Sweat Equity (14 page)

Sara leaned her chin on her hand a moment and watched him. Her surprise faded to relief that he had showed up. She didn't have it in her to explain the odd turn things had taken lately. She and Jack had reverted to the sort of nightly check-in calls about their deal, just as they had done the year before. The difference this time marked a sea of change in their relationship. It seemed as long as they remained physically separate, they communicated beautifully.

She'd stayed up into the wee hours, snuggled down under her covers, chatting with him about anything and everything. Her brother and Rob, her parents and the strange, stilted relationship she maintained with them. He filled her in about his sister, Maureen, who'd married one of his best friends from high school and moved to Germany for her husband's army career. When he spoke of his niece and nephew, the man sounded positively moony–or as moony as a guy like Jack could sound. No topic was off limits, except of course their own failed relationship.

"Going back to the club," he'd told her last night making her scalp tingle.

"Oh? With…"

"Yeah. She says she wants to try it out. I am fairly confident she won't care for it, but whatever. I'm willing to give it a shot. You know me, anything to make you ladies happy."

She closed her eyes, shutting out the banter between her brother and her …. Lover? Friend
?

Jesus, what a mess.

The thought of Jack with that woman, in her submissive position made Sara want to scream and throw things. But, she'd had him and she'd given him back, hadn't she?

Yes, she had.

"Well, have fun."

He'd stayed silent a moment, letting it gather power between them.

"I would, if you were with me."

"Jack. Stop it. Talk about something else. We were doing so well."

"Sorry. I don't know about you but I need some sleep. Tomorrow night will be a late one for me." She had to bite her lip not to cry out with jealousy at that
.

"Suppose so. I have a date too."
Of course, at that time, she'd figured Craig wouldn't show. Not after the disappearing act she'd pulled.

"Nice. Tell surfer boy hello for me."

She'd yawned, stretched and run her hand over her breasts, wishing beyond reason for his touch. "Maybe. 'Night Jack. Sleep well."

"I would, if you were with me."

She laughed. "Stop it. 'Night."She ended the call, a lightness in her soul at his last words.

"Sara," Blake snapped his fingers at her. "Hey, where did you go? C'mon, let's hit it or we'll be late," he pulled her to her feet and turned her over to Craig who put a hand on her back to guide her out the door.

He still hadn't spoken a single word to her.

****

No matter how hard he fought it, Craig knew he'd fallen for her, precaution and self-preservation be damned.

He watched her one day in the office as she went about her business and suddenly began fantasizing about how he'd ask her to marry him–how he'd solicit her brother's help planning the most perfect evening because he knew Blake liked him and he'd figured out that was key. The small voice of doubt that would raise its hand to be heard at times, especially those times when Craig found himself flat out gloating over Jack Gordon's loss, he forced down beneath his desire for her.

When she had glanced over at him and smiled, breaking his reverie, he'd had to shake himself to banish the image of Jack watching them. Of him pounding into her while that asshole had to observe them, powerless to change how she felt.

After that night, when she'd left without warning or a decent explanation he'd nearly given up. Something held her back, kept her at arm's length. Maybe it was the friend thing. Maybe he had read too much into it too soon. He sighed as they exited The Ark, Ann Arbor's funky, indie music venue after the concert.

"Let's get a beer. I want to go over the Big House Brewing. I haven't been and I heard…" She squeezed his hand suddenly and gave him a significant look. "What?"

"It's okay babe." Blake gave her a one armed hug, shot his boyfriend a murderous look and walked away, leaving Rob to shrug and follow him.

"Sorry. What did I say?"

"Suzanne Baxter, one of the owners there, she was, um, Blake's last girlfriend I guess you could say. It's awkward and something is going on between those two lately." She shrugged and took his hand. "I'm glad you came tonight."

He smiled and put an arm around her shoulder. "You are a high maintenance bitch. But I wouldn't have missed this concert for anything."

She punched his side, and then wound an arm around his waist, reveling in his familiar scent. "Let's get that beer. I'll buy."

"Damn straight you will, walking out on me, leaving me in my cold lonely bed. Jeez. I felt like a de-flowered abandoned prom date."

She laughed. "C'mon, I can drive."

By the time they reached the Tap Room of Big House Brewing Co, it was nearly full but they found a seat at the crowded bar and ordered a couple of the dark stout beers that had made the company regionally famous. The silence between them felt awkward but he let it linger. As he glanced around, his gaze lit on a slight, redheaded woman making her way through the crowd, laughing and chatting.

"That's Suzanne," Sara whispered. Craig kept watching as she worked the room. "She dumped Blake, telling him he was too young. It broke his heart I tell you. Within a month, he'd met Rob and fell even harder so maybe it was meant to be, who could know? Fate. It's a bitch." She finished her pint and raised her hand for another.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the woman for some reason. At one point, she looked up and met his gaze, making him blush and turn around.

A few minutes later, the woman was beside them with a hand on Sara's shoulder and a genuine smile on her lovely face. "Sara? How are you?"

Sara returned her grin, stood and hugged her. "I'm okay Suze, thanks. This is Craig Robinson, a friend and fellow realtor at Stewarts." He shook her hand.

"Great to meet you. Hey, um Sara, can I talk to you a sec?"

"Not if it's about Jack you can't." Craig stared at the red headed beauty.
How in the hell did she know
...

"Sorry, Craig." His skin buzzed when Suzanne put a hand on his arm. "Small town. Too many connections. Anyway," She gave Sara a look. "We'll talk later, okay?"

He watched a frown crease Sara's face as she repeated: "Not if it's about Jack. That subject is closed."

