The Value of Vulnerability (27 page)

Erin looked at her mother.

Busted.

“I swear you girls think I’m an idiot,” Mrs. Russell said. “Erin, stop feeding the cat.”

Thankfully, time compressed and whipped by so fast, Erin barely had time to miss Ford. But she did, nonetheless.

An email from Ms. Leung (because why would Ford reveal his own email?) provided a phone and room number for his hotel in Mumbai. It proved impossible to reach him, though. She left voice messages, especially on New Year’s Eve, midnight his time. And then again, at her time, amid the shouts of assembled friends and
kazoo-ga!
of noise makers. Disappointed that she had not reached him personally to wish him happy tidings, she waited several days for his return call. When she finally spoke to him, he was exceedingly distant, and the conversation did not last long.

Xcess, the girl-gang, and volunteer work kept her busy as January advanced, but at last she had an evening free to go out with Joe, who had been nagging her almost daily to do so. Cathy was unavailable, again,
so they went alone to Zuzu’s, their favourite downtown haunt.

The evening quickly disintegrated for Erin as, with silent astonishment, she found Joe’s comments about the changes at Xcess irritated her. He did not see the improvements she did. Of course, her job had changed considerably and she was invested in the overhaul. With a guilty stab of disloyalty, she thought he’d do better to stop complaining and start working. The problems that vexed them and filled their conversations in the past were fixed. This should be a time of excitement and energy.

It became a struggle to keep the conversation going.

“How’s Cathy?”

“She’s been sick on and off since the Christmas party.”

“Damn, that sucks. What’s wrong with her?”

“’Flu, probably. One of those bugs that hangs on.”

“I hope it didn’t spoil Christmas.”

“No, it wasn’t too bad. Quiet, though. How was your Christmas?”

“Great! Spent most of it with family.”

“How come I never get invited to the Russell Boxing Day thing?”

“Don’t you and Cathy always visit her folks on Boxing Day?” she countered, not wanting to explain that while she liked Joe and considered him a work friend, they weren’t intimates.

“Yeah, true.”

Silence.

“What did you do for New Year’s?”

“It was quiet. Stayed in.”

Silence.

Give me something to play off of! Or shoot me.
“Oh. Um. That’s nice. I went to a big blow out party at Rockets. Bunch of friends. Great time, but honestly, one of these years I’m going to stay at home with a stack of movies.”

“Sure. That’s fun, too.”

She sipped her pint, casting a surreptitious peek at her watch.

Joe shifted in his seat. “I think Cathy’s
unhappy. I think,” he mumbled, hanging his head, “she’s having an affair.”

She gasped, appalled. “That can’t be true, Joe. It can’t be.”

“Why do you think she cancels on us all the time? Because it leaves her free to see—him.”

“See who?”

“I don’t know. A guy at her office, I think.” He grasped her hand where it lay on the table. “I can’t take it, Erin. I’m going out of my mind.”

“Cathy would never cheat, Joe,” she assured firmly, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “She’s just not the type.”

“Everyone’s the type, given the opportunity.”

She withdrew her hand. Did he mean himself, too? “I would never cheat.”

“How much opportunity have you had? You haven’t been involved with anyone since Anthony.”

She didn’t correct him. He was a friend, but not a
close
friend, and she barely spoke of Ford to
them
! “And Anthony cheated on me. I know how it feels. Disgusting. Depressing. Humiliating. I would never do that to someone, even if I hated him. You end the relationship you’re in before moving on.”

“So you’re still single?” he asked.

She thought the timing of the question odd and off-topic, so she ignored it. “Why don’t you talk to Cathy about your concerns? See a marriage counsellor. Get to the bottom of it.”

He shook his head. “It’s too late for that.”

“Snap out of it!” she barked. “You can’t give up on a marriage just because you’ve hit a rough spot. You have to work at it all the time.”

“Says the single girl.”

Her phone rang, preventing a retort. She answered rather shortly.

A beat. “What’s wrong?”

She laughed with joy at the sound of Ford’s voice. “Nothing with me. How are you?”

“I’m home.”

Her mouth seemed stretched in an impossibly huge smile. “I’m so glad.”

“I want to see you.” His voice, heated and lush, instantly set her on fire. “Now.”

She bit her lip. “I can be anywhere in about an hour.”

“Where are you?”

“Zuzu’s. With a friend.”

“One of your gang of girls? Or whatever it is you call yourselves.”

“No, not this time,” she chuckled. “Just work friend stuff.”

Another beat.
“Joe Woods?” he demanded.

“Well, yes. How’d you know?” Her smile retreated significantly. “Why don’t you join us?”

“I’d rather not.”

Her heart clenched as tightly as her hand on the now darkened BlackBerry. He had hung up on her. She had so looked forward to his return and now it was ruined.

“Everything all right?” Joe asked, smiling a little.

“I don’t know.” Forcing a return smile, she turned her attention back to him. “I may be single, but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of what it takes to make a relationship. It’s a full-time job, but one with the best rewards, if both work at it. Tell me why you think she’s cheating.”

She listened with only half her mind. Calling Ford back was out of the question as she
still
didn’t have his cell number. What had happened to set him off? Was it just jetlag and exhaustion? Was it because she stated a delay?

Only an hour
, she thought impatiently, her initial dumbfounded reaction fading into surging annoyance. She hadn’t seen him in almost a month, and he couldn’t be that eager for her company—he would have kept in touch better if she were of any importance to him.

Did he have other company?

