Sarah's Child Read online

  She didn’t even try to answer; she just looked at him, with the shadows once more gathering to dim the light that had been in her eyes.

  Suddenly Rome quivered as if he’d been struck, staring down at her with an expression of torment on his face. What would Diane say, if she knew he’d just seduced her best friend? Pain clawed at his insides, pain and guilt, as he suddenly realized that the physical act of release he’d sought with other women, which had meant an act of physical betrayal, had been nothing compared to the way he’d just betrayed Diane with Sarah. Sarah hadn’t been just a faceless body to him. He’d been aware of her every moment; he’d wanted her for the qualities and characteristics that made her peculiarly herself. Not only that, the pleasure he’d had with her had been shattering, totally wiping out the memories that usually plagued him after sex, memories of making love with his wife, of lying in the darkness with her afterward and talking their hearts out. He hadn’t thought of Diane at all; Sarah had filled his mind and his senses, which was the greatest betrayal of all.

  He had to move away from her. He surged to his feet and paced restlessly across the room, once again thrusting his fingers through his hair. Why did she have to lie there and look at him with those mysterious eyes? He couldn’t even begin to understand her. He’d thought that if he could take her, reduce her to the common status of all the women who’d lain beneath him during the past two years, then she would lose her mystery and he’d no longer feel so obsessed by her, but that hadn’t happened. Instead she’d revealed a secret that made her even more mysterious, and now she’d retreated again into her private self, too distant for him to reach.

  It was, abruptly, more than he could stand. He felt suffocated, and he glared at her in anger at the panic that was consuming him. “Hell,” he uttered in complete disgust. “Look, are you all right?”

  Sarah lifted a slim eyebrow. “I’m fine.” She sounded cool and in perfect control, as usual.

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” he muttered. “I’m sorry; I know I’m acting like a bastard, but I can’t—” He stopped, shaking his head in bafflement. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  He was at the door before Sarah found her voice again. “There’s no need. I really am all right.”

  The look he gave her was almost violent; then he was gone, and a few seconds later she heard the door slam. Immediately she got out of bed and went to lock it, then crawled back into bed, wincing as her body protested the movement.

  So, already the fragile companionship that had been growing between them was shattered, by a swift, consuming act of lust. That was all it had been for him, though she’d gone into his arms with love. She knew that it was much too soon in their relationship for it to be able to support the stress of lovemaking. He’d taken her, and she’d seen the anger, the guilt, in his eyes when he’d looked at her. Because she was so acutely sensitive to him, she’d known that he was thinking about Diane and regretting the wanton moments on the carpet.

  Sarah didn’t cry; she’d hoped, but the dream had been so brief that she hadn’t really let herself start believing in it yet. He was gone, but then she’d never had him, not in any way that counted. She hadn’t had his trust, or his love. His interest in her hadn’t made sense anyway.

  What now? Could she really go on working for the same company as he did, seeing him every day? Or had she finally reached the stage where she couldn’t take any more, when she’d have to be cowardly in the interests of her own sanity? After all, she’d been brave for more years than she cared to remember, and bravery had gotten her nothing but a constant ache in her heart and an empty apartment. She was thirty-three, after all; she was already past the prime age for marrying and having children, and the love that she’d always craved had eluded her. The total summation of her life was that she had a nice apartment, a snazzy car, and had wasted her life by loving her best friend’s husband. Time, and life, were passing her by, slipping away from her outstretched arms without even pausing to look at her.

  Midnight was the time for making plans for the future, when the past had proved barren. She lay there, forcing herself to be logical and deliberate, even when it hurt. In her own best interests, she’d have to find another job. She’d never get over Rome if she saw him every day. She would begin looking for a suitable job Monday morning, and she didn’t think it would be that difficult; she’d made a lot of friends and contacts during her years with Spencer-Nyle, when she’d worked so hard to develop a career that she’d never really wanted. Diane had been the ambitious one, making stupendous plans that she’d chucked the instant after meeting Rome. All Sarah had ever wanted was someone to love, a husband who looked at her with devotion, children to love and raise as best she could, and a home to provide a warm haven from the rest of the world. The man who loved her wouldn’t be Rome, she realized anew, and the pain struck her as strong and fresh as it had from the first.

  What good would leaving Spencer-Nyle do her if she kept mooning over a man she couldn’t have? It was time—past time—for her to forget about Rome and start looking for someone who would love her in return. Max’s lean, intelligent face swam into her view, and she caught her breath. Max?

  She wouldn’t use him. He deserved better than that. But the fact remained that she’d been more attracted to Max than she’d ever been to any man other than Rome. If he asked her out again, she’d accept. After all, she would be leaving the company, so there wouldn’t be the dangers inherent in a boss-secretary relationship.

  She could even grow to love him. Perhaps she’d never love him with the depth or fierceness that she loved Rome, but there were different types of love in the world, all of them precious. She’d no longer reject any of them.

  Her brave new plans were never given a chance to work. The strident sound of the doorbell jerked her awake before seven o’clock the next morning, and she stumbled out of bed, then had to find a robe to drag on before answering the door.

  Leaning against the door tiredly, stretching muscles that ached, she called cautiously, “Who is it?”

  “Rome.”

  Sarah stiffened against the door, suddenly alarmed. How could she get over him if he kept coming back into her life? She didn’t want to be hurt any more. She hadn’t let herself think about the way he’d taken her because she couldn’t handle that yet, couldn’t begin to accept that he’d had her, then walked away. Diane had come between them, and she always would be between them.

  “Sarah,” he commanded in a low voice when she didn’t open the door. “We have to talk. Let me in.”

  Biting her lip, knowing that there had to be a postmortem, she unlocked the door and opened it, stepping away as he entered the apartment. Quickly she looked at him, then averted her eyes. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, and plenty of it. I haven’t slept.”

  He looked it. He’d changed clothes, into jeans and a red polo shirt that looked fantastic with his olive complexion, but the lines on his face were harsher than ever, and dark circles lay under his eyes. He was somber, even grim. He followed her into the kitchen and while she put on the coffee he leaned his hip against the tall kitchen stool, one booted foot hooked on the bottom rail of the stool, the other leg stretched out before him. He watched her closely, wondering how she could look so unruffled even though it was plain he’d gotten her out of bed. Except for the thick pale tangle of her hair, she was as remote as an alabaster statue, cool and lovely to look at but not inviting to the touch.

  “I want you,” he said suddenly, startling her, and her eyes widened.

  “I’d planned to have you,” he continued, gauging every nuance of her expression, noting her reactions. “Last night didn’t get out of hand; I’d intended to have you from the moment I hustled you out of that party. I was going to take you, then forget about you. But it didn’t work that way,” he said softly.

  Sarah stared at the coffee maker as if the slow drip of the coffee into the glass pot fascinated her. “I’d say that everything went according to plan,”