Julian's Pursuit (10 page)

Her pretty blue eyes sparkled as she sifted through the pile of goodies: Reese’s peanut butter cups, packs of Oreo cookies, tubs of gummy bears, and boxes of Fruity Pebbles. Then she lifted her gaze, true delight shining in her eyes. “But how do you know these are my favorite?”

“Your frozen yogurt toppings,” I said. “I paid attention.”

For once, she seemed at a loss for words.

“It’s no big deal, really.” I forced a casual shrug. “I do this for all my friends.”

“Oh really?” She lifted a skeptical brow.

“Uh-huh.” I repaid her cynical gesture with an arched brow of my own. “Why? You don’t believe me?”

She folded her arms across her chest and regarded me evenly. “So you give care packages to Tim Pulaski, too?”

“Nah. Tim’s not my friend.” I raised my cup and drained the rest of my lukewarm coffee. “You are.”

At least that’s what I thought we were. Friends.

We’d definitely come a long way since that first frosty day when she refused to even go out with me. She still refused to do lunch, but we did have coffee and the occasional frozen yogurt. And we texted each other pretty often.

But no dates. She said no every time I asked her.

She amused me and aroused me, yet she wanted nothing from me except my friendship. And I was okay with that for now.

I enjoyed Sadie, her quick wit, her dry sense of humor.

I admired her strong sense of self, how she always demanded high standards both of herself and those with whom she surrounded herself.

She made me think, she made me laugh, she made me wild with desire. And I preferred her company to any other woman I’d spent time with.

We could talk about work with ease, and I liked picking her brains. Her feedback was usually spot on and insightful, as it was today.

And I enjoyed getting to know her as a person. As a friend, though she still had the damnedest effect on me.

The sexual attraction between us was smoking hot, yet it wasn’t only that.

Beneath all that kindling desire, I felt a tender, emotional connection to her.

I cared for her more than I let myself care for any woman in a long while.

Meanwhile, Sadie opened her mouth as if she planned to say something, but paused when her cell phone rang.

She glanced at the incoming number before answering. “Yes, this is.” A short pause while she listened. “Yes, thank you for confirming.”

After she hung up, she seemed to space out. Physically, she was right in front of me, but emotionally, she was miles away.

A tense silence coalesced around us.

My gaze roamed her face, trying to read her thoughts. “You were saying?” I spoke into the silence.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured, slowly coming back to the present. “I just wanted to thank you for this care package.” A genuine smile curved her lips. “It’s really thoughtful of you.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it.”

“I’ve…” She expelled a tired breath and all her strength seemed to leave her. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

I searched her eyes. “Care to share?”

She gave me a vague smile and looked at me long and hard. “No,” she said at last, retreating into politeness. “Just some personal issues I’m dealing with.”

I waited.

“Sorry.” The calm in her voice was strained around the edges. “I really wish I was in a better mood.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I caught and held her gaze. “Sometimes you just gotta feel what you feel.”

I’d been there before. And I knew that in this moment, she didn’t need to pour her heart out to me if she didn’t want to. She didn’t need my advice, and she certainly didn’t need to be told how to feel.

She just needed to be witnessed.

Chapter Ten

A chill flitted across my skin, as if someone had just walked over my grave.

Soon the cold began to set in, seeping deep into my marrows.

My body shivered as an icy trickle of dread began to spread across my limbs.

Images flashed through my mind.

A children’s hospital.

A departing stretcher being wheeled to the Emergency Room.

Nurses and doctors lifting an unconscious Evan onto the operating table.

The walls of the room drawing closer and closer.

My heart seized in my chest.

“No!” I screamed, running, tripping, and clawing my way toward my son. “No!”

My own scream woke me. I lay there panting, my heart racing against my chest.

It’s only a nightmare
, I told myself.
It’s not real. It’s not real.

Still, my mind was spinning blindly in a panic and fear roiled inside me.

Needing to be certain Evan was okay, I snapped the sheets aside, slipped out of bed, and padded to his room.

There I found my son in a deep slumber, sleeping the sleep of a thousand martyrs.

Exhaling hard, I sank into a crouch beside him and rested my head next to his pillow, just happy to hear him breathe.

That night, I did not leave his side and sleep was a long time coming.

The morning brought little relief. In a daze, I went through all the motions of working, but my mind was elsewhere. Evan’s doctor’s appointment was today, his six-month cardiology checkup. And I was feeling exceedingly anxious.

I shouldn’t even have been here in the office, but I had to prepare some last-minute proposals for one of my high-profile clients.

Though I tried to focus, my mind kept straying to other things, bouncing from past to present.

I kept remembering all the open-heart surgeries Evan had to endure when he was just a baby, the glazed look of pain in his eyes.

With all his difficult heart procedures, Evan had been through more in the last six years than most ever did in their lifetime.

There was no cure for his congenital heart defect, and someday he would need a heart transplant.

But not today
, I told myself.
Not today.

And yet I couldn’t stop thinking of that frightening dream last night.

That image flashed across my mind again: Doctors and nurses lifting an unconscious Evan onto the operating table.

It was making me claustrophobic, as if the walls of my office were drawing closer and closer, pressing down on my chest until it was hard to even breathe.

That dream had felt so real.
Too real
.

Would the doctor find something wrong at Evan’s checkup today?

The thought was too terrifying to contemplate, so I simply shoved it away.

But it kept coming back to me. Again and again.

After a while, the stress owned virtually all of my thoughts.

