by Lorenz Font
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Didn’t know someone else would be up this early. What are you doing talking to yourself in the dark?” Greg laughed, loud enough to wake the entire household.
He was garbed in nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, and Sarah, despite her embarrassment, couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. Even in the darkness, she could see the contours of his chest muscles and his powerful back while he crossed the kitchen to switch the lights on.
Her blush always appeared at the worst time. Being caught talking to herself made her seem like a child, and worse, he must’ve seen her staring at him. Sarah felt the pink creep up her face when the lights blinked on. Mortified, she took a quick sip of her coffee and tried to ignore his teasing.
Greg stood in the center of the kitchen, looking rather smug and comfortable while he waited for her answer.
“Considering there isn’t anyone else to talk to, I resorted to talking to myself,” Sarah said, raising her chin. She blew out an irritated breath, hating the goose bumps rising on her skin with Greg’s half-naked body staring back at her.
He folded his arms across his chest and gave her a long scrutiny before walking to the fridge. “You sound like you’re sulking, little girl,” he commented.
She picked up the laughter in his voice, even though she couldn’t see his face. “I beg your pardon. I’m not a little girl, and I’m certainly not sulking.” Sarah huffed and sat up straighter. There you go—you just acted like one.
“Hmm … that’s not how it sounds to me.” He turned his head in her direction for just a moment. “Whatever. I’m going to make an omelet. Would you like some?” Greg took out four eggs, a green bell pepper, an onion, and fresh mushrooms and set them on the counter.
Sarah wanted to pursue his comment, but she let it slide. There was no point in getting into an argument with him over something silly. She nodded her acceptance when he raised an eyebrow. Taking another sip of her coffee and pulling her attention away from his bare chest, Sarah shifted in her chair uncomfortably. She could feel his eyes on her.
“Can I help?” She was hoping he’d say yes so she’d have something to distract her from the perfect male musculature in front of her.
He shook his head. “I’ve got it. I can cook, you know.”
Greg took a cutting board from the cabinet and pulled out a Gunter Wilhelm knife from the wood block. It gave an ominous gleam when the overhead light hit the blade, and Sarah inhaled sharply. Greg settled across from her on the counter and started cutting the vegetables like one of those celebrated chefs on television, dicing and chopping and slicing with speed and confidence.
“You can make omelets?”
“Among other things.” He lifted his eyes to her. “So, what have you been up to? I haven’t seen much of you around the house.”
His tone irked her for some reason. Greg made it sound like she was the one who had been unavailable. “You’ve been cooped up in your study from sunrise to sunset, so you wouldn’t know if I’d died or what. If my guess is correct, I’d think you’ve been avoiding me.”
Shocked with herself at her unprovoked outburst, Sarah jumped out of her chair and walked over to refill her cup, but not before she caught the look of what seemed like yearning and pain cross Greg’s face. Just as fast, the expression disappeared.
Sarah had no idea how to interpret the heightened tension in the room. She kept her back to him while she tried to compose herself, drawing several deep breaths before returning to her seat. Greg kept slicing and dicing as if nothing had happened. She watched him in silence.
After a few minutes, he spoke again. “What made you say that? I’ve been around. You, on the other hand, had been in and out, studying with a friend.”
It was so wrong for him to go there. He had no right to put her on the defensive. There was no way she was going to let him turn the tables on her. “In the absence of things to do around here while you’re working, I had to use my time wisely. And don’t tell me you just don’t approve of Jeremy as a study buddy.”
Greg’s head jerked up at her caustic tone. His brows drew together, and he held her gaze for a good length of time before he broke away, walking to the cabinet to retrieve a bowl and a whisk from the drawer. It was just another one of those reactions she couldn’t understand.
“I know Jeremy, all right. Son of Senator Singer, oldest of three boys, consistent on the Dean’s List, and broke up with his model girlfriend not too long ago. I know him well enough.”
“Have you been spying on my friend?”
“A senator’s son graces the tabloids and newspapers once in a while. It’s common knowledge among city folks.” Greg didn’t look up. He just continued to whisk the eggs.
The way he had recited all that information infuriated Sarah. “Look at me, Greg. Where is this coming from?” She leaned forward and tilted his chin up with her forefinger. When their eyes met, his expression surprised her. In his eyes, she found vulnerability she hadn’t expected and a hint of jealousy, which made her heart soar.
Her finger burned where it touched his skin. Greg held her gaze for a moment before turning away. He walked over to the stove and turned the knob.
“Nowhere. It’s going nowhere,” he replied in a quiet voice.
That wasn’t my question. Sarah eyes widened. Could Greg be jealous? Why? He hadn’t given her a reason to believe he was interested in her in any way beyond the terms of their arrangement, which he was supposed to have concocted to benefit them both. As far as she was concerned, she was here to pay him back for what she’d done. So far, Greg hadn’t benefited from their arrangement at all. She’d been doing the taking, while he seemed content to keep giving.
Sarah slid off the barstool, walked over to the stove, and stood next to him. “That’s not what I asked. Tell me what’s bothering you.” She tugged at his arm.
