Engaging the Boss (Heirs of Damon) (16 page)

When
her massage became firmer, more intentional, he reached down to stop her.

“You
don’t want to?” she asked, sounding almost hurt.

He
said thickly, “I do. But you can’t possibly—”

“I
do too,” she murmured, beginning her massage of his erection again. “I want to
too.”

He
smothered a groan and rolled over, settling between her legs. She wasn’t as wet
as she’d been on their previous times, but he could still slide into her pretty
easily. Her breathing had accelerated, and so had his, and they rocked together
in otherwise silence.

She
didn’t come—at least he didn’t think she did. But she seemed to want this, want
him anyway. And he desperately needed her care, her trust, her sweetness, her
body. His motion was clumsy and eager at the end, and his release was
consuming.

He
was limp and boneless afterwards—not from fatigue as much as aftermath.

It
was so hard for his brain to even process what had happened, what it revealed.
That Sarah cared about him—deeply—even at his lowest point, when he’d done
nothing to deserve it, nothing for her to admire or appreciate. Failed in every
way.

In
theory, he’d known such a thing existed, but it had never been part of his
experience before.

Until
now. Until Sarah.

He
would made sure he answered it, answered her. He couldn’t give her what
deserved yet. He was still her boss, and that made things a little tricky. But
he would figure out some way to handle it—where she could keep her job and they
could be together. He would make it work.

Then
he would show her that he loved her with everything he had.

Their
bodies were still entangled when he fell asleep. It was almost morning, but if
it wasn’t for Sarah, he wouldn’t have slept at all.

Sarah woke up late. She
was sure it was late, even before she opened her eyes. The first thing she heard
was Jonathan’s voice—a soft murmuring that was soothing in its familiarity.

She
opened her eyes and saw that it was almost ten o’clock. She never slept so
late.

Jonathan
sat in a chair in the seating group by the window in the far corner. He was
talking on the phone, his tablet on his lap.

She
stretched under the covers to test how she felt. She was a little sore from
sex—twice yesterday—and her head felt a little fuzzy, but that could be from
the late night.

She
sat up in bed, readjusting her camisole so one of her breasts wasn’t hanging
out.

Jonathan
glanced over and obviously saw she was awake, but he didn’t give any greeting.
She could hear more of what he was saying now. He was trying to arrange a time
to talk to someone.

She
listened for a minute or two, then got up to get a cup of coffee from the pot
Jonathan had evidently ordered from room service.

He
was starting to get frustrated. She could hear it in his overly patient voice.
Whomever he wanted to talk to evidently wasn’t easy to contact.

She
went over to check his travel mug on the table beside him. It was almost empty,
so she went to fill it up.

He
mouthed the word “thanks” as she handed it to him but didn’t smile or meet her
eyes.

She
noticed his eyes flick briefly over her body. She must look a mess in her
wrinkled pajamas and tangled hair. But his attention was clearly focused on the
phone conversation.

She
went back to sit on the side of the bed and sipped her coffee. When he hung up,
clearly having been unsuccessful, she started to say good-morning, but he
immediately started to dial someone else from a number he read from his tablet.

When
she heard him begin the conversation with whomever picked up, she realized what
he was doing.

He
was starting to make calls to potential funders of the lab, since his uncle was
likely to pull out.

He’d
never wanted to do this. She knew it would be hard for him. He didn’t like to
ask for help. He didn’t want someone else to direct the course of his research
and perhaps steer it off course because of money or politics. He’d been in the
enviable and rare situation before in not having to do so before.

But
the lab was more important to him than his reluctance to hand over control.

He
evidently had more luck with this conversation, since he made an appointment
for a phone conference the following day at three-forty-five. When he hung up
this time, he took a long sip of coffee, and his eyes strayed over to where she
was sitting on the bed.

“Did
I wake you up?” he asked at last.

“No.
I don’t think so. I needed to get up anyway.”

“No
hurry. Our flight home doesn’t leave until six.”

Since
he was looking at her in a strange way, she didn’t say anything. She waited,
wondering if he was going to share how he felt, what he wanted to happen
between them.

