Silent Run - Barbara Freethy [51]
Sarah turned away from him, staring back at the photographs on the wall. Her shoulders were hunched in defeat, and he had to fight back an urge to put an arm around her and tell her everything would be all right. How could he want to protect her after everything she’d done to him?
He backed away from her, needing more space between them. Had she been married to someone else? Was that person the one who was trying to kill her, or just another victim of Sarah’s drive-by lifestyle?
As he gazed around the shabby apartment, he couldn’t understand why Sarah would have willingly traded in her life with him to live alone, raising a child while working as a night janitor. He’d been building her a dream house. She could have had everything she wanted. He would have given her the moon. He’d thought he’d made that clear to her.
But it hadn’t been enough. She’d left him and come here. It didn’t make sense. He’d told himself a million times that no reason could explain away what she’d done to him. But still he found himself wanting to know what had driven her to turn her back on something so good for something like this.
“I guess we should look through everything in the apartment, see if we can find a clue,” Sarah murmured, turning to face him.
Her expression was guarded now, as if she were afraid she’d revealed too much and didn’t intend to let that happen again.
“Don’t, Sarah.”
“Don’t what?”
“Think about holding out on me.”
“Whatever I say makes you angry.”
“So I’ll be angry, but we’ll have the truth between us. And it’s about damn time that happened.”
As he gazed into her worried blue eyes, he felt something inside him weaken. He’d loved this woman, loved her beyond the point of reason. He’d never felt so much passion for anyone. But he’d thought he’d known her, and it was clear now that he hadn’t. He had to remember that. There was no going back.
Sarah looked away, but not before he saw a spark of desire, and it shook him to know that despite her memory loss she felt something for him. She was attracted to him. On some basic, elemental level her body wanted his. The chemistry between them hadn’t gone away. For some reason that fact both exhilarated and infuriated him. He dug his hands into his pockets before he did something stupid—before he walked across the room and kissed her.
“I’m going to check the drawers of the dresser,” Sarah said abruptly, moving quickly.
He could have followed her. He wanted to follow her. He wanted to put his hands on her and make her remember him. But he didn’t move. He didn’t trust himself not to go too far, not to get lost—in her. Damn. His own body was betraying his heart and his mind. He didn’t like it. He wouldn’t lose control. He wouldn’t be a fool again.
Turning his attention away from Sarah, he focused on the apartment. The furniture appeared to be cheap, used pieces she’d picked up at a flea market or a garage sale. She certainly didn’t need much to live on. She’d never asked him for anything either. Even after they moved in together she’d refused to change one thing in his apartment.
Looking back at their life together, he now saw all the little signs he’d missed. Sarah was never planning to stay. She hadn’t intended to put down roots. Maybe she’d stuck it out as long as she had only because of the baby, the unplanned pregnancy. That must have thrown her off her game. And the house he was building had probably tempted her to some extent, but obviously not enough.
Shaking his head, he walked across the small room, trying to ignore the anger once again building inside him. He paused by the scratched-up wooden kitchen table. On top of a newspaper dated last Monday was a pencil sketch of a man in a beanie, a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. It must have been the guy from the elevator. His pulse sped up.
“Did you draw this?” He held up the paper.
Sarah moved over to join him. She let out a little gasp of surprise. “Oh, my God. That’s the man who was in my hospital room.”
“Really? Because I was just thinking he was the man in the elevator with you earlier this week. The beanie,