Sarah walked/hobbled to the full-length mirror in the bathroom. She nodded in approval at her reflection. Gemma had managed to pick a dress that flattered her figure and colouring, not a small feat for any woman. She must have got a fairly good look at her as Sarah pushed past her and ran through the office. At some point Sarah was going to have to explain the situation to her, so Gemma did not think she was a complete nutter.

Sarah pulled up the hem of the dress to examine the shoes. She sighed; they were too pretty not to wear. Yes, her feet were sore, but hopefully the tight pinch would ebb into a dull ache as the night wore on, because that was how shoes worked, right? She felt like Cinderella’s big-footed, ugly stepsister. And now she understood why the hound-faced sibling had cut off a toe to fit into the glass slipper: pretty shoes were hard to resist, so a girl had to do what a girl had to do.

“Can you zip me up?” she asked Liam when she returned to the living room. She just about managed to find a gait that was not agony with each step. If she leaned forward and put all her weight on her toes, she could barely feel that the tight leather of her shoes was trying to stop all blood flow to her feet.

She stopped in her tracks, instantly forgetting the ache in her feet. He had shaved and put on a tuxedo. He looked good in a suit, but he looked irresistible in a tux. The way the dark material hung on his broad shoulders made him look even more imposing. He must have signed a deal with the devil; no one person should be that good-looking. She should have asked him to have sex once more before he told her the truth. She could never in good conscience sleep with him again, so she really should have made sure she had got enough of him before she discovered how truly vile he was.

“Turn around,” Liam commanded. “You look beautiful.” He lowered his head and pressed the faintest kiss against the back of her neck. A bolt of electric pleasure ran down her spine. Her hands dropped to her side, her eyes closed. He was wearing Obsession For Men, and the scent instantly transported her back. She had bought him his first bottle. She had used the money she had earned from working Saturday mornings at the local chemist. She took a deep breath. That was what he’d smelled like the first time they had made love.

When he betrayed her.

Her back straightened. Her body might forget what he had done, but her mind never would. “I am only staying until eleven and under no circumstances will I dance with you or make small talk of any kind. If you wanted a willing companion, you really should have hired a hooker.” She was trying to get a rise out of him and she knew the buttons to push.

“But I might want to kiss you, and they won’t do that. And with you, there is every chance you might get horny again. I’ve met you,” he said smoothly, pushing her buttons right back.

“You are totally wrong on every count. If I get horny, I will sort myself out. And of course prostitutes will kiss if you pay them. That stupid movie has convinced the world there is something more intimate in kissing than having another person penetrate your body. I mean, you have got to be kidding me—why would a woman take it in every orifice, but say her lips are off limits? I think the man who wrote that is stupid, and that men who believe that rubbish are complete morons. Honestly!” She realised too late she was giving Liam the exact response he was going for. He was baiting her and she fell for it, just as she always did with him.

“You are far too easy to wind up. And your speech has made me horny, so if you change your mind, and need a helping hand, I always have one or two that can be of service.”

He slid his executive key into place in the lift.

He was still trying to get a rise out of her. “I can masturbate on my own, thanks.”

“Can I at least watch?” he asked. His dimple appeared when he grinned—amazing how a small indentation transformed his face. She resisted the urge to stroke his cheek. He might look sweet when he smiled, but he was still the same Liam, and he was about as sweet as a feral cat.

She tapped her foot on the floor of the lift. “Stop flirting with me. I don’t like you.”

“You didn’t like me last time we were in the lift either and that ended fairly well.”

“But I learned from my mistakes. I strive to never make the same one twice,” she said demurely. She was not going to let him wind her up further. What was it about him? He knew all her buttons, good and bad.

“If that was true, you wouldn’t be here.”

She exhaled loudly. He had a valid point. Man, she hated when he did that. “Well, I endeavour to learn from my mistakes.”

“Sarah, if you want to make that mistake again, I am up for it. Just putting my cards on the table.” He was staring straight ahead but she could tell from the crinkle around his eyes and his dimple, he was smiling.

“You’re flirting with me again. It is like a pathological condition with you. You really should get that looked at.”

Liam’s phone rang. He reached into his pocket and answered it.

“Evening. Liam McPherson here.”

Sarah could not hear the other end of the conversation but it was obvious from Liam’s reaction, it was not a pleasure call. His jaw tightened and a vein appeared at his temple. Everything about his body changed; he was suddenly on the offensive, like a leopard ready to pounce.

“I see. I am going to need to phone you back. Yes, sure. That is fine. Thanks.” Liam slid the phone back into his pocket. The muscles in his jaw strained and flexed under his tanned skin.

The elevator door opened. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Just work,” he said too smoothly. He took her arm and guided her through the foyer to the waiting car.

“Why couldn’t you take the call?” she pressed. She could smell bullshit a mile away. Her senses were honed from years of working with substance abusers. She was good at her job, and part of her job was reading people. She knew he was lying, and more importantly she knew it had to do with Sam.