Conditional Offer (5 page)

"Sir," a blue-uniformed policeman spoke. His vision cleared, and he stood, letting the cop take over. Craig turned and saw Sara then, trembling, blouse ripped and knees visibly shaking. He was by her side in a second, catching her just as she started to fall.

"Shh..." he soothed, as the adrenaline began to deplete in his system leaving him wobbly. "I'm here. It's fine."

The cops piled the guy into their car just as Jack sped up and sprayed gravel everywhere from the wheels of his Stingray. He jumped out, still in full golf gear, and glared around, spotted Sara and Craig on the steps and made for them. Sara stood and launched herself at him. He held her, closed his eyes, kissed her cheek then handed her back to Craig before stomping over and tearing the cops a new collective asshole for not letting him get his hands on the would-be rapist. Craig watched, somewhat detached, now cold and shaking himself.

"Sir, we need your statement." An officer not occupied with placating Jack, stood in front of him. Sara sunk back to the steps, and he convinced her to let the EMT's check her out. He spoke in short, clipped, to-the-point sentences, keeping the corner of his eye trained on her to make sure she was okay.

Finally, he was alone on the step. Jack appeared, held out a hand. "Thanks man. I'm told if it weren't for you…" the guy gulped, unwilling to say more. Craig didn't blame him but a very loud claxon of anger was sounding in his ears. He did not like the tall, compelling guy standing in front of him, not one bit. And something told him he should walk away from this whole thing, fast.

"Of course," he said quickly, giving Sara a hug and feeling the man's angry gaze boring a hole in his back.

Craig fired up his motorcycle, watched as Jack helped her into the passenger's side of his car, then stood eyes closed for a split second. Craig realized it then, but chose to ignore the nearly visible connection Jack and Sara shared. It was a brick wall he'd pound his head against again and again, but he was willing to do it. The whole way back he let a mantra play through his brain – the renewed focus he had on himself which he was absolutely going to turn on her, and make her his.

* * *

The next morning he swam, as usual, although his raw knuckles smarted in the chlorine. He kept his brain calm, climbed out, showered off and stared at his phone a while. Finally, he pulled up a text Sara had sent him a few weeks ago that included her brother's name and phone number for "emergencies." He hit the call button and put the device to his ear, blocking the voice that reminded him it was not his business. That she was likely with Gordon. Of course, letting her make mistakes with a guy like that was part of his plan. She'd figure out what an asshole he was, and Craig would be there to sort it all out for her. He wanted her so badly it had become a scary obsession.

"Oh, hi there," some other guy answered the phone. "Blake's in the shower. What's up?"

"Oh, uh, this is Craig. Robinson. From Sara's office. I'm um, just checking on her." He tossed a tennis ball up and caught it, deflecting his own nervous energy.

"Oh, okay. I'm Rob.  Blake told me about you." There was an awkward pause. "She's good. Home now though."

"Oh?" he left the question unasked.

"Yeah, she stayed with Jack last night apparently. Blake's apoplectic. Jesus. I can't win with this whole fucking mess."

Craig frowned. This "whole fucking mess" comment threw him off. "Well, anyway, I thought I'd go by and check on her. What's your take on that?"

"Well, I will tell you I've been Jack's friend a good long time, and I know how he gets. He may fuck it up a time or two but nothing gets between him and what he wants. Just fair warning…since you seem to be asking me for it."

Craig's words died on his lips.

"But," Rob went on, "if you do go check on her, stop by The Local and have them box up a peach pie. She loves those. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Craig stared at the phone a minute, then changed clothes and headed out, his mind on one thing – Sara.

* * *

By the time he got to her place bearing the pie, she was huddled into a giant, ratty looking robe and she looked utterly devastating, devoid of makeup, her hair wet from a shower. He made his way to the kitchen, set the pie on the counter. She brushed past him, and then started to shake. He grabbed her, held on and let her cry it out. "Shh, it's okay. Just relax."

