by Day Leclaire
“But I—” Sable broke off. What was the use? “Thank you. I appreciate your support.”
If Janine noticed the irony in the comment, she gave no sign. She picked up the photo of Leonard, staring at it for a long moment. “Losing that account to AJ Construction would put Mr. Hawke in a very bad light,” she said, almost contemplatively. “After what he did to Leonard and Ms. Patricia, it would be the perfect revenge—a well-deserved revenge. I just thought you should know I don’t blame you.” She placed the photo gently into the box and closed the flaps.
“Am I interrupting?” Damien stood at the door, his gaze sweeping over them with nerve-racking intensity.
“What is it, Damien?” Sable asked with a weary sigh. She gestured toward the box. “As you can see, we’re almost done here. What more could you possibly want?”
He looked at Janine and jerked his head toward the door. She didn’t need any further urging. She slipped from the room, leaving Sable to face Damien alone. He slammed the door closed. “We have to talk.”
“Talk about what?” she demanded. She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to be held by him, kissed by him, told that he loved her and believed in her. Clearly, she wanted the impossible. “Shall we discuss how you stole my company out from under me? Or how you framed me for something I didn’t do? Or shall we examine your quest for revenge because I had the unmitigated gall to marry Leonard. Or is it because I didn’t tell you about Kyle?”
“I’m not here to debate our personal life.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Oh, that’s right, this is strictly business, isn’t it? I shouldn’t take it personally. Well, how about this . . . ? Now that I’m gone there won’t be anyone left to blame when we lose another big account. You’re so busy pointing the finger at me you’re neglecting to put your energies where they’re truly needed, into finding the guilty party.”
A grim smile tugged at his mouth. “I think by removing you from the scene the leaks will stop.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” Hopelessness glimmered in her dark eyes. “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you discuss the Dreyfus situation with me so we could work together to find whoever leaked the information?”
He shrugged. “Since the prospectus was yours, it seemed ill-advised to discuss it with you.”
“So, instead you just oust me from the board based on the evidence from the prospectus alone?” It didn’t make sense. She didn’t know why, but she suspected he was being evasive. “How long have you known about our bid being leaked to Dreyfus?”
He hesitated, then admitted, “Their CEO called me on Saturday.”
She turned white. “Saturday?”
“We met Sunday afternoon to hammer out a private agreement, which is why I was so late returning home.”
She stared in shock. “Which means when I came to see you last night, you knew it was my prospectus that had been used. You knew! And yet you still made love to me, led me to believe . . .” It was a struggle to speak, to say the words without breaking down. “When I came to you last night, you’d already planned to remove me from the board, hadn’t you?”
“Yes.” The word hung between them, bald and cold and inescapable.
“How could you?” she whispered. “How could you do such a thing?”
His eyes narrowed, turning hard and distant. “You’re always talking about trust. I should trust you, support you, believe in you despite all evidence to the contrary. Where’s your trust, Sable?” He approached, catching her arm and yanking her close. She tried to fight, to pull away, but he wouldn’t release her. He cupped her face, his thumb feathering across her cheek. “It’s different when the shoe’s on the other foot, isn’t it? Blind trust. You expect it, but you’re unwilling to give it. The moment there’s so much as a whisper of a doubt, you suspect the worst.”
“And why not?” she cried, catching his shirt in her fists. She glared up at him, wishing she could look into those cool, remote features without wanting him. Wishing she didn’t care so very, very much. Wishing something as simple as his touching her cheek wouldn’t stir such a passionate response. “What have you ever done to make me believe in you, trust in you? You’ve come into my life again, demanding I sell out to you, demanding I sleep with you—”
“What about Kyle?” he came right back at her. “What about Leonard? What about all the secrets you’ve kept from me? It’s a two-way street, Sable. You want trust, but you aren’t willing to give it any more than I am.”
“It’s never been a two way street with you,” she instantly denied. Her hands slipped from his chest and she took a small step away. “You’ve never been willing to let me in, not completely. Isn’t it time you told me why?”
His hand fell from her face and he let her go, his mouth tightening. For a minute, she didn’t think he’d answer. Then he said, “It’s an old story, and over long ago.”
“But it changed you,” she replied. “It has to do with that night in the bar, doesn’t it? When you were nineteen and Lute saved your life.”
He nodded. “I was a fool. I thought my world had ended.”
“Why?” she whispered. “Tell me why.”
He ran a hand across the back of his neck, staring at the carpet, lost in thought. Finally, he spoke. “I came from a wealthy background. Big house, fancy cars, top schools. And then one day I woke up and it was all gone. My father’s business went under and he declared bankruptcy. It was difficult, but we knew we’d work it out, that we’d recover.”
“Then why . . . ?”
“I had a girlfriend. We were both in our second year at Stanford University. It was serious. We talked about a future, marriage. In my youthful arrogance I was certain she’d stand by me, that my family’s financial reversal wouldn’t matter.”
Compassion touched her. “But it did.”
