If I Were You(95)

Stiffening my spine, I exit into the chilly evening breeze, and make sure the door clicks behind me. Nervously, I scan the street, taking in the cars at meters, and the random pedestrians milling about, searching for Chris to no avail. Disappointment fills me, and I laugh bitterly into the wind at my misplaced hope he would be here, fighting for me, proving me wrong about him. I cut to my left and hike up the hill toward the discreet spot I’d cozied my car into, berating myself the entire time. You are so messed up, Sara. You want him after he made you a nearly X-rated video star.

Two blocks down, I round the corner of what was a busy street now turned eerily sleepy, which was not the plan. Quickening my pace, I dig out my keys. Halfway down the block, I spot my car and stop dead in my tracks, my heart racing wildly in my chest. Next to my car is a sleek Porsche 911. A wild flutter of every emotion possible goes through me. To say I’m conflicted is an understatement. The flutter in my chest becomes thunder, hard and intense, echoing in my ears.

Somehow, I force my feet to move, mentally steeling myself to be strong, to hold my ground with Chris. No weakness allowed. Chris rounds the hood of his car and heads toward me, a predatory edge to his steps. He is gorgeous, his longish hair a bit wild like the man. His jeans and biker books are so damn sexy, hugging the lithe lines of his body. I hate how much I want him.

Wicked hot anger forms inside me at my reaction to him. I don’t give him a chance to confront me, charging toward him and unleashing on him. “You knew there were cameras in the gallery and still you shoved me against that wall and kissed me. He made me watch the security feed, Chris. How could you do that to me?”

He curses and scrubs his jaw. “He fucking played the tape for you?”

I don’t have the denial I’d hoped for and my chest burns and aches. “Yes. He made me watch it. Am I right? Did you know there were cameras in the gallery?”

He runs a hand through his hair, the overhead light playing on the handsome, tormented lines of his face. Too tormented. He knew. I see it in his eyes.

“I wasn’t thinking about the camera when I was kissing you if that’s where you’re going with this, Sara.”

It’s not enough. “But you knew.” It’s not a question. It’s fact.

“I thought about it later, yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“You were worried enough over your job.”

“That’s not an answer. Tell me you didn’t do this on purpose. Tell me, Chris. I need to hear it.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose, Sara.” His voice is low, taut, filled with the conviction I so desperately had hoped for. “At that moment,” he continues, “I couldn’t think of anything but how badly I wanted you. That’s what you do to me.” His lips tighten and thin. “But I won’t lie to you and tell you I was sorry he might see it either. In fact, I was hoping like hell he did.”

He might as well have stabbed me in the chest. “Because I’m some sort of power play with Mark?” My throat is thick, my tone choked. “Is that what this is, Chris? Or did you want me to get fired?”

“Why would I take you to Napa and help you meet his ridiculous requirements if I intended that?”

“Money to kill? A game to play with Mark?” I sound flippant and bitter. I am.

“I don’t deserve that, Sara, and you know it.” His voice is a hiss laced with anger at my accusations.

Deep down, I want his anger to mean something, I want to believe in him, but I don’t even believe in me anymore. I don’t trust my judgment. “Well, if you did want to get me fired, it didn’t work. Mark has vowed to protect me and teach me the business.”

“Protect you.” The words are hard and flat, his body rippling with sudden edginess. “You want Mark to protect you when you tell me you don’t need protection?”

“I just want to do my job.”

“It isn’t about the job with Mark. Not with you.”

“You can’t know that.”

“You’ve read the journals, Sara. Who the hell do you think Rebecca was playing bondage games with? It sure as hell wasn’t Ralph.”

“It was the man she’s vacationing with.”

“Now she’s vacationing when last night you were worried she was dead?”

“I never said that.”

“You inferred it.” He inhales and lets it out a sharp breath. “You know what? It’s time you get a reality check, baby.” He grabs my hand. “Come with me.”

I dig in my heels. He clicks the locks on his car. “Get in the fucking car, Sara, or I swear to you I’ll pick you up and put you there myself. You are going to see for yourself who and what Mark is, and stop pretending you don’t know already.”