Page 19 of Her Christmas Wish
In the past they’d shared one of the huge orders of El Serrano’s Calle Pollo. Gray had just finished an entire order himself.
So what, he’d gone hungry when he’d eaten with her before? To save the cost of two meals? Never saying a word?
Was he no longer willing to sacrifice his stomach in such a manner?
Pausing in her laying out of specific plans for him, she closed the lid over her half-eaten, very delicious lunch and walked it over to the small refrigerator behind her desk. He was looking over the figures and charts she’d printed and presented to him, the example charter, some potential employee handbook models, along with a mock fundraising agenda and a quick example of what a brief might look like on a motion to have his GB Animal Clinics bank account released to him.
“It’s all very simplified at the moment,” she told him, returning to the table with another two of the same bottles of water she’d brought the first time she’d approached, offering one to him. “As soon as I have your go-ahead, I’ll make some calls and get to work in earnest.”
With his legs spread, his forearms resting on his knees, he’d been leaning over, sifting through the piles of information. And glanced up as she spoke. “You’re assuming I’m going to accept your offer.”
It wasn’t a question. Remaining standing, even though she knew it was a power move—one he’d likely interpret to mean that she thought herself above him—Sage said, “I know it’s your most intelligent move at the moment, and you tend to make left-brain decisions.”
He frowned, staring up at her. “What in the hell does that mean?”
Ahhh. An obvious loss of calm. The first he’d exhibited during their entire encounter that day. While the sign of a chink in his armor made her smile inside, she managed a fairly nonchalant shrug. “You make intelligent choices, based on fact, not emotion,” she told him with confidence. Because she knew she was right.
Like selling his prized surfboard to buy her a pair of earrings.
At first, she’d been bowled over by the gesture. Until she’d realized that, just as the surfboard hadn’t meant a great deal to him—hadn’t represented a big loss—the earrings wouldn’t have been significant to him, either. He’d traded one of his things for a thing for her. And in the end, they were both just things. And replaceable.
He’d apparently lost whatever edge he’d had there for a second as he was once again going through pages. “Since you’ve already got me figured out, I’m guessing you have someplace where I need to sign?”
Sage licked lips gone suddenly dry. Sat.
“I have a couple of caveats first,” she told him, her stomach tripping over the food she’d sent it. Before her nerves wrapped like bands around the organ, shooting it with fire.
He glanced up at her, his eyes almost rolling with an “I’d expected as much” gesture. Or, maybe, “Here it comes.”
And then, vacating all information on the table, sat back, holding his water bottle with both hands, where it rested on his belt area.
Just above other things she absolutely could not notice. Not even peripherally.
The fates tempting her? Showing her the dangers? Warning her she was making a huge mistake?
Focusing on a photo of Leigh on a tall, thin table of them along the wall behind him, she said, “This is strictly business. Meaning all interaction between us needs to be here, in my office.” She’d been about to say that she never brought business home, but just by nature of her having spent the evening before going through his files, that statement would have opened many cans of worms.
And would have been a lie besides. She worked most nights after Leigh went to bed.
“You want to make certain that we don’t...run into each other...on the beach.” His tone wasn’t at all defensive. And when she looked, his glance seemed sincere.
“Yes.”
He nodded. Her stomach settled. And then he said, “Good, because I feel the same way. On Ocean Breeze we both work to stay out of each other’s way.”
Right. Spot-on.
Exactly what she wanted.
So why did his easy acquiescence, his seeming relief, feel more like a letdown than a victory?
She was good. Damned good. The proof didn’t surprise Gray in the least. He’d known Sage was going to be a powerful woman, mastering whatever she set her mind to.
What he couldn’t wrap his mind around was her putting her mind to him.
Mostly, as he drove back to Ocean Breeze just before dinnertime that October Wednesday, what consumed his thoughts was all the information she’d given him. The facts about his situation of which he’d been completely unaware. Rights he hadn’t known he had.
And skills for which he hadn’t tapped his previous corporate attorney. Securities, for instance. Corporate fundraising. He’d hired the firm when he’d been one doctor in one office, just incorporating. As he’d grown, it had all seemed so straightforward to him. His clinics, while highly successful, hadn’t been a part of rich society. His locations were middle-to lower-middle class. His clientele, the same. His pricing and services had been designed to serve those who didn’t have hundreds of dollars to spend on canine and feline cancer treatments, or state-of-the-art testing that ran into the thousands per test.