Surely
it was time. She wasn’t expecting for him to declare his endless love for
her—although she certainly wouldn’t complain if that happened. They’d had sex
twice the day before, however, and their relationship had obviously changed.

She
really needed to know what he was thinking.

She’d
be happy to take it as slow as he wanted. She’d be happy just to hear how he
felt.

She
finished her coffee, and he still hadn’t spoken. Her pulse was starting to
throb in her throat.

“Have
you heard from…from anyone? Your uncle?”

He
shook his head as his only response. His shoulders were stiff beneath his
t-shirt, and he hadn’t yet shaved.

“Did…”
she asked at last, after another long pause, her voice catching as she grew more
and more nervous. “Did you want to talk?”

He
shook his head, glancing back down to his tablet. “I’ve got all these calls to
make.”

She
felt rebuffed and brutally disappointed. “Okay,” she said, praying she sounded
natural. She hid her face behind her hair as she put her coffee cup in the
kitchenette, grabbed some clothes from her suitcase, and hurried toward the
bathroom.

“Sarah,”
Jonathan said, just before she got there. His voice was so thick it stopped
her.

She
looked over her shoulder at him and saw he was walking toward her. She waited
breathlessly.

“I’m
sorry,” he said, in that same thick voice. His features twisted briefly. “But I
need to get this done.”

She
understood. Everything she needed to know.

He
cared about her. Wanted her. But she’d never be as important to him as his
work. He’d committed his whole life to work. That was where he’d always found
the most fulfillment. So any sort of relationship with her would take a
backseat to that.

 And
Sarah realized she just couldn’t accept that.

Working
with Jonathan was wonderful, and sex was even better. But she wanted—she
needed—more from him.

He
cared about her, but he didn’t care enough. And there was no way for them to go
back to the way things had been.

Even
if Jonathan managed to find new funding for his lab, there was no way Sarah
could keep working there.

She’d
lost her dream job, after all, as sure as if he’d fired her.

She’d
talked to her parents the night before. They’d put her on speaker phone, as
usual, and her mother had kept asking if she was all right. She tried to sound
upbeat, but she knew she hadn’t succeeded. She hadn’t said anything about what
happened between her and Jonathan, but they weren’t fools. They knew something
was going on.

Her
father had said, “You don’t have to stay there. You don’t have to keep working
there.”

“I
know,” she’d said in response. “But I need to wait and…and see what happens.”
Last night, she’d still had hope that Jonathan would tell her what she wanted
to hear. That they could have a future.

“You
can come home,” her father kept repeating. “You can always come home. If you’re
not happy there, just come home until you find another job. You could find one
here in the States. They’ll snap you up right away. Anyone would be lucky to
have you. Just come home, if you’re not happy there.”

She’d
been crying on the phone at that point, strangling herself to keep her parents
from hearing.

It
hadn’t worked. Her mother said, “Oh, sweetie, please don’t cry.”

They
loved her and wanted her closer. They always had, although they never once
reproached her for moving so far away. They wanted her to be happy.

Sarah
wanted to be happy too. She didn’t want to spend morning after morning, crying
in the shower like this.

She
knew what she was going to do. She would see what happened on the way home. If
Jonathan had even the slightest intention of pursuing a real relationship with
her, he would say something by then. But she wasn’t holding out hope anymore.
He’d already told her what she needed to know.

He
had to get his work done.

When
she got back, she would unpack her new clothes and pack up her old comfortable
ones. She’d get a flight to New York and from there to Las Vegas. Her father
would come to pick her up at the airport.

With
her training and experience, she knew she could find another job very quickly.
Pharmaceutical companies would pay her a fortune to work for them. It wasn’t
what she had always wanted, but it would be better than this.

She’d
leave a note for Jonathan. She started to compose it in her mind. She couldn’t
let him see how heartbroken she was. He’d feel guilty. He’d feel responsible.

She
would just leave and start over with her job, her career, her life, her heart.

Jonathan
might not love her—no man ever really had—but her family always would.

It
would be enough.

***

Jonathan knew he had
hurt Sarah’s feelings by postponing the conversation with her, but he couldn’t
bring himself to offer himself to her when he had absolutely nothing to offer.

