by Mia Sosa
“Afraid you’re going to freeze up?”
This is what she missed: He understood her without her having to explain much at all. “Yeah.”
“These cadavers. They’re donated, right? By the deceased persons themselves, or by their families, right?”
“Yes.”
“And presumably they donate them precisely so brilliant minds like yours can make a difference.”
“Yes, I think so.”
“So by cutting into that cadaver, you’re granting their last wish for themselves. You and the cadaver are partners in this, if you will. Maybe if you thought about it like that, it would help.”
The more she thought about it in that way, the more she warmed to the idea. “Yeah. You might be on to something. Thanks.”
“Good luck next week. I’ll be sending you good vibes, and I know you’ll be great.”
“Thanks, Mark.”
“Take care, Karen.”
He’d never doubted her ability to succeed, not once. She needed a friend like him in her life. And if her heart broke a little knowing what might have been, she’d get over it. Eventually.
* * *
Mark’s hand shook as he placed the receiver in its cradle. Hearing Karen’s voice had floored him. He imagined seeing her in person would be twice as hard.
Running a hand through his hair, he stood and paced his office, the room suddenly too small for the thoughts bouncing around in his head. He’d done the right thing by pushing her away, but knowing that didn’t make him miss her any less.
His gaze landed on his chair, and he pictured Karen’s as she straddled him in that very spot. Dammit. What he needed was to get away from the office. And he needed to check on his father, who wasn’t returning his calls.
He hit the intercom. “Nicole, please cancel my afternoon appointments.”
Two hours later, Mark arrived at his father’s home on Kent Island. The modest cottage was situated on the waterfront. What it lacked in amenities it more than made up for with its gorgeous views. Mark walked onto the screened front porch and found the front door unlocked. “Dad?”
Nothing.
“Dad? Where are you?”
Mark wandered the halls. The hardwoods gleamed, and fresh flowers sat on the kitchen counter. His father had even drawn the curtains in the living room, letting the natural sunlight in. His father rarely paid attention to such niceties. Each of these changes must have resulted from his mother’s influence.
Mark peeked into the kitchen alcove, expecting to see his father sipping a cup of coffee, but he wasn’t there, either. He did find him sitting by the bay window in his bedroom, however, a closed book in his hand.
“Hey, Dad.”
His father didn’t turn around. He simply stroked the spine of the book and stared out the window. “Hey, son.”
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
Mark stepped into the room and sat on the edge of his father’s bed. “I’ve been calling and couldn’t reach you. Thought I’d check to make sure you were alive.”
His father didn’t laugh as Mark had expected.
“Sorry. I’ve been preoccupied. Haven’t been checking my phone.”
Now he got it. Paul often went off the grid when he was working on a journal article. Had Mark been thinking clearly, he would have realized this was one of those times. “The place has Lisa’s touch. It’s nice. Was she here this weekend?”
“She was, but she won’t be coming back.”
The statement sucked the air out of him. He’d heard a version of that phrase before, more than two decades ago, in fact, and its impact was no less devastating today than it had been then. But this time he hurt for his father. “What happened, Dad?”
“She’s decided to go back to that man…her ex-husband.”
“Richard.”
“Right. Richard.”
“I take it you had no choice in the matter.”
His father looked over his shoulder. “Bingo.”
Mark rose from the bed and placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
Mark cocked his head back. Maybe he’d misheard his father. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry for falling in love with such a selfish woman. She’s never put anyone first in her life but herself. All these years I’ve blamed myself for her decision to leave. Told myself I had no business trying to stifle someone so young, so unsure of who she wanted to be. But your mother will never change. She leaves because she wants to, because it’s always been about her. Our needs never figured into the equation.”
The weariness in his father’s voice made Mark want to throw something. All these years, he’d assumed his father had picked the wrong kind of person: too young and unsettled to know what she wanted. He realized now he’d been wrong on too many levels to count. His mother hadn’t been the wrong kind of person for his father; she’d simply been the wrong person for anyone. Because what mattered to her always came first. And it struck him then that he and his father had settled into the shadows of their mother’s desertion, letting it define them rather than letting it define her.
He pictured Karen’s tear-streaked face as she accused him of discounting their relationship because of what he predicted she would do, of pushing her away to protect himself. Her assessment had been dead-on.
He laid a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Dad, we’re going to be okay. We’re better off without her.”
And it hit him then: He wasn’t better off without Karen, though. Which raised the important question: What was he willing to do about it?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Professor Haines had paired Karen with three male students, and their cadaver was a woman. This didn’t bode well. Each student wore blue scrubs, and although the professor had stressed that there would be no dissections today, the med school had provided aprons as another layer of protection.
The lab was surprisingly bright. She surveyed the room and the faces of her colleagues, some of whom looked pale, others of whom cracked jokes. She could see that other students were uncomfortable, too.
