by Lorenz Font
“For Christ’s sake!” he cried when pain shot through his abdomen.
“I … I’m sorry.” Sarah took one look at him before glancing down at his stomach area and spotting the fresh blood staining his shirt. She gasped and started pushing him against the sofa. “Lie down. Tell me where to find your first aid kit.”
“Cabinet … under the sink.” He cursed and pointed in the direction of his bedroom.
She disappeared into the hallway. Greg could hear a series of doors opening and closing before she reappeared. Sarah kneeled down next to him and snapped the white box open before pulling his hand away from the bleeding site.
“I’m going to lift your shirt so I can see what’s wrong.” Her voice was steady while she searched his face for approval.
Greg nodded. She lifted his shirt, and they discovered that his sutures had partially reopened. It had been just a month since the surgery, and the doctor had warned him not to engage in strenuous activities.
Sarah gasped. “I think we better get you to the emergency room.”
“Call Simon, and tell him to get the driver ready.” He tried to keep from crying like a baby, but the pain was back with a vengeance.
“Simon!” Sarah’s voice cracked and echoed across the room. It took several attempts before Simon came running into the living room. “Get the driver. We’re taking Mr. Andrews to the ER.”
“Greg … I said … call me Greg.” He thought he saw a brief flicker of amusement on Simon’s face before his security man pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.
“Rudy, get the car up front. Two minutes,” Simon barked into the receiver. He shoved the phone inside his pocket and dropped to his knees next to Sarah. “Do you want me to carry you, Greg?”
“No! I’ll walk.” He might be hurt, but he wouldn’t allow let them carry him like an invalid. Greg pushed his body up, pausing when the pain became unbearable. Once he was up on his feet, Sarah looped his right arm across her shoulder, and Simon followed her lead and did the same.
Together, they moved toward the door that a sobbing Matilda was holding open for them.
“Matilda, don’t.” He shook his head at the woman when they passed her on their way to the elevator.
While they waited inside one of the cubicles in the emergency room, Sarah caught herself glancing in Greg’s direction one too many times. His eyes were closed, and his hands protectively covered his stomach. Blood stains marked his once-immaculate white Henley, and she couldn’t help the wave of regret that washed over her.
“I’m sorry, Greg,” she mumbled once again.
Greg didn’t respond.
Sarah had repeated her apology many times during their car ride to the hospital. Her impulsive tendencies often landed her in trouble, and she berated herself now for her actions.
Pacing back and forth, she was not sure what else to do with herself. She drew the curtain and poked her head out, checking to see if anyone was coming to help them soon.
“I will forgive you if you agree to my terms.”
Sarah whipped her head in Greg’s direction and pulled back the curtains. “Yes! Yes.” Her acceptance came too fast. She didn’t even give herself a chance to think of the details. All she cared about, in that particular moment, was taking his pain away, whatever it cost her.
The answer seemed to please him, because he smiled—one of those disarming smiles designed to melt her insides.
“Will you stick to your word?”
She hesitated for a moment. Was she really going to make this promise to a man who had kidnapped and flown her across the country to New York City?
Yes … Her inner voice had returned. You have nothing to lose but a lot to gain. Your father doesn’t want you back. You might be overstaying your welcome at Cheryl’s home pretty soon.
She nodded her head. “Yes.” Why did it sound like she was giving him more than a simple promise?
Greg seemed to accept her answer. “As soon as we get home, I will give you the list of your class schedules. You’ll be taking the same classes at Columbia as you were at UCLA. I had your transcript evaluated, and you’ve been accepted, no questions asked.”
Although Greg had spoken softly, often gritting his teeth through the pain, Sarah heard him just fine. She shook her head in disbelief. “How did you manage to—” She paused. “Ah, I keep forgetting. Money talks.”
Greg didn’t answer, but he kept looking at her.
“Are you sure they’re accepting me based on my grades and not because you bribed them?” she asked, suspicious again.
“Sarah, you’re a straight-A student. Who wouldn’t want you in their school? All I had to do was convince them to take you even though the semester had already started. When we get back, I’ll have Rudy drive you there so you can sign some papers and familiarize yourself with the campus before you start attending classes.”
The way Greg announced every detail made her cringe. She should be running for the hills. Everything about him screamed weird. He had taken matters into his own hands, believing he could predict what her answer would be. Greg had arranged for her to attend a top-notch university and … well … it was just weird.
“Why are you doing this?”
Greg looked at her with his piercing blue eyes. “Because I wanted to hate you, but I can’t.”
Taken aback by his response, she bristled and turned her back on him. She wanted to lash out at him, but she stopped herself. Not wanting to take the bait, she took a deep breath instead.
“When do I have to help you?”
“During the daytime. I have most of my work delivered to me, since I haven’t been cleared to go back to work—”
“What do you do, Greg?” Sarah walked closer to the tiny exam table and glowered at him.
“I manage a shipping business.”
“Who shot you?”
“What’s with all these questions?” He glared her with sharp eyes.
