Kane, Andrea (33 page)

Her lips twitched. "I already had a corporate expense
account."

"Sure you did." Another grunt. "How much does food cost...
up there in the sticks?... You're in the Big Apple now.... That CCTL expense
account won't buy a pretzel and a soda."

"Damn." Sabrina snapped her fingers. "And that's
just what I was in the mood for, too—a salty New York pretzel and a Diet
Coke."

Carson glared at her, then shot Dylan a look. "She's more
stubborn than you are."

"What a surprise," Dylan replied. "I wonder who she
could take after?"

"Get the two of you fed..." Carson commanded, ignoring
Dylan's barb. "Go somewhere good.... Your expense account's nothing to
sneeze at either.... You run the show.... Just take her to dinner."

"I intended to. No mandate or expense account
necessary." Dylan arched a brow. "Just tell me, are you picking the
restaurant again? Or does that fall under the category of my running the show,
meaning I'm allowed the privilege?"

"It depends.... Where'd you have in mind?"

Dylan turned to Sabrina, addressing her as if Carson wasn't in the
room. "Do you like Spanish? I know a great place in the Village. Amazing
shrimp in green sauce and the best sangria around."

"That sounds wonderful," she said. It did, too. The
thought of relaxing over a glass of sangria was like a balm to her senses.
"And seafood's perfect. After not eating all day, I don't think I could
handle anything too heavy."

"Done." Dylan inclined his head in Carson's direction.
"I'm taking her to El Faro. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah. Good choice. Crowded, but after a few drinks it won't
matter." A corner of Carson's mouth lifted, even as his eyelids drooped.
"Get the white sangria… goes well with the shrimp green... Get two
pitchers of sangria…

Tomorrow's Saturday... Our new president's day off... She can
sleep in… So can our corporate counsel."

Sabrina blinked, studying Carson, whose eyes had drifted shut. If
she didn't know better, she'd swear he was trying to manipulate the evening so
it ended up with her and Dylan "sleeping in" together. But that was
absurd. It had to be a coincidence—one that just happened to strike too close
to home.

She glanced at Dylan, whose startled expression matched hers.
Clearly, the same thoughts were running through his head.

He met her gaze and shrugged. "Let's go. He's
half-asleep."

"Apparently." She scooped up her jacket and took a step
toward the door.

At the same moment, it swung open, and Susan walked in. She looked
pale, the area around her eyes— even concealed by extra makeup—swollen from
crying. "Hi." She managed a smile. "The nurse told me you two
were with Carson. Don't worry, I won't interrupt. I just wanted to check in on
him. After that, I promise to wait in the lounge until you've finished your
business."

"That's not necessary. We just wrapped up." Sabrina
waved away the offer, walking over to Susan and touching her arm. "Susan,
I'm so sorry about Russ. I know he was part of your YouthOp family, and that's
how he came to Ruisseau. I've heard such wonderful things about him. I feel
terrible."

Fresh tears dampened Susan's lashes, and she blinked them away.
"Thank you. Yes, Russ was about the most glowing example of YouthOp's
potential there could be. He was special. He would have made a real difference
in this world. What happened to him was such a waste. Everyone at YouthOp is
heartsick...." An unsteady pause. "Anyway, I appreciate your sympathy."

"Carson's hurting, too," Dylan stated flatly, his tone
so pointed that Sabrina flinched. Not that she disagreed with Dylan's feelings.
He was looking out for Carson, reminding Susan that she wasn't the only one
who'd suffered a loss. But how Susan would react to such a direct hit was
anyone's guess. More important, how Carson would react when he woke up and
Susan told him about Dylan's barbed comment—that was an even bigger question.

Sabrina got her answer sooner than expected.

"Cool it, Dylan...." Carson's voice, tired but adamant,
sounded from the bed.

"It's okay," Susan responded, cutting Carson off before
he got himself upset. "Dylan's right. You
are
hurting. And I've
been a basket case, which is the last thing you need right now."