“Nothing, Sarah. I’m looking after your best interests. Sharks are always out there, swimming around and looking for the prey to sink their teeth into. I’m just making sure you’re protected and safe.” He kept his eyes glued to the empty skillet, and Sarah itched for him to say more.
Minutes passed before he met her gaze. She held her breath. The way he angled his head made her think he wanted to kiss her. For a moment, she imagined his mouth on hers and what he’d taste like.
“Are you one of those sharks?” she couldn’t help but ask.
His eyes flickered and he scowled. “I try not to be.”
Once again, she’d managed to stumble and find another way to complicate everything in her life. Maybe it was a good thing Greg hadn’t done what she thought he’d do. Instead, he trailed one finger along her arm.
“Be a good girl and pour me a cup of coffee, black.”
Just like that, Greg turned his attention back to the omelet, leaving her standing there, embarrassed and on the verge of tears. Wheeling around, she made a feeble excuse about needing to use the bathroom and raced back to her room.
Once she was locked within the confines of her bathroom, she turned the spigot and left the water running to drown any sound she was bound to make. She blinked back the tears and stared at herself on the mirror. “What happened to you, Sarah? You’re reading too much into this whole thing. The man is married, and there is no way he’d consider you his equal. He’s rich, gorgeous, and well-bred, while you’re nothing but a poor, little girl from a godforsaken town no one’s ever heard of. What makes you think he’d give you the time of day?” Sarah stared at her unhappy reflection and frowned. Indulging in a pity party hadn’t been something she would have done under normal circumstances. Somehow, being around Greg had short-circuited all her internal wiring, scrambling any rational thoughts and leaving her all tangled up inside.
After standing in front of the sink for what seemed like eternity, she splashed water on her face to remove the remnants of her tears and scrubbed her face until it felt raw. Sarah wasted several more minutes collecting herself until she felt brave enough to
face Greg. By the time she walked back in the kitchen, he was sliding the last omelet onto a plate. She took a mug from the cabinet and poured coffee for him, placing it on the counter in front of him without a word.
They ate in silence. Sarah had a sinking feeling that she might just be falling for the man, which with all honesty had disaster written all over it.
“Tell me again why you’re doing this?” Simon asked.
Greg threw an annoyed glance at his bodyguard, who sat across from him inside the limousine. They were on their way to Greg’s Manhattan office. His father had called for an emergency meeting, and this meant Greg had to make an appearance.
“Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“You know what I’m talking about. Why don’t you tell Sarah how you feel?”
Greg kept his tone cool, despite the knot beginning to tighten in his stomach. “Tell her what? That an old man wants her? That I’m going insane with jealousy because she’s spending time with that Jeremy fellow? Think again, Simon. I’m not good husband material. Just ask Cassandra.”
“Wait, who said anything about marriage?” Simon coughed out a laugh. “Cassandra is a piece of shit, if you’ll excuse my colorful language. That woman didn’t deserve you, and I would love the chance to wring her neck.”
Simon always showed straight-up loyalty. Greg appreciated the devotion and would have said so if he wasn’t so wound up over Sarah.
“She’ll get her comeuppance, my friend. I’m looking forward to seeing the look on her face when she learns she’s not going to get a single penny from me.” The possibility was rather appealing. He’d hate to have her walk away with a large fortune that he’d worked hard to obtain. Rewarding the woman for her indiscretion seemed unfair when there were more deserving causes out there that could use the money. In fact, he had a perfect idea what to do.
“I’m going to say this once. Sweep the girl off her feet and get her out of the house once in a while. It’s been months. Sarah may be free to move around as she pleases, but with the absence of family or friends, she can’t do much. She’s wasting her time sitting at home with just me and Matilda for company.”
“You want me to take her out?”
Simon ignored his mocking tone. “You heard me. Like a date. You know, like the dinner you took her to? Just keep her away from the alcohol. I don’t want to see a repeat of that night again.”
Greg considered what Simon said. He didn’t want to make Sarah’s life miserable. Had he been holding her back? How could he let his desire blind him enough that he could ignore her needs? He let the questions sink in and stared out the car window.
The minute he walked into the conference room, he realized the meeting was just a ploy to get him to come into the office. There was no meeting and no one present but him and his parents. Greg would’ve refused to attend if he’d suspected anything beforehand.
His father, Gregory Jr., was in his late sixties and was eccentric by nature. He was a man of regal build, with ash-blond hair and very few wrinkles to give away his true age. Underneath the striking façade, he was a shrewd and ruthless businessman. Oftentimes Greg found himself trapped into playing middleman between his father and their business associates or doing damage control. Greg Jr. might have built their business empire, but it had been his son who was responsible for securing its continued prominence and longevity.
His mother, Chelsea, was a smart-looking woman five years his father’s junior. She used her sweet and cheerful demeanor both as a tactic to win admirers and as a guise to sway people to do her bidding. Vain and shallow, just like his father, she was slick and cunning in her business dealings.
