by J. M. Madden
Chapter Nine
‡
The next morning, even with the late night, Sarah was out of bed and down to tea with Faust at six. She felt too invigorated to sleep. Last night had been a breakthrough, she was sure of it. Clayton very rarely reached out to her on his own. He was becoming more accepting of her touches, simply because it happened so often, he was getting used to it. A hand on a forearm here, a bumped knee at the dining room table there. Sarah could not help it that she was a touchy-feely kind of person. She had been brought up that way. It was second nature to talk and explain with her hands. Clayton, on the other hand, was so very reserved, last night had only been the second time he had voluntarily reached out and just simply touched her.
And, oh, what a touch! Goosebumps had run down her spine and her body had melted, just from the heat of his hand wrapped around her foot! In the romance books, they always had women melting into puddles of submission from the man’s burning gaze. Sarah had never understood or believed the heroines’ reactions in those scenes. She did now.
Marianne told her that Mrs. Gallagher was already awake and in a bad mood, and had sent Marianne to take a note to Clayton. Marianne didn’t know what was on the note, but she did say that Mr. Gallagher was still in bed and did not appear to be getting up soon. She left the note attached to his door but didn’t wake him.
Tory ate in the kitchen with the staff and she and Sarah spent several hours in the sunroom before taking a break. Sarah went into the kitchen to get some juice and found Faust grumbling.
“What’s wrong?”
Faust patted her hair in its bun and gave Sarah a look.
“Mrs. Gallagher decided she wants breakfast now and Mr. Gallagher just called for coffee to be sent up. Marianne’s gone to the store. Would you mind taking this up to him in his office? I’m aching today. He asked for two cups, so I think his mother may be having coffee with him.”
Sarah patted the frazzled woman on the shoulder. “Not a problem at all,” she told her cheerfully as she picked up the silver coffee set on its tray beside the sink.
Sarah jogged up the steps lightly and with a smile on her face. The long carpeted hallway muffled her footsteps as she passed first her bedroom door, then Clayton’s. The wide, ornate spiral staircase that led to Clayton’s fourth floor office was well lit, and she had no problems with the treads. Settling the service on one arm, she knocked gently on the decorative wooden door in front of her.
“Come in.”
Sarah pushed the door open and surveyed Clayton’s private tower office for the first time; it was beautiful. The office walls were actually rounded, curved to the shape of the tower, and the furniture must have been built for the room. A long wooden table between the two casements directly across from her appeared to have a slight curve in the wood. On the right was a stone wall mounted with various electronic equipment, including a huge flat screen television, currently dark. To the left of the door Clayton sat behind a huge antique desk. This morning he was dressed in a casual long sleeved shirt and no tie. Sarah was surprised he was even at home. It was Wednesday and she assumed he would go in to the office today, regardless of how late they were up last night. Right now, he was trying to stuff a folder into the center desk drawer and Sarah was surprised to see him acting oddly. Once he got the folder put away, he fiddled with his hands, straightening his computer keyboard, then a pen and finally a stack of papers.
Sarah smiled brightly and moved to set the service down on a side table. “Would you like a cup now?” she asked.
“No, thank you. I have a meeting with my mother in a couple of minutes. She should be along directly.”
Sarah furrowed her brows when she recalled Faust working downstairs. “Are you sure you don’t want a cup? She may be a while, Faust is making her breakfast right now.” With a shrug, she held out a hand. “But I could be wrong.”
Clayton eyed her with lowered brows, then nodded his head in agreement. “No, you are probably correct. Black, please.”
Without hesitation, Sarah turned and poured flawlessly, setting the cup and saucer on the desk in front of him, along with a hot, buttery croissant from the warming plate beside.
“Would you join me? I have some news that may interest you.”
Trying to control her excitement, Sarah poured a cup of coffee and sugared it up, settling into the chair across from the desk. The china clinked quietly as she stirred her cup. Crossing her legs, she waited patiently for Clayton to speak.
“I contacted LA this morning and changes are being implemented as we speak. More in depth classes are being scheduled for the older workers, as well as a slower implementation schedule. My vice president for LA, Beau Walker was very impressed with the ideas we came up with.” Clayton settled his hands to the arms of the chair, rocking back. The white shirt he wore stretched across his chest. “He wants to meet you. He thinks anybody that can come up with the plans that you did should have his job, because he’s been dealing with this deteriorating problem for a year, with no success.”
Sarah furrowed her brows; good heavens, he must have rousted someone out of bed in the middle of the night, California time! “I think the answer would have come to you both eventually.”
Clayton shrugged elegantly and shook his head from side to side. “I don’t think so. We made it a point to post suggestion boxes everywhere, we had focus groups and surveys, and open meetings for people to express their opinions, but I think it was too much of a point of pride with the older workers for them to say anything. We thought they were just being difficult about implementing the new equipment, but we think now that they’re not sure what to do with the program.”
“That would explain why they’re resisting the technology.”
Nodding his head again, Clayton grinned. “Exactly. Thank you.”