"Good. Then we're on the same page." Dylan wasn't
giving, not an inch, no matter how ticked off Carson got. "Sabrina and I
are heading off to dinner. We'll leave you two alone—to comfort each
other." He turned toward the bed, totally disregarding Carson's warning
scowl. "Get some rest. I'll be by tomorrow."

"Me, too," Sabrina added. Interesting that Carson now
looked fully awake. Whether he'd gotten a second wind or was putting on a show
for Susan's sake was anyone's guess.

Actually, there was a third choice. Carson could have been more
awake a few minutes ago than he wanted her or Dylan to realize. In which case,
he was pulling some very interesting strings.

She tucked that thought away for further contemplation.

"By the way, Sabrina—" Susan's tone said she was trying
to smooth things over. "I saw your mother here this morning. I would have
introduced myself, but she was heading in the other direction. Did the two of
you connect?"

Now
that
revelation came at Sabrina out of left field.

Carson hadn't said a word about Susan being aware of Gloria's
visit. What had he told her?

She tossed an uncertain glance in his direction.

"There's no way they could have connected, Suze," he
interceded, not missing a beat. "Sabrina hasn't seen the light of day....
Hasn't even breathed since eight A.M. She's been in meetings from then till
now.... But I'm glad you reminded me.... I almost forgot to tell her about this
morning's mix-up.... Damned medication clouds my thinking."

He angled his head toward Sabrina. "Your mother called
Ruisseau this morning looking for you.... Someone screwed up... told her you
were at Mount Sinai, that your meeting with me was first thing in the day
rather than last.... So she grabbed a cab and came here.... By the time we got
our signals straight, you were already in the middle of that big powwow with
Stan.... She said it could wait.... Talk about a comedy of errors..."

"I see." Quickly, Sabrina assimilated the story Carson
had fabricated. She was very touched that he'd gone to such lengths to honor
his promise not to divulge who she was, even to Susan. After all, Susan wasn't
just anyone— she was a fundamental person in his life.

A person who deserved to know the truth, not along with the rest
of the world, but privately and in advance.

Sabrina was the only one who could make that happen.

"Your poor mother." Susan grimaced, mistaking Sabrina's
silence for irritation. "She rode all the way uptown for nothing. She must
have blown half a business day. Will she be very upset?"

"Not at all." Sabrina recovered, regained her stride.
"My mother's used to my insane schedule. She won't be the least bit upset,
especially since we just had dinner together last night. I'll give her a call
from my cell as soon as I leave the hospital."

Susan's relief was tangible. "How long will she be in New
York?" she asked, a hopeful note creeping into her voice. "I'd love
to meet her."

"Hey, Suze...." Carson's voice emerged from the bed
again. "The poor woman's probably swamped.... I know her daughter is....
I'm not giving her a chance to breathe... much less have time for herself....
Not with the rates she charges... Now let these two go to dinner.... Come over
here and sit with me."

"Carson—it's okay," Sabrina broke in, referring to much
more than the introduction. "I'm sure my mother would love to meet
Susan." She gave Carson a gentle nod.

"Fine..." Comprehension flickered in his eyes, but he
kept his face carefully expressionless. "The two of them can get together
over lunch... but you'd better make it the weekend if you want to join
them...."

Sabrina understood. Carson was keeping up the pretense, giving her
a final chance to change her mind. He wasn't going to say a single word, not
until and unless she gave him the go-ahead.

"Goodnight, you two." Firmly, he dismissed her and
Dylan, holding her gaze as he let her off the hook. "Eat and drink
hearty."

The ball was in her court.

She fielded it, with a lot more ease than she'd anticipated.

"We will—soon," she said, putting an end to the charade.
"First I want to talk to Susan." She turned to do so. "Susan,
the truth is, my mother's not in New York on business. And she didn't come to
Mount Sinai to see me. She came to see Carson."

