by Noelle Adams
She kept caressing his chest, her fingers skimming over the hair, the nipples, the flat planes of his abdomen.
As he relaxed, he became more and more conscious of her body behind him, pressed into his. Her breasts, her hair, her legs, her quiet breathing.
His chest still ached, but his body started to react to her embrace. When her hand trailed down to his stomach, he hardened even more.
He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She was trying to comfort him. She wasn’t coming onto him. Arousal was an inappropriate response to her care and concern.
But he couldn’t hide it forever. Her stroking hand eventually found his erection. She caressed it gently, the same way she’d been caressing his chest and stomach. His pelvis bucked slightly into her hand, but he resisted the impulse to do any more.
When her massage became firmer, more intentional, he reached down to stop her.
“You don’t want to?” she asked, sounding almost hurt.
He said thickly, “I do. But you can’t possibly—”
“I do too,” she murmured, beginning her massage of his erection again. “I want to too.”
He smothered a groan and rolled over, settling between her legs. She wasn’t as wet as she’d been on their previous times, but he could still slide into her pretty easily. Her breathing had accelerated, and so had his, and they rocked together in otherwise silence.
She didn’t come—at least he didn’t think she did. But she seemed to want this, want him anyway. And he desperately needed her care, her trust, her sweetness, her body. His motion was clumsy and eager at the end, and his release was consuming.
He was limp and boneless afterwards—not from fatigue as much as aftermath.
It was so hard for his brain to even process what had happened, what it revealed. That Sarah cared about him—deeply—even at his lowest point, when he’d done nothing to deserve it, nothing for her to admire or appreciate. Failed in every way.
In theory, he’d known such a thing existed, but it had never been part of his experience before.
Until now. Until Sarah.
He would made sure he answered it, answered her. He couldn’t give her what deserved yet. He was still her boss, and that made things a little tricky. But he would figure out some way to handle it—where she could keep her job and they could be together. He would make it work.
Then he would show her that he loved her with everything he had.
Their bodies were still entangled when he fell asleep. It was almost morning, but if it wasn’t for Sarah, he wouldn’t have slept at all.
Chapter Eleven
Sarah woke up late. She was sure it was late, even before she opened her eyes. The first thing she heard was Jonathan’s voice—a soft murmuring that was soothing in its familiarity.
She opened her eyes and saw that it was almost ten o’clock. She never slept so late.
Jonathan sat in a chair in the seating group by the window in the far corner. He was talking on the phone, his tablet on his lap.
She stretched under the covers to test how she felt. She was a little sore from sex—twice yesterday—and her head felt a little fuzzy, but that could be from the late night.
She sat up in bed, readjusting her camisole so one of her breasts wasn’t hanging out.
Jonathan glanced over and obviously saw she was awake, but he didn’t give any greeting. She could hear more of what he was saying now. He was trying to arrange a time to talk to someone.
She listened for a minute or two, then got up to get a cup of coffee from the pot Jonathan had evidently ordered from room service.
He was starting to get frustrated. She could hear it in his overly patient voice. Whomever he wanted to talk to evidently wasn’t easy to contact.
She went over to check his travel mug on the table beside him. It was almost empty, so she went to fill it up.
He mouthed the word “thanks” as she handed it to him but didn’t smile or meet her eyes.
She noticed his eyes flick briefly over her body. She must look a mess in her wrinkled pajamas and tangled hair. But his attention was clearly focused on the phone conversation.
She went back to sit on the side of the bed and sipped her coffee. When he hung up, clearly having been unsuccessful, she started to say good-morning, but he immediately started to dial someone else from a number he read from his tablet.
When she heard him begin the conversation with whomever picked up, she realized what he was doing.
He was starting to make calls to potential funders of the lab, since his uncle was likely to pull out.
He’d never wanted to do this. She knew it would be hard for him. He didn’t like to ask for help. He didn’t want someone else to direct the course of his research and perhaps steer it off course because of money or politics. He’d been in the enviable and rare situation before in not having to do so before.
But the lab was more important to him than his reluctance to hand over control.
He evidently had more luck with this conversation, since he made an appointment for a phone conference the following day at three-forty-five. When he hung up this time, he took a long sip of coffee, and his eyes strayed over to where she was sitting on the bed.
“Did I wake you up?” he asked at last.
“No. I don’t think so. I needed to get up anyway.”
“No hurry. Our flight home doesn’t leave until six.”
Since he was looking at her in a strange way, she didn’t say anything. She waited, wondering if he was going to share how he felt, what he wanted to happen between them.
Surely it was time. She wasn’t expecting for him to declare his endless love for her—although she certainly wouldn’t complain if that happened. They’d had sex twice the day before, however, and their relationship had obviously changed.
She really needed to know what he was thinking.
