by J. M. Madden
He still beat Beau to the restaurant.
Ten minutes after Clayton arrived Beau strolled in, genial and smiling as he crossed the restaurant. A couple flagged him down in passing and he stopped long enough to say hello. It was obvious that the couple wanted him to join them, but he waved off the invitation. Before he walked away he leaned down to press a kiss to the older woman’s cheek. She blushed prettily and swatted his arm as he walked away.
Clayton admired Beau’s attitude, his ease with people. They were almost the same age but Beau made him feel old and stuck up. Yes, he was trying to change that but it took a while.
Eventually his buddy made it to the table, pulling him into a back slapping hug. He plopped down into the seat across from Clayton and grinned. “Hey, buddy. How’ve you been? Seems like forever since I’ve seen you.”
“It was this past winter.”
Beau shuddered. “With all that freaking snow! My bones are still cold.”
“You haven’t managed to warm them up yet?”
Beau’s grin turned feral. “Well, I’ve tried.”
If Clayton had one reservation about his second in command it was that he was the epitome of the playboy lifestyle with a flashy car, audacious house, and a beautiful woman in his bed every night; not necessarily the same beautiful woman every night, either. Beau Walker lived the LA life and loved every minute of it. But behind that pretty façade was a brilliant and creative mind. Once Clayton presented him with a task Beau turned into a bulldog, single-minded and persistent. As crazy as his personal life was, his business life was impeccable. Clayton was glad he had agreed to join Clarion two years ago.
Beau turned to look around the restaurant, sharp blue eyes cataloguing the customers. Clayton knew he’d identified anyone of interest, particularly the women, before he turned back.
Clayton lifted a brow at him and Beau shrugged. “What can I say? It’s been a while since I broke up with Ekaterina.”
“Hm,” he murmured, surprised. “That’s been at least a month now, and you haven’t taken up with anyone new?”
Beau’s expression changed and he looked away, out toward the front windows of the restaurant. “No, not yet. But I will.”
The two men spent some time catching up and Clayton found himself mentioning Sarah.
“Her name sounds familiar.” Beau frowned. “Why do I know it?”
“She’s the one that overhauled the art in the building.”
Beau narrowed his eyes at him and Clayton almost shifted beneath the intense regard. “That sounds a little messy. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
In spite of himself, Clayton barked out a laugh. “No, I don’t know what I’m doing. I think that’s why I brought it up.”
Beau blinked and leaned forward on his elbows, tilting his head. “Have you slept with her?”
Clayton grimaced and sighed. He should have known Beau would go in this direction. “No,” he admitted.
“So, sleep with her and get her out of your system. You have to. This girl is fuzzing up your brain. Is that why you suddenly graced me with your presence?”
Clayton shrugged lightly, unwilling to admit he’d been so transparent. “What if it doesn’t work that easily? What if I can’t get her out of my mind?”
Beau tilted his head quizzically, as if he couldn’t imagine such a situation. “Then you get her out of your life before you’re completely sucked under. Women will ruin your life quicker than anything. I can attest to that.”
Ah, yes, the infamous break up. Beau had been married to a beautiful, bubble-headed socialite who’d turned out to be smart as a whip when she’d taken him to the cleaners in the divorce. Clayton knew it had been years ago but Beau still reacted to any thought of “relationships” as if it had happened yesterday.
Maybe Beau wasn’t the right one to ask about what he was feeling.
Though he felt bad shutting his buddy down, Clayton moved the conversation back to business. He’d have time later to mull over Beau’s advice.
*
Monday arrived too early. Guilt overwhelmed Sarah as she realized she had slept the morning away and it was now creeping toward noon. Marianne teased her about sleeping in when she went down for lunch and Sarah took it good-naturedly. She told her that in the life of an artist, inspiration often struck at odd times and the maid laughingly agreed.
Tory arrived a bit later and they worked for several hours in the solarium, before finally taking a break in the afternoon to go play with Gracie. The dog was ecstatic to see them and jumped around like an idiot for a long time. Tory ran from one end of the enclosure to the other playing fetch, catch and “let’s just run around in circles” with her until the twelve year old finally dropped onto the bench, winded. Gracie had expended most of her energy as well and now panted and slobbered happily at their knees.
Sarah ran her hand over the back of the wrought iron bench. It had been out here one day last week after Clayton had come out with her and noticed that she had no place to sit other than in the grass. At the time, he had told her to think nothing of it; he liked to have a place to sit. But it was another thing to add to the list to show he cared about her in his quiet, understated way.
Dinner was a pleasant and uneventful affair in the kitchen. Tory seemed to enjoy opening up around the staff. She understood they were people too, not just appendages to make her life easier.
Tuesday dawned rainy and overcast. Sarah had a thought that it was a foretelling for what was to come. Just after noon, she heard the limo pull into the driveway. Car doors thumped and a few seconds later Mrs. Gallagher and Andrea swept into the foyer. From her vantage point in the solarium, Sarah could peek through the French doors and see the women directing Marianne where to put piles of colorful boxes and bags.
