Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Contemporary,
contemporary romance novel,
Stock Car Racing,
about families,
harassment in work place,
keeping childhood friends,
race car romance,
troubled teenagers
listen to her mostly.
Yes, just like Margo.
Back to her again.
You never leave Margo. You carry her around in your heart wherever you go. You always have.
Remember Wuthering Heights ? Where Catherine says she is Heathcliff? Sometimes, I feel like that. That we’re a part of each other
You are. I don’t throw people together by accident, you know.
Yeah, I know. That’s why you sent me back to Glen Oaks, right? To make up for all the sins I committed here.
Linc, Linc, Linc. Now you’re making me angry. Guilt is the devil’s instrument, not mine. What you were at seventeen made you the man you are now. You’ve got to find a way to deal with that.
Help me.
Always.
But help Margo first. Even though she thinks you abandoned her
I never abandoned Margo.
I know that.
And there are no “firsts” up here. I’m God. I can do more than one thing at a time.
o0o
AFTER she hung up from talking to Linc, Margo stared at the phone as if it were a mechanical problem needing to be solved. Its navy color fit the decor of the room perfectly. Greens, blues and a touch of mauve made her favorite room picture perfect. The entire co-op, its furnishings and closets full of designer clothes were exactly what Margo had always wanted in life. That and her job as an executive in a fast-rising computer firm.
And Linc Grayson, a little voice nagged.
Well, at age thirty-six, two out of three weren’t bad.
She sipped the hot chocolate she’d made when she couldn’t get Linc earlier. But the drink didn’t calm her tonight. Rising, she crossed to the windows. It was pitch black out and when she placed her hand on the glass, it was cold. Her breath left a circle of fog on it.
Margo felt cold inside, too. Because of Philip. She could still see him standing at the connecting door of their hotel rooms dressed like he’d walked off the pages of G Q. She could still smell the citrusy scent of the aftershave he always used. She could still feel his strong fingers grip her arms and pull her close to kiss her. She’d sent him away, of course, but the sense of betrayal and disappointment that had swamped her was deep. The next morning, professional concerns had arisen. What did his actions mean in terms of her working relationship with him? She’d admired his business savvy and respected his expertise for seven years. He was the main reason she’d joined CompuQuest. She’d even spent time with him and his family: business dinners, holiday parties and some social events. He had two beautiful daughters in high school. Damn it, why had he done something so stupid?
She thought back to that morning; he’d been apologetic but not...really sorry....
“Margo,” he’d said when he’d come down to the coffee shop for breakfast. “I obviously upset you last night. Forgive me.”
His perfectly styled blond hair was brushed back from his forehead, and for a man of forty-four, almost no wrinkles marred his classic brow. Pale blue eyes held her gaze unflinchingly. For a minute, their coolness frightened her. Then they warmed a bit and he’d grasped her hand. “I misread the signals. I take full responsibility. Please forgive me.”
What could she say but yes? He’d done more for her than any man in her life—except Linc—and if nothing else, Margo was loyal. She’d smiled weakly and told him she’d forget it ever happened. His eyes had flickered with emotion that told her...what? That he wouldn’t forget it?
She’d wanted desperately to talk to Linc about this, but she hadn’t. He didn’t like Philip and had cautioned her against the man. I don’t trust him, Margo. He’s too smooth. Too glib. And he looks at you like a man looks at a woman.
Margo had told Linc he was overreacting, that his obsessive protectiveness was leaking out and spilling onto her. After that, Linc only asked pointed questions once in a while.... Oh, was Pretty Boy’s wife there?...Are you sure you have to go on this trip with him?...Aren’t you spending
Learning to Kill: Stories