His gaze softened. The careful blankness was gone. The man she knew, the man she’d surprised smiles and laughter out of, slowly crawled back into his eyes. It steadied her enough to take a step forward. “I may kick you out. I might take off in the middle of the night again. I might scream and wake you before I remember you’re not him.” Another step. He’d gone still, waiting. Always waiting. “I’ll get there, eventually.” God, she hoped he’d be there at the end of it. All the getting to know you conversations, the comfortable, easy silences, the fiery kisses she swore made her heart catch fire…she wanted more of everything, and she wanted it with him.
She closed the last of the distance between them, resting her hands on his chest. She wasn’t starting to trust him. She did. That was why sleeping with him last night felt like the right thing to do.
Snagging her wrist, he drew her hand down. “How’s your hand doing?”
She let him hold it, stroking over her knuckles, wiggling her fingers and watching her face for hints of pain. “Better?”
“Better,” she agreed. She should tell him about the meeting she was to have with their boss. Maybe he could think of something she didn’t. “Larry’s called me in for a meeting. I need to figure out what it’s for so he doesn’t spring something on me.”
He drew back, frowning. “He didn’t tell you in the invite?”
“Just said something about needing to go over some client information. My bad news radar is quivering. Whatever he wants, I don’t think it’s anything good.” She sat and ran a hand through her hair. Already skittery, his intense gaze sent her right to the edge. “It’s because of Jeremy. You said they’re related, right? I turned him down, and really, I ought to go straight to HR, file a complaint and get his ass tossed out of here, and he goes running off like a girl in the schoolyard, ready to tattle to the first teacher he sees.”
“Easy there.” His half-smile had her growling, and the noise brought the other corner of his mouth up. “Filing a complaint’s probably a smart idea. Kaylin would help you out, wouldn’t she?”
Sara considered the suggestion. Kaylin was in HR, and it was part of her job, most likely. But she remembered how Kaylin had reacted when Sara told her about the disastrous date with Kaylin’s brother. What if she ran to Jeremy and told him before Sara had a chance to get back to her office?
“Sara?”
She started. “No, not Kaylin. Kaylin…” Her hand fluttered uselessly. “Kaylin’s into Jeremy. And we’re friendly, if not actually friends. I’d be better off going to someone else in Human Resources anyway. I’d need an unbiased reporter.”
Legs wobbly, she stood, swaying in her heels. “Fuck me,” she whispered. Everything had been perfect for a few hours yesterday evening. Then she’d left Taylor asleep in his bed and it had all fallen to pieces around her. Suck it up, Sara. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward, slid her hands into his hair, and leveled her gaze at him. “Will you come home with me tonight?” Her voice was quiet. “I want to try again. Sleeping next to you. Maybe being in my own bed will help.”
“Love to,” he murmured. The nearness of him sucked her in, and she kissed him, slanting her mouth over his in a slow, deep kiss, the warmth and desire in it flooding her.
He let her control it, and she took her time, steeping herself in the surety of his response to her. It gave her the strength to walk out of her office, not stopping until she was in Human Resources and in front of the director’s door.
The director, Margie, looked like a human resources director. Solid and calm, she gave off the impression all she had to do was say a single word in a reasonable tone of voice and someone would be scurrying off to do her bidding. Blue eyes regarded her with professional detachment as she stepped inside. “How can I help you?”
Sara held out a hand, her confidence bolstered when Margie shook it immediately. “My name is Sara Andrews. I’m one of the sales executives here, and I need to file a complaint.”
The other woman opened a drawer, pulled out a carbon copy form, and selected a pen. “State your complaint clearly and concisely. Please include any witnesses, and sign and date at the bottom.” Sara blanched. “Is there a problem?”
She stared at the form. She didn’t have to drag Kaylin into this. Or she could have more faith in her. She opted for the latter. Picking up the pen, she wrote down Jeremy’s request she join him for a drink, doing her best to recount word for word what he’d said, adding that both Taylor Smith and Kaylin Rogers had been there, one at each incident. She signed her name and jotted down the date.
Margie skimmed over the account, brows going up as she reached the bottom. “Before I sign this, I want to make sure I understand. Jeremy Potter acted in an inappropriate and sexually forward manner toward you on two separate occasions. He claimed he ‘owed you one,’ correct?”
She nodded, then hesitated. “Will it damage the credibility of my statement if I tell you Taylor Smith and I are involved?”
Margie was reading the statement again. “No,” she said absently. “From your account, it appears Kaylin Rogers witnessed at least the beginning of the second incident. No one was in the office when he actually asked you to meet him for a drink?”
“No. He did bring up my relationship with Taylor. I told him it was none of his business.”
She set the paper aside. “And it isn’t. As long as the two of you are engaging in a consensual relationship, there’s nothing inappropriate about it. I’ll see that this is filed in Mr. Potter’s file.” She tore off the bottom carbon. “Your copy.”
Sara clutched the paper in her hand as she left. Better to be overzealous, she told herself. Jeremy’s overture had been annoying and unwelcome, but she’d wanted to punch him, not shrink away from him.
It was a metaphorical punch, then. In the balls.