She’d be happy to take it as slow as he wanted. She’d be happy just to hear how he felt.
She finished her coffee, and he still hadn’t spoken. Her pulse was starting to throb in her throat.
“Have you heard from…from anyone? Your uncle?”
He shook his head as his only response. His shoulders were stiff beneath his t-shirt, and he hadn’t yet shaved.
“Did…” she asked at last, after another long pause, her voice catching as she grew more and more nervous. “Did you want to talk?”
He shook his head, glancing back down to his tablet. “I’ve got all these calls to make.”
She felt rebuffed and brutally disappointed. “Okay,” she said, praying she sounded natural. She hid her face behind her hair as she put her coffee cup in the kitchenette, grabbed some clothes from her suitcase, and hurried toward the bathroom.
“Sarah,” Jonathan said, just before she got there. His voice was so thick it stopped her.
She looked over her shoulder at him and saw he was walking toward her. She waited breathlessly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, in that same thick voice. His features twisted briefly. “But I need to get this done.”
She understood. Everything she needed to know.
He cared about her. Wanted her. But she’d never be as important to him as his work. He’d committed his whole life to work. That was where he’d always found the most fulfillment. So any sort of relationship with her would take a backseat to that.
And Sarah realized she just couldn’t accept that.
Working with Jonathan was wonderful, and sex was even better. But she wanted—she needed—more from him.
He cared about her, but he didn’t care enough. And there was no way for them to go back to the way things had been.
Even if Jonathan managed to find new funding for his lab, there was no way Sarah could keep working there.
She’d lost her dream job, after all, as sure as if he’d fired her.
She’d talked to her parents the night before. They’d put her on speaker phone, as usual, and her mother had kept asking if she was all right
. She tried to sound upbeat, but she knew she hadn’t succeeded. She hadn’t said anything about what happened between her and Jonathan, but they weren’t fools. They knew something was going on.
Her father had said, “You don’t have to stay there. You don’t have to keep working there.”
“I know,” she’d said in response. “But I need to wait and…and see what happens.” Last night, she’d still had hope that Jonathan would tell her what she wanted to hear. That they could have a future.
“You can come home,” her father kept repeating. “You can always come home. If you’re not happy there, just come home until you find another job. You could find one here in the States. They’ll snap you up right away. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Just come home, if you’re not happy there.”
She’d been crying on the phone at that point, strangling herself to keep her parents from hearing.
It hadn’t worked. Her mother said, “Oh, sweetie, please don’t cry.”
They loved her and wanted her closer. They always had, although they never once reproached her for moving so far away. They wanted her to be happy.
Sarah wanted to be happy too. She didn’t want to spend morning after morning, crying in the shower like this.
She knew what she was going to do. She would see what happened on the way home. If Jonathan had even the slightest intention of pursuing a real relationship with her, he would say something by then. But she wasn’t holding out hope anymore. He’d already told her what she needed to know.
He had to get his work done.
When she got back, she would unpack her new clothes and pack up her old comfortable ones. She’d get a flight to New York and from there to Las Vegas. Her father would come to pick her up at the airport.
With her training and experience, she knew she could find another job very quickly. Pharmaceutical companies would pay her a fortune to work for them. It wasn’t what she had always wanted, but it would be better than this.
She’d leave a note for Jonathan. She started to compose it in her mind. She couldn’t let him see how heartbroken she was. He’d feel guilty. He’d feel responsible.
She would just leave and start over with her job, her career, her life, her heart.
Jonathan might not love her—no man ever really had—but her family always would.
It would be enough.
***
Jonathan knew he had hurt Sarah’s feelings by postponing the conversation with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to offer himself to her when he had absolutely nothing to offer.
He’d formulated a plan as he lay awake last night. He would find someone else to fund the lab—at least for a year. If he had to use his savings, what he’d inherited from his parents, until he secured alternate funding, then he would do that.
Then he would work out a new contract for her position, one where he was no longer her boss.
He couldn’t offer Sarah any sort of future until he’d at least taken care of that.
Then, once he had more to show for himself—some sort of financial and career security for her—then he would see if she would accept his ring for real.
The thought gave him hope—like there was a way out of the dismal failure he’d been last night.
He was on the phone and email most of the day, until their flight took off. And he spent the plane ride writing up a funding proposal to send to potential funders.
Sarah was quiet, but she didn’t seem as upset as she had that morning. She knew him better than anyone. She would understand. He wanted her desperately—she knew how much—but he could be patient until he was in the situation to give her what she deserved.
When they got back to the lab, he didn’t even unpack. Just went immediately to his office to make calls.
One of his calls was very successful, and—when he hung up—he was smiling. Nothing was certain yet, there would be a lot of work out, but he might have found funding for at least a year’s operation of the lab. And it was from a private individual, which was far simpler than dealing with the hassles and red-tape of a foundation or institution.
