Cut to the Chase Read online

  “True. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  She grinned at him. “It’s still fun to try to perfect it for myself. I mean, really, who doesn’t want an arm that grows another two or three inches when you need it?”

  He laughed. He was doing that a lot more frequently with her.

  Warrick leaned in, holding her gaze as he moved closer, giving her a chance to move away. She didn’t.

  He kissed her. Softly at first, but the small touch of his mouth to hers lit a fire somewhere inside, and he deepened the connection. He reached for her, pulling her closer to him as a small moan escaped her. God, she did things to him.

  She raised her hand and ran her fingers through his hair.

  The sensation had a primal effect. He didn’t care that they were in the middle of the park. He wanted to drag her closer, still. To peel away her clothes and reveal every inch of her. Then to cover her back up. Not with clothes, but with his kisses, his touch, his body.

  Why did this always happen when they had an audience? He pulled back, not because he wanted to, but because she deserved more than to be mauled on a park bench. The thought was a fierce reminder. She deserved more. More than him. More than a man who’d done the things he’d done. Who couldn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved.

  Because there was no way he could. His wife was gone. He knew that. It wasn’t even about still being in love with Vicki. But Warrick could never let himself love the way he’d loved Vicki again. That just couldn’t happen. Letting someone down when you loved them the way he’d loved Vicki…seeing what that did to a person to let them down in that way. He couldn’t go through that again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He cursed under his breath and looked out at the fountain in the center of the park as he worked to get himself under control. The apology spoke more to the fact that he was sorry he couldn’t be what she needed, but he knew it would sound like he was just apologizing for getting carried away in the moment. That was fine. Better she think that than go into the truth and have to explain why he wasn’t—never could be—good enough for her.

  He hated the way she shrugged like it was nothing and turned away from him. She picked up her soda and drank and then talked, filling the silence as he sat there calling himself every name he could think of. Every name for idiot and asshole he could dream up. He watched as she brushed it off like it was nothing, just as she always did, but he’d begun to be able to see through the mantle of toughness she often wore. And it made him hate himself all the more.

  Tyvek watched the couple, his heart cracking again. She was with him. Warrick had lured her in again. He had to be trying to use her to trap Tyvek.

  He’d thought she was smarter this time. That she’d learned and wouldn’t be so easy to entice now that she’d seen where loving him had gotten her. The truth was, she’d just never been strong enough to resist him. Try as he might, Tyvek had never been able to make Vicki see that Warrick Staunton was wrong for her. To make her strong enough to open her eyes and see the truth before her.

  A tear fell as he watched and he swiped at it, letting anger creep up to burn out the pain. Anger and rage to cleanse and stop the heartache. If he didn’t let the rage take over, he wouldn’t survive watching her go down this path. Not again. Not this time. This time, things would be different.

  Chapter 13

  Sara switched the phone to her other shoulder before picking up a wooden spoon to stir the pasta she was cooking. “Yes,” she sighed, “it was an amazing kiss.” She was underselling the kiss. There was really no way to explain the things that man had done to her with his mouth. How his arms had felt around her. How her body had responded when he’d pulled her flush against him.

  She dropped the spoon, jumping back as hot water splashed.

  “I can’t believe you waited to call me.” Samantha said on the other end of the line. “You should have called me the minute it happened.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t have been awkward at all. Can you hang on a sec while I call a friend and tell her you kissed me brainless, Warrick? She’ll want to know all about this kiss. Yeah, that’s not awkward or weird at all.”

  Samantha laughed. “You know what I mean.”

  “Mm hmm, I do.” Sara turned the stove down and pulled the pasta off the burner. She needed to strain it, but she didn’t have her prosthesis on. Straining pasta was best done with her robotic hand attached. She’d lost her enthusiasm for a meal, anyway. Her stomach had been in knots for the last day. Ever since the kiss.

  “Brainless, huh?”

  “Brain. Less. Completely brainless.”

  “Sooo, are you going to sleep with him?” Samantha was always direct.

  “No! Are you kidding me? No.”

  “I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.” Samantha sounded like she planned to try to make that change happen if it hadn’t happened already. Most likely, she did.

  Sara didn’t answer as she padded to the living room and curled up on the couch. She’d fantasized about changing her mind but that was a long way off from going through with it. Being intimate just wasn’t something she was ready for. She had guts. She always had. But the thought of being with a man terrified the crap out of her.

  “Let me ask you something,” Samantha said when she didn’t get a response. “Does Warrick ever make you feel unsure?”

  As soon as Samantha asked the question, the answer popped into Sara’s head. She didn’t even have to think about it. The answer was no. Even when he’d pulled back from the kiss the day before, she’d had the sense it was about him. About the fact that he wasn’t ready to be with someone yet. She knew his wife’s death had hit him hard. There was no denying that. For whatever reason, he wasn’t moving on. And she respected that. It didn’t have anything to do with her or his level of attraction to her. It hadn’t been about her hand.

