Not This Time by Vicki Hinze Read Free Book Online Page B

right—with Sara’s assets. And letting him know Beth knew it had been the first of Beth’s many mistakes. Sara paid the bill for that, which added interest to Beth’s guilt that had her minding her p’s and q’s and keeping her mouth shut when she really wanted to just smack Sara and say, “Girl, he’s using you. Grow a spine and kick him out on his social-climbing rump.”
    Of course, southern women didn’t talk that way to southern women. It simply wasn’t done, and if it were, it would open a great divide between them that neither woman would ever cross much less close. The rules of friendship were finite when it came to their men. If he’s a louse, he’s her louse. Never forget it, or else forget her.
    Trying not to sigh, Beth cast a sidelong look at the sheaf of papers tucked into the side pocket of her briefcase propped against the edge of the counter near the door. She and Sara had planned to sign the agreement today, but there was no way she could hand it to her with Robert missing. Not even if Beth wouldn’t enjoy a restful night’s sleep until the documents were duly executed and turned back in to Nick Pope in Legal. Only after he and then Henry Baines, who headed SaBe’s legal department, signed off on them would she be assured that if something happened to Sara, Robert wouldn’t be sticking his nose into SaBe’s business. Given a choice, Beth would exile the man to another planet, but since Sara loved him, banning him from SaBe would do.
    “Where do you think he is, Beth?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Maybe he’s lost his wallet or his phone was stolen or something.”
    He could call home from any phone. “He’ll get in touch when he can.” If not before, certainly when his money runs out .
    “You’re right.” Sara took a bite of salad and slowly chewed. “It’s not just where he is, though. It’s what he might be doing.”
    “What do you mean?” Beth frowned. “What do you think he’s doing?”
    “If I could answer that, I wouldn’t be so worried.”
    “Are you afraid he’s with another woman?”
    Sara grunted. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were that simple?”
    Odd response. Sara would be devastated. Puzzled, Beth pushed. “Would it?”
    Before Sara could answer, someone rapped on the back door.
    Eleven o’clock—who’d drop by? “I’ll get it.” Beth walked over and peeked out. Mark Taylor. What was he doing here? She opened the door. “Hi, Mark. Come on in.”
    “Can’t. Lisa’s working the graveyard shift at Crossroads. I need to get some food over to her.” He passed a phone to Beth, and his sparkling eyes sobered. “Don’t let anyone else know you’ve got this. When it rings, answer it.”
    “Okay.” Beth took the phone and put it in her pocket. “Can I ask why?”
    “Sure,” he said, then turned and walked away.
    You can ask. Just don’t expect any answers . “Thanks,” she called after him, unsure if it was warranted.
    He didn’t wave, slow down, or even look back.
    A chill raced through Beth. She closed the door and, for some reason, locked it.
    “Who was that?” Sara asked.
    “Mark.”
    “What’s he doing here?”
    “Just checking in. He does that for Joe now and then.” The phone had to be about Joe. Nothing else made sense. “I’m not sure why.” She wasn’t, though she’d wondered plenty.
    “You know, I don’t think Joe is as out of your reach as you believe.” Sara left the sleek glass-top table and then paced between it and the long granite breakfast bar.
    “I’m not reaching.”
    Sara frowned. “He’s not Max, Beth.”
    “No, but they share traits I’d have to be a fool to ignore.” Joe was totally out of her reach. Cool hooked up with glamorous, not with ordinary. One Max was plenty. Sara’s reflection shone in the countertop’s surface. Why was she tottering? “New shoes?”
    “What?”
    “You’re hobbling.” Why did she wear heels at home anyway? Beth shed her shoes the second she hit the entryway.