by Day Leclaire
When at last he joined her, there was nothing between them—nothing but moist heat and sweet surrender. She reached for him, hesitant at first, before instinct and desire took over. She remembered this, remembered how it had always been with him. Her body remembered, as well, moving against him with a grace and fluidity she hadn’t experienced since the last time they’d been together.
“Sable,” he whispered against her breast. He took a nipple between his teeth and gently tugged. “For tonight, there’s only this. Only us.”
She cupped him, stroked him. He levered upward, taking her mouth in an endless kiss. It spoke of passion and desire, but contained such a gentle reverence, it brought tears to her eyes. She opened to him, his name on her lips, her love flowing through every part of her. They came together softly, sweetly. And then they came together on wings of endless passion. And he took her, affording her that wondrous deliverance that she could find only in his arms, taking her body as completely as he had taken her heart. As the night passed she fell in love all over again, helplessly, hopelessly, endlessly.
Forever.
Morning slipped silently into the room. For Sable, it came all too early. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Damien woke her, brushing the curls from her face, his fingers drifting across her cheek in a fleeting caress. She stirred, opening her eyes and blinking sleepily up at him.
“Good morning,” he said simply.
“Good morning, yourself,” she replied with a yawn, then looked at him in surprise. “You’re dressed for work.”
“I decided to go in early.” She started to throw back the sheet, but he stopped her, pressing her back against the pillows. “You have plenty of time to get ready.”
She studied his expression nervously. Not a hint of passion marked his face. He returned her regard with a steady gaze, his green eyes cool and detached. This didn’t look good. “We need to discuss something before you leave,” she said, plucking at the bedcovers.
“Yes, I know.”
She didn’t care for his tone and sat up, sweeping her hair from her eyes. “I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here,” she murmured, tugging the sheet more fully across her breasts. “Or was that the idea?”
He didn’t answer her question, instead asking one of his own. “Why did you come here last night? You said to talk. Talk about what?”
She took a deep breath. “About Kyle,” she admitted.
He nodded, as though he’d known all along. “I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep because something was bothering me, teasing at the back of my mind. I started thinking about why you’d come, what could be so urgent. And then I thought about Kyle. All of a sudden the answer was there.” He looked at her, his eyes dark and turbulent. “Kyle’s my son, isn’t he?”
The words hung between them, stark and divisive. “Yes,” she whispered, and waited apprehensively for his response. It wasn’t long in coming.
“My son.” Rage stirred, deep and powerful, sweeping across his face like a river in full flood. “My son! And you allowed Caldwell to get his hands on him. You gave that bastard my child! How could you do that?”
“I didn’t give him anything,” she swiftly denied. “I married him. He was Kyle’s stepfather. There’s a difference.”
He stood, moving away from her as though he couldn’t bear to be too close. “Don’t split hairs with me. You allowed him to raise Kyle. You kept our child’s existence a secret from me. Tell me why you did it,” he ordered. “Explain it to me so I can understand.”
“You know how it ended between us.” She clutched the sheet in a white-knuckled grip. “You refused my phone calls, wouldn’t see me.”
“That’s an excuse!” His hands clenched, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run a marathon. “You could have found a way to get in touch if it was that important. Hell, you knew where I lived, where I worked. It wouldn’t have been so difficult to force a confrontation.”
She knelt on the bed, pulling at the sheet and wrapping it around her like a sarong. Lord, she’d give just about anything for some clothes. But she didn’t dare take the time, didn’t dare postpone this conversation for another second. “You were out of the country by the time I realized I was pregnant. What was I supposed to do? Tramp through the jungles of South America until I found you? I had to put the welfare of my child first.”
“Our child,” he flashed back, his eyes dark with condemnation. “And marrying Caldwell was not putting Kyle’s welfare first. He was an easy way out. You couldn’t have managed on your own, or gotten in touch with me when I returned? You had to sell yourself to that man?”
“I didn’t sell myself to him!” She fought the urge to weep, refusing to betray any sign of weakness. Logic was all Damien would understand. Cold, hard logic. She lifted her chin. “What if I had gotten through to you? How would you have responded if I’d come to you claiming to be pregnant?”
He didn’t answer immediately. At last he admitted, “I’d have suspected you either made it up or—” He broke off, thrusting a hand through his hair.
“Or asked whose baby it was,” she finished for him. “By the time I realized I was pregnant, I worked for Leonard. You’d already accused me of having an affair with him. Remember?”
“I remember.”
“This would have been all the proof you needed. You would never have believed you were the father. And even if you had, in your anger, you might have been tempted to use Kyle against me. I couldn’t let you do that.” She bowed her head. “It would have destroyed me.”
A muscle jerked in his cheek. “So, why didn’t you tell me about Kyle sooner?”
“When? After his birth?” She bit down on her lip, regret touching her features. “I couldn’t do that to Leonard. Not after all he’d done for me.”
Damien’s mouth tightened. “How about a year ago, when Leonard died? How about over two weeks ago, when I joined Caldwell’s? Why the hell didn’t you tell me then?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk telling you the truth. Not when you were so intent on revenge.”