He inclined his head. “Once knowledge of the bankruptcy became public, I wasn’t even allowed in the door. I got it into my head that it was her parents keeping us apart, that we were some sort of modern-day Romeo and Juliet. So I slipped into her room that night only to discover Jennifer felt the same way her parents did. I was welcome to come in the back door, she graciously offered. She’d even be happy to let me in her bed again. But marriage? An open relationship? Not a chance.”
Her heart went out to him. “And so you learned that women were only after one thing.”
He didn’t deny it. “Money is a great motivator,” he said in a dry voice.
“It can be.” She approached, laying her hand on his arm. “But love is an ever greater one. Jennifer didn’t love you or she would have stood by you. She betrayed you.” Sable waited for that to sink it, before adding, “I never did.”
“Didn’t you?” Weary cynicism tainted the question. “Why should I believe that? Because you once claimed to love me?”
She didn’t hesitate for a moment, didn’t dare hesitate or evade the truth. “Yes, Damien. I loved you five years ago and I love you now. I’ve always loved you. Do you really think last night would ever have happened if I didn’t?”
His expression closed over. “Why not? Or are you trying to tell me you also loved Caldwell?”
She refused to back down. Instead she looked him straight in the eye. “I never made love to Leonard. Not once. Our marriage was strictly platonic. You’re the only man I’ve ever made love to, the only man I’ve ever wanted to make love to.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “Is this another lie?” He rasped out the question.
She shook her head. “I’ve never lied to you, except about Kyle. And that was by omission only.”
“It was one hell of an omission!” His anger died as quickly as it flared and he shot her a searching look. “You’re serious about your relationship with Caldwell?” At her nod, he asked, “That last night we were together. Do you remember it?”
How could she forget? It had been the last time she’d seen him. They’d held each other through the night, making love with an ardor and desp
eration she had never forgotten, knowing that their world was slowly being ripped apart by lies and suspicions. In the morning, he’d walked out her door and out of her life, refusing ever to see or speak to her again. “I remember all too well.”
“I went to see Caldwell that day, to demand an explanation for the business we’d lost to them. He confirmed what you said. You’d let certain information slip to Patricia without realizing who she was. He also said that once you did know, once the truth came out, you’d gone in with them, deciding to take your chances with Caldwell’s. He claimed you’d leaked that last project on purpose and showed me a copy of our bid as proof.” He looked at her, his hands clenched, his body tensed as though for a blow. “He also implied that you two were having an affair.”
“And you believed him,” she stated sadly. Oh, Leonard! Why did you do it? she lamented silently. Had she misjudged him all these years, seen him as her savior when in fact he’d been anything but?
Damien nodded. “The evidence weighed heavily against you.” He released his breath in a long sigh. “I don’t know. I suppose it was easier to buy his version.”
“I can only guess Patricia managed to obtain the bid through ulterior means. I never knowingly gave the information to Caldwell’s. But I was their unwitting conduit. I’ve never denied that.” She bit down on her lip. “Do you still believe he told you the truth about me and our relationship?”
“No.” Not a shred of doubt shaded his voice, and for the first time hope crept into her heart. “There’s something else you should know. I didn’t blackball you with the other construction companies.”
She caught her breath. “Leonard?”
“Leonard,” he confirmed. “I suspect he did it so you’d have no other choice but to work for him. Your pregnancy must have played right into his hands.”
Had it happened that way? Was it possible? Later, when she had the time and privacy to consider what she’d learned, she could regret all that had happened five years ago. But more important matters concerned her now, more pressing problems. “What about now, Damien?” she asked anxiously. “What about the Dreyfus leak? What’s going to happen?”
It was as though a door slammed in her face. His expression closed over and he shrugged. “I’m looking into it,” he claimed.
“That’s not what I mean.” She looked at him, confronting hear worst fear. “Are you going to prosecute?”
His gaze flashed to hers, an odd expression sweeping across his face. “That’s up to the board.”
She made an impatient gesture. “You know the board will do whatever you recommend.”
“A decision hasn’t been reached yet,” he insisted, refusing to give her the reassurance she so desperately needed.
So that was it. Despite all the grand words, despite all attempts to clear up their differences, nothing had changed. The tiny spark of hope she’d so carefully nurtured died. She cleared her throat. “In that case, I want you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“If the board chooses to prosecute, I want you to take care of Kyle for me.”
He couldn’t conceal his exasperation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Kyle and what would be best for him,” she said carefully. “I put it in my will years ago. If something happens to me, Kyle is to go to you. But I hadn’t anticipated an eventuality like this. I hadn’t thought about the possibility of . . .” She lifted her chin, battling tears. “You’re to take him if things become nasty.”
She turned, unable to bear another minute. Snatching up her box of personal possessions, she fled from the room, hurrying down the hallway toward the elevators. Balancing the carton on her knee, she stabbed at the button. Finally the doors opened and she stepped into the car along with half a dozen others. Damien appeared then, sprinting between the elevator doors at the last possible instant.
“We need to talk,” he announced, taking the box forcibly from her arms.
She refused to look at him, afraid he’d see the tears she was struggling to hold at bay. “About what?” she asked softly, darting a quick glance at the other occupants. Why here? Why now? She couldn’t take much more of this.
