Perfect Specimen (9 page)

That’s why she had always tried not to look at his face during her escape. One glance and she’d be weak at the knees, tempted to whisk a stray lock of hair from his forehead, or whisper something daring and incriminating in his ear.

Not that she had fallen in love with him. Nothing even close to that. She was far too disciplined. It would have signed his death warrant, and might have led to the slaughter of her children as well. The more she grew to admire him, the more she forced herself to regard him as a science experiment. Nothing more, nothing less. And she had been so successful for so many nights.

Now he was in danger, not only because of the diary and Randy, but because of this tender story. What if Ga’rag was listening from the adjoining bathroom? He could have transported in from his ship at any time—silent and menacing. If he truly suspected the depths of Clay’s feelings, or the fluttery response those feelings could evoke from Sara—

She summoned a harsh tone. “You mentioned another lie. What’s that about?”

His green eyes flashed with pain, but it vanished quickly. “Right. It’s actually more of an omission. I should have told you the minute I picked you up, though.”

“Told me what?”

He cleared his throat. “I know you’re not married.”

“What do you mean?”

“My firm has an investigator. A reliable one, very discreet. I asked him—”

“You asked him to spy on me?” she demanded, truly shocked.

“Of course not. He just did some digging. About your past. So like I said . . .” Clay grimaced. “I know you aren’t married. And I know you don’t have kids. I don’t blame you for making all that up. You were obviously determined to get rid of me. But still—well, I think it’s time we started being straight with each other.”

She slid to the edge of the bed, but he grabbed her gently by the forearm. “Sara—”

“Don’t!” She pulled free, then jumped up and grabbed her dress. “This is outrageous. No wonder you didn’t tell me sooner. I guess it was fun having sex with me one last time before the big confession.”

“Yeah, because
I’m
such a liar, and you’re so honest.” He chuckled as he scooped up his pants from the floor and began to get dressed. “Let’s call it even, okay?”

Sara was already tightening the sash around her waist. “Lying would be better than invading my privacy again. After stealing my diary? I’m beginning to think
you’re
the one with issues.”

Clay caught her by the waist just as she reached the door. “I needed to know if you were married. But I knew it would upset you, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” she demanded, trying for a haughty tone, but to her dismay, her bottom lip was quivering.

Clay noticed it right away and pulled her close. “Hey, I’m sorry. Really. Don’t cry.”

She glared through her tears. “If I’m crying—which I’m not—it’s because you won’t listen. You
never
listen.”

“Huh?”

“You want to rescue me. But from what?” Her tone grew mournful. “You’re so sure you know what’s best. But it’s
my
life. If you really loved me—which you don’t!—you’d do what I ask instead of what you
think
I need.”

He was staring at her, his expression blank, and she didn’t blame him. She wasn’t making sense, and even if she were, it didn’t matter.

Pulling free of his arms, she stormed out of the room, upset but also grateful for this unexpected chance to be legitimately angry with him. She needed to be convincing when she told Ga’rag it was over between her and Clay.

And this was definitely going to help.

* * * *

“So? You two are pretty quiet. Lovers’ quarrel?”

Clay scowled. “It’s none of your business. We’re just working something through.”

“Another lie,” Sara drawled. “In fact, Mark, this is
definitely
your business. Did you know Clay hired a detective to snoop into my past? It wasn’t enough to steal my diary. He had to violate my privacy twice in the same day.”

Mark quirked an eyebrow at Clay, who shrugged. “I didn’t hire him. He already works for me. And he didn’t snoop. He just looked at some public records. Marriage records. Birth certificates. That sort of thing.”

“Even looking at public records can feel violative under these circumstances,” Mark chided him. Then he turned to Sara. “You told us you were married. And you said you had three children. Why did you feel the need to lie?”

She took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of un-truth. She needed to pull this off—to lie more expertly than she had ever lied before.

Remember, you’re not doing it for Ga’rag. Or even for the girls. You’re doing it for Clay and his brothers. To save their lives.

“I was a minor when I got pregnant, so we never had an official marriage. Just a common-law one. And I had the babies at home. So there’s no record. And we homeschool them.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clay said quietly.

“I don’t care,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I like you, Clay, but you’re so convinced you’re something special. You’re not. I’ve had five or six of these flings over the years. It’s a safety valve for my marriage. Nothing more.”

“Five or six?”

His tone was innocent, but she reminded herself that he was a lawyer. A litigator. Probably trying to entrap her.

She decided to play it close to the vest. “At least five. Counting you.”

“But according to your diary, you’ve only had sex with
three
guys. Some premature ejaculator in high school, then Daniel Arroyo, then me.”

Sara glared. “You’re confusing fact and fiction, Counselor. The girl in the novel only had three lovers. But the real Sara—me—has had a few more. Do you want names and dates? Or has your detective already supplied them?”

“That’s enough, you two,” Mark said sternly. “Sara? Clay said you wanted to talk to me. I’m all ears, so let’s hear it.”

“Actually . . .” She stared down at the table, summoning her talents. “I wanted to set the record straight. Because I could tell this morning that you thought my—well, my issues were all about sex. And I guess that was true once, but not now. My husband isn’t even interested in having sex with me anymore.” She made a wry face. “I’m not sure he ever really was. He just wanted to have children. He was getting older, and wanted to have a family. And so did I. So in that way, we were perfect for each other.”

“He’s not interested in sex?” Mark murmured. “Just children? Sort of like the geneticist in your story?”

