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Eleven
In the literature Samuel had studied growing up, sleeping women were frequently compared to angels.
Arlie Banks certainly looked like one, her hair spilling over the pillow like spun gold in the grayish predawn light. Her dark eyelashes feathered against a cheek bearing the ghosts of freckles from happier summers past, long, slim fingers resting on the pristine white of the sheet between them, her cuticles bitten raw.
But angels didn’t struggle in their sleep the way Arlie did.
At four o’clock this morning, Samuel had woken up to her urgently moaning in her sleep. For a brief moment, he’d thought she might be reliving one of the livelier portions of their evening together.
Odd how passion and panic could sound so similar.
He had only watched at first, his eyes adjusting to the moonlight as he searched her face.
It didn’t take long before he’d realized it wasn’t passion playing on the hidden screen of her subconscious. Eyelids flickering, mouth drawn into a tight, terrified line.
Despite the overwhelming urge to reach out and place a soothing hand on her chest, Samuel held back, having remembered something his mother had told him once about night terrors, and how dangerous it could be to wake someone who suffered from them.
Small mewls of protest followed. Then her body had begun to twitch. Then her foot swept out, catching him in the shin as she uttered a distinct Noooooo as she wrestled with unseen demons.
Which was when he knew what he needed to do.
He’d been a complete and utter idiot, surrendering to his baser instincts the way that he had.
His plan to oust Mason had been compromised irreparably. Yet another misguided attempt on his part to have any level of control over his own destiny.
The one saving grace was that, as of yet, no one knew what had happened between them. If he could keep it that way, he might have a shot at saving Arlie a world of pain.
Drawing in one long, deep breath, he drank his last of Arlie Banks naked and serene.
He peeled back the sheets and scooted to the side of the bed, locating his boxer briefs. Next came his slacks, which he hastily stepped into, quickly fastening the belt.
“Hey, you.”
Samuel spun to find Arlie sitting up in bed, sheets clutched to her chest like a snowdrift, passion-mussed hair unspeakably alluring.
“Hi,” he said. Lifting his shirt from the heap on the floor, he shrugged into it and began fastening the buttons.
“What’s with the hurry?” she asked in a relaxed voice that didn’t match her nocturnal turmoil at all. “The first Supply Side West event isn’t until this evening. We have plenty of time to—”
“I have to go.” Returning to the entryway to retrieve his tie from the chaise, Samuel slid it around his neck, all thumbs as he tried to execute the knot.
“Let me.” Arlie tucked the sheet around herself and crawled toward the end of the bed as Samuel approached the cheval mirror.
“I’ve got it.” He gave her his back, not wanting to see the disappointment creeping into her sleep-creased features.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
This time, there was no doubt that she registered the coolness in his tone. He watched her in the mirror as the lingering fondness melted from her like a light dusting of snow.
“Look.” Her eyes darted from him to the door, as if measuring how likely she was to prevent his escape. “Last night, I felt something I haven’t felt in a really long time.”
Samuel’s heart sank, though he had been bracing himself for this since his brain had clicked on. This was the part where he was supposed to tell her he felt it too. That being with her had been like coming back to the home he had never known but always wanted.
He wouldn’t.
Arlie shifted, settling back against the pillows again. “The truth is, I haven’t been entirely honest with you. And I can’t let things go any further between us without you knowing everything there is to know.”
The fear he had sensed the morning of her interview returned. Worry tightened her features.
Instinctively, he had already known there was something that she wasn’t telling him, but at the time, it hadn’t mattered. It hadn’t mattered because the only reason she was being hired was to drive his brother to make a colossal mistake that would get him thrown out of Kane Foods and out of Samuel’s way.
Now, it didn’t matter because things couldn’t go any further between them. It was an absolute impossibility.
“There’s no need.” Looping the last knot on his tie, Samuel snugged it against his neck. For reasons he wouldn’t want to dissect, this simple gesture brought him comfort. Delivering him closer to something that resembled his normal life.
“No need?” It wasn’t the question itself that gutted him. It was the unprotected hope and vulnerability in her voice.
He needed her to be angry at him. To be irate at the way she was being treated. Her pain, her eagerness. They were his kryptonite.
Conjuring his father, he turned to her, hoping he mimicked the appropriate signs of stony disinterest.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “We gave in to a simple biological urge. There’s no reason whatsoever this should complicate things.”
“But last night you said—”
“We were in the heat of the moment.” Samuel ran his hands through his hair, hoping to tame it into some kind of order. “It was an adolescent urge that we didn’t have a chance to scratch back then. When you take some time to think about things with a cool head, I’m sure you’ll agree that pursuing this any further would be a disastrous choice for us both.”
“Think about what things?” There were tears in her eyes but he forced himself not to look away.