Damien didn’t seem to care whether they had an audience or not. “You’d trust me to take care of him?” he demanded. “You’d trust me with Kyle?”
“I’d trust you with my life,” she declared passionately. “Haven’t you realized that yet? I’d trust you with my greatest possession, and that’s Kyle. And if you say you don’t believe me, or ask for proof, I’ll never, ever forgive you.”
A youthful-looking executive turned to Damien. “I believe her,” he offered. He glanced at Sable. “I believe you.”
A shaky smile trembled on her lips. “Thank you,” she murmured, blinking rapidly to clear the sudden tears. “I appreciate that.”
Damien swore beneath his breath. “Sable, I know you didn’t do it.”
It took a full minute for his comment to sink in. The elevator stopped and a few of the passengers got off. The young executive started to, then changed his mind, staying put. The door closed again. “What did you say?” she demanded.
“He said—”
She rounded on the eavesdropper. “I heard what he said!” She peeked up at Damien, that tiny kernel of hope bursting to life once more. “Say it again.”
A reluctant smile touched his mouth. “I said, I know you didn’t give our prospectus to Dreyfus.”
The elevator arrived at the ground floor and neither of them moved. “Come back upstairs,” Damien said, softly, gently, tenderly. He glanced at the avidly watching executive and pointed at the open door. “You. Off.”
An instant later they were alone and the elevator doors closed. It was like the first day when he’d approached her, only this time Damien hadn’t come to destroy, but to heal. It wasn’t until they were moving upward again that Sable gathered the nerve to ask the question uppermost in her mind. “How do you know I’m not responsible? Do you have proof?”
“No. Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, grappling with his response while he searched for the right words. “I don’t have anything concrete, but I’ve watched you, Sable. All the years we were together, you never demanded anything from me, and gave everything. Then it went bad, and you fell in with Caldwell. But you stuck by him, too. Even when he lost one company after another and his wealth diminished, you didn’t walk away. Instead you rolled up your sleeves and pitched in to help. That shocked the hell out of me.”
“He was my husband.” There was no getting around that fact.
Damien shook his head. “No, he wasn’t. Not in any way that counted.”
“You still haven’t explained why you decided I was innocent.”
“You said something to me once. You said I should have known you could never betray me. That I should have moved heaven and earth to help prove your innocence.”
“What I said was that if you loved me you’d know I could never betray you. If you loved me, you’d move heaven and earth to prove my innocence,” she corrected him softly. “So . . . do you? Do you love me?”
His eyes gleamed like polished jade. “Why else would I have thrown you off the board?”
The doors opened and the moment was lost before she could grab hold of it. He stepped from the car and she followed, struggling to hide her disappointment. “Why did you have me removed from the board?” she questioned as they headed back down the hallway.
He waited until they were in her office, with the door shut against all possible intruders. “It’s obvious someone hopes to pin this on you. I wanted you clear of the line of fire while I figured out who it was.”
“And have you?”
He shook his head, his frustration evident in the tense set of his shoulders and taut line of his mouth. “No. Not yet.”
“Won’t Alex Johnson tell you?” A small line formed between her eyebrows. “I must admit, I don’t understand it. I thought he wanted to avoid
antagonizing you. So why in the world would he risk your anger again by—”
“Wait. What did you say?” He tossed the box on her desk, heedless of any damage he might cause the contents. Turning to face her, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “How did you know that?”
She stared at him in bewilderment. “Know what?”
“How did you know it was Alex who approached Dreyfus? I never released that information. The only other person who could know is the thief.”
She stared at him, her eyes huge with anguish. No! It couldn’t be happening. He’d just started to trust her again. He couldn’t be accusing her of this. Not again.
She swayed, clutching at the lapels of his jacket. She couldn’t continue living like this, spending a lifetime on the edge, constantly being doubted by him. She couldn’t! If that was what he intended, there was no hope, no possibility of a future together.
“What are you asking me?” she whispered.
“Who told you it was Alex?” Damien demanded impatiently, sweeping a lock of hair from her face. “Come on, Sable. Don’t hold back now. Because whoever told you is the one we’re looking for.”
For a long moment she couldn’t speak, she was so overcome with emotion. He didn’t doubt her. Dear God, he didn’t doubt her! To her disgust, she burst into helpless tears. Throwing her arms around his neck, she lifted her tear-stained face to his. “Please kiss me,” she begged. “Quickly.”
He didn’t need a second prompting. His mouth found hers, tasting, teasing, seducing with hot, desperate kisses. The rapture was instantaneous, raw and primitive, touching a primal chord deep in her soul. She couldn’t seem to get enough, his touch healing the pain, driving away the suffering of the past few weeks … of the past few years.
He gazed down at her, brushing the dampness from her cheeks, his eyes dark with passion. “Now will you tell me? Or do I need to use force?” he asked, his voice filled with tenderness. “I can torture you with kisses, tie you to my bed for a month until you confess who told you about Alex.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll tell you.” She sighed. “It was Janine.”