The Satin Sash

A sensation he did not welcome. At all.

He heard the loud ding of the elevators, rolling open directly onto his foyer, and it was followed by the unmistakable tap of Louisa’s high heels gradually advancing toward him. At nine p.m., he was still dressed in the suit he’d worn to work that morning. There had been no green-eyed, chestnut-haired woman to undo his tie. Rumple his hair. Slip his coat off. Kiss his throat, his jaw, his forehead.

“I’ve got your suitcase,” the feathery whisper came from behind him. “I couldn’t quite make everything fit, but I could make another round tomorrow.”

He spared a fleeting glance at the tall black suitcase sitting on the limestone floor and said, “Never mind.That’s fine.”

“Your colognes are in a Ziploc bag. I rolled up your ties so the silk wouldn’t snag. Also, I had to leave a few shoes behind—the Guccis and two or three pairs of Prada.”

He scarcely heard her. Across the room, through the window, distant city lights began to blur, blink, flutter before his eyes. The glass in his hand felt weightless. Empty once again. “Did she send anything?”

Hope was a strange thing. It had wishes in it and it had fear, and he was bursting with it.

Louisa drew up to his side, her eyes riveted on his face. “What do you mean?”

“Did she send me a message? Anything?”

She wavered noticeably between speaking and remaining quiet; then her attention shifted to his throat, his shoulders, arms. She crawled one hand up his biceps. “Let me get this off you,” she purred. “You look tired.”

He didn’t want her to remove it, but he was powerless to stop her. He was taken by the fantasy, rashly creating a little pretend moment for himself, and he closed his eyes and imagined those were her hands on his chest. Small, loving hands pushing his jacket off his tired shoulders. She didn’t smell like Toni. No peachy scent fluttered about her; instead, Louisa was surrounded with the scent of a flowery perfume. He heard the slap of his jacket across the back of the couch. She tugged on his tie, first touching a finger to his Adam’s apple, and he opened his eyes, seized her chin, and forced her head up.

“Did she send anything?” he repeated.

In the dark, he could almost pretend her eyes were green, an aroused, dark forest green, with the sheen that made his heart kick into his ribs. She was staring back at him, lips parted, but even drunk he couldn’t mistake those lips for those ones he loved.These were thin red lips that gradually, distinctly, in a voice that was decidedly not hers, said, “No.”

No. She hadn’t sent anything.

Briskly stepping around Louisa, he wrenched off his tie and tossed it across the back of a nearby chair. “Was she alone?”

He was about to repeat the question when she said hastily, “Yes.”

The relief he felt was instant, causing a shudder to run through him. He’d never thought he’d ever feel grateful to Louisa Fairchild.

Rolling his cuffs up to his elbows, he admitted, “I was wrong about you.You have proven useful, and I apologize for misjudging you. My gratitude to you.”

“I’m . . . I’m glad I please you, Grey.”

She did not take the hint of his dismissal, a

nd Grey wasn’t certain if she’d been standing so close two seconds ago.“I’d say it’s time you call it an evening, don’t you think?” He signaled toward the bronze elevator doors and stalked across the room to refill his glass with brandy. “I’ll be sure you’re properly compensated for your time.”

“I was just over at Mr. Solis’s hotel,” she offered, her bracelets tinkling on her wrist as she tucked her hair behind one ear.

His entire body went rigid. Glass full, he had to force his legs to walk him back to his place by the window. “Were you?”

“I had something to deliver.”

His heart hardened. It closed, protected what was there. He brought the brandy to his lips and gazed disinterestedly out the window. He saw nothing now. No buildings. No lights.

In a voice so balmy even he scarcely heard it, he said, “A red sash?”

“Why, yes, how did you . . . ?”

His hope was pulverized.“You delivered her red sash to Heathcliff?”

“I didn’t know his name was—”

“Did you?”