AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I can understand why." She didn't bother pointing out that she'd said those exact same words to Dylan yesterday, when he'd confronted her with Carson's identity. Because she couldn't. The circumstances of her conception were entirely different from Dylan's. In her case, Carson had donated his sperm in an honest, impersonal business transaction. In Dylan's case, this Jamison kid had "donated" his sperm by having reckless, irresponsible sex, then walking away from the consequences without even supplying a last name. Talk about scum.
"And the name Newport—" Sabrina murmured, "I take it that's not a coincidence?"
"None at all. I needed a last name, since I didn't know my father's and had no desire to keep my mother's. So I picked one, courtesy of where I was conceived. Pretty clever, huh?"
"Clever, yes. But a pretty lousy thing to have to choose for yourself." Sabrina couldn't muster up any banter, not on this one. "No wonder you think I'm an ungrateful bitch for being ambivalent over my situation."
"I don't think you're an ungrateful bitch. You're protecting your family. I understand that. But I'm protecting mine—Carson. Maybe now you can fully understand why."
"I can." Abruptly, Sabrina found herself wondering if Dylan resented her. How could he not? Here she was, just waltzing into Carson's life when Dylan had been a constant in it for almost twenty years.
It was a sobering thought.
"Stop looking so grim," Dylan said with a tight smile. "I turned out fine. Arrogant, I think you called me."
She relaxed a bit. "I did, didn't I?"
"Um-hum. You also called me hot."
"No," she corrected, rising to the challenge. "I said you must be hot. That was supposition, not fact or personal opinion."
A chuckle. "Are you sure you're not an attorney?"
"Positive." Sabrina's eyes twinkled. "Attorneys are sharks."
"Ah, as opposed to management consultants who are newborn kittens."
"We are. We just insist on keeping our claws—just in case."
"I'll remember that." Dylan flashed her that sexy, crooked smile. "I wouldn't want to get scratched."
The waiter appeared at their table, clasping his hands behind his back and gazing expectantly at Dylan. "Will there be anything else tonight, Mr. Newport?"
Dylan shot a quick glance at his watch, and blinked in surprise. "It's almost eleven-thirty. When did that happen? Thanks, no, just the check."
"Very good, sir." He hurried off to prepare it.
"I didn't mean to keep you up this late," Dylan told Sabrina apologetically. "You've had a hell of a day. You need to get some sleep."
"So do you," she reminded him.
"I'll get it. First, I'm taking you back to your hotel. Don't waste your breath," he added quickly, cutting Sabrina off as she began protesting, saying she was perfectly capable of hailing a cab and seeing herself back. "I gave my word to Carson. Besides, I want to." He paused, clearing his throat. "Anyway, after that I'll swing by Ruisseau. Then I'll head home."
Sabrina's brows rose. "And I thought I was the workaholic."
"I just want to pick up some papers to run by Carson tomorrow. He likes to pretend he's happy leaving Stan and me in charge, but don't believe him. He's never happy unless he's in control."
That sparked a thought.
"Dylan, that reminds me, why did Carson make that request before we left? Why would he want me there when you two catch up on Ruisseau?"
"Not a clue." Dylan shrugged. "But Carson's mind works round-the-clock. He must want your input on something. Remember, he knows your professional reputation. Maybe he wants to tap your brain on how to make the transition easier for the staff while he's incapacitated. Maybe he wants to ship the whole management team up to Auburn so you can give them a refresher course. I don't know. But we'll find out tomorrow."
CHAPTER 12
Thursday, September 8th, 10:20 A.M.
Mt. Sinai Hospital
