Trouble (23 page)

“She's good.” He said. “They'll let her go before dinner.”

“Did Sean find out about the cancer?”

“No. I had a quick word with her when he was out of the room. She'll tell him this week.”

“Good.”

Her brow crinkled with worry, probably because he was having trouble meeting her gaze.

“Is everything else okay?” she asked. “You sounded strange on the phone. You're acting kind of funny now.”

Probably because he was about to blow up the beautiful beginnings of what had promised to be the most exciting relationship of his life.

He cleared his throat, still not looking at her. “Let's go inside.”

“Now you're scaring me,” she said, trying to laugh.

Having nothing reassuring to say, he held the front door open for her and pointed her through the foyer and into the great room, where they sat on the sofa. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he studied his hands, wishing he could use them to crush his skull and thereby get him out of doing what he needed to do next.

She waited in utter silence, her fear almost palpable.

“I'm not going to be able to … be with you,” he said quietly. “I should never have come last night.”

“Oh.” Her brown eyes, hurt and huge, took over her entire face. “Why?”

“For all the reasons we've already talked about.”

“Oh.” She nodded, looking dazed. “But after last night, I thought we'd sort of concluded it was unrealistic for us to try to stay away from each other.”

“Last night I wasn't really thinking with my head. As I'm sure you noticed. Neither were you.”

The unspoken implication that he only wanted her for sex made her wince. To her credit and his everlasting dismay, she kept her gaze direct, her back straight and proud. And she told the truth, something he seemed constitutionally unable to do these days.

“I'm thinking clearly now,” she told him. “I'm here now. Because I care about you.” She hesitated. “I thought you cared about me.”

He focused on his hands, rubbing his palms back and forth. “I think we need to separate
wanting
from
caring
.”

It did not escape his notice that every time he opened his mouth to lie to her, his voice got fainter. Raspier. Watching her stare blankly across the room, he wondered why he wasn't telling her he'd chosen his brother and mother over her. Maybe because he knew she'd try to convince him that what they were doing wasn't wrong.

Or maybe because he feared she'd call him a rotten SOB for throwing away what they had together, and he'd have to sit there and listen, knowing she was right.

Dara frowned. Blinked furiously. She seemed to be collecting her thoughts and getting angry. “So … you want me. But you don't care about me. Is that it?”

“
Want?
I
want
a rare steak for dinner. I
want
a hot shower at the end of a long day. I'm so hot for you I'm having trouble functioning. But,” he continued, shrugging lightly, as though that would shake off her effects on him, “I'll get over it.”

“You …” Squeezing her lids tight shut, she cocked her head, cleared her throat and then glared at him, her eyes glittering with absolute disbelief. Probably because he was lying through his teeth. “You'll
get over it
? Is that what you just said?”

“Yep. I know I can't always have everything I want. It'll be better when you finish your internship, and I don't have to see you every day. And I'm sure I'll meet someone new soon enough.”

“That's it, then?” she asked on a bitter laugh. “You want me, but we can't be together, and you'll forget me as soon as I'm gone and you meet someone else? That's it?”

“That's it,” he said, his voice nearly inaudible.

“But why?” she cried. “You haven't given me a reason! Tell me why.”

Frustration finally got the better of him.

“What's the point?” he barked.

“Tell me
why
!”

“You want a reason? Pick one: Sean would kill me, my sick mother would kill me, I don't want a relationship right now, and I would wind up hurting you. Is that good enough? Is that what you want to hear?”

His control had slipped completely away from him, allowing him to do the worst possible thing: look in her face. Her eyes were angry. Teary. Wrecked. The emotional equivalent of a war zone after a bombing.

And yet she held it together with her spine of steel, making his admiration for her notch impossibly higher.

“Are you saying,” she said calmly, “that you don't feel anything else for me?”

“Don't make me say things to hurt you, Dara.”

A single tear fell as she waited, a precious drop of melted crystal that made him hate himself even more.

All the while, his frustrated fury collected in the back of his throat, a bile threatening to choke him at any moment. He wanted to pull her into his arms and forget about Sean. When he was with her, he didn't care what promises he'd made to his sick mother. So what kind of man did that make him? What kind of brother? What kind of son?

There was another problem: his unfocused panic was back, worse than ever. The upshot was that—whatever the reason, and he was pretty sure he didn't know the real reason—he couldn't be with Dara. He just couldn't.

He had to get over Dara and make sure Dara got over him. He had to get her out of here and make sure she never gave him a second thought.

“Dara.”

