Anything For You (23 page)

“Then don’t go.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she put the box down so she would wipe them away.

“Whatever it takes, Laney. Tell me, and it’s yours. Just don’t leave me like this,” Sam said. It was a plea from the heart, the absolute truth of how he felt.

“It’s not about you. It’s about me,” she said.

He screwed his face up with frustration. “What does that even mean? It sounds like something I’ve said about a million times to some girl I wanted to break up with.”

Delaney’s expression became shuttered, and she bent to grab the box again. Sam stepped forward, reaching for the carton in her arms.

“Talk to me. Tell me why you’re really going,” he insisted, trying to wrest the box from her.

Delaney held on, her jaw firming. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she said, her grip tightening on the box.

“Put the bloody thing down and talk to me,” Sam insisted. He didn’t know what else he could say to her. He just knew that if he let her walk out the door, it would all be over.

“No.”

For a moment they struggled, the box wavering back and forth between them. Delaney was strong, and she had a good grip on the corners of the carton, but Sam was no less determined. After a few drawn-out seconds, Delaney abruptly let go of the box, sending Sam reeling backward a few steps. “Take it. Send it to me by courier,” she said, moving toward the door.

He threw the box to one side and dodged into her path.

“Laney,” he said warningly.

“There’s nothing left to say, Sam,” she said, her voice rising.

“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk anyway,” he said, reaching out to haul her against his body.

It was the closest they’d been since their weekend away, and his body reacted instantaneously as he pressed himself against her.

“I’ve missed you, Laney,” he said as he peppered kisses on her neck, shamelessly taking advantage of the fact that he knew it was a particularly erotic zone for her.

She groaned low in her throat, half protest, half capitulation, and then she turned her face toward his questing lips and their mouths meshed. He had forgotten how hot he could get just from kissing her. Her tongue stroked his, and her lips were soft and full. Angling his head, he strove for deeper access.

His hands gravitated to her torso, smoothing up over the fabric of her tight T-shirt and cupping her breasts. She strained toward him as he rubbed her aroused nipples through her top, her hips bucking reflexively when he pinched the tight peaks gently.

“Yes,” she moaned, her hands racing across his back, down to his butt, and then around to the front of his jeans where his erection was throbbing with need.

He grit his teeth as she smoothed her hand against his length, her fingers curling around his shaft through the softness of the worn denim.

Hungry for her, he started walking Delaney back toward the desk. He had to have her. He needed her. He wanted her.

He’d forgotten about the box, however, and they stumbled to a halt as her heels connected with it. Dazed, Delaney stared down at the carton filled with photos and books and mementoes for a long, drawn out beat, and when she lifted her eyes back to his face he knew that he’d lost her.

“We made a deal, Sam,” she said, reminding him of their agreement that their weekend away was the end of anything physical between them.

“You want it. I know you want it,” he said, grinding his hips into hers. Her pupils dilated and she caught her breath, but still she shook her head.

“We drew a line, and we’re sticking to it,” she said, stepping away from him now.

“It was a stupid line, and I say we break it,” he insisted, reaching for her again.

“We can’t.” Her tone was clipped and firm, indisputable.

Sam’s temper flared as she stooped to pick up her stupid bloody carton of belongings again.

“What about what I want?” he said. “You’ve had everything your way since this whole thing started. What about what I want to happen?”

She eyed him carefully. “So what do you want, Sam? Apart from sex at the moment, and for everything to go back to the way it used to be?”

“And what’s wrong with any of that?” he asked belligerently. “Haven’t you been happy here for the past eight years? Because if you haven’t been, you’re the best damned actress I’ve ever met. Next you’ll be telling me you faked all those orgasms I gave you.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Delaney shouted back. “You’re happy as long as you have everything you need—the magazine ticking along nicely, me to keep you company whenever you feel like it and some handy hottie in your bed whenever you get a bit horny. Well, I want more than that from my life, Sam Kirk! I want someone to hold me at night and children to love. I want a family.”

Her words resonated with something deep inside him, but he ignored it and continued to give vent to his hurt.

“Fine. Am I stopping you from getting it? I just don’t understand why you have to leave the business and sell your apartment to have a family,” he yelled, all the frustration of the past few months at last finding an outlet. “I feel as though I’m being punished or something. I’m your friend, Delaney.”

