“It's too late,” Liam said simply. “She got back with her high school sweetheart. She says they're getting married as soon as our divorce comes through. His wife died last year and left him with four kids. He has some money, he runs a ski resort, and he's willing to support Beth and my kids. Sounds like a better deal to me than being married to a wacky artist. She seems to think so too.” He seemed unhappy, but was philosophical about it.
“Are you a wacky artist, Liam?” Sasha asked gently. In some ways, he seemed like it, in others he didn't. Most of all, he seemed immature, but kind. It was incredible to think that a man as good looking as he was had only slept with one woman in his life, other than a one-night stand with his wife's twin. There was a sordid side to it, but he seemed like a nice guy, and Xavier said he was. She trusted him. And all of Sasha's instincts told her Liam was a good person. Foolish and immature perhaps, but at the core, a good man.
“Sometimes I am a wacky artist,” he answered. “Sometimes I just want to be a kid. How much harm is there in that?”
“I guess that depends on who gets hurt. Beth did, in this case. And your kids. And it sounds like you did too. But Becky is hardly without blame here.”
“She doesn't give a damn about anyone but herself. She never did.”
“Apparently.” Sasha fell silent, thinking about it, and then realized Liam was watching her.
“What about you? Xavier thinks the sun rises and sets on you. He's crazy about you. That's rare for a kid his age to feel that way about his mother. And talking to you, I think he's right. He is lucky to have such a loving mother.” Liam had had one too, but lost her too soon.
“I'm crazy about him, too. He's a terrific kid. So is his sister. I'm a very lucky woman.” Sasha smiled at Liam.
“Maybe not so lucky. I know your husband died last year,” he said, sounding sympathetic.
“Yes, he did,” she said calmly, but her eyes filled with tears, which embarrassed her. Her sorrows were not Liam's problem, and she didn't want to burden him with them, or share her grief. “He died fifteen months ago. We were married for twenty-five years.” And he had been the only man in her life too. They had that in common, as well as losing their mothers when they were children, and all the inevitable emotional fallout of that which had impacted both of them severely.
“Being a widow must be hard for you,” he said, looking sympathetic, as they finished their pasta, and he gazed at her with gentle eyes.
“It is. It's better than it was in the beginning, but it's very hard some days.” He nodded, as though he understood. He had lost Beth through his own stupidity, and one fatal mistake. She had lost Arthur to fate. “But you go on. You have no other choice. My work helps.”
“You can't curl up with your paintings at night. Have you gone out with anyone?” It wasn't his business, but she decided to answer him anyway. She didn't want him to know how vulnerable and lonely she was. If she was going to represent him, she had to appear strong to him, or so she thought.
“No, I haven't. What about you?” She was curious about him. As he was about her. After all he'd told her about his family and marriage, there was a connection between them, beyond what she had expected, and almost surely beyond what she wanted. For the first time with one of her artists, she realized she was attracted to him, and there was absolutely no way she would allow herself to indulge it. They could open up to each other over dinner. They were two lonely people who had suffered major losses in their childhoods, and had lost their childhoods as a result, and had lost people they loved in their adult lives too, but she would never allow the bond between them to go further than that. She had no intention of acting on her attraction to him. She was far too self-disciplined and sensible for that. Nor would she allow him to indulge his feelings for her, if he had any, which seemed unlikely to her.
“I went out with a couple of people,” Liam admitted. “Xavier introduced me to them.” He smiled at his friend's mother, who was now his dealer. The connection between them seemed funny, even to him. “I just couldn't go there. They were just kids. And what was the point? I was still too upset over Beth. It was last summer, right after she left. I haven't been out with anyone since. I guess now that I know she's getting married, it's different. But I haven't seen anyone I want. Most of the women who are willing to hang out with artists are pretty wacky themselves.” He smiled as he said it, and looked suddenly more grown up. “What about you? What do you want?”
“Nothing. I don't want to be one of those pathetic women who are desperate to find a husband. And I think dating at my age is disgusting. It seems so humiliating and awful.”
“Not if you find the right guy,” he said gently, and she shook her head.
“I already did. He died. That's it for me.”
“That's so stupid,” he said, looking angry. “You're too young to give up like that. And too beautiful. How old are you?” He figured her for forty-five at most, because he knew Xavier's age. Maybe two years younger, if she had married at eighteen.
“I'm forty-eight. That's old enough to quit. I had twenty-five great years.”
“And you could live another fifty. Do you want to spend them alone?” He looked horrified by the idea. She didn't. She had accepted what she believed was her inevitable solitude long since.
“No. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. And I would have, if he'd lived. I don't have that choice now. And the other options don't appeal to me. I don't think they ever will. It seems more dignified to give that up than to run around looking for just anyone to fit the bill.”
“He must have been a great guy, if you loved him that much.” Liam was even more impressed after talking to her over dinner. She was an amazing woman, and he genuinely liked and respected her.
“He was wonderful,” she said sadly. “We were crazy about each other. It was just very, very bad luck that he died.”
“It sounds like it. But he died, Sasha. You didn't. If you had died, and he didn't, he probably would have found someone else too. We all need someone to love. Life's just too damn hard to be alone.” The last six months without Beth and the kids had been hell for him.