Tears pricked my eyes and I struggled to hold them back. I wanted to put my head between my knees, but I was worried that if I moved or closed my eyes or did anything, I’d start to unravel.

“Morning, Sadie.” Julian grabbed one of the swivel chairs and swung a long leg around to straddle it backward. “We still on for coffee today?”

“I’m busy,” I replied, keeping my gaze downcast.

I wished he’d stop looking at me like he knew exactly what I was thinking, what I was feeling. It unnerved me.

Blinking back the stinging tears, I picked up a folder then set it down, reached for it again, knocked over a bottle of Evian water, then righted it with trembling fingers.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

For one sharp moment, I teetered on the edge of telling him everything, but the words seemed to clot in my mouth.

It was just a dream, a feeling, an intuition. He wouldn’t understand.

So I tried to cover my frazzled state with a quick answer. “I’m fine!” I snapped.

We both knew I was lying.

The tears that had been threatening to overflow finally did, coursing down my cheeks.

“Hey.” He stood and slowly approached my desk. “What’s wrong, Sadie? Can I get you anything?”

I bit back a sigh. I could have done without this. Not today.

Seriously, I had way too much on my mind.

I swiped the tears away and glared at him. “I told you, I’m fine!”

“Are you really?” He touched me gently under the chin, pulling my head up so that I was forced to look at him. Concern was etched on his face and the tenderness in his eyes nearly undid me.

“Yes, really,” I shot back. “And I’d be doing a whole lot better if you’d quit asking me if everything is okay. Everything is just fine!”

“Sorry.” His gaze softened. “I’m worried about you, and I just want to make sure you’re all right.” He was silent for a moment. “That’s all.”

“Oh, yeah?” My voice was low and filled with anger that had little to do with him. “Is that all you’ve been doing this past month? In case you haven’t read the employee handbook, sexual harassment in the workplace is a crime.”

He stiffened and backed up a step. For a long moment, he simply stared at me in stony silence, his once expressive eyes now hard, cold, and vacant of any energy that used to define them. Finally, he spoke. “Flirting and sexual harassment are not the same thing.”

I sucked in a shallow breath. “If I don’t welcome it, and say so verbally and through my body language, and yet the flirting continues, then it
becomes
harassment.” Even as the words left my mouth, they tasted like lies. And my tone carried a trace of accusation, which I regretted but couldn’t control.

Julian flinched, and I watched his throat working as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed again. Once. Twice. “I thought we were friends. I had no idea I was making you feel uncomfortable.” He paused, his face so full of pain and poignant regret that it pierced my heart. “I thought I’d read you correctly. Obviously, I was wrong. Very wrong.” Another pause. “It was never my intention. I respect you more than that… I didn’t know. I didn’t know I’d crossed that line.”

He didn’t. And I wanted to take back my words and tell him that he’d never crossed that line, but I couldn’t bend my tongue to my will. “Well, now you know.”

“Believe me, I do.” A muscle tightened at the base of his jaw, as if he were holding back words.

“Say it,” I demanded. I didn’t know what I expected him to say. I guess I was half-expecting him to call me a heartless bitch.

There was a soft hiss of air as he inhaled sharply. “You’re a real piece of work. You know, some of us actually know how to keep our cool without being cold.”

I composed my features into an expression of calm and indifference, showing him that his words had no effect on me.

My game was so strong I could probably take the world poker tour and win.

“Don’t let that mask you’re wearing become your face, Miss Frost.”

His words pricked at something deep inside me. Annoyed, I opened my mouth to shoot back a scathing retort, but he’d already turned to leave.

I glared at his back until he’d stormed out of my office.

With the scent of him still lingering in the air, I stared at my computer screen, my heart pounding against my chest.

His presence had filled my office. Dwarfed it. Now that he no longer hovered so close by, my mind began to clear.

Then I got that sinking feeling of regret.

I felt sick at the way I’d acted when he was nothing but good to me.

I recognized my anger was excessive and misplaced, but at the time, I couldn’t seem to control it.

In truth, it wasn’t sexual harassment—
never was
—and I knew it.

I knew it because I’d experienced sexual harassment firsthand.

It happened six years ago, but it all came back to me in a rush.

I was the new girl at Hall and Heinrich—young, ever eager, the fresh face of innocence, looking to soak in the corporate world.

One morning, I was hauling some large boxes when Tim stopped and offered to help me. As he took the boxes from me, his fingers lightly grazed my breasts.

At first, I thought nothing of it, assuming it was merely an accident.

But later, after he’d dropped the boxes off at my desk, he winked at me suggestively. “So,” he said with a leer in his voice. “Do I get a little something in return for this?”

He smiled as if it were a joke we could both share.

I didn’t return the gesture.

Swallowing nervously, I felt the flutter of panic in my stomach, but I managed to keep my voice calm. “You get a thank you.”

Three days later, it happened again. I was grabbing a printout from the fax machine when Tim came up behind me and I felt the hard press of his hips against my lower back, the erection beneath his pants as he ground himself against my ass.

Horrified, I twisted my body like a contortionist to get away from him.

When I called him out, he simply shrugged his shoulders elaborately. “I was just trying to grab a fax,” he said. Then a sick grin twisted his mouth. It made my insides turn.

“Were you?” My lips trembled and I found my voice getting away from me.

Tim must have read it as a sign of weakness because he took a step forward. “That’s all it was. Don’t let your imagination run wild, Miss Frost.”

After that
accidently-on-purpose
incident, I avoided Tim like the bubonic plague.