Impossible Page 0,53

do you think that would last?”

“Not long, I hope.” He laughed, and she loved the sound of it. She was smiling as she listened to him, and watched the dog. “I had to take cold showers all night when I got back to London.”

“That's my point. If we hang out together, one or both of us is going to lose our minds and do something we'll both regret later on.” The attraction she felt to him was like putting a match to dynamite. They had proven that on Friday, after dinner at Harry's Bar.

“So now what do we do?” he asked, sounding discouraged. He wasn't convincing her. Sasha was every bit as stubborn as he was.

“I become your very respectable art dealer. And you behave like a good boy.”

“I hate it when people tell me what to do. I'm not a child.” He sounded annoyed.

“Sometimes one has no other choice but to do the right thing,” she said sensibly. “It's much more fun to do whatever you want. But when you do, people get hurt.” She had the good taste not to remind him of his dalliance with his sister-in-law, which had cost him his marriage.

“I want to see you, Sasha,” he said insistently. “I want to come to Paris this weekend.” And then as an afterthought, “I think I should see the dog. I'm her father after all.”

“No, you're not,” Sasha said stubbornly. “She's a fatherless child, and she'll just have to grow up that way, like it or not. You can be her godfather, if you like.”

“All right, all right. She's my god-dog. But I'm coming to Paris this weekend to see you both.”

“I won't let you in,” she said firmly.

“Why not? What else do you have to do, sit in a dark house by yourself and work yourself to death? For God's sake, Sasha, let yourself live for once. You deserve it. So do I.”

“No, you don't, and neither do I, if we're going to make fools of ourselves, or of me. You're just indulging yourself, and I won't let you do that at my expense.” She meant it. The stakes were just too high for her. Only Liam had nothing to lose, except his heart.

“That's not fair,” he said, sounding hurt.

“Yes, it is. It's honest. I'm nearly ten years older than you, and you want to behave any way you want. You don't want to be respectable and conservative. You have no intention of adapting to my life. You want to play at this, have some fun, and play wacky artist. If you do that in my life, Liam, you're going to turn my whole world upside down, and I won't let you do it.”

“I behaved perfectly at Harry's Bar,” he said, sounding miffed, and then added grudgingly, “except for the shirt and socks. If I knew it was so important to you, I'd have bought a new shirt and some socks, if that's what matters to you, for chrissake.” He was beginning to shout.

“It's not about the shirt and socks. It's about who you are and the way you want to live. You keep telling me no one can control you, no one can tell you what to do. You want to be a free spirit, Liam, and you have every right to do that. You just can't do that in my life. You and I both know that when the spirit moves you, you want to do whatever comes into your head. You think it's funny. Well, I don't. And like it or not, I'm too goddamn old for you. You're my son's best friend, for God's sake. He's twenty-five years old. I'm forty-eight.” His behavior and the rules he set for himself were far more appropriate in her son's world than hers, and Liam liked it that way. In the name of art and independence, he had resisted growing up all his life.

“I'm thirty-nine,” Liam said plaintively. “I'm closer to your age than his.”

“But you don't want to act like it. That's the problem. You want to pretend you're twenty-five. If I wanted another child, I'd adopt one. That's not the relationship I want with you.” She had raised her voice, too, in answer to his.

“What relationship do you want with me? I thought we worked things out just fine last Friday. And we didn't do badly this weekend, either. I don't want to just go to bed with you. I like talking to you, too.”

“So do I. But you're a luxury I