I Belong to You (Inside Out #5)(2)

“Keanu’s my older-man fantasy,” I tease, thrilled that I’ve elicited a lift in her voice.

“Two birds of the same feather,” she says, as she has so many times in the year since we met at a Riptide auction I’d attended.

“Yes, we are,” I agree wholeheartedly, helping her onto the bed.

“I’m all for the movie, but aren’t the cable and Internet still not working?” she asks as I help her settle comfortably against a stack of pillows.

“Random outages,” I say, kicking off my tennis shoes with the intent to join her. “We seem to be in the not-so-random area but they promised it’ll be fixed soon.”

“Did you call Marianne next door and see if she has the same issue?”

“Yes, and she does.”

Thankfully, with Dana lucid again and Marianne being a good friend of hers, she’s helping us keep Dana from watching the news until Mark returns. I really don’t know how she’s going to react to hearing reporters talking about a sex scandal involving Mark, and a connection to the counterfeit-art claims in Rebecca’s death.

“The cable company is lucky I’m not myself,” she murmurs, sounding groggy. “I’d raise hell.”

My lips curve. “I can’t wait until you’re raising hell again—even if it’s at me.”

Crossing the room, I stick the DVD in the player in the huge oak entertainment center and grab the remote control. Turning to the bed, I find that Dana’s lashes have lowered and she’s headed into sleep. With a pinch in my chest, I stare at the woman who’s my employer, my friend, and a third mother, so to speak—one with special qualities that really reach inside me and touch all the right places. Normally she looks like she’s in her forties rather than her fifties, but today she looks her age or older. She looks breakable.

My fingers curl into my palms. Damn cancer. And suddenly, even though Mark turns me inside out, and I end up in bed with him when I say I won’t, just to say good-bye over and over again, I want him here. He got her through the blood infection, kept her fighting, and kept his father’s fear in check, despite his own. I’m trying to fill his shoes, but fear I’m failing. I don’t want to fail.

Grabbing my briefcase to start weeding through the mounds of work, I carefully settle on the bed, wanting to be close if Dana needs me. As my laptop powers up my cell phone vibrates with a call, and speak of the devil—it’s Mark. Cautiously slipping off the bed, I punch the Answer button and whisper, “Hello,” as I head for the hallway.

“Why are you whispering, Ms. Smith?” he asks, and damn him, even with the snap to his question, and the use of my formal name, which he knows I hate, his voice brings up memories of my visit there last week. Of him crumbling before me, a broken, hurt man; then our naked bodies and his vow that we were done—even though we’d never really started. And the moment he’d grabbed me and kissed me before he put me on a plane, to get me out of harm’s way. I’d tasted regret, pain, torment. He’d loved Rebecca. He’d lost her.

“Ms. Smith—”

“I’m staying with your mother and she fell asleep, so I’ve moved to another room,” I reply quickly, stepping into a spare bedroom and pulling the door shut.

“Where’s my father?”

“He went to the college campus to meet with his assistant coaches about baseball season.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I pressured him to attend to his team today, and he told me he couldn’t leave her alone with her nurse. If she’s the wrong person, we need to replace her.”

“No. She’s very nice. Your mother is just emotionally wounded right now. She needs extra tender, loving care and I was happy to bring my work here and hang out with her.”

“Since I’m still not there as I’d hoped, we need to talk about the staff and the press.”

“They’re handling the pressure from the reporters remarkably well.”

“For now,” he says. “But mark my words, money has a way of showing people’s true colors. With hundreds of employees, someone will be offered a big payday and they’ll take it. Those are usually the people that paint a canvas of lies, too.”

I know how easily people hide nastiness behind a shell of niceness. “I’m ready if it happens. But your mother is alert now and I’m struggling to keep the news from her. You have to talk to her soon.”

“I’m headed there Wednesday and I plan to stay in New York indefinitely. I’ll get in touch with my father and we’ll plan to talk to her if she seems strong enough. But don’t say anything to her about Wednesday. I don’t want to get her hopes up and have some problem keep me here.”

Relief washes over me. “Oh, thank God. She’s better when you’re here. I hope your return means there’s news on Ava?”

There is a brief silence, a shift in mood that crackles, before he replies, “From what I understand, you called Jacob yesterday and asked him the same question.”

Taken off guard, exhausted, and hurt for reasons I don’t try to understand right now, I fight to contain the sharpness of my tone. “Yes,” I confirm. “I called your private bodyguard.”

He doesn’t even try to contain the sharpness in his. “Don’t go around me again.”