  She’d done her best to brush off the kiss and continue as if nothing had happened. She knew if she were in his place, it was what she would want. She wouldn’t want someone making a big deal of things. But Samantha’s question made her realize, he hadn’t made her feel uneasy in the way Samantha was asking. She hadn’t felt rejected as a woman, the way she had when her fiancé had left her. She hadn’t felt unwanted and damaged.

  “Well?” Samantha pressed. Sara could tell Samantha wouldn’t let go of this. Her directness had always been something Sara liked.

  “No. He doesn’t make me feel bad at all.” She rushed to qualify that. “But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for anything to happen.” Just talking about Warrick gave her that fluttery stomach feeling she knew came with a new relationship. She had to remind herself, it wasn’t a relationship with him. Letting herself fall into the trap of thinking anything else would be dangerous. It would lead to hurt.

  “That’s okay. But you can still let yourself live a little. You can practice being around a man again and feeling good about that. I have a feeling Warrick will be very good practice for you.”

  “So, what, we’d just be friends who kiss sometimes? And practice hanging out together?” Could it really be that simple?

  “Why not?” Samantha sounded so breezy and light, Sara found herself wondering the very same thing. Why not?

  Chapter 14

  “I need practice.” Sara realized how stupid the words sounded the minute they left her mouth, but the damage was done. She stood in the doorway to Warrick’s office. It occurred to her she’d spent a lot of energy trying to avoid his office. She seemed to be doing a crap job of that one lately.

  Warrick looked up at her. “You do?” He’d undone his tie, leaving it hanging loosely around his neck. The effect was ridiculously hot. She had to refocus before she lost her nerve.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” He looked at her, but didn’t say more, and she realized she was going to need to spell it out.

  “Just, you know. I mean….” She waved her hand in the air as though that might magically make him understand. “Just you know, hanging
out. And like, well, like you know.”

  “Do I?” He quirked a brow. The man shouldn’t be so sexy. Hand to God, it was just not fair.

  “Yes. You do.” She folded her arms and leveled him with a look of her own. He knew damned well what she meant. And, no, she wouldn’t spell it out for him.

  He answered her with a laugh. “I do. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  “No sex.” She blurted this little tidbit out then wanted to crawl under a table or behind a chair or something. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and swore under her breath. She was a veteran for crying out loud. She didn’t blush.

  “So, not a date?”

  She raised her chin a hair, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm. Really, on the inside, there was a hell of a lot of squirming going on. “No. Not a date. No sex. Maybe kissing. But no sex.”

  He gave her a long look but she forced herself to stand still when she really wanted to turn and run. She held her ground while he watched her.

  The next words that came out of his mouth shocked the hell out of her and took away any hope she’d had of doing this without squirming.

  His voice was deep and sexy in that octave that said he was thinking about taking her clothes off. “I’m not sure I can do that, Sara.”

  She inhaled slowly, then nodded. Did that mean what she thought it meant? Technically, he’d said no. Sort of. But he’d said it in a way that seemed to say he wanted to put his hands on her. The memory of those hands on her came flying back and she was sure now she was flushed. And squirming. She nodded again and turned way, high tailing it back to her own office where things were safe. Where she didn’t feel like she’d just flung herself out of a plane with a doily and some duct tape for a chute.

  An hour later, she sat staring at her computer screen, still replaying the scene in her head. She’d really, really wanted that to go differently.

  A knock on the door had her looking up. Carl, the teenager who worked in the mailroom three afternoons a week, didn’t take his headphones off as he handed her an interoffice envelope. She took the envelope, waiting until he’d left to open it.

  A single sheet of paper with a handwritten note. Saturday. 7 pm. Not a date.

  Chapter 15

  Dinners with his mother were never fun. Warrick’s mother insisted on having them served by her staff in the formal dining room rather than just sitting down for a meal as a normal family might. Then again, they weren’t normal. His mother had never cooked like other mothers did.

  Jonathan entered now, late in the way he usually was.

  Warrick felt the immediate kick of the betrayal in his gut that seemed to always come with his uncle now. He shoved it aside and reminded himself Jonathan had never meant to hurt him. That he’d had no way to see what William Tyvek would do with the information Jonathan gave him. He was making a conscious effort to salvage the relationship he had with the last of his family.

  “Sorry, sorry. I got caught up.” Jonathan kissed Warrick’s mother on the cheek. “How are you, sis?” Warrick smothered a smile. His mother most certainly never acted like anyone’s “sis”. She believed in formality and station in life. She hated when Jonathan called her that. But, like a kid who’d figured out what needled his older sister, Jonathan persisted in the game.

  “What did you get caught up in?” Warrick asked, leaning back in his chair as one of the staff set a plate in front of him. There was a time when he knew all his mother and father’s staff. His mother had become even more difficult to live with after his father’s death, and most of the staff turned over with some regularity now. “Thank you,” he murmured and lifted his fork and knife.

  “That lovely woman Sara was showing me some of the devices she’s been working on.”

  Warrick smiled and an immediate argument began in his head. He wasn’t smiling at the mere mention of Sara. He was smiling at his uncle’s excitement for her prostheses.