“And last night?” Cynicism edged his words. “Tell me, Sable, what was that all about?”
She gazed at him in alarm. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes, you do. What was the point of last night? Did you hope going to bed with me would temper my reaction?”
“No! Don’t you dare even suggest such a thing.”
He took a step closer. “Or perhaps you were fulfilling our agreement, after all.”
She refused to back down, to show the slightest sign of intimidation. “I keep telling you, there was no agreement. You demanded I sleep with you the same way you demanded I sell out to you. But in the end I would have refused. I won’t go to bed with you just to satisfy your lust for revenge.”
“Then what was last night?” he repeated.
She looked at him, her heart breaking. “I thought last night we made love,” she whispered. “I guess I was wrong.”
He didn’t contradict her. His eyes narrowed, his face growing taut and remote. “I have to get to work,” he said, and turned from her. But he paused at the doorway, his back to her, throwing his words over his shoulder. “You should have told me, Sable. I deserved that much.”
In another moment he’d leave, and she might never have another chance to explain her actions. “I was afraid!” she cried, in her desperation admitting her deepest terror. “I was afraid you might try and take Kyle away from me.”
“I still might,” he replied harshly, and walked away.
“You don’t mean that! You can’t mean that!”
But it was too late. He was gone.
Sable didn’t waste any time after that. She hurried to dress, desperate to get home, to get away. A silent emptiness filled the house while she prepared to leave. Lute was nowhere to be seen. Climbing into her car, she headed back toward the city, the morning rush hour traffic making the trip interminable. Once home, she showered and changed,
painfully aware her arrival at work would be delayed still another hour. Sure enough, by the time she walked through the front door at Caldwell’s, it was well past nine.
“Good morning, Janine,” she greeted her administrative assistant with a calm she didn’t come close to feeling. “How was your weekend?”
“Just fine, thank you.”
“Anything I should know before we get started?” Sable asked, pausing by the door to her office.
Janine hesitated, her gaze slipping away. “I’m not sure.”
Sable frowned. “You’re not sure?” What in the world did that mean? And then it hit her. Damien! She didn’t know how, she didn’t know why, but without a doubt he was behind that odd look on her admin’s face. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just . . .” Janine shoved her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose, her pale blue eyes glinting behind the huge lenses. “The board is meeting in the conference room, but they didn’t say anything about you joining them. I—”
Sable didn’t wait to hear more. Without another word, she hastened down the hallway toward the boardroom. Already she could hear muffled voices coming from behind the sturdy oak panel, voices raised in argument. She didn’t bother to knock. She thrust open the door and walked right in.
Silence descended on the room with a stunning immediacy. They were all there, seated around the conference table, every one of them wearing identical expressions of outrage mingled with guilt. All except Damien. He sat at the end of the table in her seat, clearly in charge, as cool and commanding as she’d ever seen him.
She closed the door behind her with a decisive click. “Am I interrupting something?” she asked in a deceptively calm voice.
“Sable! We . . . I . . . Damien . . .” Cornelius stuttered to a stop, ducking his head like a schoolboy caught cheating on an exam.
She folded her arms across her chest, eyeing the board members one by one. Only Damien would return her look. She fixed her attention on him. “What’s this about?”
He leaned back in her chair. “We’re having a little talk about information leaked to Dreyfus Industry.”
“Leaked!” For a minute, Sable thought her legs would fold beneath her. “You’re joking.”
“I assure you, it’s no joke.”
“But I thought Patricia—”
He shook his head. “It would seem your guess about Patricia was wrong. She’s not involved.”
She stared at the board members in bewilderment. “Why wasn’t I told about this? Why didn’t you wait until I came in before starting?”
A wintry smile touched Damien’s mouth. “Because you’re the prime suspect.”
Pain ripped through her, pain and anger and disbelief. So this was how he’d decided to take his revenge, to get even for Kyle. How could he? She closed her eyes, grief stealing over her. How could he? “I won’t let you do this,” she whispered. “I didn’t leak any information. It’s not possible.”
“It came from you, my dear,” Cornelius spoke up at long last, his tone weary. “Damien has incontrovertible proof.”
She opened her eyes. This wasn’t the time to show weakness. She had to be strong, uncover the facts so she could straighten this out. She stepped further into the room, her gaze never once wavering from Damien. “And what is this proof?”
He picked up the file in front of him and flipped it open. Removing a set of papers, he tossed them down the length of the table. They were the bid sheets she and Damien had worked on together for Dreyfus. “The figures I gave you were false. I would have thought you’d have learned your lesson five years ago.”
She left the papers scattered across the table and lifted her chin. “Oh, that’s right. That’s how you caught me last time, isn’t it?”
“And you fell for it again.”
She gave a careless shrug. “Just out of curiosity, how did you manage it?”
“I called the president of Dreyfus and warned him a competitor may come calling with a copy of our bid, but the figures would be wrong and to discredit it. He phoned and—surprise, surprise—a competitor had our prospectus in hand.”