She pretended to be shocked by the parallel. “I never thought of that. Art imitating life, right? Except my husband
used
to sleep with me. The aliens in the story evolved past sexual intercourse centuries ago.”

Clay had fallen silent, and she knew that was a good sign. He was confused, which meant he would finally be willing to defer to his brother the expert. All she had to do was continue convincing Mark.

“I guess I’d like some wine after all,” she told them, jumping to her feet and hurrying to the counter, where Mark had left an open bottle of sauvignon blanc. She poured herself a glass, knowing Ga’rag would disapprove, but also knowing it would help create the needed effect.

Plus, it gave her a chance to refresh herself, one last time, on these final, crucial details. So she pretended to be distracted by something outside the window for a second. Then she steadied her nerves and returned to the brothers.

“So here goes.” She gave them each an apologetic smile. “Even though sex isn’t an issue with Edward and me, I know I’ve got problems. Not just because my childhood was so unusual, but because there’s a history of mental illness in my family. On my mother’s side. I should have mentioned that this morning, I guess, but I didn’t really trust you yet.”

“And now you do?”

“Now I feel like I don’t have a choice. If Mom had problems, and now I do, well, what does that mean for my daughters? I don’t want to doom them to an unhappy life. So maybe it’s time I started working through some of this. Just like you were saying this morning. You mentioned a colleague that might have expertise in this area. If you’re still willing to refer me, I’d like to take you up on it.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Edward won’t object?”

“He wants me to be happy. And he cares about the girls. If this is what it takes to ensure their futures, he’ll go along with it.”

Clay reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I know this was a tough decision, Sara. We’re proud of you. Right, Mark?”

Mark nodded. “Tell us about your mom, Sara. But first, tell me how you knew about her illness.”

“Dad told me.”

“Interesting.” He pursed his lips. “You were only eleven years old when he died, weren’t you? That was a fairly heavy burden to lay on a child’s shoulders.”

Sara stared down at the table again, knowing that this was going to be the roughest part of the lie. She was about to speak ill of the only person who had ever really loved her, and even though she told herself it didn’t matter what some strangers thought about her father, it still felt horribly wrong.

She gripped Clay’s hand for strength, then embarked on the story she had concocted earlier that evening after doing some research on delusional disorders.

“You’re so sure he abused me, but he wasn’t around enough to do that. He was always working, and I was always with babysitters or with my grandparents, who, by the way, hated me because they thought Mom ruined Dad’s life by having me. He was a broken man, Mark. Because of things that happened long before I was born.”

Noting confusion in the psychologist’s eyes, she pushed forward. “My parents were pretty young when they got married. It was a storybook romance, or so I’m told. Then suddenly it fell apart. Mom became convinced Dad was having an affair. He claimed he wasn’t, and I guess I believe him because he used to sit and stare at their wedding picture, and he had tears in his eyes. But she was sure he was cheating. And then she got pregnant with me, and her suspicions got even worse.”

“She was afraid your father would abandon her with a new baby?” Clay asked, his tone sympathetic.

“No. She thought his girlfriend would try to sabotage the pregnancy. By poisoning Mom and killing the unborn fetus.”

Clay winced. Better yet,
Mark
winced, which told Sara she was making the perfect impression—the delusional daughter of a delusional mother.

But before she could drive the point home, Randy burst into the room. “Hey! You said you’d call me when it was time to eat.”

“Can’t you take a hint?” Clay muttered.

Randy laughed and strode over to Sara, pulling her into the same bear hug he’d given her earlier that day. “How you holding up, kiddo? I’ve been worried that asshole would punish you for talking to us.”

She wanted to scold him, but the hug actually felt pretty comforting, and in a crazy way, it was nice knowing that someone else believed Ga’rag existed. Someday, when all trace of Sara vanished, there would be at lest one person left on Earth who knew exactly what had happened.

Unless Ga’rag kills him, so stop being so sentimental and get back on track
.

“I didn’t know you were home,” she told the younger brother as she wriggled free of his arms. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Clay chuckled. “You are? Most people are glad when he
leaves
.”

Sara ignored him. “I need to talk to you, Randy. You and Mark. Right after we finish my impromptu therapy session.”

“Therapy?” Randy scoffed. “At a time like this? That’s crazy.”

“Sara was just telling us that mental illness runs in her family,” Mark explained.

Randy arched a knowing eyebrow. “In other words, you’re conning them again? Wise up, Sara. We can’t help you unless you’re straight with us.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to be.”

He gave her a skeptical look but took a seat at the table across from her. “Fine. Go ahead.”

Sara turned back to Mark. “Maybe it was true—about Dad’s affair with the girlfriend. You have such a low opinion of him, so who knows? But he really did seem to miss Mom.”

“I’m sure he missed her. And I suppose we’ll never know about the girlfriend.”

“Or the poison,” Sara agreed. “Mom hemorrhaged to death after she delivered me. I doubt the girlfriend could have caused that, right?”

“Probably not.” Mark cleared his throat. “From what you say, your mother was delusional. It’s a classic syndrome—that sort of jealousy and paranoia. Which must have been difficult for your father.”

“Exactly!” She moistened her lips. “And then she died, and he missed her so much. He said I reminded him a lot of her. Plus, I had lots of nightmares, just like she always did. I would wake up screaming, but he’d always be right there, protecting me. Cuddling me. Sometimes he even called me by her name by mistake. Janet . . .”

Clay’s voice cracked a little when he whispered, “Damn.”

Mark seemed shaken also. “What kind of nightmares? About being kidnapped by extraterrestrials?”