“I'm not so sure it's much easier if you wind up with the wrong person. Like Becky. I got it right the first time. I don't think I could ever be that lucky again. Why take the chance?” she said wistfully.
“Because you might get lucky again. You're a good person. You deserve it. It wouldn't be the same. It would be different. But different isn't always such a bad thing.”
“I can't imagine myself dating,” she said honestly, as the waitress set three small bowls of candy down in front of them, and a plate of cookies. “Just the little I've seen of it looks terrifying to me.”
“Yeah, it does to me too.” He laughed then, at the absurdity of their situation. “I do the same thing you do. I get lost in my work. I haven't stopped painting since she left.”
“It works for me.” Sasha smiled, and as long as there were talented artists like Liam, what she did would keep working. “It's hard now that the kids are gone. At least in Paris, I'm close to Xavier, and I go to New York a lot. But it gets to me at night,” she confessed, and he nodded.
“It gets to me then too. And I miss the kids like crazy. I figure they're better off without me right now, and they have Beth's future husband. She says he's a great guy, and a good father. Probably better than I am. They're a lot better off with Beth than with me. He's more respectable than I am, and more traditional. Beth says that's good for them. There's nothing wacky about him.” He sounded humble and defeated as he said it. He had lost not only his wife, but his kids.
“You're their father, Liam. You can't abandon them. You should go to see them soon.”
“Yeah,” he said vaguely, “I will.” But he didn't sound convinced, which disturbed her.
She had called the restaurant earlier and asked them not to present a bill. She didn't want to embarrass Liam. And after they ate the candy and had coffee, they walked outside
and got back in her car. She told the driver to take her back to the hotel, and then drop Liam off at his place. But once they got back to the hotel, he told her he could take a cab from there. He asked her if she wanted to have a drink, and she really didn't. They had had enough champagne and wine. She rarely drank.
“I'll walk you to your room, and then I'll leave,” he said reassuringly. She had enjoyed his company all evening, and it was nice having someone take her home. She could feel the familiar loneliness creeping up on her, and he could feel it too. Nights were agony for lonely people, which they both were. And then she smiled as she looked down at his shoes as they walked up the stairs, and she noticed the absence of socks again. She couldn't resist teasing him about it, now that she knew him a little better. “I couldn't find any,” he said, looking unembarrassed. “Besides, I'm an artist. I don't have to wear socks.” He said it with a defiant look and she laughed.
“Who made that rule?” she asked him.
“I did,” he said proudly. “I'm a wacky artist. I can do anything I want.” When he said it, he looked about five years old, and she could see a lifetime of mischief in his eyes. He was severely allergic to all forms of authority and control, as he perceived it.
“No, you can't do whatever you want. We all have to follow rules.” She felt like a schoolteacher as she said it, and he laughed at her.
“Is there a rule about socks?”
“Absolutely.” As she said it, she was thinking about sending him a box of socks and shirts. He obviously needed them, and maybe shoelaces too. She wondered if he'd wear them. Probably not. He obviously loved being unconventional and making his own rules. And then she wondered if he didn't wear underwear either, and blushed at the thought.
“What were you thinking?” He had seen the look on her face.
“Nothing.” She looked embarrassed.
“Yes, you were. You were wondering if I wear underwear, weren't you?” He had guessed, and she blushed again.
“No, I wasn't.” She giggled as she lied.
“Yes, you were. Well, I do. Or at least I am. I managed to find those.”
“That's reassuring,” she said grandly, and he laughed at her again.
“Was that in the contract I signed? That I have to wear underwear and socks? Because if it is, then I'm going to tear it up. No one can tell me what to wear, or what to do.” It was classic teenage rebellion. Liam Allison had major control issues, or so it seemed. He had been swimming upstream all his life, fighting convention, and breaking rules.
“Actually, I think it is in the contract, now that you mention it.” She was teasing him right back, and enjoying it quite a lot. They had reached her door by then.
“No, it's not,” he said, looking stubborn and petulant. Like a naughty child.
“Yes, it is,” she said firmly. “It says that hereafter you have to wear underwear and socks at all times.”
“You can't make me!” he said loudly.
“Yes, I can,” she said, looking prim but firm, and then he grinned as he looked at her, and much to her surprise he bent down and kissed her and silenced her. She had the key in her hand, and dropped it and her handbag in her amazement at being kissed. After they did, she stood looking up at him. “Why did you do that, Liam?” she said softly, horrified by the fact that she had liked kissing him. A lot, in fact. Too much. Way, way too much. He picked up the key then, and gently pushed open the door to her room. He stood looking at her, and without saying a word, she walked into the room and he followed. Within seconds, two feet into the room, he was kissing her again, and pushed the door closed with his foot. She was overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations she felt.