The meeting alarm on her computer was going off when she returned, and she dashed around her desk to shut it off. Her recently settled stomach took off again, swooping like a roller coaster as she forced herself to walk slowly to Larry’s office. She could handle whatever he threw at her. Her job was safe; her numbers proved it.
She took a moment to smooth her slacks over her hips. Larry’s come in was faint through the door, and his face was grave when he opened it. “Sara. Thank you for coming.”
Her heart wanted to jump out of her chest and hide like a rabbit. “Is there something wrong?” She perched on the edge of one of the visitor chairs.
“I’m hoping it’s a simple misunderstanding.” Larry sat back and steepled his fingers. The giggle forming in her chest at the sight was all kinds of wrong, and broke through some of the nerves. “Jeremy Potter believes you are trying to undermine his position.”
She was so going to the president after this. It had gone on long enough. Anger burned, replacing the nerves, and she took a discreet breath, ensuring her temper was under control. “Larry, I’m aware you have some sort of affection for him. As I’ve said on numerous occasions, Jeremy isn’t doing his share of the work. At first I was willing to pass it off as being overburdened. We all can be at times, and making the clients happy can be stressful. The longer it’s gone on, though, the more apparent it’s become to me that Jeremy isn’t interested in doing his job.
“There are a number of client complaints, documented by emails, and plenty more in phone calls I’ve handled. Jeremy could be a good sales exec. At this juncture, though, he either has no desire to be or he’s handling too many clients. Am I undermining his position? No. Am I doing my job? Yes. Lately, that’s included making up for his lack. And I am past the point where I am going to allow this to go on any longer.” Standing, knowing Larry could fire her for such a brazen disregard for his position as department head, she headed for the door. “All of the documentation I’ve collected over the last year will be sent to the president. Whatever decision he makes regarding Jeremy, I’ll accept. However, I am unwilling to allow you to continue to make excuses for him.”
She left before he co
uld get another word out, retreating to her office and sliding to the floor as soon as the door closed behind her. She could damn well lose her job over that. She’d have grounds to sue for unlawful termination, certainly. But if she ended up out on her ass, she wouldn’t come back here. Not after this.
She had to keep her job until she found something new. Which meant she had to watch out for sharp objects aimed at her back.
Time to put her money where her mouth was. Those complaints were going to the president.
Chapter Fifteen
Anticipation tore through her as she watched Taylor’s car pull into the driveway. She was having her first grown up sleepover tonight with a man she liked enormously. It was the best start to the weekend she’d had in years, and he hadn’t even made it to the front porch yet.
Eager to begin, she yanked open the door before he could knock, tugging his duffle bag free of his hold and tossing it aside. She cut off his questions by hopping up and wrapping her legs around his waist, and let her mouth do the rest.
Smart man. He caught on real quick, ravaging her mouth with a scorching kiss that had her scrabbling at his shirt. Clothing flew, punctuated by hisses and groans as they fought to bring the other more pleasure. Finally, finally, they were naked and he had her braced against the door when he hesitated.
She cradled his face and nipped into his lip. “We had this discussion last night, Taylor. Take me. Now. And if you stop, it will hurt.”
Afterward, she thought she’d have to give him orders more often. He hadn’t stopped until they were a sticky, sweaty pile on the floor. She tried to lift her head from his chest and failed. She did manage to reach up and pat him on the head. “Good boy,” she gasped.
“I’m going to be insulted by that when I can breathe again,” he mumbled, his chest still heaving under her cheek.
She grinned. God, she felt good, and the knowledge it was Taylor who’d made her feel that way made her heart skip a couple beats. Rolling off him, she staggered to her feet and down the hall, stopping at the linen closet to pull out a towel for him to use.
Her moan of satisfaction as she ducked under the spray of hot water became drawn out as Taylor climbed in behind her, slicking his hands along her shoulders. “You’re wound up tight.” He began to knead, punching his thumb into a particularly stubborn spot.
“I think I deserve a back rub later. Right now,” she inched away, “I need to eat.” She grabbed her loofah and set about scrubbing herself down.
Clean, dry, and dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, she was toweling off the worst of the wet from her hair when the doorbell rang. No one ever used the doorbell.
Then she remembered the email from her father. “Shit!” She raced out of the room and down the hall to the door, scrabbling for their discarded clothing and tossing it in the hall closet. Tucking her wet hair behind her ears, she sucked in a breath, pasted on a smile, and opened the door.
Her mother rushed forward and caught her in a fierce hug. “Hi, Mom,” she rasped out.
Nina Andrews released her long enough to grasp her by the shoulders and take a thorough inventory before crushing her in another hug. “Baby, are you sure you’re okay?”
Sara patted her mother’s back awkwardly. “I’m okay.” She wiggled out of the embrace and threw her arms around her dad. “You are so gonna get it,” she murmured into his ear.
“Your mother isn’t the only one who was worried,” he whispered back.
