by J. M. Madden
“Sorry I’m a mess. I kind of lose track of myself.”
Clayton clasped his briefcase in front of him and regarded her critically. Offering her a small smile, he shook his head from side to side. “I think you look fine.”
More than fine. He reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear, then realized what he was doing. His face heated as he pulled his hand back and turned away. What the hell was wrong with him? Thirty-four years old but she made him feel about sixteen. Never before had he felt this self-conscious with a woman. There had been many more experienced than she that had shared his bed, but he felt as if he were facing his first time again.
As he climbed the steps, he heard her following him up to the second floor, but he did not wait for her as any gentleman would. Not exactly running, he let himself into his suite and shut himself inside.
That woman was going to be the death of him. Because of her, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night. Then when he did finally get up this morning, he couldn’t make himself leave without sharing breakfast with her, even in the most generic sense. Meredith, his executive assistant, had remarked on how distracted he seemed and he had, incredibly, been late for one of his own meetings. This could not continue. He had to get her out of his system but how?
Clayton brooded in his office for some time before finally deciding on a plan. Most of the women he went out with were suggested by his mother, he realized sadly. They were respectable, acceptable clones like his mother, with proper breeding, background, and style. Good enough for the Gallagher name. And every single woman he had dated had eventually either bored him to tears or frustrated him with their lack of depth. Sarah Tyler had to fall within one of those two categories; he just had to spend enough time with her to decide which one.
Chapter Six
‡
Implementing his clever plan proved to be a bit more difficult than he’d anticipated. While he was brooding and planning, he hadn’t kept an eye on the time, which meant he was late for dinner by six minutes. This is absolutely ridiculous, he thought, as he jogged lightly down the staircase. His mother was already working up a head of steam as he strode through the door. Andrea had a hand on her arm, trying to calm Jillian down, but Clayton could see that there would be no stopping his mother tonight. Tory sat on the opposite side of the table, her head down, eyes fixed on her plate.
And Sarah was nowhere to be seen.
For several long minutes, he sat quietly and let his mother vent, hoping she’d wind down sooner than not. Marianne wisely did not serve dinner until his mother settled, then she slipped in as unobtrusively as possible. But his mother was not to be appeased. Even though she had commanded several times that dinner not be served until everybody was seated at the table, she turned on Marianne to demand to know why it had not been served exactly at seven o’clock.
Clayton could tell Marianne was bewildered at the attack and stood indecisively in the dining room doorway. He waved her away. “Go back in the kitchen, Marianne. Give us a few minutes.”
She bobbed her way out of the room as quick as she could.
Narrowing his eyes, he told her, “There’s no need to be rude, Mother.”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to behave in my own home, Clayton. You are the last person to dare speak to me like that!”
His mother stood up at her place at the end of the table and pointed a sharp, painted finger in his direction. She actually did try to take a deep breath to calm down, but it looked like it hitched in her chest uncomfortably. “I do not appreciate the way you’ve been acting recently. The past few months you’ve been different, and I do not like the changes. Perhaps you need to reflect on that and attempt to correct your behavior. Robert would never even consider acting this way, let alone causing me so much stress.”
She did not say anything about Sarah and Clayton was surprised. Even though his mother was trying to be calm, Clayton could tell it cost her. There was a fine tremor in her hands, and her skin looked incredibly pinched across her face. Clayton realized suddenly that she was sixty-seven years old, and she would never change. Even dead, Robert would always be her golden child and there was nothing that Clayton could possibly do to change that or earn his own place in her regard. No matter how well the company did, or even if he married one of her socially acceptable debutantes, he would never be good enough for Jillian Gallagher.
If she’d paid more attention to the company, she would know that the company had been floundering when he took it over after Robert’s death. Robert had been too much like their overbearing father and refused to expand, citing that they were still making profits, even though consumer confidence was down. Clayton had tried to show him that the profits were not keeping up with their spending, but he had been too hard-headed to listen to his much younger brother.
Looking at his mother—stepmother, he corrected himself—he realized that he would always have to contend with her narrow-mindedness, her blind refusal to admit the truth about the company or accept Clayton as a Gallagher worthy of the name. Was he willing to do that for the rest of his life? No, definitely not. If she stayed in his house he would have to, though. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he realized he’d forgotten to shave, as well. He was surprised she hadn’t ranted about that. Maybe he needed to get out before they both said too much.
Clayton held up a hand as he stood at the head of the table. “I don’t want to listen to this.”
Jillian gasped in outrage. “How dare you?”
“You already said that, Jillian. And I dare because this is my house, this is my life and I will behave as I choose. I’m too old for you to try to control and I’m tired of you trying.” With that he walked out of the dining room, his mother sputtering behind him. A small grin graced his mouth as he jogged up the steps to his bedroom, then bypassed that door and jogged up the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway to his tower. Once he reached the privacy of his office, he laughed out loud. Obedience had been so ingrained in him; he had never dared even raise his voice to her, or defy her in any way. Most of the time he let her rant while he tuned her out and puzzled over business issues. Over the years he had learned when to make the appropriate, noncommittal, responses to her pauses.