She had his shirt bunched between her hands. Her body pressed into his. He ran his hand down her hair, made more soothing noises, then, without even thinking about it tilted her chin up and gazed at her streaming eyes. He slid his hand around to the back of her neck, and covered her lips with his. The kiss was slow, easy, and perfect. She arched into him and had started to wrap her arms around his neck when he broke the kiss and stepped away, not even sure why. He could have had her right then, right there, and he knew it. It was well within his skill set, but it felt off, wrong somehow.  So he let the moment spin out. "I'm sorry," he whispered. The doorbell rang and she ran out leaving him clutching the countertop. Kathy and Val from the office came in clutching a wine bottle and pizza. They eyeballed him as he ate, calmly, willing his cock soft so he could walk out from behind the counter.

When he left them to their girl power session he stopped at the door, kissed her once more, lightly. "I'm not sorry, not really. Can I call you?" She nodded then ducked back inside to her friends. He drove home in a daze, ever closer to his goal, but unsure of what he would do when he attained it.

Chapter Seven

Craig looked around the party and wondered not for the first time what the hell he was doing. He had accepted an invite to a cookout at Sara's brother's place with trepidation. He'd been strong and true to his word on many fronts. Lindsay had begged him to fuck her, once leaning on his condo door weeping and wailing until he threatened to call the cops. It hurt. He was not one to like hearing women crying, but he knew she was playing him.  After that incident, she had left him alone.

He'd gone on a few dates, even gotten his first listing and was presiding over his first successful buyer's agency transaction. Things were generally looking up, but his obsession with Sara had taken on frightening proportions in his head. He used every excuse to be around her, talk to her, and loved how close their tiny workspaces were in the back of the downtown office. She was an incorrigible flirt, which didn't really help, but he worked it and listened to her rant and rave about Jack enough that he felt as dialed into that guy as he did to himself. But the memory of her lips, and her body, pressed against his would simply not fade.

"Come out Saturday to Blake and Rob's party," she'd said. "Allie will be there," she batted her eyes.

He'd rolled his. He had gone out with Allison, from the Stewart administration office. A fairly forgettable night and one he ended with a chaste kiss. She did nothing for him. Besides, he was bound and determined not to get into another meaningless physical relationship, unless, of course, that was what Sara wanted. Then he'd do whatever, just to have her in his bed.

So there he was, parking his bike, waving to a few people he knew, although there were plenty he didn't, and trying to blend in. He grabbed a beer, let Allie hug and kiss him, then chatted a while, ever watchful for Sara. He spotted her immediately when she rolled up with Gordon in some amazing over-the-top convertible. She bounded up the steps to greet her brother and Rob. Craig observed Gordon sauntering up and noted the somewhat pensive look in Jack's eyes. Then he stepped back and watched Jack talking with some friends, including a very interesting-looking red-headed chick. He sipped, let the party flow around him, and ate some of the delicious food. Sara's brother and his partner owned a brew pub.  The tall one, Rob, was a French-trained chef. Two more beers in and he was starting to relax, but switched to water knowing he had to make the trek back to his condo. A shout caught his ear and he went around the corner into the living room of the small house nearly stumbling as Sara flew by him.

He wanted to grab her arm, but decided to let her pass. Gordon followed her out, his face a mask of frustration. On his heels was a tall woman who looked enough like Lindsay to make Craig blink, until he realized it was not her. Intrigued, and getting a protective feeling rising in his gut, he followed the crowd. Sara stomped down the steps. Craig waited long enough to note her brother's angry words thrown in Gordon's direction before Rob pulled him inside. Then he grabbed a couple of waters and found Sara sitting in an old tree swing. He crouched down beside her.

Within fifteen minutes, she was on the back of his bike, hanging on tight, as he sped towards Ann Arbor. The forty-some minute ride was very pleasant, and he had high hopes for the evening. His body was revving on all cylinders and by the time they got to her place, his mind was sharp, and his body more than ready. He helped her off, took the helmet and walked her to the door.

"Coming in?" she asked. She looked utterly undone – miserable, really. He forced himself to take a mental step away. It was totally the wrong moment. The vision of him between her legs, of her arching into his thrust, nearly blinded him with its intensity. She loved Jack though. What would he be but yet another tool, another boy toy in the life a woman who didn't give two shits about him? Fury made him look away.

"What?" She asked turning his face around to hers. "Here's your shot, Craig." Her voice was sharp, unhappy.