She wanted to stop him. She meant to. She had every intention of stopping him, but she couldn't. The worst of it was that she didn't want to stop, and neither did he. He just went on kissing her until he picked her up in his arms, and put her gently on the bed. There was one light on in the room, and he reached over and turned it off. He said nothing to her. He kissed her and undressed her, and a moment later they were in bed together, naked, and making love, before she knew how it had happened. She wanted to stop him, but she couldn't. She didn't want to stop him. She wanted to do exactly what they were doing, and so did he. They were two starving people who had found each other and couldn't let go. The pull between them was too powerful to resist. And although very different in lifestyles and appearances, they both sensed that they were kindred spirits, and soul mates of some kind. They needed each other in their respective loneliness, and clung to each other until they lay exhausted and breathless in each other's arms. She lay looking at him in the darkness, stunned at what they'd done, and he smiled at her with the gentleness of a very loving man.
“I think I'm in love with you,” he said softly, and she felt tears sting her eyes as he said it. She thought she would never hear those words again, and now he was saying them to her, and she didn't even know him, nor he her. Yet in her heart, she sensed that she knew him. She could sense the loneliness of his childhood and his vulnerability as a man.
“That's impossible. You don't know me,” she said softly, as the tears rolled slowly down her cheeks. They were tears for Arthur, and for Liam, and finally for herself.
“It is possible, and I do know you. And I want to know you better.” He had told her a lot about himself that night, and wanted to learn more about her.
“This is crazy, Liam.” She propped herself up on one elbow, and looked down at him, as he gently brushed the tears off her cheek in the moonlight. Everything he did seemed tender, loving, and kind.
“Maybe it is crazy,” he admitted. “But maybe it's what we both need. I know I do. And I think you do, too.”
“What, sex?” She sounded insulted. She wasn't going to be his one-night stand like Becky. Besides, this was ridiculous. She was his art dealer, not his girlfriend. They had been total strangers until today, and still were. What was happening to her? She felt totally adrift in an unfamiliar sea, swept toward him by a current that was much stronger than she was, and that she couldn't resist.
“This isn't about sex, Sasha. You know that, too. Or not just about sex. Although that was pretty good.” In fact, it had been terrific. Remarkably so, considering they were virtually strangers. It had been incredible for both of them.
“It can't be about love. We don't even know each other.”
“I hope we will,” he said gently. Above all he appeared to be a kind person, and an incredibly attractive man. Too much so for his own good, and hers. She was viscerally drawn to him, and realized now she had been from the moment they met. She had tried to ignore it, but couldn't.
“This is impossible,” she said again. “I'm your art dealer, and I'm nine years older than you are.”
“So what? Do you have rules about that, too?” He looked unimpressed by the difference in their age, which seemed unimportant to him.
“Yes, I do have rules about that. I don't sleep with my artists. I never have, and I don't intend to start now,” she said firmly, as though to remind herself.
“I think you just did. Besides, you were married then. The rules are different now.”
“So I'm going to start sleeping with my artists? I don't think so, Liam.” She was suddenly furious with herself, and before she could say more, he kissed her again, and ran his hands gently across her body. Every inch of her tingled when he touched her. She felt as though she was losing her mind over him. This time, she didn't even try to stop him. She wanted him even more than the first time, and afterward she lay in his arms and cried. This time they were tears of relief. He pulled her closer to him and put his arms around her and held her tight until she stopped. She felt as though a dam in her had broken, and she was flooded with emotions.
“I love you, Sasha. I don't even know you, but I love you. And I know I'm going to love you more in time. Just give me the chance.” He pleaded with her. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted anyone, even Beth.
“This can never happen
again.” Her words were muffled in his chest, and he smiled.
“Next time I promise I'll wear socks,” he said, never loosening his grip on her.
“I mean it, Liam,” she said softly, as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.
“I know you do, Sasha…I know you do…I love you anyway.” And as he kissed her hair scattered across the pillow, he smiled, holding her, and fell asleep. It was the first good night either of them had had in months.
Chapter 6
Daylight streaming into Sasha's room at Claridge's awakened her and Liam at nine the next morning. He woke first, and lay holding her. And then, as though she sensed him watching her, she stirred. She could feel his arms around her, as he lay behind her, and for a minute, she didn't know who it was. And then she remembered. She closed her eyes and groaned.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said softly, and pulled her closer to him. She rolled over slowly and looked at him. They were nearly nose to nose, and he looked as beautiful to her in the morning as he had the night before. Her heart sank as their eyes met. She couldn't believe what she'd done. Just seeing him there, naked and handsome, with his long blond hair on his shoulders, his body warm next to hers, she knew she had lost her mind.
“This didn't happen,” she said firmly. But she couldn't bring herself to get up, or pull away from him. Everything about him made her want him even more.
“Yes, it did.” He laughed as he said it, looking enormously pleased with himself, and she thought she had never seen a man as beautiful as he was.
“We can't do this, Liam. It's impossible.” And it would never be any different. He would always be nine years younger than she was, which bothered her, no matter how little it bothered him, and he was an artist she represented. Even if she refused to represent him, he would still be too young, in her opinion. The age difference was more a matter of his state of mind and boyishness than the dates on their passports. And she couldn't refuse to represent him just because she'd been a fool. And an old fool at that. She felt like one now. She'd been starved for love, companionship, and affection, even sex. But that was no excuse for what she'd done. She was furious with herself, and even slightly with him. But not furious enough to get out of bed. Now, or the night before.
Impossible Page 9