Rubbing the headache that taking root in his temples, Clayton knew there would be hell to pay later. His rebellion felt wonderful now, but Jillian would make his life miserable for that one small moment of defiance. After the altercation the other day on the steps, he was actually surprised she’d stayed home. Usually after she disagreed with him on something, she would escape on a buying trip or vacation to some far off location. She’d certainly leave this time and he would be more than happy to foot the bill.
Crossing to the curved window, he could see Sarah out in the yard playing with her enormous dog. She ran and dodged as fast as she could, with the dog close on her heels. It was the most he’d seen her move, her blue jeans molded to her curves. Suddenly the huge dog zigged when she zagged, slamming into Sarah with stunning force and knocking her to the ground. Clayton waited for her to get up and play again, but she did not move. Her dark hair was loose and laying over her face, blocking his view. His heart stuttered in his chest.
Without a thought, Clayton took off at a dead run. Four flights of stairs disappeared under his feet and within just a few seconds he rounded the corner of the garage. He slid to a stop as Sarah’s laughter reached his ears. Peering over the fence, he found the big dog straddling her mistress and the woman laughing until tears rolled down her face. He was close enough now to see that she was fine, even though she was trying to push the dog off her.
“Get off me, you elephant,” she gasped. “I concede you won this one. Now get off!”
The dog must have heard the note of command in her voice, because that’s exactly what she did. Sitting to the side, then rolling over in a boneless heap to expose her belly. Sarah crawled to her knees and patted her roughly on the tummy, then climbed to her feet. That was when she saw Clayton standing there,
outside the gate.
“Oh, hello Clayton! Is everything okay?”
“That is exactly my question. Are you all right? I saw her knock you to the ground.” Clayton made sure to keep his voice even and his breathing under control. His heart was just beginning to return to normal.
Sarah waved a hand in the air. “I’m fine. She just knocked the wind out of me. Took me a few seconds to get my breath back.” She smiled up at him charmingly. “Thank you for coming to check on me though.”
The dog in question had gotten to her feet by now and had wedged her head through the partially opened gate, sniffing at Clayton with interest as her tail wagged enthusiastically. Sarah tried to drag her back, but the damage to his pants was done.
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes cringed, looking at the damage. “She’s just excited to meet somebody new.”
Sarah jerked on her collar and reprimanded the dog, who slowly sat down, waving her club sized tail.
“There’s no harm. It’ll wash out, I’m sure.” Not knowing what to do with his hands, he tentatively held one out to the dog, who immediately licked it, then shoved her massive head underneath it. Clayton carefully scratched her behind her ear, and was rewarded with a massive doggy groan.
“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Sarah told him laughingly. “You found her favorite spot to be scratched. She’ll never leave you alone now.”
Clayton found himself ushered inside the pen with Sarah and Gracie, and instructed in how to scratch a dog. It was an interesting experience for a man who had never been allowed any kind of pet as a child. He had come into contact with dogs several times but had not been particularly impressed by them in any way. He surprised himself by telling Sarah this.
“And I, on the other hand, have never been without an animal in my life. I couldn’t do without now. I have a horse back in Ohio I miss terribly, but it wouldn’t be fair to him to bring him to the city to stand in a stable for hours on end.” She paused and sighed sadly, then brightened when she turned to the dog. “Gracie is my current fur therapy.”
“Fur therapy?” he sounded incredulous.
“Fur therapy.” she repeated. “All New Yorkers need therapy, don’t you know that? Gracie is mine. Everything is better after you spend time with an animal. They help you relax and bring down your blood pressure. There have been actual studies done.” She rubbed the prone dog on the belly. “I’d like to take Gracie to nursing homes and schools, because she has such a great personality, but I’m afraid she would knock people down. She just can’t help it if she’s big and a little on the clumsy side.”
“Indeed.”
Sarah looked at Clayton’s smeared pants and dirty hands, and thought about pointing out that he definitely seemed more relaxed since he had come down, but was afraid that would make him more self-conscious. Hell, there was even a smile curling the edges of his normally stern mouth. Everybody in the kitchen had overheard the argument between the Gallaghers, but she did not want to bring it up. Although there had been uncomfortable looks and shifting glances, she got the feeling the staff was glad he had stood up to his mother. William had been smiling when he slipped out the back hallway door to make his way around to the front to see if Mrs. Gallagher needed anything. Sarah felt her heart swell with pride as she listened to Clayton disagree with his mother.
Her glanced snagged on his shadowed jaw. “Are you starting a beard?”
Clayton lifted a hand, brushing at the stubble. “I hadn’t planned on it. I forgot to shave before dinner.”
