by J. M. Madden
Pearl Paint was as interesting as always. The huge store took up the entire building, and Sarah lost herself in paints, pigments, brushes, and canvas for several hours. She didn’t realize how long she’d been wandering in her favorite wonderland until Mitch came into the store looking for her; Clayton had called and needed to be picked up at five-thirty.
Sarah checked out quickly and Mitch helped her load a surprising number of bags into the trunk of the limo. Instead of riding up front, she told the cheerful driver she would wait in the back for Clayton.
She almost changed her mind half an hour later. Clayton was in a terrible mood and almost snapped her head off when she asked about his day.
“I would appreciate it if you would not talk to me right now,” he told her glacially.
Sarah smiled at him gently. “All right.”
She calmly turned to watch the scenery speeding by as they headed north on 95. She felt the weight of his gaze several times, but he did not say a single word to her the entire drive back to the house. He climbed out of the car and trudged up the steps silently, briefcase in hand. Sarah sighed as she watched him disappear through the front door. Clayton Gallagher was entirely too solitary for his own good. Everything seemed to be absorbed into his body and bottled up. And the entire time she had been there, she had not seen him do anything recreational or simply for his own pleasure other than play with Gracie.
Tory bounced down the steps, anxious to see what Sarah had found for her to wear in the portrait. She gasped as the dress slid out of the plastic covering and reached for it hesitantly.
“Oh, this is beautiful.” Turning it around to look at the back, she frowned at Sarah. “Are you sure this will fit me?”
“It will fit you. Definitely.”
Tory frowned as she fingered the gauzy fabric. “Why does this look old?”
“Because it is old,” Sarah told her. “I found it at a vintage shop I go to sometimes.”
With a wrinkled nose, Tory surveyed the dress. Sarah suspected this could be a stumbling block. The young girl was very fashion conscious and Sarah had yet to see her wear the same outfit twice.
“Don’t worry; you will look stunning in it. You’ll look very grown up. I promise.”
Tory liked that idea and went in to try on the dress. When she came down the steps Sarah was amazed. She really did look grown up. Tory peered up through her bangs and twirled at the bottom of the steps, making the skirt dance.
Sarah could not help but hug the young girl. After several long seconds, Tory wrapped her own arms around Sarah’s waist. Sarah could tell that this was something Tory had needed for a long time, because she held Sarah tightly and rocked for several long moments. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she looked up.
Clayton stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching them with a burning intensity in those blue gray eyes.
Sarah tapped Tory on the shoulder and turned her to her uncle. Tory straightened her shoulders and smiled up at the man she obviously adored. “How do I look?”
Clayton took a deep breath, visibly shrugging away his heavy mood, and smiled gently down at her. “I think you look wonderful. I cannot believe what a beautiful young woman you are becoming.”
Tory hesitated for a long moment, then shyly stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her uncle’s waist. Clayton also did not seem to know what to do with the affection, but he slowly, carefully, wrapped his arms around his niece. His eyes met Sarah’s over her head and the gratitude in his expression made her eyes tear up. This family was knocked off balance by a simple hug. How would they react if somebody actually said ‘I love you’ and meant it?
Sarah turned away to hide her tears and felt herself being caught from behind. She turned to find Tory smiling up at her as she tugged Sarah into the shared hug. Sarah suddenly found herself immersed in Clayton’s scent and wrapped in his arms. With very little willpower to resist, she rested her head on his chest and breathed him in, securing one arm around his waist and the second around Tory. They stood like that together for a long, silent breath of time. Each of them gained their own strength from the affection and Sarah knew she had never felt anything so precious and fine as at that moment. With very little effort, she could imagine the three of them as a real family, with real love coursing through their veins and binding them together.
Clayton struggled with his own emotions. Intellectually he knew that he needed to let them go. There was no other option. But he could not totally shut away the part of him that was soaking up the simple affection. The stresses of the day simply seemed to slip away. The frustration he’d felt when Meredith reminded him of a date he could not cancel simply evaporated. He could count on one hand the number of times Tory had hugged him, and never with the enthusiasm she did now. It made him hope that the Gallagher family had not yet ruined her in the cold, emotionless existence they lived. In the back of his mind, Clayton worried that sending Tory away to boarding school would have the same long lasting effects on her as it had on him, isolating him from the world. Although, in retrospect, even if he had stayed at Hillcroft House, he would not have found any more affection than he’d had at school.
His thoughts drifted away from Tory and to the woman in his arms, particularly to the enveloping warmth of the arm around his waist. Never in his wildest imagination, would Clayton have believed the atmosphere Sarah portrayed in her work could be recreated in his house. In just one week, this woman had developed enough of a relationship with Tory that the child had begun to reach out to other people. For that alone, he would do all he could to keep Sarah in her young life. And in his.
Part of his anger in the limo stemmed from the fact that he felt as if he were going to cheat on Sarah when he took Celeste to dinner tonight. As much as he tried to reason it away, the feeling would not leave him. They had never even been on a date, yet the intimacy created by her being in his house made him feel possessive, exclusive.
