Nothing In Common Part 21

"Just tired." He bit out the words like he was chewing jerky. "I've had a rough week."

"You haven't even been out this week." Emma's tone was slightly accusing. She flicked on the light switch, which made him groan and fling his arm across his eyes. "You look like h.e.l.l, boss."

"Gee, thanks, Emma." Alex slid up in the bed until he rested against the headboard. "Any other personal criticism you'd like to leave with me? I'm all up for it."

Emma sat on the edge of the bed. "What happened with Sarah?"

Alex ran his hand through his hair. Then he scrubbed his face with his hands, and the stubble scratched his fingers. He hadn't shaved for three days, or showered, or done much of anything but lay in bed. He only hoped The Foxfire would still be standing by the time he got back to work.

"Boss? This isn't like you. I'm worried about you."

"I've never been in love before." As he said the words, he felt some of the burden he'd been feeling lift. No wonder women talked to their girlfriends. It made everything seem bearable.

"Oh, boss." Emma made a sympathetic noise.

"She thinks she's not pretty enough. I tried to tell her that to me she was beautiful. She didn't believe me. I tried telling her it wasn't her face I loved anyway, but she didn't believe that either. I couldn't win, Em. I just couldn't win."

"It's the one time in your life your face hasn't gotten you what you wanted." Emma's nonchalant reply wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Alex's back stiffened. "Thanks, Emma."

"I'm being honest." Emma shrugged. "You've had it real good your whole life, boss. Women have just fallen all over you. You've never had to work at anything because no one ever turned you down."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Now he realized why men didn't talk about these things with their guy friends. Blunt, brutal honesty. It was a real b.i.t.c.h.

"I heard the whole story about last Sat.u.r.day night from Donna at The Foxfire." Emma let out a low whistle. "Sarah got double-teamed by two pros--Jen and Wendi. It would take a woman with nerves of steel not to buckle under that."

"But I never said she was my charity case! I told her those women were nothing! I told her how I felt about her!"

Emma snorted. "All you men. You think your words are enough. What did you do to show her?"

"She didn't want to listen to me. She closed the door in my face."

"Did you knock?"

He had not, but he didn't want to say so. "I don't play games, Emma!"

His niece scowled and crossed her arms at him. "And my guess is Sarah doesn't either. She's not playing hard to get, boss."

"Well, what is she doing?"

"I don't know." Emma shrugged. "But if you really love her, I don't think you'd have given up so easily."

"I didn't give up. I shouldn't have to fight for her to listen to me." Alex thumped his head on the headboard.

Emma rolled her eyes. "That's what love is all about, boss. Fighting to keep what you want. Fighting to keep the one you love from harm. Fighting to make your pig-headed lover see the truth if that's what you need to do!"

"Are you calling me pig-headed?"

"I think you must both be stubborn idiots if you're letting two bimbos who don't know when to keep their mouths shut come between you."

"What are you saying?" Alex was bewildered at how his younger niece had managed to learn so much about love while he had remained clueless.

Emma made a noise of long-suffering patience. "I'm saying that if you love her, you shouldn't let her shut you out. If she loves you, she'll listen. If she doesn't, then at least you'll know. Either way, it'll be better than hibernating in here forever."

"You harder on me than your mother ever was."

Emma shrugged. "Learned from the best, I guess."

Alex allowed a ghost of a smile to touch his lips. "Maybe I should hire a

skywriter. Or take out an ad in the paper."

"Maybe. Or maybe you should just tell her you understand how she feels.

Instead of trying so hard to make her believe you think she's great, try a little

harder to understand why she doesn't." Emma grinned. "That's what we women want, boss--someone to understand us."

"She dated a guy who made her feel ugly." Alex briefly told Emma the story

of William and his "favor."

Emma groaned. "No wonder she got so upset! I'm surprised she even went out with you at all, looking the way you do."

"Can we forget about my face for a minute?"

"Sure. Short of plastic surgery, it's not going to change anyway."

Alex sighed. "So what do I do now? If she won't take my calls, I mean."

"You do have a certain event coming up." Emma gave him a sly glance. "It

might be the perfect place to show Sarah--and the world--what she means to you."

Alex shook his head. "Emma, you scare me."