He’d
formulated a plan as he lay awake last night. He would find someone else to
fund the lab—at least for a year. If he had to use his savings, what he’d
inherited from his parents, until he secured alternate funding, then he would
do that.

Then
he would work out a new contract for her position, one where he was no longer
her boss.

He
couldn’t offer Sarah any sort of future until he’d at least taken care of that.

Then,
once he had more to show for himself—some sort of financial and career security
for her—then he would see if she would accept his ring for real.

The
thought gave him hope—like there was a way out of the dismal failure he’d been
last night.

He
was on the phone and email most of the day, until their flight took off. And he
spent the plane ride writing up a funding proposal to send to potential
funders.

Sarah
was quiet, but she didn’t seem as upset as she had that morning. She knew him
better than anyone. She would understand. He wanted her desperately—she knew
how much—but he could be patient until he was in the situation to give her what
she deserved.

When
they got back to the lab, he didn’t even unpack. Just went immediately to his
office to make calls.

One
of his calls was very successful, and—when he hung up—he was smiling. Nothing
was certain yet, there would be a lot of work out, but he might have found
funding for at least a year’s operation of the lab. And it was from a private
individual, which was far simpler than dealing with the hassles and red-tape of
a foundation or institution.

He
wanted to tell Sarah. She would be as excited as he was. He reached for the
phone to call her when he noticed he’d missed a call from the lab’s security
station. He dialed them back immediately, since they only contacted him when
there was a problem.

“This
is Damon,” he said, when the security guard picked up.

“Dr.
Damon,” the man said, “This is Peter. Sorry to bother you. I wasn’t sure if I
should or not.”

“What’s
the problem?”

“It’s
not a problem, I don’t think. But Dr. Stratford left her keys with me. I hadn’t
heard she was leaving, which isn’t normal. So I just wanted to let you know.”

Jonathan
frowned. “What do you mean she left her keys?”

“Her
keys. All of them. To her apartment, to the lab, to the buildings. All of them.
She dropped them off with me when she left just now.”

Jonathan
started to feel the beginnings of a flare of panic. “She left? Where did she
go? Did she take one of the cars?”

“No.
She’d called a cab, and they picked her up. I don’t know where she was going,
but she had suitcases, so I assume she’s heading to the airport.”

Jonathan
vision darkened for a moment, so intently was he trying to process this
information. It was wrong. All of it was wrong. He felt that clamp in his chest
again, but it was far more brutal now than it had been last night. “Meet me
over at housing,” he managed to say, “so you can let me into her apartment.”

As
he walked over in long, urgent strides, he dialed Sarah’s cell. It rang several
times, but then her voice mail picked up.

He
glared down at the phone in frustration. Tried to dial her again. This time it
went immediately to voice mail.

She
wasn’t going to answer a call from him.

He
had no idea what was happening. Why would she leave? And without even a word?

He’d
trusted her, thought she’d cared about him.

She
must know how desperately he loved her.

Peter
was waiting in front of Sarah’s apartment when he arrived, looking nervous and
confused.

“I’m
so sorry, Dr. Damon,” he said. “If I’d known she wasn’t supposed to leave, I
would have tried to stop her.”

“It’s
not your fault,” Jonathan muttered. “Just unlock it for me.”

Peter
opened the door and Jonathan burst into the apartment. It looked perfectly
neat, but some of the personal items like framed photos and the Stanford
sweatshirt that always hung on a hook near the door weren’t there. The
collection of the vampire show weren’t there either.

He
saw a folded piece of paper on the table. When he picked it up, he noticed it
had been folded over the engagement ring he’d given her.

He
stared down at the ring, dazed and disoriented.

Finally,
his eyes focused enough to read the note.

I’m
sorry to leave like this, but I think it’s for the best. I’ll arrange to have
the rest of my stuff shipped, if you can give me a week or two. I don’t think I
can work with you anymore, after everything that’s happened. But it’s not your
fault. Don’t feel bad about anything. You’re the best scientist and the best
man I’ve ever known, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve taught
me. Love, Sarah.