Karen stood outside the group, ready to bolt. Her skin itched as though thousands of ants had burrowed under her skin. She didn’t dare scratch herself, not in here. The air was stale, but it had no stench to it. Nonetheless, Karen breathed through her mouth, in part because the steady inhale and exhale calmed her.
Various teaching assistants wheeled out the gurneys. Professor Haines addressed the group. “This class will run through the spring, and I’ve allotted plenty of time to ease you into the practice of working with cadavers. If you need a break or a moment to collect yourself, please take it. I’d much prefer for you to leave the lab than pass out in here.”
A few students laughed. Professor Haines did not. “I’m not kidding.”
Karen didn’t need to be told twice. She might be labeled a wuss, but she didn’t care. Her sense of self-preservation propelled her out the door.
Outside the lab, a small atrium provided elevated bench seating. Karen collapsed on one of the wooden benches and dropped her head between her legs. She breathed in and out. She had to conquer this.
The bench next to hers creaked, and she sat up. Eyes blinking furiously, she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
Mark stood and pulled her out of her seat. “I thought you might need a friend today.”
She threw her arms around him and squeezed him as hard as she could. “I do. I really, really do.”
“I’m here.”
She backed away and examined his face. His chiseled features hadn’t changed, but his brown eyes, which had been so cold the last time they’d seen each other, now shone warm and bright. “It’s good to see you.”
“Can I take you to lunch when you’re done?”
She hesitated.
He supplied the missing pieces. “To talk. About us.”
“Sure. Assuming I don’t pass out, I�
��ll be done in an hour.”
He nodded and pointed to the newspaper and smartphone in his hand. “I’ll wait. Remember, there isn’t anything you can’t do if you want it badly enough. I have one hundred percent confidence in you.” Several students walked back into the lab. He watched them until they disappeared, and then he smiled at her. “You ready?”
She returned his smile. “I’m ready.”
An hour later, she emerged from the lab, swinging her arms as she walked toward Mark. “Done.”
He stood and led her to the exit. “How’d it go?”
“It went well. I didn’t pass out.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of me, too.”
* * *
“We’re having lunch in your condo?” she asked as she undid her seat belt.
“Yes. My personal chef left us a feast. She even learned how to make an empanada for you.”
“Wow. I’m impressed and honored.”
Which meant what? He’d planned this excursion? For her?
Mark was uncharacteristically quiet as they rode the elevator, his only movement an incessant tapping of the newspaper against his thigh. When they reached his floor, he ushered her through the door and turned to her. “Check it out.”
Karen walked into the large space, which wasn’t quite as wide open as it had been before. He’d added plants to the place, the pop of green a welcome addition to the slate gray and white palette. Oh, and a lovely multicolored painting of a dancer hung on the main wall. “You added color.”
“That’s right. You said that’s what you’d do, remember.”
Karen nodded slowly. “I remember. What’s happening over there?”
Part of the loft had been converted to a construction zone, complete with scaffolding and dusty drop cloths.
“I’m building an office.”
“I thought you didn’t want an office. You said you didn’t want to bring work home.”
Mark rubbed the back of his neck and stared at a spot behind her. “I still don’t. The office is for you.”
Karen couldn’t process what he was saying. The office was for her? She lifted his chin until he looked at her. “Mark, what is all this?”
“Let me back up a minute. I need to explain why I acted like an ass when I was in your apartment.”
“Okay.”
“My mother and father rekindled their relationship a few weeks ago.”
She smiled. “Mark, that’s great.”
He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. She left again.”
She grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “I’m sorry.”
“It made me realize I’d fought my feelings for you because I didn’t want to find myself in the same situation as my father. But my mother is my mother. And you’re you. I convinced myself that breaking up with you was in your best interests, but really, I was scared.” He wrapped her in his arms, embracing her tightly. “And I realized that if I didn’t face my fears, I’d lose you. I love you. And I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
Her eyes watered, and her vision blurred. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“Believe it.” To prove his point, he threaded his fingers through the hair at her temples and swooped down for a kiss. Karen pressed into him, wanting her entire body connected to his. He licked his way inside her mouth, and she opened to him fully.
God, she’d missed this.
Finally, they moved apart.
He pinned her with his heavy gaze. “The day you called me at the office. I loved that you called, but I hated that we were having that conversation by telephone.”
She knew exactly what he meant, because she’d felt the same way.
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I want to be the one you talk to when something’s bothering you, just as I’d want you to be that person for me. But I want to be able to turn on my side in bed and talk to you, our faces inches apart. Or I want you to stop in the office unannounced and have every right to be there. I want you with me. Period. And if you need space, I’ll give it to you. I’ll need mine, too. But at the end of the day, you’re the one I want to come home to. I love you, Karen.”
Those words wrapped around her like the coziest blanket imaginable, leaving her safe and protected. “I love you, too, Mark. So much. And I want all that, too, but can we take it slowly?”
He raised a single eyebrow, a smug smile suggesting he thought the idea was preposterous.
“I tell you what. As soon as you move in with me, you can take all the time you need.”