"To see..." Susan blinked, clearly bewildered. "I
don't understand." Her fingers fluttered through the air in confusion.
"Why would your mother visit Carson? And why wouldn't he tell me if she
had?"

"Because he was protecting me."

"From what?"

"It's a long story. But it's time you heard it." A
pause. "I
want
you to hear it—for your sake, and for
Carson's." Sabrina angled around, assessing Carson's energy level.
"Are you up for this? Or should I take Susan out to the lounge and talk to
her there?"

"No way." He shook his head, and Sabrina could see he
was grappling with a wealth of emotion. "I missed the original
announcement.... You know, the one where they say, 'It's a girl'... There's not
a chance I'm missing the second one… If you're telling... I'm listening."

"I'm glad," Sabrina said simply. She put her hand on
Susan's arm, gestured toward a chair. "Have a seat. Whatever you're
expecting, it's not this."

8:45 P.M.

El Faro

The world looked a lot rosier after three glasses of sangria.

Then again, they were a necessary reprieve after the day Sabrina
had just charged her way through.

Buffeted by waiters making their way through narrow aisles
carrying covered dishes of food, lulled by the din of enthusiastic patrons and
the tantalizing smells of Spanish cuisine, Sabrina felt cradled within a lovely
sense of cocooned isolation. So this was the eye of the hurricane. Well, it was
a great stopping point.

With the edge of her spoon, she toyed with an orange slice at the
bottom of her glass. She wasn't drunk. But she wasn't sober either. Between the
languid effects of the wine, the filling warmth of the food, and the sharp adrenaline
drop that signified the end of a Guinness Book week, she felt exquisitely
relaxed.

"A penny for your thoughts," Dylan said, watching her
over the rim of his own glass.

She smiled. "I was just thinking that Carson was right. This
is exactly what I needed. I think I was about to implode."

He nodded, refilling both their glasses. "Today was a day to
write home about. The fact that you survived is a coup."

"I think you said that yesterday. And the day before."

"Probably. But today was in a class by itself." Dylan
spooned more rice onto their plates, then added shrimp and drizzled green sauce
over the top. "Eat. You need to recharge."

"Okay. But I've already had two portions. I think I'm
restored." She stuck her fork into the food, then into her mouth, savoring
the garlicky flavor of the green sauce. "I did a pretty good job of
anticipating things at Ruisseau. But that chat with Susan was pretty
unexpected. Not that I'm sorry. It needed to be had. It's just that I was
already reeling with stimuli...." She shook her head.

"Yeah. Just when you thought the day was over, you found
yourself recapping the story of your conception yet again."

"The good news is, it wasn't
too
painful. Susan took
it well, even though she was shaken up. And she had a right to know before the
rest of the world found out. She and Carson are pretty tight."

"That they are."

It was hard to miss the curt note in Dylan's voice.

Sabrina put down her fork. "You're still pissed at her. Why?
Do you really think her personal grief over Russ's murder is
that
unfounded?"

"It's not her grief that's pissing me off. It's the
self-centered way she's handling it. Not only is she so focused on her own pain
that she barely notices Carson's, but she's leaning on him big-time. I know
she's used to his being a rock. We all are. But, for God's sake, the man's been
shot. He's fighting for his life. He's far from out of the woods. All his
strength has to go into recovering. And he's a man, not a god. The least she
could do is let him do the leaning for a change."

"I see your point. But, in Susan's defense, I'm sure her
reserves are shot. She's been at Carson's bedside practically round-the-clock.
Now this horrible thing happened to Russ. It's a lot to deal with. And let's
not forget one thing more—Carson's not exactly the lean-on-others type. You, of
all people, know that."

"All the more reason that those who care about him have to
make
him lean, especially at a time like this.
You,
of all people, know
that."
Dylan gave her a pointed look. "Aren't you the woman who blew a gasket
because I wanted to facilitate your move from the Plaza Athenée to your new
place, even though a little help was precisely what you needed—and you knew it?
Hell, Sabrina, you're just like him."