A REASON FOR MARRIAGE

Was eight thirty still too early to call Simon? Would he still be in or had he gone to work… Maybe for one of his early meetings. Sara’s nerves were strung out so tightly that she jumped about two feet in the air as the tune of her phone ringing broke shrilly into the silence. She took several seconds to settle her jitteriness before picking up the phone, distractedly noting that the caller ID was ‘unknown’ and hoping whoever it was would get off the phone quickly, so that she could put her own call through to Simon. Before she lost her nerve.

“Sara McCall,” she answered briskly.

“Sara,”

Just her name. Just that one word. And yet Sara knew without a shadow of a doubt that the person on the other end of the line was Simon.

He’d hidden his number to call her? Why? Sara wondered, but instead she said, “How strange, Simon, I was just about to call you…” she told him huskily.

“You were?” She could hear the surprise in his tone. “I was so worried that you wouldn’t pick up if you knew I was the one calling so I hid my number,”

“I need to talk to you.” She said,

“You do?”

Sara gave a slightly breathless laugh as Simon also continued to sound less than his usually arrogantly confident self.

“Yes, I do. Is it convenient for me to come over now?”

“Not necessary. I’m already in the car on my way over to see you,” he came back dryly.

Now it was Sara’s turn to feel surprised, and her fingers tightened about the phone, the inside of her mouth having gone suddenly dry. “You are?”

“I am,” he assured her firmly-grimly? “I should reach your apartment in fifteen minutes or so, traffic allowing.”

She heaved a shakily relieved sigh, longing to see him again, to speak with him. “Simon-”

“I would rather we talked face to face, Sara,” he cut in determinedly.

“Okay.” It was what she wanted too. “I’ll be expecting you.” She moistened her lips. “Drive carefully,” she added huskily.

“Depend on it.” Simon abruptly ended the call.

Sara switched off her phone before placing it carefully back on the coffee table, hardly daring to believe that Simon wanted to speak to her-that he was actually on his way to her apartment right now.

She had spent hours the previous night, pacing from room to room in her apartment as she tried to decide what to do for the best. Talk to Simon. Don’t talk to him. And in the end it had all come back to the realization that she had to talk to him. Did the fact that Simon seemed to have decided the same thing, in regard to her, make what she had to say to him easier or harder?

No doubt in fifteen minutes or so Sara would have the answer to that question.

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“I brought coffee…” Simon held up a cardboard tray holding two take-away coffees when Sara opened her apartment door to him fifteen minutes later. “The “hot” young man who works in the coffee shop across the road on weekends assured me this is how you take your coffee,” he added dryly.

Sara felt warmth in her cheeks as she remembered that deliberately provocative conversation. On her part at least. “You told him it was for me…?” she asked suspiciously,

Simon arched mocking brows. “I only had to mention that you lived in this particular apartment building and he knew exactly who you were, and how you take your coffee. So much for him not noticing you, hmm?” he added teasingly as Sara tacitly invited him into her apartment by opening the door wider and stepping aside.

Her apartment seemed much smaller once Simon was inside, Sara noted-his very presence, in faded denims and a casual black shirt unbuttoned at the throat, with the sleeves turned up to just below his elbows, seemed to dominate even the air she breathed in so shallowly as she entered the sitting room behind him.

“I’ve always thought your apartment was beautiful,” Simon placed the cardboard tray down on the coffee table as he looked about the comfort of her sitting room. The decor was in autumn colors-reds, golds, oranges, and all shades in between-and a perfect foil for her dark-haired brown-eyed beauty. “It suits you.”

Sara’s face was a little pale this morning, but otherwise she looked as arrestingly beautiful as usual, in fitted black denims and a pale lemon T-shirt.

“Here.” Simon picked up the coffee he had brought for her and held it out to her. “You look as if you need it,” he added.

Her hand shook slightly as she took the insulated cup from him. “And then we’ll talk?” She smiled warily.

“And then we’ll talk,” Simon confirmed, frowning as he once again noted the fragility of Sara’s appearance.

He had spent a restless evening and a sleepless night after Sara had left his apartment. For two weeks he’d tried to accept that they were never going to see each other again, at least not in the way he wanted. He had spent hours going over and over everything they had said during that last conversation, ultimately coming to the conclusion that none of it was of the least consequence when all he wanted was to see Sara again.

To be with her. Once Simon had accepted that truth, everything else had become unimportant. Convincing Sara to feel the same way about him might take a little longer!

“Simon…?” Sara had no idea what thoughts were currently going through his head-when had she ever known what this enigmatic man was really thinking?-but whatever they were, they were causing him to frown darkly.

He shook off that darkness as he straightened. “You said you wanted to speak to me this morning…?”

She moistened her lips before speaking. “I believe we admitted we wanted to speak to each other?”

He gave a derisive smile. “I’m really not in the mood to play games today, Sara.”

“Me either,” she assured him. This situation, the conversation they needed to have, was too important for that.

“Which one of us should go first?”

Simon was tired-not only from his lack of sleep the night before, but by the way the two of them seemed to be skirting so warily around each other this morning.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” he told her,

“What? You are? Why?”