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Sage’s phone buzzed, Alexander’s address and phone number flashing big and bold on the screen. “Received.”
Her brother jumped up and wrapped her in a grateful hug. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”
“I think I do, and you owe me at least twelve months of wine and a selection of gourmet cheeses.”
He pulled back, his facial expression shocked, incredulous. “What? Twelve months! You have to be kidding. That’s milking it, big time. He’s my best friend, but you know him, too. And you’re a great person, a selfless person, who loves helping others, so—”
She raised her hand. “Stop right there.” He forgot she was also well versed in his conflict-resolution, some might say guilt-inducing, coercion strategies. “Point taken. I’ll settle for a case of wine with a mix of sparkling rosé, shiraz and fortified. “And a quarterly supply of Romano, gorgonzola and smoked goat’s cheese.” She would not compromise any further. Even if he did the ‘cute-come-on-sis-puppy-eye-pleading’ thing, something he’d mastered that usually won her over.
Chase’s charming smile lifted the corners of his lips. It hadn’t worked on her for ages—however, she could see how his Chris Hemsworth vibe and expertise at reading people could suck in the ladies. Men, too.
As a high-end solicitor, he used a more hardball rather than therapeutic approach. He had to play those involved, negotiate, have a solid poker face, know when to fight his battles and when to cut his losses.
He would have determined reasonably quickly that he’d pushed her as hard as he could. Push her too far and she’d retreat. “Got it.” He saluted her. “I’ll leave you to”—he waved his hands above her desk—“this.”
Chase left her office, and she stared at Alexander’s details on her mobile phone. She debated whether to call or text. Given her phone phobia and ‘Alexander anxiety’, she decided to text.
Normally she’d have her personal assistant follow up, but this was off the books…purely personal. Assisting an old friend… Well, a not-that-old, sexy, off-limits, totally unreciprocated friend of her brother’s.
She sent Alexander an SMS, put her phone on the desk and, not even a minute later, it buzzed.
What now? Another unnerving message? Another veiled threat to her life? Something she’d almost thought she’d become desensitized to.
Until it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Working in the psychological trauma field, she expected angry, unhappy patients, but this one in particular liked to taunt. They hadn’t hinted at any specific danger yet, so she’d let it go.
Sage had her suspicions about possible suspects, though hadn’t taken action. Her clients were troubled, which was why they saw her in the first place. She didn’t want to exacerbate their issues by possible false accusations. She didn’t want them hassled prematurely by the police.
Otherwise they’d lose what little trust she’d been able to gain. And that would ruin the rest of their therapy, prevent them from ever moving forward positively, putting their faith in another professional, taking the risk on another psychologist, taking a risk on themselves and their decision-making.
She swiped her mobile screen. Like she didn’t already have enough on her more-than-full plate.
Alexander. Relief flooded her veins while her heart thudded like a gong in her chest.
Sage, hi. Long time no communicado. Thanks for making contact. I wasn’t sure you would. When are you free? I’m at your disposal.
Her breath hitched. Why did that sound so sexy? Almost flirty. He obviously hadn’t meant it how she’d read it. She had to keep her response clear, simple, to the point. No ambiguity.
Tonight at around 6 p.m. or tomorrow mid-morning.
Tonight. Please. My address is…
Tonight? She’d thought it’d be too short notice. She’d expected to have more time to get herself together…her feelings, her readiness. Maybe Chase was right. Maybe Alexander’s situation needed more attention than either of them had anticipated.
Fine. See you soon.
Images of him popped into her mind. As a nineteen-year-old he’d been tall and lean and strapping…a true fitness fanatic. And those eyes… She could never forget their deep blue intensity, like a lagoon in paradise. His gaze alone had her fighting an inevitable blush.
Thankfully, her olive skin had helped hide her reaction. If he’d realized she’d had such an all-encompassing crush on him, she’d have been mortified.
But now, with his years of experience in the world, would he notice? If not through her skin tone, through her body language? See through the subtleties of her highly developed mask, her measured responses?
And how about him? Would the clichéd windows to his soul show his pain? Would he have that lost stare in his eyes? The one she’d seen so many times—a mixture of grief, loss, despair…helplessness.