Greg sat at the very end of the long conference table, as far away as possible from his parents, who hadn’t even bothered to visit their son when he’d returned from Alaska injured. He imagined how torn they must have been to take time away from their social calendar or forgo a game of racquetball at the country club to visit him at the hospital. His stomach clenched with recrimination, but he kept his composure even.
With a mock display of compassion, his mother rose from her chair and walked the length of the room, stopping to give her son a kiss on the forehead. “Greggy, how are you? Why haven’t you returned my phone calls?” She pouted her thick collagen-infused lips.
“Mother, as you may have heard, I’ve been busy recuperating and running this business from home.” Greg gritted his teeth to keep from saying more.
He might be detached at times, but he’d had enough of the feigned affection of his absentee parents. They had always preferred to spend money, travel, and attend social functions instead of spending time with him when he was growing up. They pushed him to become this way, and he wasn’t about to go easy on them. It wasn’t enough that he’d gotten all the material things they could offer. He needed more from his parents, like their love, time, and attention—the usual things children required to grow up happy and secure.
“All work and no play, my son?” Chelsea teased before giving him a dismissive shrug.
Greg ignored the barb and turned his gaze to his father. “What is this meeting about?”
Greg Jr. regarded him for some time, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, this treatment just made his son’s old resentment rise to the surface. Maybe Greg was being unfair, but he was sick of the whole charade. How he wished he could drop the pretenses and just walk away.
“I’ve heard you’re in heavy negotiation with Smith and Jackson. Those clowns are hardballing us and are trying to squeeze every single penny they can out of the deal. If I were you, I’d cross them off. I’ve been talking to Stallion Lines, and they’re showing willingness to restructure the deal and give us more leeway as far as schedules and shipping ports. I say let’s meet with them and see what they can offer us this time.”
Greg was half listening and half-tuned out by the time his father finished talking. He looked at the older man and rose to his feet. “Why don’t you have your secretary call me with the date and time?” He grabbed his cane and turned to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other pressing matters to attend to.”
Yeah, that would be taking a beautiful girl to see a movie. The sudden inspiration gave him purpose, and he strode out of the conference room without sparing a glance in his parents’ direction. His mother’s plea for him to stay went ignored.
He couldn’t wait to get home. If he hadn’t been afraid of stumbling, he would’ve run to the elevator. It was more than coming home to a familiar, secure place—it was the excitement of seeing the woman who kept his heart racing like he was running the New York City marathon.
When he got home, Greg lost no time heading to Sarah’s room. He pounded on her door with the eagerness of a child, anxious to get going and show her a good time.
Matilda’s voice came from behind him, her words deflating his high spirits. “She’s not home. She left an hour ago to take a walk.”
Chapter 11
“Turn left on Forty-Ninth Street,” Greg called out in time for Rudy to make a quick curve, earning furious honks from a car they cut off. He would have gone on foot if his legs had been up to the task, but this was the next-best option.
Greg scanned the foot traffic for Sarah’s features. The mix of faces and figures revealed people with blond, red, sandy, and brown hair, when all he ached to find was long black hair. Where could she have gone?
“Simon, concentrate on the left side of the street. Rudy, stop here and let me out.” Greg scooted to the edge of his seat while the limousine eased into a no-stopping zone.
“You’re not planning on walking, are you?” Simon’s hand clamped onto the door handle, hindering Greg from opening the car door.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Greg responded in a tone that did not invite arguments. He pushed the door open and stepped out of the car, cool wind whipping at his face. Once he’d made the curb, Simon spoke from behind him.
“You have no idea where to find her?”
> “No.”
He glanced left to right at the people milling around them. Rows of shops loomed on either side, their window displays enticing shoppers to gawk at the merchandise. Greg hadn’t the slightest clue which would appeal to Sarah. What would hold the most interest for a small-town girl? Was she into clothes, jewelry, or shoes?
The two men walked in silence, glancing into every shop they passed, covering one block in just a few minutes. Greg sensed the increasing stiffness in his legs, but he ignored it. He swiveled his gaze around, sifting through the hordes of shops and people around him until his eyes fixed on a small café with a big red canopy and empty chairs outside. His heart thudded against his chest when he spotted Sarah seated in a corner, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. Breathing a sigh of relief, he crossed the alley, leaving Simon to keep an eye on them from a distance.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, catching his breath.
Sarah looked up, her surprise at his sudden appearance rendering her speechless for a moment.
“Not at all,” she stammered, scooting her chair over to make space for him. “Coffee?”
“No, thanks.” Greg eased his body onto the chair and rested the cane across his lap. “Are you all right? I got worried when Matilda said you went out.”
She knew that he could very well just be checking up on her activities. Yet she couldn’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling that coursed through her with the knowledge that he had come looking for her.
“Anxious to know if I left and breached our agreement?” she inquired, her teasing tone taking the accusation out of her words.
“No.” He blew a frustrated breath. “I wanted to ask if you would like to see a movie with me.”
The invitation was so unexpected that she gaped in disbelief, unsure whether she’d heard him correctly. She stared at him in shock until he leaned forward and waved his hand in front of her face.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” Greg’s voice was playful and his expression light.