"Genius always scares those who don't understand it," Emma replied serenely, getting off the bed and going to the door.

"I'll be taking a huge chance," he called after her.

"That's what love is all about." Emma stopped in the doorway. "Taking chances."

"I thought you said it was about fighting."

"Who am I, Dr. Ruth?" Then she was out the door and he was left to ponder

all she'd said.

Had he taken Sarah's trust in him for granted? Had he just a.s.sumed she would believe him, just because no one had ever not believed in him before?

Possibly. He had never been in love before, and, as Emma had said, had never had to work for anything before. He had a.s.sumed Sarah would hear his words and know the depth of his sincerity, when in reality, had he not mouthed similar phrases in the past without meaning them? True, he'd never said he'd

loved anyone before, but Sarah couldn't know that.

Yes, she ought to have trusted him. But he should have made sure she had no doubts. It was up to him to make her see he couldn't live without her. And more importantly, that Sarah couldn't live without him.

The s...o...b..x wasn't heavy, though it was stuffed to overflowing. Sarah took it down from the depths of her closet and blew a layer of dust off the top. The cardboard was faded, the writing on it nearly illegible, but she knew what it said--Sarah's Stuff.

Not the most elegant way to describe the mementos of her romantic life, but accurate. Sarah curled up on the bed and lifted the lid. The contents weren't arranged in any sort of order, but she didn't mind. She had no plans for the evening.

She sifted through the items in the box and matched pieces that went together. When she was done, she was left with what looked like piles of paper. What she really had was a chronology of her life as a woman.

Her first boyfriend, Brett. At seventeen, he'd been handsome and funny, a soccer player for the school team. c.o.c.ky.He'd told her he loved her while standing on the front porch of her parent's house and risked curfew to steal a few extra kisses. He'd probably said the words to try and get her into bed. That gave her a smile. His plan had failed. She caressed the picture of the two of them at the prom. She'd worn a pink dress and ballerina slippers so she wouldn't be taller than him.

Another prom picture. She was a year older, thinner, wearing an emerald green gown. Her second high-school love, Shawn, beamed from the photo with his arms around her waist. He'd been in the band, not an athlete, and he didn't have Brett's att.i.tude. Though their breakup had been bitter, they had managed to salvage their friends.h.i.+p after a few years.

College photos came--a slew of photos and letters from her years at school. A love poem from a secret admirer she had later discovered to be the most popular boy in her dorm. They'd dated once or twice, but no more than that. And why? Because Sarah had started dating a guy in her theater elective. What was his name? Tobin. He hadn't been handsome. He'd been skinny, dark-haired, and a chain-smoker. Yet, something about him had been so exciting...

All the men in her life. Sarah riffled through the piles she had made. Some had hurt her, some she had hurt. Others had done neither. And what did that tell her now?

She sure wasn't dumb; she'd always known that. Yet, she had allowed William to make her feel that way. She wasn't ugly either, though he had made her feel that way, too. Sarah felt the slow burn of anger begin again in her belly. All those young men in her life, and only one had ever made her feel unworthy of being loved.

She found the only photo of William she had. The surprise photo had been taken at her office holiday party. It was the only photo she had of William because he had always refused to allow her to capture him on film. At the time, she had thought it was because he wanted nothing to show just how pathetically unattractive his girlfriend really was. Looking at the photo now, however, Sarah saw a different truth.

She wore a velvet gown of royal blue, her hair tied up in a complicated swirl of curls that William had complained made her look too fussy. She was holding onto William's arm, laughing and looking up at him. He wasn't even smiling. Sarah was radiant, her cheeks flushed from laughing and her eyes asparkle. She looked beautiful, and William looked...

"Not as handsome as I remember." Sarah touched the tiny figures in the picture. "I guess n.o.body ever told you that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, w.i.l.l.y."

He'd hated being called w.i.l.l.y, or Will, or even Billy. Staid, arrogant, full-of-himself William. Sarah crumpled the picture with a sudden twist of her fingers and stared at the wad a moment. Smoothing the picture carefully, she placed it back in the box with the others. She might need to look at it again, sometime.