Tory had gotten very quiet. When Sarah looked at her, it was obvious the girl was waiting for some sign that her mother was looking for her, but none came. After a while, the women’s voices faded up the stairs, with one of them saying something about lying down. Sarah’s heart went out to Tory as she saw the girl’s resigned and shuttered expression. Nobody should treat their children this way, she thought angrily. She reached out to give the girl a hug and Tory sagged into her, sniffling quietly.
Sarah struggled to hide her own tears as she comforted the girl. When Tory finally pulled away, wiping her eyes with her fingertips, she forced lightness to her expression. “It’s okay. Really. I know she’s not a perfect mother. She just forgot I’m here, that’s all.” Her eyes began to fill again, but she dashed the tears away quickly. “Do you mind if we quit for today? I want to go to my room for a while.”
Sarah let her go, knowing she needed some time to herself. After Tory left she tried to work on the painting but her heart just was not in it, so she packed everything up and set the damp portrait in a corner to dry.
In the kitchen, Faust was whirling like a dervish, planning out the night’s dinner and making sure she had all the ingredients she needed. Sarah helped her chop vegetables and trimmed a tenderloin of beef, then began making a cappuccino torte several of her friends had loved when she’d first tried it out. Faust appreciated the help and it gave Sarah something to do with her hands. Several times now, Faust had shared her kitchen space to allow Sarah to expand her repertoire, sometimes even helping her, although the housekeeper seemed pretty secretive about her recipes.
Once the torte was chilling, Sarah began making her favorite cookies. The nasty weather outside made cooking especially enjoyable and Faust did not mind giving up one of the ovens to Sarah’s baking. Soon the aroma of melting chocolate filled the kitchen and most of the first batch was filched off the cooling racks before they were cool. Faust herself took two, as well as two for her butler husband. Marianne snagged one as she rushed through on some errand, and even Mitch and Gracie’s special friend Frank, the gardener, came up with a reason to be in the kitchen when the cookies came out. Sarah was more than happy to share, very aware that the first batch
she had made had lasted only a day. When the second tray came out of the oven, she made sure to set some aside for Tory and herself. Then she took a few more just in case Clayton made it back soon. Faust had said in passing she thought he was coming back either Tuesday or Wednesday, although she could not say for certain.
Dinner that evening was a less light-hearted affair. Mrs. Gallagher had been difficult, and Sarah had escaped to play with Gracie in the rain while the staff dealt with her. The woman seemed to be making up for lost time with her condescension and ridiculous expectations. Sarah felt bad for Tory, because she knew she had to eat with her family tonight.
When Sarah went inside, she made up a sandwich to take up to her room and grabbed a cola, making her excuses to Faust. The older woman nodded understandingly and waved her away to make the soup Mrs. Gallagher had demanded.
The sandwich sat on the sitting room table while Sarah got out of her wet things and climbed into the tub to soak. What a melancholy day.
*
Sarah jerked awake at the sound of tapping at her hallway door. The alarm clock said it was just after two in the morning. Quickly, her heart began to pound. Was Clayton back?
Once again wearing the football jersey, Sarah grabbed her robe and went through the bedroom doorway, then across the sitting room to the hallway door. At the last second she jogged back and grabbed the portrait of Clayton, setting it carefully in the bedroom closet, before returning and opening the door.
Clayton leaned against the far wall. Sarah couldn’t decide what surprised her more, the fact that Clayton was slouched the way he was or the smile that crossed his face when he saw her. She could not help but respond in kind and took a long moment to savor that he was back. His beard had filled in and his shirt was open at the collar, giving him a dangerously appealing edgy look.
“Hi,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Hello. I’m glad you made it back okay.”
He eyed her a little oddly, and straightened to his full height, stretching his back.
“Me too,” and he hesitated. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to see you for a minute and make sure you were settling in okay.”
The explanation seemed a little odd, considering she had been there over two weeks now, but the fact that he cared to ask made her happy.
Smiling, she nodded her head, pushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m doing fine. I love it here. My bedroom is very comfortable and the staff makes me feel very welcome. And the portrait is progressing wonderfully.”
She could tell him that his portrait was done, but that would open up a discussion she wasn’t sure they were ready to have just yet.
“And you didn’t bother me,” she continued. “I’m glad you let me know you were here.” Stepping back, she held the door open. “Would you like to come in and sit down for a bit?”
Sarah held her breath as Clayton mentally debated with himself. She could almost see the wheels turning around up there and knew the second he decided to accept. He stepped forward slowly, as if expecting her to change her mind at the last minute. Sarah could not help but breathe him in as he passed. With a great, tired sigh, he settled into one corner of the floral couch, and she settled into the other, legs folded beneath her.
“Was it a good trip? Did you get done what you needed to?”
Clayton debated what to tell Sarah. There was no way he would tell her he’d fabricated the trip to get some breathing space from her. And there was no way he would tell her he came back for the exact opposite reason, to be near her again. When he first got to LA he was fine, but the longer he was there the more he found he missed this beguiling woman. The closeness that was developing between them was something beyond his experience and he had retreated a bit to analyze the situation. He could have come back anytime. LA had needed a visit from the President of the company, but not necessarily right at the time he’d gone out.