“Who shot you?” she repeated.
“My best friend.”
That halted the questions for a moment. She gave him a hard look before blowing out a long breath.
“Some best friend,” she announced in a profound understatement.
“You can say that again.”
Greg closed his eyes, and Sarah realized the topic was closed. There was no need to prod anymore. She’d find out sooner or later who this so-called best friend was.
“I want to make things clear. I will pay you back every cent you spent on me. If you’re going to pay me, keep the money toward my repayment. I will help around the house, so tell your nanny to give me some chores.”
Greg opened and closed his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something to dissuade her, but she shook her head.
“No. I don’t ever want to feel that I’m a burden to anyone. This arrangement is based on payback. So, I intend to pay every debt I owe you.”
“As you wish.”
Greg studied her one more time, but any further conversation was halted by the arrival of the doctor. Sarah stayed close to watch the whole process. After the doctor had given her instructions on how to cleanse Greg’s wound and left, they went home without further discussing the terms of their peculiar arrangement.
The first week had been a reasonable success. Sarah and he managed to get along without biting each other’s heads off.
Greg grinned while he shuffled papers across his desk. After a few days of limited movement, Sarah had at last given him clearance to do a few hours of work. She’d started her classes at Columbia right away and had kept her end of the bargain without instigating any more arguments between them. He kept having to remind himself that he hated her, but somehow, he always ended up forgetting about it all over again.
Sarah was seated on the sofa across the room in his study, engrossed in her first school report. Greg caught her glancing his way several times. This was what he’d wanted, right? To have her close to him.
“Is there anything I can get you?
” She looked up, almost catching him staring at her.
“No, I’m fine. Finish your school stuff so we can maybe get some exercise.”
That made Sarah get up and take quick strides to his desk. She gave him a disapproving look and perched her hands over her hips.
“You’re not exercising today. I know you feel like you can do more, but we don’t want to aggravate the stitches more than we already have.”
“I’m going crazy inside this house,” he lamented, pushing the papers aside. Greg clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back.
“I’ll have Simon rent some DVDs,” Sarah offered.
He chuckled. “No one rents DVDs these days. That’s why we have cable and pay-per-view.”
His teasing seemed to have embarrassed her, and Greg immediately wished he could take back his words. He kept forgetting this girl was not used to the luxuries of life. Nothing had come easy to her, he’d been told by his private investigator.
“Why don’t we go out for dinner?” Greg threw the question with as much nonchalance as he could, not wanting her to think there was more to the invitation than there was.
“Why?”
“Because we need to eat, and I have to get out of this hole sometime. Anyway, you have no classes today.”
Sarah considered his invitation for a moment.
“We’re not going on a date, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Just when he thought she’d decline, she nodded her head. “Okay. What time should I be ready?”
“I’ll make a reservation for seven o’clock. Be ready at six-thirty. Wear a dress?”
Sarah gawked at him as if he’d lost his mind, but she was quick to rearrange her expression. “O—kay.” She chewed her upper lip before returning to her spot on the sofa.
At the agreed-upon time, Sarah appeared in the living room wearing an awesome number that made Greg stare longer than he’d intended. The white dress with its low-cut cowl neckline showed a modest amount of skin and complemented her brown skin just right. The contrast, in his opinion, made her delicate beauty stand out. Her hair had been swept into a loose, intricate ponytail, which made her long neck look more graceful. Her gold sandals complimented the dress perfectly.
“You clean up well.” Greg meant it as a compliment, but the words came out wrong. God, you’d think he would have more finesse, given his years of experience with the opposite sex. Something about this girl made him say the dumbest things. He wanted to smack himself in the head the next moment. Who says those things to a beautiful woman?
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Now they were even.
“Shall we?”
Sarah nodded and turned for the door. Just before they cleared the doorway, she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes calculating. “Just because I agreed to dinner doesn’t mean I trust you, Gregory Andrews.”
Greg tilted his head in acknowledgment and invited her to proceed with a sweep of his hand. She continued on her way, and he followed close behind, clutching his cane. He hoped for a stumble-free evening, both literally and figuratively.
Chapter 8
The moment they arrived at Le Bernardin, they were whisked to a reserved table for two. It was obvious the minute they walked in that Greg was a well-liked customer and a regular patron of the restaurant. They were treated like VIPs, and the deference the staff paid to Greg was over-the-top.
Sarah felt a bit out of her element. Well, make that way out of her element. She should’ve known Greg would choose an expensive and chic restaurant as opposed to what she’d been accustomed to in the past. Burger joints and fast food restaurants were her sole experience with dining out, being the only affordable option. Fine dining was never a possibility in the Jones household. So yeah, this was another first for her.
“Are you okay?” Greg eyed her, something akin to worry lacing his expression.
Sarah had often wondered if this was just an act. He had told her that he wanted to hate her. Now, he offered a tentative smile, and it seemed like he had no idea what to say. That made him more real and down-to-earth, rather than the rich snob she thought him to be. In all honesty, looking at him now in the soft glow of the candlelight, he was handsome in his dark blue blazer and ribbed, white cotton T-shirt, a perfect and very attractive Romeo.
