Naughty Bedtime Stories

Chapter Five

By the time Thursday evening rolled around, Delights's first ever layoff had become a special news report on a local station. Sarah's staff had panicked. Then, her mother had panicked. In turn, Sarah had rushed from work to the hospital, where her father was staying for several intense treatments. She hadn't even taken time to change from her black suit dress and high heels. And now, sitting in the recliner beside his bed, she watched him staring at the late edition of the news, certain he'd be the next to panic.

Instead, when it was over, he hit the remote button to turn off the television with a grimace on his pale, thin face. Sarah held her breath, waiting for the explosion that didn't come. Instead, he set the remote on the nightstand. "These news people will do anything for a story, honey. Don't let them get to you. Once you land these big new accounts you're working on, we'll rattle cages until they tell the good news just as vividly as the bad. I have faith in you."

Sarah blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, am I in the wrong room? Because my father is the man with a stubborn side who loves to argue with me and curse out those who tick him off, even if they are on the television."

He smiled weakly, looking far older than the fifty-two years he'd always appeared to be, and running a hand that shook ever so slightly over his head. "Your father also used to have thick brown hair that wasn't falling out or turning gray. Things change. I've read over your marketing plans and your bank proposal, and I already know the dismal truth about our bottom line. I should have listened to you years ago."

"Dad," she said, taking his hand, her heart in her throat.

He squeezed her fingers. "Cancer has made me see the light. I've spent too much time blinded by what is familiar rather than seeing what there is to learn. I just hope I survive it long enough to show you. I meant what I said. I believe in you. I know you have things under control."

Fighting the pinch in the back of her eyes, Sarah smiled at him. "I'll welcome the day you are back at the office giving me attitude and making me fight you tooth and nail to prove my decisions are sound."

Sarah spent the next hour with her father, trying to forget the cancer, the work on her desk, and the fear of letting him down. She just wanted to be with him, to enjoy every second with him. They were watching Indiana Jones when her mother arrived with the doctor in tow. There was good news. Sarah listened to what sounded like the first real breakthrough in her father's treatment, and felt the doctor's words like a cool breeze on a hot day, washing her with relief. They weren't out of the darkness yet, but they had a night-light, and it was a beacon of hope.

The doctor left and her mother flipped the television back to Indiana Jones, settling into the chair beside the bed in Sarah's place. Despite it being nearly eight o'clock, Sarah was invigorated, ready to head back to the office and get to work.

"Everyone says your father looks like Harrison Ford," her mother said, looking tired but at peace for the first time since Sarah's return home.

"But better-looking," her father joked.

Sarah smiled at their familiar, loving banter, and said her goodbyes for the evening, leaving her parents alone. But as she walked down the hall, her black high heels clicking on the tiled floor, her mood grew heavier with each step, her father's words playing in her head. I believe in you. You have things under control. What if she didn't have things under control? I do, she told herself. I have a brilliant marketing plan. I have a great staff, ready to take things to a new level. Right. She had things under control.

Forcing herself to repeat those words the rest of the way to the parking lot, but breaking her mantra when she neared her car, Sarah dug in her purse for her keys and couldn't find them. She dug harder, deeper. She emptied her purse on the hood, thankful for the parking spot near the door and the streetlight. With a bad feeling in her stomach, she pressed her face to the tinted window and squinted. Sure enough, her keys were on the seat. She closed her eyes in complete frustration, hearing her father's words. I believe in you. You have things under control. And what did she do? She lost control of the most basic of life's responsibilities. She'd locked her keys in her car.

She didn't know how much time had passed when she finally lifted her head, but there were tears on her cheeks and she swiped at them angrily. She hadn't cried before now, not with the cancer diagnosis, not with the grim news week after week and not through the upheaval of racing home to take over the company. She was too tired, both mentally and physically, and she knew this. She was scared of failing. Of making wrong choices. But none of this was a good enough excuse. She didn't have cancer. She wasn't dying. It was time to get a grip on herself and do something other than sit here and act like a wimp.

She snatched her phone from her purse and tried to figure out who to call, because she wasn't going inside and upsetting her parents. Calling for roadside service seemed logical. That made sense. Instead, without consciously doing so, she thumbed through her numbers and stared at Ryan's number. She punched the recall button and dialed Ryan. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she whispered.

"Hello," his deep, sexy, deliciously male voice said after only one ring, and absolutely no time to change her mind and back out.

Sarah sucked in a breath. He could be at work, or with a woman, at his club. She had to hang up.

"Sarah?"

Damn. Of course, he had caller ID. "Yes... I... My car." She swallowed hard. "I lost my keys and—"

"Where are you?" he asked, not seeming to need more than her cryptic nonsense, also as out of character as locking her keys in her car and then dialing his number.

"The hospital," she said, and glanced around. "Row One-A at the front, by the door."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

He hung up. Sarah sank against her car and waited for her own panic rather than her father's, panic created by what she'd just done. But instead, she replayed, not her father's words this time, but Ryan's. By facing your fears, you grow stronger. It gives you control.

And when Ryan's sleek 911 black Porsche pulled up beside her, and the passenger door popped open, Sarah wasted no time climbing inside. She pulled the door shut, closing herself inside the intimacy of the sports cars, the masculine, spicy, powerful scent of him insinuated into her nostrils, into her bloodstream. The car idled as they stared at each other, shadows wrapping them in intimacy but not invisibility. She could see he was dressed in a dark suit, a light shirt, his tie still in place. She could see the light stubble of a newly formed beard. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything," she finally said.

"I would have come even if you had," he said. "Do you have extra keys somewhere we can pick them up?"

He'd come here fully prepared to offer her aid without any physical connection. Knowing this made her more certain than ever she wanted him. "I don't really care about my keys right now."

He put the car in Park and turned to her, his eyes dark, lost in the shadows. "What does that mean, Sarah?"

She wanted him to touch her, but he did not. She wanted to touch him, but somehow, she knew she should not. "You know what it means."

"Say it," he ordered.

Anything to get him to touch her, anything to finally know the escape this man could give her. Yes, she wanted the escape. She wanted it with him. "I'm ready, Ryan."