Private Indiscretions. Susan Crosby
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now. “You were the one all fired up to give it to me.”
“Of course I was. You worked hard for that medal.”
“Dana. It was fifteen years ago. Who cares?”
“I do.” Her voice quavered; her cheeks flushed. “I liked battling with you all those years. Sure I wanted to win, to be the best, but, Sam, I was happy that if I didn’t win, you did.”
He felt like the biggest jerk on earth. “Dana—”
“Go on or you’ll miss your plane.”
He wanted to find a way to end this better. Instead he opened the door and stepped out into the night.
“Wait.” She hurried toward him and grabbed his arm long enough to stop him.
“I apologize,” she said. “Truly. All I can say in my defense is that it’s been a long three days. I’m exhausted, and not thinking clearly. I’m sorry I called you and made you go out of your way. I should’ve just mailed the medal and been done with it.”
He didn’t know what to say, couldn’t dare continue the conversation, not when he wanted to carry her up that sweeping staircase, find the nearest bed and bury himself in her.
“I wasn’t expecting anything of you tonight,” she said. “Just to share a glass of wine and some conversation. Work consumes me. I wanted a little time away from it with an old friend. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”
She sounded lonely. He understood loneliness. And because he was only human, he brushed his fingertips down her cheek, although whether for him or for her, he wasn’t sure. A little sound came from her, sexier than any he’d ever heard in bed.
He walked away. She followed.
“You don’t have to walk me to my car,” he muttered over his shoulder, frustrated now.
He heard her stop walking for a second, then continue at a more leisurely pace.
“I’m getting my mail,” she said, a little lilt to her voice.
“You get your own mail?”
“My housekeeper was off today.”
He liked the self-protective arrogance in her voice. He pushed the remote unlock button for the car. “Nice house, by the way.”
“Nice car. Is it yours?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to sound so defensive. You don’t live in San Francisco and you’re flying back to L.A. tonight. Logic says it’s a rental.”
“A Mercedes?” He climbed inside knowing he’d spend the rest of the night analyzing their conversation. “See you, Senator.”
Moving closer to the car, she continued to eye it speculatively. “Were you… Is this what you were driving at the reunion?”
“Yes.”
“You—” She stopped. “Did you guard my parents’ house after the reunion, Sam?”
Distracted by the breast-level view, he hesitated a few seconds before answering. “Why would I do that?”
“Answering a question with a question doesn’t work with me.” She turned those dark eyes on him then, not with humor this time. “If you’re leaving your car at the airport, you’re coming back to the city.”
“I have business here.”
“When will you be back?”
“Tomorrow night.” He started the car, ending the conversation, ending what might have become a relationship that mattered.
I can’t be seen with you and you can’t be seen with me. It’s that simple.
He watched her in his rearview mirror as he pulled away. She didn’t move except to cross her arms. He’d bet she was giving him hell. And damned if he didn’t deserve it.
“Well,” Dana said as the gate closed. “That was fun.”
She heard the sarcasm in her voice, felt her face heat up and her pulse thunder.
It had been fun, she realized. More fun than she’d had in a long time.
People rarely argued with her anymore. Debated, yes, but nothing with fire behind it, at least not personal fire. There’d been heat between her and Sam. Lots of it. She welcomed the warmth as it settled in parts of her body she’d thought frozen.
Dana walked down the driveway to the mailbox, wondering why she bothered, except that she’d told Sam she was going to. She rarely got personal mail at home. Almost everything came to the office or was transmitted by e-mail or fax. Few people knew this address.
So how did Sam know?
Dana retrieved her Occupant mail from the box that was mounted to the iron fence and headed back to the house, resignation settling in. He’d planned his visit tonight to be short. He’d taken advantage of his flight to L.A. to stop by with a narrow time frame. If he’d wanted to spend time with her, he could have made plans to see her when he got back instead of tonight. What difference would a day or two make?
She locked the house, set the alarm, blew out the candles in the living room and grabbed the bottle of Chardonnay to return to the refrigerator.
The house seemed quieter than usual as she climbed the staircase. She no longer missed Randall’s presence the way she had when he first died. She’d gotten used to coming home by herself. She hated it, but she was used to it.
She stopped in her bedroom doorway and stared at the briefcase she’d flung onto the bed, the same bed she’d shared with Randall. She hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t had time or interest. She felt a sudden need to redecorate, to make it hers, a lighter, airier look instead of the heavy masculine style.
She tossed the mail on top of the bed as she headed for her closet, where she changed into cotton pajamas, then climbed into bed and dragged her briefcase into her lap. Everything inside her churned.
The phone rang. She hated the hope that rose before she could tamp it down. It couldn’t be Sam, and she knew it.
“Hello?”
“Hey, pal. How’re you doing?”
She hid her disappointment. “Lilith, hi. I’m worn out but the worst is over. I’m pretty sure that every network and wire service has a quote by now. How are you feeling?”
“Fat.”
Dana laughed, as she was supposed to, but she envied Lilith her pregnancy, her happy and full life with a husband who adored her and work that satisfied her. “This too shall pass.”
“I’m an elephant. I’m sure this is month twenty-two of my pregnancy.”
“You look beautiful. Jonathan undoubtedly tells you every day.”
“I also look in the mirror every day. Listen, Jonathan and I would like you to come to dinner tomorrow night. Just a small group, six or eight, depending on who’s available on such short notice.”
“Any single men?”
“One, but it’s not a setup,” she rushed to add. “He’s—”
“It’s okay, Lilith. Really. I’m ready.” She had to do something with her newly resurrected feelings, and Sam wasn’t interested. A little flirtation might be a good thing.
“That’s a change.”
“I know. It’ll be two and a half years next week. I can’t survive on work alone, as much as I love it.”
“Does that mean I can officially start sending men your way?”
“You mean you were telling the truth when you said tomorrow night wasn’t an unofficial