In Good Hands (18 page)

“Excuse me, excuse me. If I could have everyone's attention please?”

Roger's voice was commanding, but in that tux he didn't need to say a word to grab every woman's attention. Females from the age of three to a hundred and three had been on him all night long. Yes, Amber realized as she drained the last of her champagne, she had been counting. He'd danced or spoken to no less than fifty-seven of the opposite sex during the reception, and not a one of them had been her. And now he was launching into a speech.

“Love is a weird thing,” he said into the microphone. “Six months ago, I would have said that Sam could only love a woman made of metal. Obviously, I was wrong.” And right on cue, the little robot let out a mournful whistle.

Everyone laughed, and Roger waited the appropriate amount of time before continuing. “Here's the thing. No robot, no matter how good, no science, no electronics could come close to creating the changes I've seen in my best friend since Julie stepped into his life. First off, the man has finally left his lab. No kidding. I ask you all, look at his face. Sam has a tan. When did you ever think that would happen? Probably about the same time I stopped eating cooked food. In short, never—but love has a way of doing that to a man.”

Amber frowned, her gaze sharpening on Roger's face. He wasn't looking at her at the moment, but his words suggested he was talking to her. But that couldn't be. Damn. She pushed
away her glass. She shouldn't have been drinking so much. It made her think things that couldn't be true.

“Second,” Roger continued, “Sam's more creative than he's ever been, and that's saying something. Since he met Julie, he's worked better, thought better and done more than ever before, and believe me when I say he was no slouch before.”

Roger lowered his voice a bit, his gaze turning directly to Amber. “That's something, isn't it? Change for the better. That's real love and real risk because it's hard to change. But obviously, his lady love is worth it.”

He paused then—a long kind of awkward pause—as his gaze continued to hold hers. Amber shifted nervously as others began to notice. Everyone was looking at her, wondering who she was and what Roger was really saying. Everyone including her.

And then the moment was over. Roger turned back to the happy couple. “Thank you, Julie, for changing my friend into something better. May we all find exactly what you have.”

Applause erupted all around. Glasses were raised and good wishes abounded. But Roger didn't stick around for them. One moment he was up at the front of the stage, giving Julie a kiss and shaking Sam's hand. Then a second later, the microphone was resting on the table, and he was nowhere to be found.

Amber frowned. Where had he gone? What—

Her mind stuttered to a halt as a familiar hand crept around her waist.

“It's time,” Roger whispered into her ear.

“What?” she gasped.

“It's time for a change,” he said. Then he took her arm and half escorted, half carried her out the door.

“W
HERE ARE WE GOING?”
she asked, as she sank into his car's soft bucket seats. She ought to object. He was being awfully high-handed with her. But it had been a lovely wedding, a lovely night and she'd had a lot of lovely champagne. Besides, she was tired of her own thinking, so she resolved to stop. Let him lead her. He always had good ideas anyway.

Or so she thought until he did
not
head toward his apartment. Or her loft. She straightened, peering into the streets. “Roger?”

“I need to talk to you.”

She snorted. “Roger, tonight is probably not the best night for talking. I'm more than a little buzzed.”

“Perfect,” he said, then he swung into the RFE building's underground parking.

Amber closed her eyes. Obviously, Roger had something planned, but she had to stop him now before he went any further.

“They want me back at Mandolin,” she blurted out. Then she opened her eyes and turned to look at Roger. He had stilled, his entire body quieting, so she filled the silence with her jumbled thoughts. “The director called yesterday. He
wants me to fly out on Monday to talk about how I could fit back into my old job.”

“Are you going?” he asked, his voice unnaturally quiet.

She nodded. “Nothing's for sure. It's just to talk about possibilities.”

“But it's a prelude to an offer, right?”

She nodded, feeling miserable.

“And it's what you want.” It wasn't a question, but she took it as one anyway.

“It's where I've been headed since before I met you. In fact, meeting you was the first step to getting back there. But…” She closed her eyes again, knowing she was handling this badly. This wasn't a topic to discuss when she was buzzed, much less right after the most romantic wedding she'd ever seen. It made her wish for all the things she'd long ago given up to pursue medicine.

Then she felt his hand, gentle as he pulled her chin back toward him. “But…?” he prompted.