William had been wrong about her. He had not been doing Sarah a favor. It had been the other way around. Sarah had done William a favor by letting him in her life. She had made him laugh once or twice, and it was probably the only time in his life he'd ever let himself go so wild.

All at once, as if the sun had come out from behind the clouds, Sarah felt the weight of William's betrayal fall away from her. It didn't matter any more what he thought. What Alex had told her was true. You can't hurt someone who doesn't care about you. William couldn't hurt her anymore because she didn't care about him.

"I love Alex." The words filled her with a bubble of joy that tickled her insides.

So what if women were falling all over him? He had chosen to be with her, hadn't he? Didn't that say anything?

"I love Alex Caine. I love him!"

She was ashamed she had let Jennifer's cruel words pierce her. The blonde hostess meant nothing to Sarah, and nothing she said ever again could possibly bother her. Sarah was also ashamed she had not trusted Alex. Because Alex wasn't William.

Sarah put the box back from where she had taken it and relegated it once more to the depths of her closet. She didn't need to see anything in there anymore. Though the memories it held would always be pleasant, none of those romances could compare to what she felt for the tall man with hazel eyes whom she'd met at her sister's art showing. The joys and sorrows of all those past relations.h.i.+ps had shaped her into the woman she was, true, but what she had shared with Alex had shown her the woman she was going to become.

It was like growing up all over again. Struggling through the angst of adolescence, trying to find herself. Trying to see herself as others saw her, whether their opinions were based on her face, her soul, or where she lived and what sort of car she drove.

It didn't matter how everyone else saw her now. All that mattered was how she saw herself. The reflection she saw in Alex's eyes was how she wanted to be.

She would tell him that, too, and hope she was not too late. She would apologize for not trusting him. She would make things right.

Feeling suddenly empowered, Sarah plucked a wrench from her toolbox and headed for the bas.e.m.e.nt. Making things right with Alex was important, yes, but first she had to do something else, something for herself. It was time for her to fix that blasted furnace.

CHAPTER 11.

Alex couldn't believe the week had flown by so fast. The grand opening of The Gallery on Second was tomorrow night. Not only did he not have a costume prepared, he had no idea of how he was going to prove to Sarah he really loved her.

He wished he could use his lack of interest in work as proof of his change in priorities, but that hardly seemed enough. Tonight was the third night this week he'd left the restaurant early, something he rarely did even though Frank Philips was a top-notch manager. Alex liked to mingle with the customers. He had worked hard to make The Foxfire the success it had become, and nothing gave him more satisfaction than finis.h.i.+ng the night knowing all had gone well. Since the blowup with Sarah, however, he found he couldn't care less whether the new appetizers were well-received, or anything else. Only about Sarah.

Now he was sitting at the bar in Malley's Pub, sucking down a pint of warm beer and waiting to hear Mick's band play. The Roving Ramblers had gone through one set already, their lively mix of traditional Celtic music and Cajun Zydeco surprisingly well-blended. They had taken a break, amid groans of protest from the people in the packed bar. The Ramblers were a huge draw for Malley's, and ordinarily Alex would have considered hitting Mick up to play a night or two at The Foxfire. Tonight, though, he just didn't feel like talking shop. He only wanted to think about Sarah.

His suggestions about a skywriter and an ad in the newspaper didn't seem so crazy now. They seemed easier than the alternative, which was to talk to her face-to-face. Alex hadn't wanted to admit it to Emma, but the thought of confronting Sarah scared him. Emma had been right about him never having to work for anything before. Women had always flocked around him like seagulls fighting over a French fry. He'd never had to face rejection. Then again, he'd never cared so much about anyone before.

"Our next set's up in five, Alex." Pint of Guinness in hand, Mick appeared beside him at the bar. Rivka's husband winked and clapped Alex on the shoulder. "Next round's on me. Sure and you look like you be needin' it. I've seen happier faces on a flea-bit dog."

Alex smiled half-heartedly. "Can't you talk some sense into your sister-in-law?"

"Ah, and if I could sing the birdies down from the trees, would you be after havin' me do that as well?" Clearly Mick had no illusions about his ability to affect Sarah. "'Tis my Rivka you need to be talkin' to."

Alex tossed back the last half of his pint. "She won't talk to me. Says it's not her place."