All the fight went out of her then. Her shoulders slumped and she lost the feverish, angry glint in her eye.

“I’m doing you a favor, you just don’t know it yet,” she said quietly.

“Great. More goddamned riddles,” he said, throwing his hands in the air.

“Sam, look at us. We’ve been friends for sixteen years. We live above each other. We work with each other. Why do you think none of your relationships last? Why do you think I’ve been single all these years?”

Sam stared at her. She nodded.

“You see what I mean? There is no room in our lives for anyone else.”

Suddenly Sam got it.

“You’re leaving because of me? Because of our friendship?” he asked, stunned.

“Because I want a family. And I will never have one while you and I fill the gaps in one another’s lives,” she said.

“And that’s why you’ve sold your apartment. You’re moving to get away from me,” Sam stated flatly.

It was all painfully clear to him now. And he couldn’t believe it—Delaney was choosing some unknown, yet-to-be formed family over their friendship.

“Yes. I am.”

He felt as though he’d been sucker punched. It had all been there, of course. If he’d bothered to get his head out of his butt long enough to make the connections.

“So what was our weekend away about?” he asked, all the certainties in his world torn lose from their moorings.

“It was goodbye, Sam.”

He stared at her, seeing the tremble in her lips, the moisture in her eyes, but for a split second hating her for what she was saying, what she was doing. She was the center of his world and she was dumping him like last season’s designer fashions so she could make room for her new life.

He felt sick and angry and overwhelmed.

Silence sat thick and heavy between them, and finally Delaney swallowed audibly and moved toward the door.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said.

And then she left him.

“Come inside, you duffer,” Claire said gently.

Delaney hiccupped noisily. “I was going to go home. But then I couldn’t face being alone, so I told the taxi driver to come here,” she sobbed. “I know it’s late. I didn’t wake the kids up, did I?”

“They sleep like little rocks once they drop off. They’re fine,” Claire assured her. “Come on, I’ll make you a coffee.”

“Okay,” Delaney sniffed, happy to have her sister take charge for the moment.

“Are we drunk as well as heartbroken?” her sister asked conversationally as she set the kettle boiling.

“No. Just tragic. Same old same old.”

“You’re not tragic for loving Sam, Delaney.”

Delaney made a face. “Feels like it from where I’m sitting.”

“What happened to bonking him until you could bonk no more? I give you good advice, and you ignore it,” Claire said wryly.

“I did not! Sam and I went away for the weekend three weeks ago, I’ll have you know,” Delaney said indignantly.

“And?”

“And we had the most amazing two days on record. Then it finished, and that was that. And no, it didn’t burn anything out,” Delaney reported heavily.

“Hmm,” Claire said, looking a little guilty.

“What?” Delaney asked.

“Well…I didn’t really have a lot of faith in the burning-out theory, to be honest,” Claire said. “I was just kind of banking on Sam getting his act together and realizing that you’re his dream woman.”

Delaney stared at her sister. “You tricked me?”

“Hey, you still got a whole weekend of sensational sex as a consolation prize. Don’t go feeling ripped off about it,” Claire said defensively.

“What about all that stuff about things losing their luster, blah, blah?” Delaney asked.

“I know. I can really talk a load of horse-hooey when I want to, can’t I?” Claire said proudly. “I think it’s all those pretend tea parties with Alana. It’s really cultivated my creative side.”

Delaney couldn’t help laughing ruefully. The truth was, she’d wanted that weekend for herself, all other ulterior motives aside. She couldn’t regret it, even though it made leaving Sam so much more painful.

Claire slid a cup of coffee across the kitchen counter toward Delaney.

“You want me to make up the spare bed again?” she asked.

Delaney wrapped her hands around the mug and inhaled the fresh aroma. Just the promise of caffeine gave her strength.

“No. I’d better go home. The movers are coming first thing, and I’ve still got to pack my books and DVDs.” She said it flatly, as though she was talking about her imminent appearance before a shooting squad.

“You’re moving into your new house, Laney. That’s something to be excited about, isn’t it?” Claire said, walking around the kitchen counter and sliding an arm over her shoulders.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I predict that in a year’s time you will be in love with someone else and on the way to being married and knocked up,” Claire said brightly.