She had a rampantly jealous moment, thinking of the women he would meet and make love to in his travels. Some fantastically beautiful woman he whispered to in the dark—like an Aishwarya Rai or a Freida Pinto met by accident in Mumbai, as he had so accidentally met her at Xcess.

She twirled the watch on her wrist, receding further and further into her thoughts, torn between anxiety one moment and anger the next.

The sound of Joe repeating her name jerked her back to the present, to find him giving her a hangdog expression.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m not being a very good listener.”

“I was asking about the watch.” He caught her hand in his again. “Who bought it for you?”

“I did,” a voice cut across the table and she looked up at Ford with a gasp of pleased surprise. He bent to kiss her possessively, one hand tangling in her ponytail while the other curled around her forearm to take her hand from Joe’s suddenly limp grasp. He raised his head. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she breathed, fears chased away by that kiss that held so much promise. “I thought you didn’t want to come out.”

“I changed my mind.” Dimples ghosted, but his eyes remained distant.

“I’m really happy you did.”

“
You are, aren’t you?” He smiled then. “You taste like beer and grease and salt.”

“Delicious, you mean?”

“Exactly what I mean.” He flicked a glance to the hand Joe had been holding. “Why don’t you go wash up? I’ll order you another pint.”

“All right. Thanks. Oh, Ford, this is my friend Joe. From Xcess,” she offered as rough introduction.

Ford shrugged out of his overcoat, nodding briefly at Joe.

She kissed Ford’s cheek as she left the table, containing her excitement by sheer force of will.

Soaping her hands—which in fact were not greasy at all—she smiled at her reflection in the restroom mirror. Her hazel eyes were greener tonight than usual, and she amusedly wondered if her roaring and ridiculous bout of jealousy were responsible.

Ford’s appearance did not mean there were no other women, however.

Sobering, she contemplated how to broach the subject with him. They had not discussed exclusivity. For her, monogamy was a given, and she felt stupid now for assuming Ford would feel the same. For such a man . . . well, it would be difficult to impose such restrictions on him. She didn’t want it to be an imposition, but a choice that he made freely and gladly. And unprompted.

Hells! She shouldn’t be making excuses for him along the lines of
rich man of the world gets to do as he pleases
. No, this was serious stuff, and had to be discussed. And bloody hell, since when was monogamy an imposition?

Depends on the man.

Good point. But to her, anything less than monogamy was cheating.

Drying her hands, she grinned at the thought of telling him she was sleeping with other men, but that was okay, because she was a woman of the world.

Yoikes! That wouldn’t go over well.

She stopped, frozen.

The way Ford had taken her forearm rather than her hand—
Come on.
He hadn’t told her to wash her hands because Joe had touched her! Had he?

She tried to reconstruct the scene without all the excitement of seeing Ford again. He
had
been a bit weird, maybe. But in Ford World, weird was normal.

Her steps slowed as she approached the table. Ford lounged, looking tough and dangerous in his silk suit, amber eyes focusing on Joe as if he were prey, something meant for extermination.

Vermin.

Erin’s palms sweated.

In that brief moment, she saw at last the composite of Ford, the mental and physical strength, the unblunted reality of the force of his will. Moreover, she saw the scars, though not the wounds, he had garnered in life. Like a lightning strike, she perceived, without entirely understanding, how poorly healed his injuries were. Emotional scar tissue threaded the man together, making him into this powerful demigod who could—and would—stamp down on anything and anyone who thwarted him, threatened him. His wounds kept him from true joy. Refusing to be vulnerable, even to those closest to him, prevented succour and cure. He was headed for personal disaster.

And he was one scary son of a bitch.

She drew a shaky breath. His emotional barriers were too great, and she was no martyr. She could destroy herself trying to save him. And who was she to think she should even try?

She was the woman who was falling in love with him. It was her duty—no, her
right
—to try to pull him off the path he trod, bring him to safety. Not to heal, for that presumption was as arrogant now as it was when it first occurred to her, but just to provide a haven.

Erin, sweetheart.
He was not entirely lost yet. Success was possible.

Resuming her seat beside him, she smiled stiffly, her mind swirling. Joe chatted amiably as if nothing was awry, but
he was obviously nervous. Compared to Ford, he looked like a mouse.

“Getting acquainted?” she asked cheerfully.

Ford’s arm went protectively around her, snuggling her against his side, his other hand taking hers in a firm grip, lacing their fingers together. “I believe so.”

Joe nodded. A trickle of sweat ran from his hairline.

“I’d better go,” he muttered, and gulped the end of his pint. “Leave you two alone. See you tomorrow, Erin.” He struggled into his coat as he got to his feet.

“Goodnight,” she murmured. It was not a positive sign that her lover and her friend were not a good fit.

Meeting Ford’s gaze as Joe hurried out, she frowned slightly at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you ever slept with him?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

“
No!
Ford, he’s
married
. And was when I met him.”

“People cheat.”

“Apparently. But not with me, they don’t.” Only
on
her.

“Would you want him, were he free?”

She heaved relieved breath. It was a bit of minor jealousy, nothing to get in a twist about. “Ew,” she assured. “Not a chance.”

“All right.” He kissed her temple. “Tell me how much you missed me.”

“You tell me how much you missed me,” she countered.

“I will show you,” he promised, and this time his smile reached his eyes.

***

They made rough and frantic love on her couch, not getting as far as the bedroom, clothes coming off even as Ford threw the deadbolt on her apartment door.