Breathing her scent in deeply, his thoughts began to drift in an entirely different direction, and he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to let them go before Sarah felt his body’s reaction. Why couldn’t he have reacted this way to one of his mother’s friend’s daughters? It would have made his life so much easier. It would make tonight and the date he had to get through easier. He opened his arms reluctantly and stepped back.
Sarah took a deep breath as she stepped back, trying to loosen the tension in her shoulders. Man, her heart was pounding a heavy rhythm and her stomach was tight, all from a simple hug. She was very happy, though, when she saw the beaming smile Tory gave her uncle. She totally forgot to be self-conscious about her braces. Those two had needed this, definitely more than she had. There was such a sense of loneliness with them, and if they would just open their hearts and arms every once in a while, they’d both benefit greatly.
Glancing at her watch, Sarah noticed it was going on seven o’clock. Tory gasped at the time and ran up the stairs to change, delicately lifting the hem of the dress as she did. She glanced back once and smiled at her uncle before pounding up the stairs.
Sarah brought her gaze back to Clayton and found him already watching her with his gray blue eyes narrowed and his lips pursed in thought.
“What?” she asked defensively, crossing her arms under her breasts.
He regarded her silently for several long seconds. “I’m just wondering what your angle is.”
“My angle? What do you mean?” Sarah’s smooth brow puckered in confusion.
“I’m wondering what you think you’ll gain by befriending my niece.”
Sarah was staggered by the pain that lanced through her heart. How on earth could he think she was manipulating his niece? For several long seconds, her mouth gaped open and closed like a landed fish, but Sarah could not seem to find control until the anger washed in. Her mouth shut with a snap and she straightened her spine.
“What exactly are you accusing me of doing, Mr. Gallagher?” Unconsciously she narrowed her
eyes.
Clayton took a step back and seemed to rethink what he was going to say. He shook his dark head and looked away, seeming flustered.
“Never mind. Please forget I said anything. I know you would never do anything to hurt Tory.”
Sarah’s anger still ran hot. “You’re damn right I wouldn’t,” she snapped. “I really like that little girl, and not just because she’s your niece, if that’s what you’re implying.”
Sarah was satisfied that the barb apparently hit home, because Clayton smiled lopsidedly and huffed out his breath.
“Please, forget I ever mentioned it. I let past experience color my judgment. It won’t happen again.”
Tightening his tie, Clayton turned toward the front door. “I’m sorry, but I have to go out for the evening. Would you mind eating with Tory tonight? Her mother and grandmother finally notified me they are on a shopping trip in LA, but they will return by the middle of next week.”
As he slipped out the door, he turned to look at her fully. “I’m sorry I inferred you were up to something with my niece. I know you’re not like that Sarah. I apologize.”
And out the door he went.
Sarah just stood there for several long seconds. Anger still thrummed in her veins, but the overwhelming hurt quickly swamped everything else. Why would he think she was trying to use Tory? As her anger receded, she thought the situation through. It was obvious the family had very little experience with genuine warmth and affection; they were bound to be hesitant and possibly even defensive when faced with an unfamiliar situation. Sarah supposed she would probably react about the same way Clayton had.
Still, his words had hurt.
Dinner was a laid back affair in the kitchen with the help. Even though Tory was out of her element again, she maintained her composure and natural friendliness and at the end of the evening appeared unwilling to retire to her room. The Fausts were also surprised and pleased at the young girl’s outgoing, sweet disposition and seemed just as reluctant to let her leave. Sarah could see that all parties involved were smiling more and were very at ease, and she felt proud to know she had had some hand in them opening up.
Once the dinner broke up and Tory headed up to her room to call her friend, Sarah finally made it outside to spend time with Gracie. She was grateful to the gardener, Frank, for feeding and cleaning up after Grace daily, but Sarah missed spending time with her big baby. The dog whined and rolled around exuberantly on the ground, wanting a belly rub. Sarah complied and spent a long hour wearing the dog out, as well as herself. At least if she was busy she didn’t have to wonder what Clayton was doing. Or who he was doing it with. The only reason she could come up with for going out at seven o’clock on a Thursday evening would be for a date. Wouldn’t he have told her if he was going for a date though? The longer Sarah thought about it, the more frustrated she became, because she realized how insignificant she probably was to him.
Disheartened, she gave Gracie a last scratch and headed upstairs to her suite. She took a hot bath to relax, then curled up on her pretty sitting room couch in just her t-shirt to watch some tube. Warm and relaxed, with no real interest in what she was watching, it wasn’t long before she dozed off.
Sarah woke to somebody tapping quietly on her door. She swept her hair back over her shoulder and straightened her t-shirt. Where the heck was her robe? Frantically, she tugged the hem down as far as it would go, but it was just an old Ohio State football jersey that had belonged to one of her brothers and wasn’t actually made to be a nightshirt, even if it did cover her undies.
Cracking the door open, she peeked through and found Clayton standing outside, his tie askew and his jacket over his arm. His wonderfully dark hair was mussed and his eyes drooped with tiredness. Glancing back into the sitting room, Sarah checked the clock on the mantle. Eleven thirty.
Peering back out, she frowned and widened the opening. “What can I do for you, Clayton?”