Making an effort, Delaney crossed her fingers. “Here’s hoping.”

The sound of small footsteps sounded in the hallway, and they both turned to see Travis easing his way into the room. At six years old, he was all eyes and teeth and hair, his toddler’s body having well and truly morphed into a long, skinny little boy’s frame. He was dressed in cartoon character shorty pyjamas, and he rubbed his eyes theatrically with his knuckles.

“I can’t sleep, Mommy,” he said. Then he saw Delaney, and he instantly put aside the playacting as his eyes lit up. “Aunty Delaney!” he said, racing across the room to give her a hug.

She hoisted him onto her lap, figuring that he wasn’t too old to have a proper cuddle with his aunt.

“Hey there, big guy. Isn’t it a bit late for you to be out of bed?” she said, pressing kisses onto his soft cheeks.

Travis pulled away, his face wrinkling into an expression of distaste.

“Ugh!”

“Mmm. Forgot to tell you. Kisses are out now that he’s at school. Hugging is still cool, though,” Claire informed her.

“Ah.”

“Come on, mister, let’s get you back to bed,” Claire said, lifting Travis out of Delaney’s arms. “I won’t be a tick,” she said as she disappeared down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

Delaney took a contemplative sip of her coffee while she waited.

She’d just walked away from a man and a life that meant the world to her in the hope that she still had a chance at having a family of her own. Not for the first time, she wondered whether she was being greedy. Maybe she should have just been content to have a great job and a great apartment and a great friendship with Sam. Maybe she should have channeled all her frustrated maternal instincts into being the best, most amazing aunt in the world, and counted herself lucky that her life was rich and full and that, even if her love was secret, she was an important part of Sam’s world.

“It’s too late, Delaney,” she told her coffee cup. “You’ve made your decision, you’ve jumped. Now you just have to fall until you hit the bottom.”

And she had a horrible feeling that she was going to hit hard once the reality of a Sam-free world sank in.

SAM LOOKED UP from the copy he was editing to find Karen in his office doorway.

“Hey, Sam—have you got a moment?” she asked, uncharacteristically tentative.

In the two weeks since Delaney had moved on, he’d gotten to know his new advertising sales manager a lot better. He’d made the right decision as far as the team went. Despite their intense loyalty to Delaney, he could see that they were beginning to like and respect Karen on her own terms, which was as it should be. Now he just had to work on his own little hang-up where she was concerned.

“Sure. Grab a seat,” Sam said.

Pushing his copy to one side, he put on his best grown-up professional face. It was strange being the sole owner of Mirk Publications. It wasn’t until Delaney had gone that he understood that sharing the burden of management with her had made a huge difference to how he felt about the business. In the past two weeks, he’d had to deal with a number of issues solo, and he’d felt severely handicapped, like a newly separated Siamese twin. No one to bounce ideas off. No one to whinge or bitch to. No one to work late with. All the joy had gone out of the magazine, and he’d even found himself rifling through his desk drawers, looking for the file he’d kept of the offers they’d received over the years to buy the magazine. For the first time ever, he’d allowed himself to toy with the idea of selling out, too.

“So, what’s up?” he said, forcing his mind to the matter at hand.

“I wanted to talk to you about us,” Karen said a little awkwardly. “Our relationship.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair as his man senses began to tingle. Where exactly was she going with this? As far as he knew, they didn’t have a relationship, apart from employer and employee. A sudden thought occurred, and he tensed. Surely Karen wasn’t one of those bunny-boiling women, the type who latched onto unsuspecting men and stalked them to death?

“Um. Okaaaaayyyyy. What exactly did you have in mind…?” he said cautiously, pushing his chair a little farther away from her.

She grinned. “You don’t have to freak, Sam. I’m not about to wig out on you. I just wanted to clear the air, because Delaney’s been gone a while now and you still seem to be having trouble spending more than five minutes in my company.”

Sam blinked. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said stiffly.

“Well, it is. I walk into a meeting, you walk out. Even with clients you find an excuse to go make a call or order coffee or something. So. What’s going on?” Karen said.

Feeling cornered, he stood and moved behind his chair, resting his hands on top of it.