Suzanne laughed and held up a hand. "All right sorry. Just trying to …"

"Don't." Sara stared straight ahead. Craig smiled at Suzanne and shrugged.

"Caught in the middle, that's me." She put an arm around his shoulders, startling him but he went with it.

"Don't know if that's a safe place between those two, dear." She gave him a squeeze and backed away. The look in her eyes was inscrutable. He had a sudden urge to keep her around, chatting. She patted his arm, winked and moved back into the crowd. He stared after her a minute, seemingly mesmerized.

Damn. That was strange.

He turned and focused back on Sara. But the deep blue gaze of the lovely redheaded Suzanne stayed in his head.

Chapter Twelve

Blake stared out of the car window, tapping his fingers on his knee as Rob maneuvered through the crowded Ann Arbor streets. He put a hand on his lover's thigh at one point, as they neared his small house on the west side. Rob parked, stared at the windshield, then up at him in a way that turned his blood cold.

"I can't do this anymore Blake." He kept a death grip on the steering wheel.

"Do what anymore?" Blake put his palm over Rob's white knuckles but the other man didn't move. "Rob?"

"You are not over her. I get it. Sara is miserable still. My friend Jack, whom you despise, is equally unhappy. This is a mess. I need some space."

"Okay." Blake kept staring at him, willing him to look back. He finally did and Blake started at the unshed tears glistening in the man's eyes. "Really?"

He turned back to face forward, let go of the wheel and climbed out of the car without another word. Blake got out, practically ran around the front of the thing to get to him, terror gripping his heart. Clutching Rob's biceps he pressed him back against the SUV's side. "Really?" he repeated, his jaw clenched. Rob stared at him a minute. Blake started to say something, anything, to beg the man not to go. To take back what he said about needing space. But his lover's mouth cut him off. Rob thrust his tongue between Blake's lips, held him close. The kiss tasted hard, desperate, and Blake nearly came apart at the seams as Rob threaded his hands through his hair and tugged at it.

They broke apart, breathing hard. Blake smiled at him but Rob's next words froze him in place. "I'm moving out. Just for a while." He put a hand against Blake's jaw. "I love you, you stupid, stubborn man. But you have to get your head straight."

"Rob, Jesus, we've been through this. I am over her. I…I'm leaving Sara alone. Just like you asked me to."

"I am done sharing my bed with the Suzanne." Blake gasped when Rob grabbed the back of his neck, pulled him close again, so close he could smell the kitchen on him. So close, he could taste him again. He took a breath. "Oh hell," Rob groaned and slanted his mouth over Blake's smothering him with need, want, and something unnamed. Something Blake obviously could not provide.

Blake caressed the back of his lover's neck, and then broke the kiss. Leaning his forehead against Rob's, he shifted, making room for his stiffening cock. "I love you Rob Frietag. I'm sorry I've been such a shit lately. Don't leave me. Not even for a minute. Okay?" His heart pounded in his ears and he increased his grip on Rob's neck, tugging at the man's hair.

"Open your eyes." Rob's voice was low, ominous. Blake did, not realizing he'd even closed them. "We rushed into this. I…we have a lot in common and have made a huge success of the business, but you are going in a direction that I don't want. I know you. I know you still obsess over her. And I told you I am fucking finished sharing you with her." He tore himself out of Blake's embrace and stomped towards the front steps, leaving Blake gripping air, then the car window in an effort not to scream in frustration.

When he reached the front door, the tall, blonde man turned to face Blake who remained hanging on for dear life. He could not lose Rob. He had to fix this. Now. "Come on inside. Let's talk more. I'm sorry. It was a shit day. I'm tired and I need a drink."

Blake took a breath and pushed himself up off the car, willing to take responsibility for his part of this. "You're right." He barely heard his own voice. The last months of his Sara's drama with Gordon and Suzanne's coincidental insertion back into his life as a result had thrown him. Thoughts of her had returned, with a vengeance.

Rob walked back to the top of the porch steps. "I know I am baby. Now come on in, let's talk a little more."

Blake trudged up the steps, heart heavy; the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth once again.

****

Jack gritted his teeth and drove into the night, making his way into the interior of Detroit, to a tall, nondescript building that housed one of the most exclusive BDSM clubs in the entire Midwest. The woman sitting next to him would not shut up. She'd been babbling like an idiot since they'd left the house. He'd come home, exhausted, wanting nothing more than a shower and a nap, preferably one with his ex-fiancée, and found Heather, in full French maid costume, a four-course meal spread out on the dining room table.

He'd made the best of it. He did love great food, and recalled thinking he'd have to hire a cook after he and Sara got married as neither of them darkened the kitchen door beyond making coffee. But they weren't getting married and he'd let this tall, angular, acerbic woman re-attach herself to him like a barnacle.

Why?

Because he couldn't be alone? Needed some sort of female justification for his existence? Couldn't go more than a few days without getting laid?

He ran a hand down his face. He'd made her wait. Not allowed her to touch him or vice versa, trying to explain they'd get enough of each other at the club, and that she'd be expected to act a certain way once there. She wouldn't listen.

Christ this was a huge mistake.

Evan and Julie kept up the conversational end from the back seat, letting the woman babble. He glanced at her. She certainly looked the part, in a leather bustier, garters, and long black leather coat plus knee-high boots. Her coal black curtain of hair shone and her deep brown eyes sparkled when they caught his. He smiled, tried to muster a semblance of desire for what lay ahead.

He failed.

He had on a dark suit, expensive tie and felt the part anyway. The whole thing reeked of desperation. He had finally figured something else out. He clutched Heather's leg.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Uh, maybe a little but…"

"I told you not to. Alcohol brings too much potential for danger at these places–the real ones anyway."