  Fuck, that was a lie. He found himself grinning like an ass every time he even thought about her, never mind when she actually entered a room. She had that effect on him.

  “I have to figure out where to take her Saturday,” he said almost absently.

  “Take her?” Jonathan asked.

  “Who is Sara?” His mother interjected. “Why are we talking about some stranger I know nothing about at my dinner table?”

  Warrick sighed. “She works at Simms.” He frowned. “Well, actually she’s a consultant of sorts. She’s the woman who designed the prosthetic arms we’re going to be manufacturing.”

  “What on earth would she want to do that for? Why would a woman want to design prosthetic anything?” His mother had put down her fork as though the very thought was distasteful. She didn’t exactly live an enlightened life.

  Warrick wished he drank alcohol more than once a year. He’d often thought alcohol might help him get through these biweekly meals at his mother’s house, but he also knew if he began he would never stop. “I’d imagine it has to do with the fact she lost her hand serving in the military overseas.”

  Warrick could have predicted the eye roll from his mother. “What kind of woman does that? Women don’t belong in the Army.” To his mother, all military branches were referred to as the “Army.”

  “An honorable, brave intelligent one, that’s who,” Jonathan said before Warrick could speak. What Jonathan had said was true, though. Sara was all of that and more.

  “She began by making a prosthetic that better suited her needs. She did it in her apartment with a simple 3D printing machine. When she realized the difference having a robotic hand could make in the life of an amputee, she set out to design one that was as functional as the high tech expensive models on the market without the high tech price tag.”

  “Her design is quite ingenious,” Jonathan added.

  Warrick nodded.

  Jonathan flinched at her next words, as though the jab were personal, and Warrick knew why. The guilt was still there for Jonathan.

  “Don’t you have more important things to focus on, Warrick? Like saving my grandfather’s company. When we handed you the reigns a decade ago, no one expected you to run it into the ground.” She lifted her wine glass and drained it for the second time since they’d sat down to eat. It was immediately refilled by one of the staff.

  Warrick was suddenly struck by the ridiculousness of the situation. When his father had been alive, they’d had Francine, who despite her soft name ran the kitchen and mealtime with an iron fist. When his mother began to chug whatever drink of choice she was on that month, Francine would purposefully dawdle in between filling her glass. Warrick would never forget the time he’d realized why Francine hadn’t been fired. He’d been too naïve to see the dynamic for what it was. It had taken walking in on his father and Francine in the study one day.

  He’d pieced things together after that. Suffice it to say, his father appeared to have certain needs in the bedroom his mother wasn’t willing to fulfill. When her husband had died, his mother had lost it, firing Francine and kicking her out of the house within days. The look on Francine’s face was haunting. Warrick had always had the odd sense that Francine loved both his father and his mother. That somehow, she’d been part of their relationship in a way he would never understand himself. But what did he know about healthy relationships?

  Nothing. He’d demonstrated that when he’d failed Vicki over and over.

  “Warrick is doing a fine job focusing on the company and its return to the respect it deserves. In fact, Sara is an integral part of that. The goodwill her project is already sparking in the community is bringing invaluable PR that will soon have people forgetting what happened with Tyvek.”

  Warrick drew himself back to the conversation as his uncle attempted to defend him. It was useless. His mother would see what she wanted to see. He spoke to his uncle rather than his mother. “Carrie is arranging for us to use the clinic at the shelter to match veterans who need a prosthesis. We’ll be able to do the
screening, measuring, fitting and training with them there. Sara said that a lot of times, people need to return to see the prosthetist frequently, especially in the beginning to be sure the fit is adjusted properly. Carrie’s agreed to spearhead that part of things for us.”

  “That should bring some good PR for the shelter as well, help them recover from this,” Jonathan said. “How is Carrie? Is she past that infection?”

  Warrick nodded, pushing his plate away. “Yes. She was back at work when I talked to her and said she’d been cleared to return full time.”

  “Good,” Jonathan nodded, pushing his own plate away. Warrick’s mother continued to eat, having cut her meat into minuscule bites, as was her habit. Jonathan and Warrick were used to having to wait for her to finish. “That’s good. So, you’re taking Sara out? Where do you think you’ll take her?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not a date, so I’m steering clear of anything that feels like a date.”

  “Ah. That limits things a bit when a single man and a single woman go out,” Jonathan said.

  Warrick’s mother broke her silence again. “So, that’s your plan? You’ll be giving away product to try to buy Simms Pharmaceutical’s way back into the good graces of the doctors and patients?” She snorted an inelegant snort. “You’d think you would have learned a thing or two from your grandfather. Even your father-in-law could have taught you a great deal about business. You should have listened to him a bit more.”

  Warrick turned his head slowly, stunned she’d talk about William Tyvek like he was some great businessman instead of the maniac they’d now discovered him to be. Yes, he’d been great at business, but he’d also been a highly successful murderer. Warrick’s conversation with Jarrod came back to him and he stilled, looking at his mother.