Beau had been no help at all. He was a confirmed bachelor himself, and although he had a lot of insight into the female psyche, most of the advice he gave didn’t apply to Sarah. Socialites, models and debutantes were Beau’s standard fare, and Sarah was none of those.
He settled on a half-truth. “The trip was okay. I did get several things done that needed my attention.”
She smiled at him and asked a couple of questions and he found himself telling her of the problems the California office had been causing him. The office had just been set up within the last year, and many of the old time programmers were having problems adapting to the new technology he had begun integrating into the system. Sarah listened attentively and Clayton was surprised at the intelligent questions she asked, and even more surprised at the incredibly insightful suggestions she offered to deal with the older workers. She admitted that she had worked for several years during college in an assisted living and post hospitalization rehab facility, coming up with things for the more able-bodied and able-minded elderly residents to do and had a bit of an in when it came to helping people accept new approaches to familiar tasks.
After an invigorating hour debating work practices and theories with her, Clayton realized he was more relaxed than he had been all week, and had a better grasp of what to do with the California office. When he glanced at the clock on the table across the room, he was amazed to see it was almost three in the morning. But he did not want to leave. He could not remember the last time he had enjoyed simply talking to someone more. “Can I hire you?” he asked her impulsively.
Sarah laughed out loud. “You already did,” she reminded him.
Clayton shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, tipping his head back to rest on the couch back. “I have been dealing with this issue for a year now and you just cleared it up for me in an hour’s worth of conversation.” He sat up and looked her in the eye. “None of my executives have been helpful at all, tending to excuse it away. But you’re right; the workers have been becoming more defensive. And the problem has been building. I know now exactly what I need to do.”
Smiling, Sarah winked at him and waved a hand in his direction. “No biggie. You’ll get my bill in the mail.”
Before she could bring it back to her lap, he grabbed her hand between both of his own, squeezing slightly. “Bill me whatever you want, it would be worth it.”
She ran her thumb over his fingers. “I’m not going to bill you for my ideas, silly. We were just talking. You had some of the ideas already.”
Clayton squeezed her delicate, paint-smeared hand again before finally letting it go. She had no idea how much she had helped his thinking. Maybe because he had been so distracted by his interest in her for the past year and a half he had not seen the obvious answer right in front of him. Was his thinking so muddled it was interfering with the company? It was disturbing to think that he may have been endangering his livelihood while daydreaming about things out of his reach.
For once though, the thought broke through that perhaps she was not so out of reach. This crystal-clear moment in time had showed him that he did not have the same issues with Sarah that he did with other women. Specifically, the other women his mother set him up with. Cold, unfeeling clones of his mother and sister-in-law more concerned with what was new on Rodeo Drive than what was going on in the family company. There was no way for him to connect to those women, and he was always bored when he was out with them. The women themselves very often got disgusted with him, losing interest quickly. Luckily for him, they generally attributed his attitude to aloofness, rather than just an inability to connect with people.
One woman he had dated had made a point of ingratiating herself to Tory, seeing that she was a possible soft spot in Clayton’s affections. Martina had been very convincing until Clayton had broken it off, then her true nature had shown itself as she then cut herself off completely from the confused young girl. His unwarranted antagonism the other night was the direct result of the pain that cold hearted bitch had caused his niece.
Sarah on the other hand, am
azingly, appeared to enjoy talking to him. About anything. She had made no mention of the time or even glanced at the clock that he had seen. One long leg was stretched out and relaxed just inches from his knee, and Clayton realized his hand was wrapped around her foot. How long had he been stroking her pale pink toes and soft skin?
Sarah’s eyes fluttered shut and her breath had stilled. When her lashes lifted, the arousal he felt all the time recently was there in her gaze. He clenched his jaw and abruptly shot to his feet. “I think it’s too late to be talking business. I need to let you get your rest. Thank you for speaking with me tonight, Sarah.”
And before she could say a word, he was out the door.
Clayton growled as he let himself into his bedroom. What was he going to do with Sarah? She was absolutely tying him in knots. The attraction between them continued to grow and Clayton did not know how long he would be able to hold out against her, or if he even wanted to. What would it hurt if they both had a mutually beneficial affair while she was here? Would she be willing? Thinking of the looks she had been giving him, and the tension that had been swirling around them in that room, he had a feeling she would.
Stripping off his clothes, he padded to the bathroom in his boxers to brush his teeth, then headed for bed. On the bedside table was a plastic wrapped plate, with several cookies on it. Why had Faust sent that up? Moving the plate, how found a folded piece of paper underneath. He recognized Sarah’s flowing cursive immediately.
Welcome back, Clayton.
Feeling his throat tighten uncomfortably, Clayton slowly unwrapped the treat and sunk his teeth into the cookie, savoring it. Such a simple, generous act but, had anyone ever baked him cookies? No, he thought immediately. The only cookies he had ever been given had been in the welcome basket at some of the hotels he frequented. Emotion clogged his throat, making it difficult to swallow. Sarah Tyler had made him feel more in the past two weeks than he had in all his life. What in the world was he going to do with her?