She smirked. “You’re very persuasive, Mr. Lansing.”
He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “You think so? There’s more where that came from.”
She grinned at him. “What you got? Impress me.”
“If you move in with me, I’ll let you play with my anatomy all night.”
She returned his quick kiss. “Sold.”
“One more thing,” he said as he folded her in his arms. “I got the swing.”
She stepped back. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I assure you, Karen, I did. It’s in the bedroom.” He gave her a suggestive smile. “Want to see it?”
“Very subtle, Mr. Lansing. Very subtle.”
About the Author
Mia Sosa was born and raised in New York. She attended the University of Pennsylvania, where she earned her bachelor’s degree in communications and met her own romantic hero, her husband. She once dreamed of being a professional singer, but then she discovered she would have to perform onstage to realize that dream and decided to take the law school admissions test instead. A graduate of Yale Law School, Mia practiced First Amendment and media law in the nation’s capital for ten years before returning to her creative roots. Now, she spends most of her days writing contemporary romances about smart women and the complicated men who love them. Okay, let’s be real here: She wears PJs all day and watches more reality television than a network television censor—all in the name of research, of course. Mia lives in Maryland with her husband and two daughters and is still on the hunt for the perfect karaoke bar.
Learn more at:
www.MiaSosa.com
Twitter: @MiaSosaRomance
Facebook.com/miasosa.author
Did you miss Gracie and Ethan’s love story?
Please see the next page for an excerpt from the first book in Mia Sosa’s The Suits Undone series, Unbuttoning the CEO!
CHAPTER ONE
Ethan Hill couldn’t have imagined a more craptastic morning.
He stood next to his lawyer in a dim and musty courtroom in the nation’s capital. The dreary atmosphere made his stomach churn. And the gluten-free muffin his assistant had given him earlier wasn’t helping matters. Now that he thought about it, what the hell was wrong with gluten anyway?
Judge Monroe, a regal woman with a crop of silver hair and flawless skin, peered at him over her tortoiseshell-framed glasses and cleared her throat. “Mr. Hill, as I’m sure you’re aware, a reckless driving conviction carries the possibility of a one-year jail sentence. It’s not my penalty of choice, but given that you’ve accumulated five speeding tickets in as many months, a fine won’t do.”
Jail? Was she seriously considering jail? Ethan’s heart raced, and his knees threatened to buckle. He even considered running through the Lamaze breathing his sister Emily had practiced in preparation for the birth of his niece. Hee-hee-hooo. Hee-hee-hooo.
Judge Monroe clasped her hands and leaned forward. “Your company’s support of charities is to be commended. But in my view, a man who claims such devotion to charitable endeavors ought to spend time serving the community rather than throwing money at it. I’m sentencing you to community service.”
Ethan’s heart slowed to a gallop. Given a choice between jail and a couple of weeks of community service, he’d pick community service any day. “Thank you, Judge Monroe.”
“Hold on, Mr. Hill. You might not want to thank me just yet.”
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Ethan’s stomach twisted, ending its protest with a loud gurgle. Damn you, gluten-free muffin.
Judge Monroe scribbled on a legal pad. Ethan couldn’t see what she wrote, but the hard strokes of her pen suggested she wanted to stick a figurative foot up his butt. Ethan mentally prepared himself to bend over.
After a few seconds, the judge looked up and smirked. Or was that a snort? Dammit, he wasn’t sure.
“Mr. Hill, I’m sentencing you to two hundred hours of community service, to be completed with one charitable organization over the course of the next six months. Choose a charity that could benefit from your technical skills. And have your lawyer inform my clerk of the charity you’ve selected.”
Ethan swiped a hand down his face. The sentence was outrageous. He calculated the hours in his head, figuring he’d have to spend just under eight hours a week for the next twenty-six weeks to fulfill the sentence. He doubted he could manage to do that on top of his eighty-hour workweek, but he didn’t appear to have a choice.
His lawyer, a buddy from college with stellar credentials and a ruddy, cherubic face, leaned his stocky frame toward Ethan and whispered in his ear. “You got off easy, pal. Judge Monroe tends to take creativity to a new level when she’s pissed. She must have gotten laid last night.”
Ethan’s gaze darted to the judge, whose tight expression made him wonder whether she’d heard his lawyer’s quip. He’d dealt with intimidating businessmen twice her size, but when her bespectacled gaze landed on his face, Ethan barely suppressed the urge to squirm.
She took a deep breath. “Mr. Hill, use this sentence as an opportunity to think about your choices. Self-destructive behavior is one thing. Behavior that endangers others is quite another. And be prepared to take the bus for the next several months. What you do after that is up to you, but if you get another speeding ticket, this court will impose the maximum penalty. Got it?”
“Got it, Your Honor.”
Judge Monroe nodded. “Court is adjourned.”
The slam of her gavel against the bench might as well have been a slap upside his head. As he watched the judge exit the courtroom, Ethan vowed never to speed again. He couldn’t afford to go to jail. Not again anyway.