“How did you know it came from me?” she questioned. “Any number of people could have leaked it.”
“Each copy of our prospectus was coded.”
“Very clever, Damien,” she said, impressed. “I assume my code showed up.”
He inclined his head in agreement. “Yes. Your code showed up.”
“So, what do you intend to do?”
“What? No denials? Aren’t you going to tell us you’re innocent, that you’ve been set up again?”
“Would it do any good?”
“Sable! For heaven’s sake,” Cornelius cried. “Tell him you didn’t do it. Explain to us what happened.”
She shook her head. “There’s no point,” she said gently. “Damien would never believe me. Because that would mean he’d have to trust me, trust me despite all the evidence to the contrary. And he could never do that.”
To her astonishment, Damien smiled, genuine humor glittering in his eyes. “No, I couldn’t, could I?” Then his expression closed over and he turned his attention to the other board members. “Gentlemen, it’s time for a vote. All those in favor of removing Sable Caldwell as president and chairman of the board, say aye.”
There was a long moment of silence. Slowly, one by one, every last member murmured his assent.
“Any nays?”
No one said a word.
“Then the motion carries.”
For a split second, Sable didn’t move, couldn’t move. Then she stiffened her spine, glaring at each one of them in turn, her contempt plain to see. “It would appear you’ve won after all, Damien. I’ll tender my resignation, effective immediately.” Without another word, she left the room.
Chapter 10
Sable hastened back to her office, thrusting open the door and dragging air into her lungs in great, heaving gulps. How could he? How could Damien do that to her? Did he really believe in her guilt? Or was this part of a larger scheme, a more merciless form of revenge now that he knew about Kyle? What in heaven’s name was she going to do?
“Mrs. Caldwell?” Janine stepped from the shadows by the window. “Are you all right?”
Sable started, lifting a hand to her throat. “Janine. I didn’t see you.” She closed her eyes, struggling for control. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“Is there something I can do?”
“No,” she said, then changed her mind. “Wait. Yes, there is. I wonder if you’d mind getting me a box from the mailroom?” she asked quietly.
“Is there something wrong?” Janine stepped closer. “What’s happened?”
Sable fought to keep her voice level, to keep from expressing the emotions that threatened to rip her apart. More than anything she wanted some privacy in which to break down and weep. “I suppose you should know,” she said with a weary sigh. “I’ve resigned. Effective immediately. If you could get a box for me, I can—”
“Resigned!” the admin interrupted. “Whatever for?”
“Janine, please.” Sable’s voice broke and she covered her face with trembling hands, struggling to pull herself together. “There’s been a leak within the company. It’s been traced to me, so I’ve been forced to resign,” she confessed.
“A leak?” Janine adjusted her glasses, her brows drawn together in a frown. “You mean the information on one of our bids was given out to another construction company?”
“Yes.”
“Why in the world would they think you did it?”
“I’d rather not go into that right now, if you don’t mind,” Sable said, fast approaching the end of her rope. “A box. I really need a box so I can pack my things.”
To her eternal relief, Janine obeyed without further comment. Sable glanced around the room, tears glittering in her eyes. So, it finally ended. First Leonard, then Patricia, and now, she’d be gone, too. Damien will have won. He’d have exacted his revenge. Or would he?<
br />
What about Kyle?
“Mrs. Caldwell?” Janine reentered the room. “I have a box for you and some newspaper to wrap any breakables. Shall I help you pack your things?”
Sable nodded. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
It didn’t take long. They removed the knickknacks from the credenza and from the top of her desk, and all the while Janine talked endlessly, offering soothing little homilies interspersed with denigrating comments about Damien. Sable listened with only half an ear, tempted to defend him, but knowing she’d be wasting her time. Janine wouldn’t change her mind about Damien, any more than Damien would change his about Sable’s guilt.
She picked up Kyle’s vase, running a finger over the bright primary colors. She’d known all along Damien was incapable of trusting. He hadn’t believed her before or supported her. Why would she expect him to this time? She just hadn’t anticipated how badly his defection would hurt. She wrapped the vase in paper, facing one inescapable fact. She loved him. Loved him with all her heart. And somehow she couldn’t quite accept he could hold her in his arms, share such a passionately magical moment as last night, without feeling something in return. It just wasn’t possible.
“I don’t care what anyone says.” Janine continued her non-stop chatter. “I’m sure if you leaked that information you had a good reason.”
“If I . . .” Sable looked at her admin in shock, yanked from her thoughts with brutal suddenness. Where had that come from? “Janine, I had nothing to do with the leak. How could you even think such a thing? Surely you know me better than that?”
Janine stirred uncomfortably. “Of course I do, Mrs. Caldwell. If you say you didn’t do it, I believe you. It’s just . . .”
Despair filled her. Would she be branded a thief forever, tainted in everyone’s eyes by accusations that didn’t have one iota of truth to them? “It’s just what?”
The admin shrugged. “I wanted you to know that I wouldn’t blame you if you had leaked the information.”