She tried to shrug away his thanks, but it did make her feel good that she was able to help him. Sarah looked around the elegant room for something to change the subject, finally settling on the enormous desk. “How on earth did you get that up here?”
Running a long fingered hand over the cherry, Clayton’s lips tilted up on one side. “I didn’t. This desk has been here since the house was built, over a hundred years ago. There’s a small brass tag here,” and he scooted his chair back, motioning to the center drawer, “that has the date of 1898, but I believe that was the date it was refurbished.”
Sarah hopped up and went behind the desk with Clayton, setting her coffee cup on the edge. As she bent down and looked where he was pointing, a whiff of fragrance swirled over her, and she lost track of what he was saying as he continued to talk about the desk. Damn, but he smelled good! Apparently, he had just gotten out of the shower, because he smelled fresh and clean and almost good enough to eat. The beard had remained, though it seemed to have been trimmed a little bit.
Sarah cleared her throat and tried to focus on what he was saying, but when she looked up, Clayton’s gaze rested at the vee of her polo shirt. Even as she watched, his voice drifted away and his eyes lifted to hers. Sarah was amazed to see his pupils dilate as his eyes were narrowed with hunger, and could not help but lean forward fractionally. By the look in his eyes, he was fighting moving toward her, but he could not seem to help raising a hand to her cheek. He stroked a thumb down its softness and tucked some stray hair behind her ear.
“What is the meaning of this?!”
Sarah jerked away with a guilty start, then cursed herself because nothing had happened. Mrs. Gallagher stood at the doorway with her hands on her hips and her perfectly made up face contorted in anger. Sarah couldn’t help but think it was funny to see her with her mouth open like that. She was sure Mrs. Gallagher would not appreciate the thought though, and she felt bad for even thinking it.
Clayton centered his chair back behind the desk and Sarah stepped away, clearing away her coffee cup. There was no second cup now, so his mother would have to do without. Sarah felt a little bit bad about that, too. But the remorseful thoughts s
cattered as Mrs. Gallagher narrowed her gaze on her.
“When are you going to learn your place, girl? You do not belong here. I cannot say it more simply than that. If you think you’re going to come in here tossing your hair and throwing out these vapid looks at him, you have another thing coming. You will not get a penny of our money! I will make sure of it!”
Sarah gasped at the unfair accusation. “I’m not after your money, lady. I’m not after anything. I’m here to paint a portrait, that’s all.” Even though her conscience twinged at the almost lie, Sarah made sure to keep her face calm. This barracuda did not need to know that her son was becoming very important to Sarah.
Clayton had stood up behind his desk now, and even several feet away drew both women’s attention.
“That is enough. Mother, that was incredibly rude. You need to apologize to Sarah.”
“I most certainly do not! It’s obvious to everyone what she’s doing Clayton. You need to stop thinking with your pants and start using your head. Open your eyes! Your father would be outraged.”
Sarah could feel the blush crawling up her neck. Oh, crud, how mortifying. Without saying another word, she began to circle around the furious woman to get to the door without saying another word. She knew if she stayed, her mouth would get her into a huge amount of trouble. And she did not want to risk her chances with Clayton just because she couldn’t stand his mother.
“Yes,” Jillian continued nastily. “I see you finally understand just how out of your element you are. You will be compensated for your time, of course, but no more. I’ll see Marianne comes to help you pack.”
This crazy woman thought she was leaving the house? Sarah could not help but stop and stare. What nerve. Clayton’s mother stood in his office looking down her nose at Sarah, and actually believed she was going to be obeyed. The control on Sarah’s anger disintegrated.
“Now you listen to me, you miserable old bat. I don’t care who the hell you are or how much damn money you think you have, nobody talks to me like that.” Sarah stepped up into the woman’s face and raised a finger. “And you are the one who needs to open your eyes. Clayton works his butt off to keep you in your fancy shopping trips. When was the last time you did something productive or anything, besides than harassing him? I’ll bet you’ve never done an honest day’s work in your miserable, narrow life.”
Sarah stopped and took a deep breath. “And you know what?” Stepping back, she waved a hand at the immaculately dressed woman. “If this is what money does to a person, I don’t want it.”
Turning, she headed to the office door. “Oh, and if anybody is going to send me home, it will be Clayton, since this is his house and not yours.” With a quick glance at his shocked, laughing face, she left.
Sarah shut the door to Mrs. Gallagher’s screeching. As she jogged down the stairs, she felt bad for leaving Clayton with the woman. From what she understood from the Fausts, Clayton had only been here a few years, but Jillian had been in the house the entire time. How the hell had he been able to tolerate her? And how had he avoided becoming like the previous Gallagher patriarchs?
Things were beginning to clear for her. The amazingly cold exterior was his way of protecting himself. If she had to live in this environment she would probably have created the same protections.
Sarah paused at the bottom of the stairway. Living. Oh, damn it all. She had probably just signed her ticket back to New York. Dejectedly, she let herself into her room and leaned back against the panel. She would have to leave, without finishing the portrait. Her heart ached at the thought of parting from Tory. The poor girl had been through so much, but there was no help for it. Sarah would have to get her address in Switzerland and keep the lines of communication open; they could text internationally, couldn’t they? Tory should not be made to suffer because of her actions.