“See. You’re trying to come up with an excuse to get me out of your office right now, aren’t you?” Karen guessed shrewdly.

He twitched—he had been about to fob her off, claiming he had an interview to get to.

“I know you must miss her like crazy,” Karen said gently. “But it’s bad for office morale and it’s bad for business and it’s not much fun for me being the stinky kid all the time.”

Sam stared at her for a moment, then he slumped back into his chair and put his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“I know. For what it’s worth, I wish that I’d had as much impact on a place where I worked as Delaney seems to have done here. I kind of wish I’d had a chance to work with her longer.”

“Yeah. She gets you like that,” Sam said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. God, he missed her.

“But she has gone,” Karen said. Her tone was firm but kind. “And we all need to move forward. Don’t you agree?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, of course. Listen, why don’t we organize some catering tomorrow, and we’ll put on a lunch for the gang? Hang out for a while as a team,” he suggested.

“Great idea. I’ll talk to Sukie,” Karen said.

Standing, she gave Sam a cheeky look. “New record—a whole fifteen minutes in the same room with me,” she said.

Sam smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

She waved his apology off. “It’s cool. Don’t sweat it.”

The smile dropped from Sam’s mouth as soon as she was gone. He couldn’t believe he’d been so unaware of his own behavior. Poor Karen, feeling like a leper for the past two weeks while he wallowed in his loss.

The truth was, he’d been reluctant to get to know and like Karen as his new colleague because then he would have felt as though he had truly replaced Delaney. It would have felt like the last step in letting her go.

He’d been so angry with her when she’d walked out on him that night after revealing that the reason she was leaving was because she didn’t “have room” in her life for him and a family. He’d felt betrayed. Abandoned. Discarded. What about their years of friendship? All the memories, all the good times? No one knew her better—no one. And she suddenly didn’t value that anymore? It had made his blood boil for the first few days and he’d stomped around and growled at staff and hit the skate park hard.

But slowly loneliness had risen up to swamp his anger. His apartment was an empty box, and he rattled around inside it pointlessly each night. Below, he could hear the sounds of the new owner moving around in Delaney’s apartment. The muffled beat of music playing downstairs, or the sound of a door opening and closing had always meant that Delaney was there—where she was supposed to be, near him. But now she was gone, and the same sounds only seemed to accentuate his loneliness.

He missed her. His chest ached with it. He couldn’t sleep, food tasted like cardboard, nothing could hold his attention for more than five or ten minutes. He was a wreck.

So many times he’d picked up the phone to call her, or started to drive toward her new house. But each time he’d stopped himself. What was he going to say to her? She’d made her feelings more than clear. She wanted a family more than she valued her friendship with him. It was that simple.

He just had to get used to the idea that she was no longer a part of his world.

The phone ringing in the outer office snapped Sam out of his reverie. He’d been doing too much sitting around and moping lately. He’d become a pathetic TV dinner man, staring slack-jawed at the tube at night, or sitting numb and senseless at his desk during the day. Something had to give.

Reaching for the phone, he dialed a number from heart. Charlie was always good for a night out. Charlie answered on the third ring and Sam arranged to meet his mate for a beer after work.

He felt a ridiculous sense of satisfaction when he ended the call. He was going out into the world after two weeks of mourning. It could only be a good thing.

He wasn’t so sure when he walked into the local pub after six that night. The smell of beer and fried food and the raucous sound of other people’s laughter and conversation combined to present a seemingly impenetrable wall of activity. He didn’t want to be around other people, he realized. This had been a mistake. He hesitated on the threshold, ready to retreat back to his monk’s existence in his apartment. But Charlie had already spotted him, and he raised a hand and waved to get Sam’s attention.

Gritting his teeth, Sam wove his way through the tables to join his friend at the bar.

“Kirk!” Charlie said affectionately, giving Sam the kind of half hug, half thump on the back that signaled they were old friends.

“Kenner. Nice to see you took your tie off at least,” Sam said, trying to sound like his normal self. He always gave Charlie a hard time for being a corporate slave.

“Those of us who work for a living have to dress to impress. I’ll explain it to you sometime,” Charlie said, shoving a cold beer in Sam’s direction.

Sam forced himself to take a mouthful of beer.

“So, how have things been?” Charlie asked.