He wanted to tell Sarah. She would be as excited as he was. He reached for the phone to call her when he noticed he’d missed a call from the lab’s security station. He dialed them back immediately, since they only contacted him when there was a problem.
“This is Damon,” he said, when the security guard picked up.
“Dr. Damon,” the man said, “This is Peter. Sorry to bother you. I wasn’t sure if I should or not.”
“What’s the problem?”
“It’s not a problem, I don’t think. But Dr. Stratford left her keys with me. I hadn’t heard she was leaving, which isn’t normal. So I just wanted to let you know.”
Jonathan frowned. “What do you mean she left her keys?”
“Her keys. All of them. To her apartment, to the lab, to the buildings. All of them. She dropped them off with me when she left just now.”
Jonathan started to feel the beginnings of a flare of panic. “She left? Where did she go? Did she take one of the cars?”
“No. She’d called a cab, and they picked her up. I don’t know where she was going, but she had suitcases, so I assume she’s heading to the airport.”
Jonathan vision darkened for a moment, so intently was he trying to process this information. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. He felt that clamp in his chest again, but it was far more brutal now than it had been last night. “Meet me over at housing,” he managed to say, “so you can let me into her apartment.”
As he walked over in long, urgent strides, he dialed Sarah’s cell. It rang several times, but then her voice mail picked up.
He glared down at the phone in frustration. Tried to dial her again. This time it went immediately to voice mail.
She wasn’t going to answer a call from him.
He had no idea what was happening. Why would she leave? And without even a word?
He’d trusted her, thought she’d cared about him.
She must know how desperately he loved her.
Peter was waiting in front of Sarah’s apartment when he arrived, looking nervous and confused.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Damon,” he said. “If I’d known she wasn’t supposed to leave, I would have tried to stop her.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jonathan muttered. “Just unlock it for me.”
Peter opened the door and Jonathan burst into the apartment. It looked perfectly neat, but some of the personal items like framed photos and the Stanford sweatshirt that always hung on a hook near the door weren’t there. The collection of the vampire show weren’t there either.
He saw a folded piece of paper on the table. When he picked it up, he noticed it had been folded over the engagement ring he’d given her.
He stared down at the ring, dazed and disoriented.
Finally, his eyes focused enough to read the note.
I’m sorry to leave like this, but I think it’s for the best. I’ll arrange to have the rest of my stuff shipped, if you can give me a week or two. I don’t think I can work with you anymore, after everything that’s happened. But it’s not your fault. Don’t feel bad about anything. You’re the best scientist and the best man I’ve ever known, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve taught me. Love, Sarah.
He stared down at the note blindly for way too long.
It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.
“Is something wrong, Dr. Damon?” Peter asked, sounding awkward and nervous.
“She’s…she’s left me.”
“Oh.” Peter was obviously bewildered about how to respond. “I’m sorry, sir. We all always thought . . .” He trailed off.
“Thought what?” Jonathan prompted, more to make conversation that sounded somewhat normal than because he really cared.
“We all thought you and her were a pair.”
They had been a pair, a couple. For the last week, for the last three years. He couldn’t even be
gin to process what his world would become without her in it.
She was…everything.
“Do you think you could maybe get her back? She only left about thirty minutes ago.”
Jonathan looked at his watch without really seeing it, but he suddenly knew what he had to do. “Yes. Have someone pull a car around.”
He balled up the note and left it on the table, since he hated it and everything it represented. But he stuck the ring in his pocket as he strode out of the room.
He went to the front gate. Then he drove like a madmen to the airport. He tried calling her several more times on this way, but she wouldn’t pick up.
The Reykjavik airport wasn’t large, but it wasn’t easy to find one person there, when he had no idea where she would be.
He made himself calm down enough to think. She would probably be going to her parents. He scanned the outbound flights, and the only one to the States that afternoon was a flight to New York. Surely, that was what she’d be taking.
They wouldn’t let him past security without a ticket, and the only seats available were first class, so he bought one.
He got bogged down in security and by the time he made it to the gate, the passengers had already boarded.
He gave the woman his ticket and got on the plane, still not knowing if Sarah as actually on it.
He was the last passenger on board, and they wouldn’t let him go back and search the seats in coach because they were preparing for takeoff.
So Jonathan took his seat, ready to strangle someone with his frustration and growing fear.
What if Sarah had decided she simply couldn’t put up with a man as hopeless and inarticulate as he was? What if she just didn’t want him anymore?
Why else would she have left?
He’d worked himself up into quite a state when the pilot finally turned off the fasten-seatbelt light. The elderly woman beside him kept eyeing him nervously, probably because he kept stewing and fidgeting and frowning.
He got up immediately, ignored the attendant’s offer of help, and pushed aside the curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane.