Sarah was intrigued as his full lips pulled up at one corner in an almost smile. “I just wanted to check and make sure you were not still upset with me for what I said earlier. I found myself worrying about it throughout the night.”
Sarah widened the door a bit more. “Interrupt your date?”
Clayton looked surprised, then sheepish. “It did actually. Celeste is a friend. Her mother and mine have moved in the same circles for years.”
His words slowed as he finally caught sight of what she wore. Sarah felt goose bumps run over her skin as his eyes drifted down her shape, and could not help but prop herself up a bit, subtly swinging one leg out provocatively and lifting her breasts. Clayton seemed to stop breathing as his eyes ran over her. He suddenly did not look tired at all, but hungry. Underneath his dress shirt, his breathing began to pick up speed.
“I never liked football till now.”
Sarah laughed.
Clayton chuckled as well and now stepped back, as if removing himself from temptation. With a slight smile, he bade her goodnight. Sarah was about to close her door when he turned back to her.
“My mother wants me to get married. That’s why she insists on setting me up with dates.”
Sarah had no response to that, which was a good thing because he was already slipping into his own room. Why would he tell her that? Was he trying to warn her off because he already had plans to get married? Or was he excusing the date away as merely placating his mother and her desire to get him married?
The two sentences could mean totally separate things, and Sarah slipped back into her room more confused than ever. It was obvious he wanted her, and she wanted him to distraction. Just his eyes on her body were enough for her body to ready itself for him, and before he turned away she had seen that his body was ready as well. The most basic thing in the world, male and female interaction; too bad it was also the most complicated thing in the world.
Chapter Eight
‡
Clayton seemed to be keeping his distance for the next several days. On Saturday morning, Tory told her that he had some conference to attend in LA, and would not return until Tuesday. Tory planned to go to Cara’s house for the weekend for a pool party and sleepover and would not be back until Sunday night. So, Sarah found herself at loose ends. She worked on the portrait for several hours, using the preliminary sketches and photos she had taken to keep her going. Later that afternoon she took Gracie to a park in the center of the Greenwich. She took her sketchpad with her as well, and began sketching children playing in the summer sun. One little boy wandered over to see what she was doing, then others. The children were entranced with the images of themselves and clamored for more, until her fingers were tired and cramping. She gave each of the sketches away, and was surprised when several people tried to pay her for her work. It was good practice to do quick line drawings, so Sarah waved the money away and made sure each child that wanted one got a picture of themselves.
Gracie also loved the attention, and rolled on her back as the children climbed all over her. She instinctively knew she needed to be gentle with the young ones, and let them do things Sarah would have never thought she would. She lost count of how many times Gracie’s long silky ears were pulled. As they wandered away from the children at the end of the day, Sarah once again thought Gracie would be an excellent therapy dog.
That evening she called her mom and recapped the past few days for her. Helen Tyler commiserated with her when Sarah vented her frustration, and laughed when she told her about Gracie tackling Clayton. But her mother was no help when Sarah asked her for advice. The standard ‘listen to your heart’ was hard to hear.
“If it’s meant to happen, he’ll come around to your way of thinking,” Helen told her bracingly.
Sunday, Sarah helped Faust in the kitchen, doing as much prep work for the following week as she could. That evening in her room, Sarah was compelled to pull out another canvas and begin a second portrait, this time of Clayton himself. Somehow she knew that he would not seek to have himself immortalized in a
painting. But the motivation was in her fingers, so she let them fly. She tossed a drop cloth over the parquet floor in a spacious corner of her sitting room, set up her spare travel easel and cracked open a brand new array of acrylic paints she’d picked up at Pearl Paint. The images came quickly and easily and Sarah was amazed at how much she recalled from memory. The bump that set his nose off kilter was there, along with the glint of awareness that could darken his eyes to storm gray. Sarah could not recall ever seeing that color anywhere before. If she had she was sure she would have remembered, because it was so distinctive. Without thought, she lengthened his lashes and narrowed his nostrils. She had run her hands over his jawbone so many times in her imagination; it went down on canvas effortlessly, with just a subtle darkening from his five o’clock shadow.
Sarah finally paused in her work when she could no longer ignore her bladder. She was stunned to see that it was after two in the morning. The next day was Monday and she knew Tory had a language class first thing, so she was not too worried about staying up late. When she finished in the bathroom, she was pulled into the portrait once again and she did not stop until it was done. The inspiration had never flowed as freely before, and possibly never would again. Finally, Sarah collapsed into her bed just as the sun was warming the dew on the window.
*
Clayton’s stomach rumbled and he looked up from his computer. The light through the windows had begun to fade. He looked back down at the screen and jogged the mouse to check the time. Aggravation. He needed to be downstairs within three minutes. Although, knowing Beau, he probably had much longer.
The brilliant head of Clarion’s LA office tended to not be too bothered in the slightest by other people’s expectations; even those of his boss. The same independence and imaginative spirit Clayton admired in Beau’s work only stressed him out outside of the office. They’d planned this dinner days ago, but Clayton had a feeling that if he went down on time he would be sitting at the table alone. So, he forced himself to wait ten minutes before he stepped onto the elevator to go down.