She sighed. “But you don't live in Arizona.”

His smile was slow in coming but no less beautiful. “So you haven't decided on the job there.”

“No.”

“So there's still time to talk you out of it.”

She sighed. Was there? “We're so different, and we've only known each other a few weeks. We're both driven by our careers. And—”

He silenced her with a kiss. It was a gentle one, but highly insistent and very distracting. And when it was done, her arms were wound around his neck and her body was as plastered against him as she could get in a car.

“Stop thinking,” he said, in a perfect echo of the words she'd said to him so many times.

She sighed. “I've been trying, but my brain won't shut up.”

He smiled. “Then trust me for a little bit longer, okay? Besides, it involves a trip up in the elevator.”

She laughed. “Okay, fine. But you're the only guy I know who can tempt me with a ride in a freight elevator.”

He grinned, then helped her step out of his car. Her heels were low, her dress modest compared to what she used to wear a couple years back. But the light in his eyes when he looked at her legs made her feel like she was still outfitted in the latest designer do-me suit. And just to prove it, she added a little wiggle to her hips.

He growled behind her. “Okay, that's going to completely derail tonight's plan.”

She looked over her shoulder. “And that's a bad thing?”

He sobered, and she caught desperation in his expression. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It would be. So we're going to keep this particular elevator ride platonic.”

“Spoilsport,” she huffed as the elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, wondering if she could change his mind. So she leaned back against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her. A come-hither look in her eyes and a pretend itch, right above her hemline, had her lifting the edge of her skirt.

The doors closed, the motor kicked into gear, and Roger settled across the elevator from her. He was certainly watching her, his eyes smoldering, but he didn't move so much as a finger.

“Hmmm,” she murmured. “You are being rather focused right now. What are you up to?”

He didn't move except to lift his gaze from her exposed thigh to her eyes. And then he spoke. “Sex has never been our problem.”

Amber froze, abruptly wishing that she hadn't enjoyed the excellent bar at the reception. She wasn't ready to face what
ever Roger had in mind. Not if it wasn't about sex and only sex. Not if—

“Stop thinking so much, Amber.” He blinked, his expression shifting into surprise. “Wow, I never thought I'd be saying that to you, much less have to say it twice.”

“I'm the original stuck-in-her-head girl. Why do you think I gravitated to energy healing? It forced me to quiet my brain.”

He smiled, his expression softening in the way that made her belly liquefy and her heart pitter-patter. “Just let me lead for the moment, okay? I swear it'll be okay.”

She nodded. What else could she do? She didn't feel capable of taking charge anymore. Not now. Not in her life, even. And certainly not in their relationship. So she waited in silence as the elevator ground to a halt.

Moments later, they were walking through RFE and into Roger's office. She'd been in here once before, back on that first day when she'd been determined to get his attention. She'd been dressed to dominate then, and she'd known just what to do. Now she was in a dress and sweater and low heels. Not exactly power attire. And yet, when Roger gestured her to the seat across from his gleaming,
empty
desk top, she realized he was nervous. His hands were shaking the tiniest bit, and he kept stroking the folds of his cummerbund as if to smooth it.

She settled down in the chair, her mind stuttering with confusion while he brought his computer to life with a few keystrokes.

“Roger…”

“It'll be easier if you sit here at my desk,” he said.

She nodded, rising slowly to come around and settle into his executive chair. Lord, it had molded to his body, the scent of leather and him rising up to fill her senses as she dropped
into the chair. He wasn't even touching her but standing to the side, and yet she felt completely enfolded by him.

“Okay,” he said, “here's the thing. We're going to play a game. There are right answers and wrong answers to a series of questions. If you get it right, then I forfeit an item of clothing. If you get it wrong, then it's you who will be getting naked.”

She grinned. “Strip questions. Sounds great to me, but why don't we go to your home—”

He shook his head. “First question. Are you thinking about breaking up with me?”

She swallowed, her buzz abruptly gone. But maybe it was better this way. Rip the bandage off quick. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Instead, she looked at him. “Have you ever had a long-distance relationship that worked?”

He shook his head. “No. You?”

“No.”

He sighed, then spun his cummerbund around and unhooked it.

She blinked in surprise. “That was the right answer?”