"My shot at what, exactly," he whispered. It was his, and he knew it. His goal was well within his grasp. He forced himself to stay calm. He had a temper but kept it well hidden and under control mostly, but it pounded through him now, and he wasn't quite sure how to channel it. One thing was clear:  he had serious competition on his hands. He pulled Sara close, kissed her hair. But grabbed her hands when she started to run them down his back to his ass. "You know what? No." he held her at arm's length. "Not now."

"Fine," she said, opening to door. "I get it. You don't want me. Jack can't stand me. I'm kryptonite."

"Sara," he grabbed her arm. "Don't whine. It's a drag. You know damn good and well I want you. Problem is, so does he."

She cocked her head to the side and shot him a look that went directly to his raging libido. He shut his eyes. "Don't." He said, simply, stepping back. "I'll call you." He turned and ran down the steps without a backward look, his heart pounding, but his mind clear. He was going to win this.

* * *

"I need some advice," he asked Grace the next night. "Girl advice."

"Oh goodie," his sister-in-law said.

"No, I mean it. There's this woman and I…she's in a relationship, kind of, but he's an asshole and I…I don't know how to proceed, exactly."

"Take her with you to one of your gigs. You know, pull the rock star thing on her. She'll be a quivering puddle of goo by the time you're done singing. But…" she stopped.

He smiled. "Not a bad idea. What comes after the 'but?' "

"We all know how you get. You fall head over heels at the slightest provocation. Don't put more weight into this one than any other."

He sat a minute contemplating that. He honestly was infatuated with Sara, of that he had no doubt. The more he saw her and Jack together, the more he truly doubted his odds with her. Still, for some reason that light-bulb style realization only served to ramp up his need, his infatuation, and he was starting to dislike that about himself, a lot.  "Yeah, well, so you're right again. Big deal." He was quiet a minute, and she left him to it. "I want her. Bad. I want to jump in with both feet and drag her the hell away from this guy, Grace.  Cave man style. I'm…it's weird."

She laughed and he relaxed. He loved his family a lot and was grateful to them for everything, even for all the spoiling and enabling of his innate laziness. "Craig Tyler Robinson," she started, making him wince. "You had better treat her right, you got me? Don't be an ass; don't force her to make a choice. That will backfire on you. We taught you how to treat a lady. Now use it. And Craig…." he stood, paced his condo, already contemplating how he'd ask her out and if she'd even go.

"Huh?" he said finally, realizing she had stopped talking. "Sorry." He sat, knowing he was being rude and prepping himself for the lecture.

"Craig, honey. Please just…guard your heart. It's important to us. We are worried about you. Do you want to talk to Brian?" Grace's voice was low.

 "Well, I'm the little brother. So I guess you are stuck with that. And no, I don't."

She laughed. But something about the conversation was making him nervous. "Grace, listen. I know I'm being selfish, calling you all the time and stuff. How are Rick and Lil's wedding plans coming?"

"You don't really care, so don't ask."

"Sure I do. I mean, sort of."

"I gotta go. The boys are about to rip each other's heads off.  Don't do anything stupid."

"Too late." He grinned. "And tell my nephews I'll see them soon and teach them how to really get under each other's skin."

"I figured. Love you little brother."

"Love you back."

Chapter Eight

They had a great time when Sara saw his band play for the first time, laughing and joking their way through a late-night Coney dog fix.  Then, the moment of truth, a kiss in the parking lot. He'd cradled her face and said words he knew he would regret, but needed her to hear. "I have no intention of serving as a distraction, although I'm sure that would be fun."

Because deep down, the more he got to know her, the more he realized that is exactly what he would be and nothing more. While part of him still was willing to go there with her, was still desperate enough to have her that he'd be that Jack Gordon filler for her, the rest of him – a rapidly maturing part he felt – simply would not. Holding back was the exact opposite of the Craig Robinson M.O., and he while he was causing himself a fair bit of blue ball pain, he'd never felt stronger otherwise.

But the evening held promise, without a doubt. And by the time he dropped her off with a chaste kiss he felt on top of the situation, that the whole thing was heading in a positive direction for them – no matter she spent half the night glancing at her phone waiting to hear from Jack Gordon.