“Whatever.” She eased away. “Have you eaten dinner yet? Are you hungry? I haven’t started cooking—” Her father was staring over her shoulder. She followed his gaze to where Taylor stood at the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in sweats and a ragged t-shirt. Oops. “Um.” She walked up to him and placed a hand on his chest. To her relief, his hand came up to cover hers, swallowing it. He drew it down and around his waist, and she tucked herself under his arm. “Mom, Dad, this is Taylor. Taylor, these are my parents, Nina and Steve.”
Taylor shook her father’s outstretched hand, then her mother’s, his chest rumbling with his greetings. It gave her cheeks time to fade to normal after the flaming red at having been caught in a decidedly embarrassing situation.
No woman, no matter how old, wants her parents to know exactly when she’s been having sex.
It took another ten minutes and half a glass of wine, but she managed to get her parents seated on the couch. She retreated to the kitchen and pulled open cupboards, staring desolately at the contents. There wasn’t a ton of food in the house. She’d have to get creative. Pulling out the last of her spaghetti, she turned the box over in her hands.
“Need help?” Taylor held up her a glass of wine.
“Got any ideas for what I should make for dinner?” She dropped the package of spaghetti on the counter. “C’mere.” The wine glass went on the counter and she slid her arms around his waist. The slow, steady thump of his heart gave her something to concentrate on while her brain stopped screaming my parents almost walked in on me oh God oh God. “Sorry.” She kept her voice low and hoped he could hear her. She didn’t want her parents listening in. “I got an email from my dad this morning and then forgot all about it.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Right,” she said wryly. Don’t worry about her parents interrogating Taylor over dinner. Or sticking around long after and making him leave. Since she’d asked him to stay, she was looking forward to having him in her bed. She tipped her head back. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He wound a lock of hair around his finger, let it unwind, waiting for her to continue. She chewed on the inside of her cheek. She didn’t want to go into the details now, because it deserved a serious discussion. “My ex was paroled a couple of days ago. I’ll explain everything after my parents leave, but that’s why they’re here. They’re worried about me.”
His hand stilled. “And I don’t get to worry about you?”
Something inside her broke open at his question. “Do you want to?” she whispered, scarcely daring to breathe. She didn’t want him to worry, but worrying meant he cared. Maybe a lot.
He dipped his head and kissed her softly. “I already do.”
She wanted to bottle the warm feeling threatening to explode in her chest. She knew his answer could be taken a lot of ways, so she set it aside to examine later. “We should get started on dinner.”
Between the two of them, they uncovered a few cans of tuna, a large can of tomatoes, an unopened jar of capers, and a small onion. Unscrewing the lid on the capers, she fished one out and popped it in her mouth. The salty, bitter flavor might be okay with the tuna.
They fell into a rhythm, much like the one they’d developed at work on their first client presentation, giving her a chance to put her thoughts in order. Her parents, Mom especially, would be pleased she was dating again, and in a somewhat serious capacity. She just didn’t want them overreacting to something so new and uncertain.
Her mother commented on the silence as they sat down at the dining table. “You were both like mice in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure you hadn’t slipped out on us.”
Sara poked at her spaghetti. “Taylor’s pretty quiet. He’ll say something if he has something to say. Small talk isn’t really his thing.” She gave him a crooked smile.
“I don’t know how you could handle that, Sara dear. You’ve always been so talkative.”
Not since Sam. “I like it,” she said softly. She caught her father’s fleeting grin, the gesture washing over her. “Keeps the stress level down.” She twirled pasta around her fork. “I’m glad you guys are here, but next time? A little more notice? Please?”
Mom wiped her mouth with her napkin. “Well it’s not every day your former boyfriend is paroled. You were so distraught by the end of the trial. Waiting wasn’t an option. I had to make sure you were okay.”
Well, she wasn’t distraught anymore. Years of therapy and self-defense courses had seen to that. “I’m okay. Really. He has to com
ply with the terms of his parole, which includes checking in with his parole officer on a regular basis and no contact with me or either of you. Everything will be fine. Krista’s coming to visit in a few weeks,” she said, desperate to change the subject.
“Be sure to say hello to her for us.” Bless him, her dad was trying to help her.
“I will. It’s been a while, and she hasn’t been here since I bought the house. She told me to wait to buy more furniture. I went ahead and bought paint.” She was babbling, she knew it, but as long as she was talking about Krista, they weren’t talking about Sam, and that was fine with her.
Her mother was off and running on decorating ideas, and Sara alternated between polite nodding and wrinkling her nose. Their tastes often clashed, and when she began hinting she’d like to take Sara antiquing tomorrow, Sara started sending pleading looks at her father and Taylor. One of them had to get her out of this.
“Why don’t you meet us for brunch tomorrow?” Taylor gestured across the table at her. “Sara’s been wanting to hit the market for a few weeks.”
She grasped the lifeline with both hands. “Yeah, Mom, I need art. Stuff to dust.”
Her mother latched on to the new idea and started talking about themes for each room, and Sara toyed with the rest of her pasta, wishing for dinner to end so she could get on with the rest of her evening.
Dad helped her clear the table and clean up the kitchen. “Where are you staying? Oh, and how long will you be here?” She took the plates he handed her and loaded them into the dishwasher.
Hidden Scars Page 12