It wouldn’t be right to flirt with him, because as attractive as she might find him, they were nothing alike.
“Yes.” Catching herself fidgeting, she clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap.
“Would you like something to drink? A bottle of wine, perhaps?”
Sarah hesitated. She’d been to a few sorority parties during her undergrad years, but they’d always served beer. The most exotic drink she’d had to date was rum and Coke. How funny is that?
“I … haven’t … okay, wine is fine,” she stammered and glanced around, feeling self-conscious.
Greg waved to a server and requested the wine list. When the man reappeared with a thick leather-bound book, Sarah’s eyes widened. All she knew were red, white, and E. & J. Gallo, the latter being a brand she often saw on the shelf of their local grocery store.
Before Greg opened the bible of wine drinkers, he looked up. “Any preference? Bordeaux? Burgundy?”
Now he’s talking gibberish. Sarah shook her head. “Anything you want is fine with me.” That would be the safest answer from an ignoramus like her. She bet Lily would get a kick out of this story when she told her friend.
Greg flipped through the pages, and it appeared that he already knew what he wanted. In the faint light in the room, she caught him smiling while his eyes skimmed the list. “We’ll have the Chateau Lafite Rothschild Cabernet Sauvignon.” He closed the bible and handed it back to their server.
“Excellent choice, Mr. Andrews,” the server commented, but instead of walking away to fill their order, he cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I wonder if I may check your companion’s identification, sir.”
Greg was taking a drink of his water and spluttered at the unexpected question. Sarah busied herself, hiding her embarrassment by rummaging through the little gold clutch she’d decided to use for the evening. Her cheeks were burning by the time she pulled out her identification card.
“Here you go.” She presented her driver’s license with a smile.
The man glanced at her picture and back at her. He checked her birth date before returning her card with a grin. “I’m sorry, Miss Jones, but you look quite young. I had to check.”
After their server left, Sarah replaced her card in her wallet and returned her attention to Greg. He appeared rather uncomfortable. She leaned closer and whispered, “Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” Greg leaned forward. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. Did his question bother you?”
He hesitated. “A bit, I guess. I feel like a cradle robber coming here with a beautiful teenager.”
She couldn’t help herself from asking, “How old are you?”
“I’m thirty-five,” he replied in a gruff tone, meeting her inquisition head-on. His blue eyes showed a mixture of anxiety and irritation.
Not too old, Sarah thought. She wondered which part made him uncomfortable. Was it that he was older or just that she’d asked? Greg must have known how old she was, considering he had taken the liberty of rearranging her life.
“You’re not too old.” She smiled at him.
“What does that mean?” He inclined his head. The blushing radiance of the candle’s glow hit his face, highlighting the angular planes of his features.
“Nothing. You have accomplished quite a lot at a very young age,” she commented, and he flushed. Good thing he wasn’t wearing a tie—she imagined he’d be tugging at it by now.
Greg ignored her comment and picked up the menu. “Let’s order.”
Sarah decided not to press. If he found the statement offensive, he should’ve said so. She had nothing against hon
esty, but to each his own, right? Picking up the menu, she began to turn the pages. French? Lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Geoduck, Foie Gras, Skate. Her eyes widened at the prices. Nervous, she kept leafing through the menu until she found a less expensive option she could live with—pasta.
Sarah had never imagined ordering dinner could be a taxing experience until then. She glanced around and noted the crowd with unease.
The sommelier came back with their wine, a big grin on his face. A stout man with a big belly, he presented the bottle to Greg with a flourish. Greg, in turn, scrutinized the label and placed his hand on the bottle like he was caressing it. After the cork had been removed, the wine expert poured a small amount into Greg’s glass through an odd-looking funnel. Greg lifted it to his face, and Sarah watched with open interest while he took his time to first inhale deeply and then take a sip, rolling it along his tongue.
He nodded to the sommelier, appearing pleased with his selection. The wine steward started pouring the thick, red liquid into her glass before adding more to Greg’s. She picked up the wide-mouthed, round glass to take a sip, when Greg coughed a little and lifted his glass to her. Embarrassed, Sarah pretended to sniff the bouquet before tilting her glass in Greg’s direction, just like she’d seen many times on television.
“Here’s to a fabulous year for you at Columbia.” He smiled and gave her glass a gentle tap with his.
The statement confused her, but she said nothing. Instead, she replied with a dazzling smile and brought the glass to her lips. The first swallow came as a shock. The foreign taste made her want to spit out the wine, but she held herself in check. There was no need to embarrass herself and Greg.
After their orders were taken, she began to relax, loving the warming effect of the wine in her system. It made her feel like she could chat all night.
“So, tell me about yourself,” she said. If Greg knew everything concerning her life, then she needed to catch up and get some juicy tidbits about him, too.
“Can we not talk about me? Let’s talk about you.” He took a long and satisfying sip of his wine.