she was about to do to him all afternoon long as he sat across from her at the deposition.
She would have to deal with it, too, she realized, as she felt her own body respond.
And that night they were flying home. She wouldn’t see him again until Monday.
That might not work out at all.
Twenty-eight
As Sarah packed up her laptop and notes after another long day of travel and deposition, Chapman turned to her and stuck out his hand.
“This is it,” he said.
Sarah couldn’t bring herself to touch his flesh. Instead she nodded. “This is it.”
“Oh, come on, Sarah, you’re going to act like that?” Chapman said. He laughed and looked over at Joe. “She’s going ‘girly’ on us,” he said, making the finger quotes. “Come on, Henley, this isn’t personal—you know that.”
“Everything is personal, Chapman,” she answered pleasantly. “You know that.”
He laughed again, completely missing the look in her eye that should have told him he was marked for destruction. But Sarah had no further need to talk to the man, and instead turned to Marcela.
“Just one more week with us, and then you get a break, huh?” Sarah asked.
“Only sort of a break,” Marcela said. “I’ll still have to work all the way up through Christmas, but at least I get to stay in town. I’m sorry for you two, though,” she said, looking at Sarah and Joe. “You must be sick of it by now.”
Sarah shrugged. “All part of the deal.”
“Ooh, you’re so tough,” Chapman chimed in. “Unbreakable Sarah Henley. I told that kid who’s taking over for me he’d better watch out for you.”
Sarah offered him the thinnest of smiles. “Everyone had better watch out for me. Stop talking, Chapman. We’re done here.”
She picked up her laptop case, grabbed the handle of her carry-on, and exited the room. She’d barely stepped outside into the cold when a text appeared on her phone:
Balls spontaneously exploding everywhere.
Sarah laughed.
She wished Joe could come out there with her, and they could freely talk. But like she told Marcela, All part of the deal.
She looked around outside the small airport to see if there were anywhere reasonable to walk. Since they flew in just for the day, they rented the conference room there at the airport instead of one at a hotel. But now Sarah had no place to escape except to the parking lot, where the temperature was in the low 40s and too cold for what she was wearing.
She paused to pull out her insulated raincoat and the fleece hat and gloves. Those were an improvement, but she thought longingly of the UCLA hoodie currently residing in Joe’s bag.
Not that she would have been able to wear it, she realized, even if she had it. She couldn’t take the risk that Chapman might see. As self-absorbed as the man was, he still might remember Joe wearing it at their dinner a few nights before, and wonder why Sarah had it now.
So much strategy involved, Sarah thought. All this sneaking around . . .
It wasn’t until her third lap around the parking lot, trying to stretch her legs, that the idea finally dawned on her:
Maybe they were sneaking around in more ways than she knew.
Joe could be involved with someone else.
How would she know? Sarah thought. The only time she’d seen him over the past two months was when they were on the road. It might be the classic case of a man fooling around with his travel buddy, then returning home to the woman who thought he loved her, who had been waiting faithfully for him all week, missing him, ready to throw herself into his arms again the second he walked through the door and rip his clothes off and get reacquainted—
She pulled out her phone, took off her gloves, and typed with chilled fingers.
Are you seeing anyone?
She wondered how long it would take him to answer that. If it was longer than it took to type two letters, she’d know he had to pause, make up a lie—
No, he answered right away. You?
No. Would you tell me if you were? she typed back.
Yes. Where are you?
Outside.
Within a minute she watched him exit the building and walk in her direction. Sarah turned to her right, the way she’d just come, and led him toward the end of the terminal furthest away from the passenger area, where she knew it was less likely Marcela or Chapman might see them.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Sarah said, looking back toward the entrance.
“Why?”