Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,8
but to spend the night in her own apartment instead. She would have to leave with plenty of time to spare in the morning in case of traffic, but it was worth rushing a little in exchange for sleeping in her own bed.
As they neared the doors to go outside, Sarah saw the line of black-jacketed drivers holding up signs with their passengers’ names. Sarah saw one that read “Burke.”
Joe approached the driver, said something, then the two of them continued on. At the last moment Joe turned around and saw Sarah just a few paces behind him.
He’s going to ask me, she thought. He was going to offer her a ride. Then she would tell him no, and finally their first day together would come to a close. She liked it ending on another no.
But Joe simply noted her presence, then turned around and kept walking. Leaving Sarah to fend for herself.
She fished for her keys in the pocket of her laptop case and slipped them into her suit jacket while she headed for the parking garage. Joe had done her a favor. He’d spared her one more conversation with him.
But nice move, gentleman, she thought, not offering the lady a ride in your fancy chauffeured car.
Even after her ill-advised attempt to amuse him on the plane.
The game was on. She knew it and he knew it. They were obviously going to see which of them would bend before they broke.
Sarah had grown stronger in the past six years, not weaker. If he thought he was still dealing with the young woman she used to be, now was his time to learn.
She had been through a lot since their last year of law school, as anyone reading the newspapers would know. Even before then, she had to scrap her way through one trial after another, and through the competitive hierarchy of one of the most prestigious—at one time—law firms in L.A. The girl Joe had known in law school couldn’t have handled that pressure—look how easily she fell apart just because a guy like him dumped her.
But Sarah wasn’t that girl anymore. And she knew she would handle the Joe situation completely differently now if she had a second chance.
Sarah unlocked the door to the car her father found for her back in April. It was old, but it ran well, thanks to his skills as a mechanic, and Sarah wasn’t too proud to drive a twenty-year-old car. It suited her lifestyle now.
When the firm imploded, all of her perks instantly disappeared. Gone were the leased Mercedes and the generous gas allowance; gone was her expense account that she sometimes had trouble spending by the end of each month; gone was the free gym membership that had finally introduced her to the wonders of exercise; and gone was the salary that made her secure enough financially that her parents finally let her start helping them with money. Gone, all gone in the space of a single day.
Sarah flipped on the radio to one of the talk stations that regularly gave traffic news. She slowly made her way out of the airport gridlock into the gridlock that would take her home. Finally she unlocked her front door and returned to the sanctuary of her one-bedroom apartment.
She liked her little apartment. Every time she walked into it, she appreciated how clean and friendly it seemed—especially after a particularly hard day spent fighting with people from morning until night. It all washed off of her, it seemed, the minute she walked through her door.
She spent her first week in the place painting everything white. From the walls, to the wooden paneling on one side of the living room, to the built-in cabinets and the wooden frames on all of her windows. She painted red accents here and there, but mostly she just wanted to see the clean. To know that everything in there was nice and new and something she bought just for her.
When she first started making money—real money—Sarah sat down and made a list. She called it her Flourish list: anything and everything she had ever wanted, but didn’t really need.
It included things like a pillow-top mattress. Plush towels. High thread-count sheets. Red velvet pillows and a beautiful, white faux-fur throw she saw in a catalog draped over a white upholstered couch. She made a point to buy all three of those, including the exact couch. Triple-wicked, scented candles. Sweet-smelling bath salts. A long list that she felt a little