She seemed to brace herself, squaring her shoulders.

“I just want to screw you.”

The following Wednesday, Jamal sauntered into Dara's office while she was editing a memo. She kept her head down, but he didn't take the hint.

“Well, well, well.” He collapsed into one of her chairs, propped his feet on her desk, and crossed his ankles. “Look who's here.”

“I've been here all week,” she said dully.

Actually, she'd been present in the building but had spent an inordinate amount of time in the powder room, the supply room and the kitchen, the three places she was least likely to run into Mike.

“Yeah, whatever.” He watched her intently. “Did anything happen with you and Mike Saturday night?”

Dara scowled. Why did Jamal have to bother her? Couldn't he see how miserable she was? And why did he have his feet on her desk?

She stood and pushed his feet down.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped.

“Don't waste my time with the denials,” he said, replacing his feet on the desk with exquisite care. “Sparks were flying off you two all night.”

“Jamal, please. I'm begging you. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Dara.” Jamal swung his feet down, got up and settled on the corner of her desk. “You gotta understand Mike. He feels guilty. Not just about you.”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean he's older than Sean. Smarter. Better looking. He's always been successful. Probably always will be. Sean's a screw-up.”

Dara sputtered a half-hearted protest on Sean's behalf.

He ignored it. “Right now Sean has a chance to make something of himself, and Mike won't do anything to mess that up. No matter how much he may want to.”

She pressed her hands to her eyes for a long moment and choked back the grapefruit-sized lump in her throat, wanting so much to believe him.

Then she let her hands drop. “All Mike wants is to sleep with me. He's made that painfully clear.”

“Don't be such a stupid idiot, Dara.” Jamal snorted with laughter. “Mike's so in love with you, he can't think straight.”

“Well, that settles it.”

“Dara,” said Jamal, exasperated now, “Mike can have sex with whoever he wants. I've seen plenty of women throw themselves at him. Damn. They basically get one look at him and start taking their panties off.”

She grimaced. “Thanks for the image.”

“All I know is that Mike hasn't been himself ever since you came. Why would he be this unhappy if it was just about sex? You need to think about that,” he told her, tapping his temple as he left.

On Thursday, Dara's luck finally ran out. For days she'd successfully eluded Mike at the office, although maybe “eluded” wasn't the right word when the person you were avoiding also avoided you. Mike had reverted to staying out of the office when she was there and communicating with her only through e-mails or notes.

Her crushed feelings of Sunday had, by Thursday evening when she let herself back into the office to help Jamal with an English essay before dropping him off at home, turned to rage. How dare Mike smash her heart like that? Did he think she couldn't see the way he looked at her? Or remember how tenderly he'd touched her? Did he think he'd cleverly hidden his real feelings—

Oh, God, there he was
.

Just inside the door, she froze.

So did he.

Jacket and briefcase in hand, he stood in the foyer outside the reception area, his mouth a round O of surprise as a vivid flush crept over his face.

A detached coolness fell over her. She nodded politely. “Mike.”

She started past him toward the stairs, fighting the urge to sprint away from him with every step and hating her body's weakness where he was concerned. She wanted to curse him, scream at him and scratch his eyes out.

Unfortunately, she also wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to touch her again.

He nailed her with his most penetrating gaze. “How are you, Dara?”

Oh, so he thought she was suicidal just because he'd rejected her, did he?

Bastard
.

“Fine,” she said without breaking stride.

“What are you doing here?” he called after her.

“Helping Jamal with his writing.”

You know what? Screw it. She sped up, so desperate to get away from him she didn't care if she broke into a run. Seeing him again hurt way too much.

“Dara.”

She paused, slowed by the unexpected urgency in his voice.

He hesitated. “Maybe we should talk.”

Oh, really? So he could explain in greater detail exactly how little she meant to him? No freaking way.

“I think we've said it all,” she said over her shoulder.

And as she continued up the stairs, she felt the tiny satisfaction of seeing a look of absolute misery fall across his features before her own unhappiness engulfed her.

A few minutes later, the sound of hurrying feet in the hallway startled her. She jumped back to her feet just as Sean rushed in.

“What's going on?” she asked, alarmed by his bloodshot eyes and red-tipped nose. “What happened?”

“It's my mother.” He swiped the back of his hand under his nose and collapsed in one of her chairs. “She's got breast cancer. Again.”

“Oh, God.” So Mrs. Baldwin had finally told him, had she? Dara kept her gaze lowered, determined not to break Mike's confidence and reveal that she already knew. “How is she?”