Sarah shrugged. “I think it would look good on you if you did.”
She pushed to her feet and brushed herself off.
Glancing at her watch, Sarah saw she was a few minutes late for her own dinner. Faust had explained that the servants always ate after the family had finished, that way nothing ever went to waste. Mrs. Gallagher refused to eat leftovers, saying that it was too low class, and that everything that was left was to be eaten by the servants or thrown away. Sarah couldn’t understand that reasoning. Food was food and there had been times in her family when leftovers had been all they’d had to eat until payday. Hardly anything had ever been thrown away in her family. She had been thankful many times for ‘new’ hand-me-downs that filtered their way to her branch of the family. Even with the money she had in the bank, the Jeep she had now was used and she was proud to have it. It was a good vehicle.
Patting Gracie one last time on the head, Sarah made her way to the gate.
“I’m late for dinner,” she told Clayton. “Would you like to join us?”
“Us?”
Nodding her head, Sarah secured the gate as he slid out behind her.
“The Fausts, Marianne and Mitch and I. In the kitchen.”
Automatically, he shook his head and readied a denial. But then his stomach reminded him rather sharply that he had not eaten his dinner. “Perhaps Faust could prepare me a tray to take up to my office.”
Sarah stopped and planted her hands on her rounded hips. “You don’t want to eat with us?”
“Ah,” he hesitated, as if aware he might sound snobbish. “It might be a bit awkward.”
She looked at him curiously. “It will only be awkward if you make it awkward. It’s your house. You can eat where ever you want.” And she turned and left him in front of the garage.
Clayton debated for several long moments, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach and the chance to spend more time with Sarah swayed him. It was his house and he could eat whatever and where ever he wanted. And with whomever he wished. He felt a flash of humor as he thought about his mother, probably pouting and venting upstairs in her room. She would starve to death before she ever ate in the kitchen with the help. Privilege had been her birthright, and it was unlikely she would change at this late date.
But it was not too late for him to change. Whether he’d realized it or not, he felt like he’d been searching for something to shake up his life. His family had been full of very bitter, unhappy people and he was coming to the realization that his path would be on the same trajectory if he didn’t change now.
Hell, maybe he would grow a beard.
Some of his earliest memories before boarding school were of his father walking back and forth in front of the big curved desk telling him and Robert about family obligation and the pride that the Gallagher name brought to the area. Though he had only been the second son, he had been groomed for every eventuality to take over the family if need be.
His father’s dominance had been absolute. And to a certain extent, when he’d done what his father had wanted for the better of the family, he’d been given that vague acceptance. Actual approval from his father had been sporadic. There had been the occasional trip home to ensure that Clayton’s education was commensurate with the money being spent on it, and him. Those trips occasionally afforded him a private meeting with his dynamic patriarch, but always left him feeling lacking in some way.
Looking back years later, Clayton could see that the tactics used in his upbringing had done their job. Though he’d always been alienated, he’d been given just enough hope of acceptance to keep working for the family.
Now that he was the head of the family, the yoke had begun to chafe. Or was it just since he’d met Sarah?
Climbing the steps to the back entry he let himself in the door, washing his hands quickly in the laundry room. Everyone had chosen seats by the time he entered the room, but one chair remained conspicuously empty.
“May I join you?” he asked formally.
Faust smiled broadly, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Of course you may, sir. We’re happy to have you.” She indicated an empty chair next to Sarah. “Ms. Tyler said you would be joining us, so we set you a place.”
Glancing at Sarah in surprise, he settled into the chair. She winked at him and he couldn’t help but be charmed by it.
To Clayton’s surprise, it was one of the more enjoyable dinners he could remember and the time flew. He learned more about the people wh
o worked for him in two hours than he had the entire rest of his life. And he felt ashamed. These were good people, but until recently, he had never given them a second thought. Just simply knew they would be there for his every need and took advantage of that. Yes, they were well paid, but they deserved to be treated better.
At the end of the evening, he thanked Faust and the others for dinner and for tolerating his family for as many years as they had. The older woman seemed taken aback by apology, but waved it away. Motioning to the door, he escorted Sarah out of the kitchen. They walked up the stairs side by side in companionable silence.
Stopping at her door, he turned to her with a small smile. As awkward as he had felt over the course of the evening, he did not want the evening to end.
“How did you know I would come in for dinner and not simply call for a tray?”
“I didn’t. I just hoped.”
And with a heart-wrenching smile that constricted his heart, the fascinating, enchanting woman stood on her tiptoes, rested a hand on his chest and kissed him on the cheek. Then she turned and let herself into her room.
Clayton stood staring at the closed door for several long moments. How could such innocent words and actions affect him so strongly? Once again he had a raging erection and no way to remedy it. Or at least none he was willing to partake in. Had she only moved in a few days ago? On one hand it seemed like an eternity, and on the other it seemed not nearly long enough.