“It was an honest answer, which is all I want from you. And I think it's pretty clear that I'm the loser in that statement, so this comes off.” He pulled the thick fabric away and set it aside.

“You do know that you have like ten times more clothes on than I do, right?”

He gave her a rueful smile. “I expect that you'll be getting most of the answers right. After all, all you have to do is answer honestly.”

She stood up from his desk, her mood gone. She'd done the hard part. She'd told him about the job in Arizona and what it meant to her. The rest was too painful to delve into right now. “I don't like this game, Roger. In fact, I don't like games at all. Not about something this important.”

He moved to block her escape. “That's a lie, Amber. You do like games. You just don't like games where you're not in control.”

“That's bull—”

“How we met was a game—is Roger gay or not? My whole diet change was a game, too—living foods or die.”

“I didn't phrase it like that!”

He grimaced. “Yes, you kinda did. The point was, if I wanted to play your game—and I definitely did—then I had to play by your rules. Living foods.”

“Your blood pressure is better.”

“Yes, it is. And you owe me a piece of clothing because you
do
like games.”

He folded his arms across his chest, looking very impressive as his tux jacket perfectly defined the dimensions of his torso. Of course he was using his dominant appearance to keep her playing. So she sighed and thought about the truth. Yes, she liked playing games—sudoku, poker, was the hot executive gay, could she find the right diagnosis in time—all of those were games of one sort or another. So she huffed, giving in with little grace.

“Fine. You're right. I do like games.” She shrugged out of her sweater. Which left her precious few pieces of clothing left. After all, she was in a dress.

“Good. Now comes the harder part, but here we go. You believe we don't have a future together.”

She arched a brow. “Too easy. I mean, isn't that the reason everyone breaks up?”

He nodded. “True enough. All right. How's this? You think that because I went with Dr. Hamilton's prescription in Arizona that at heart I'm a science guy while you, on the other hand, have been out on the woo-woo edge for a long time. That puts us, in your mind, at opposite ends of the spectrum.
Am I right? So why bother sticking around if our relationship isn't going to work anyway?”

She felt her eyes widen in shock. He had described exactly what she'd been dithering over for the last few days. Which meant that he felt it, too. He
knew
it, too. Her vision suddenly went blurry with tears and she had to look away rather than lose it in front of him.

“Amber,” he said gently, pulling her face back to his. “Just answer. Is that what you think?”

She didn't speak, but the tears that dripped from her lashes must have been answer enough. He wiped them away with his thumb, and she couldn't stop herself from nuzzling into his touch. Then he dropped a soft kiss onto her lips before pulling back. “It'll be all right, Amber. Just stay with me a bit longer, okay?”

She didn't honestly see how anything could be okay ever again, but she nodded because he wanted her to. Then he straightened and pulled off his jacket. He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

“You're wrong, Amber. Dead wrong.”

“No, I'm not. You work in robotics, every argument we've ever had included you saying things like energy voodoo and yin-yang yipperdo. I believe in this stuff, Roger. So don't tell me that I'm wrong. We don't agree on this and I don't think we ever will.”

He nodded grimly as he reached up and pulled off his tie. His motions were sharp, almost angry, but there was no lessening of determination in his tightened jaw.

“Next phase,” he said, her voice rigidly controlled. “Self-examination. You think you know me, and you may be right, but I submit that you don't know
you
well enough to see the real problem.”

“Bullshit.”

He gestured to the computer. “Next comes a series of
scientific and lateral-thinking puzzles. You're going to answer them one by one, then the computer will tell you if you were able to answer them correctly faster than I did yesterday.”

“I'm half drunk,” she lied. In truth, her buzz was completely gone.

“All the better,” he said. “I have a chance.”

No, he really didn't. Academic tests, lateral thinking, she had started taking these things while she was still in diapers. And she couldn't even blame it on her parents. She loved these damn games.

She shot one more look at her boyfriend-for-a-few-more-minutes. His face was resolved, his eyes desperate. She didn't know what he was trying to accomplish here, but obviously he wanted a resolution. Very well. She did, too. But if she was about to break up with the only man she ever loved, then he was damn well going to be naked when he did it.

With sudden resolve, she turned her attention to his computer and getting Roger out of his clothes.