Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,20

different cities in five days so they could make Thanksgiving week a short one. The guy was indestructible. Still.

Sarah stopped by the grocery store on the way home from her workout to buy herself something healthy. She picked out a few pieces of fresh fruit and a couple of lightly-fried vegetable samosas she found in the prepared foods section. She missed Indian food. Good food of any kind, in fact, and her own cooking even more. She made one more stop, dropping off her dry cleaning and picking up clean suits so she could pack for the next day’s trip.

Sarah hadn’t bought new clothes in over eight months now. It was a luxury that was no longer on her list. She promised herself a full new outfit when these depositions were all over, but until then she could make do with all the designer suits she purchased back when she was feeling flush. As long as she continued to take good care of them, they should last, no matter how many times she folded them, ironed them with crappy hotel irons, wore them, perspired in them, and subjected them to the cleaners.

As soon as she returned to her apartment, Sarah checked her e-mail, answered one or two, then headed for the shower. Now that she had sweated up her hair at the workout, she was safe giving it the full and laborious treatment: shampooing, conditioning, treating, blowing it out with the dryer, then straightening it with the iron. It was a process that could take as long as an hour and a half sometimes if her hair was being particularly difficult. She hoped today wasn’t one of those days. Angie was right: she needed more sleep. Sleep and a long weekend off.

And a break from looking at Joe across a table all day long every day.

***

“Beautiful, huh?” the court reporter, Marcela, said as Sarah gazed at the Wasatch mountains from the window of the hotel conference room. “Have you ever skied here?” she asked.

“No, I don’t ski,” Sarah said. “Do you?”

“Once,” Marcela said. “That was enough. I forgot snow was so cold.”

Sarah smiled, just to be friendly, even though she didn’t really feel like it. She hadn’t slept well. She felt edgy, irritable.

Joe’s Salt Lake City client was a woman in her thirties, well-groomed, but with an unfortunately short haircut. It wasn’t the woman’s choice.

“I used to have hair down to here,” she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks. Chapman had finally gotten around to asking a few relevant questions, and was rewarded with copious weeping.

Oh, boy, Sarah thought, this one’s going to kill us in front of a jury.

And then the room started to go black.

It started at the edges of Sarah’s vision, like black bars, slowly closing in. Then her ears began to buzz. She could feel sweat beading on her face.

Sarah glanced down at her legal pad and tried to concentrate on the few words she had written there, but the letters swam and wriggled out of focus.

When Sarah looked up again, she found Joe staring at her. She scowled, but he wrinkled his forehead and kept looking.

“Off the record,” he said. Marcela stopped typing. “Sarah, are you all right?”

“Of course I’m all right.” Even though she could feel the sweat covering more of her body.

“Come with me,” Joe told her. To the rest of the people in the room he said, “We’re taking a break.”

When Sarah didn’t immediately stand up—and why should she? He wasn’t in charge of her—Joe came over and clasped her by the arm. “Come on,” he said. “Now.”

Sarah slowly rose to her feet. “What are you—” But she couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out. Because suddenly the room swayed, and Sarah swayed with it. Joe braced his arm around her waist and escorted her out into the hall.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Joe said, “You’re sick.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Sarah, look at you. You’re bleach white. There are black circles under your eyes. You’re dripping sweat. Come on, where’s your room?”

It was true, she didn’t feel well—at all. But he had no right taking charge of her like this. Sarah wrenched herself away. “I’m fine. I just need to rest for a few minutes.”

As if accepting that as a signal, her legs began to give way. She leaned back against the nearest wall and started to sink down.

Joe bent over, scooped his arm behind her knees, and lifted her off the floor. Sarah drooped in his arms. Joe wrestled