Digging in the closet, Sarah dragged out her battered suitcase. There was no sense in putting it off. She would have everything packed when he came to tell her to leave. The situation could not go any other way. Clayton’s mother was used to getting her way, and it would be easier on Clayton if she left willingly.
Exactly seven minutes later, Sarah was packed when the expected knock at the door came.
Clayton stood on the other side, glowering. “Sarah,” he started, running a hand through his mussed hair.
“I know,” she told him, holding up a hand. “Just give me enough time to pack Gracie up and we’ll get out of here. But I need to say goodbye to Tory before I go, and the others.”
Maddeningly, her eyes began to fill with tears. She dashed them away with her fingertips. She smiled up at Clayton, resting a hand on his forearm. “I understand and I won’t raise a fuss. I should have just kept my mouth shut and taken it. If you still want the portrait completed, I would love to see Tory in New York. I think I have enough digital pictures to complete the background.”
“Sarah!”
Clayton was clearly aggravated with her, so she shut her mouth.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
Sarah stared at him for several long moments. “What?”
“I don’t want you to leave. I’m here to apologize and ask you to stay. My mother’s behavior was inexcusable. All I have to say is, she’s been catered to for so long, first by my father, then my brother, that she expects me to coddle her in the same manner. And honestly, I have for a long time. She had no right saying those things, though, and I told her that.”
Sarah was stunned speechless. He wasn’t kicking her mouthy ass out the door. And he was apologizing to her. For his mother’s actions. In shaky relief, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his warm chest. She felt his arms creep around her back, cautiously. The tension seeped out of her and she relaxed fully. What a relief.
Pulling back, she tipped her face up to his. “You don’t have to apologize for your mother. I understand. And I’m sorry I’m causing you so many problems.”
Reaching up, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and stepped back. Clayton’s hands released her somewhat reluctantly.
“I don’t think all of her problems can be attributed to you,” he admitted. “Mother is very active in several charities and I heard from one of my employees that she was recently voted out of an administrative position she has held for many years.” With a sigh he leaned against the doorjamb. “My mother is getting older, but she prefers not to acknowledge the fact.”
Sarah nodded her head understandingly. “Is there anything I can do to lessen her antagonism? No offense, but I do try to avoid her as much as possible.”
“No, I don’t think so. I believe she would object to any female I was interested in that she didn’t choose.” His words drifted away as he seemed to realize what he had said.
Sarah could not help but suck in a surprised breath. Did he just say he was interested in her? Outright? By his reaction, it appeared he had. He straightened away from the jamb and stuffed his hands in his slacks, dropping his dark head to survey his leather shoes. “Anyway, I would appreciate it if you would not leave until the portrait is completed.”
“I’ll stay,” she agreed quietly.
How could she leave now?
Looking up, Clayton gave her a small smile, before turning to go down the hallway. “I’m glad,” he told her over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner.
Sarah shut the door quietly and once again leaned against it. For several long seconds, she just stood there and took slow, even breaths. Then she began replaying the conversation in her head. It was so unexpected. He had actually taken her side over his mother’s. Wow! For a second she worried about the ramifications of that. Could his mother really do anything to her? She didn’t think so, but she was not so sure about Tory. The poor girl had to be there with both her mother and grandmother, and Sarah knew Andrea was only letting her daughter’s portrait be done because Clayton arranged for it.
Her heart fluttered as she thought about what he had said there
at the end. It had sounded like he was interested in her, or was that her hopeful interpretation of his words? From the way he acted, he seemed unsure. But he had not been unsure when he had hugged her back. She felt like she was navigating a maze blindfolded with him, all she could do was follow her heart and hope for the best.
After the confrontation with Mrs. Gallagher, Sarah was even more determined to be there for Clayton. The poor man couldn’t breathe without that woman criticizing how he did it. And from what she had seen, he had a very overdeveloped sense of responsibility for his family. The elder Gallagher took advantage of that constantly and with an aggressive sense of entitlement.
Quickly, joyfully, she unpacked her bag and put the case back in the closet. It was almost lunchtime, so she would run down and get a sandwich, then get to work with Tory. She held the knowledge that Clayton was coming around inside her heart, like a treasured secret. And she debated her next step.
Chapter Ten
‡
Clayton plowed down the steps and out the door to the garage. Mitch was doing an oil change on one of the cars and asked him if he needed anything, but he waved him away. The Aventador roared to life as he started the engine and sped out of the drive, trying to run away from the morning. What a disaster. But a pleased smile came to his lips as he remembered Sarah standing up to his mother. What a firecracker she was; his mother had not known what hit her. Clayton supposed he could not blame his mother for feeling threatened; he had never brought a woman home before, even if it was supposedly just for a job.
Sarah had been beautiful. With her bright eyes sparking with anger, she stood up to his mother as if it were nothing. Years ago, when he was six or seven, Clayton had seen one servant actually get down on his knees when Jillian had dressed him down for some infraction. The incident had merely served to stroke his mother’s ego.
