Sarah stifled a yawn and glanced at her watch. She sat near the back of a hotel conference room, and although she was interested in Steve’s presentation, the long days and short nights were catching up with her. She also had an early flight. So far, everything he’d covered he had already told her at Ghirardelli’s that afternoon.

Steve was just beginning to share the story of how he and Paul had begun Love Mumbai when Sarah’s purse vibrated in her lap. She pulled out her cell phone and peeked at the call display. Craig. Excusing herself, she eased past the elderly gentleman sitting beside her and tiptoed toward the door. She glanced at Steve and saw him watching her leave, though he didn’t miss a beat in his speech. She returned his subtle smile with an apologetic nod before escaping through the soft-shut door.

The vibrating stopped.

Figures.

Sarah found an empty section of the hotel hallway. There was nowhere to sit, but the hallway was wide and carpeted and quiet. She leaned against the wall and speed-dialled her husband’s number.

“Hey, baby,” came his familiar voice. “Are you and the captain a little busy?”

Did she imagine the slight edge to his voice?

“Sorry, Craig, I was in a meeting.” Why am I apologizing?

“I thought the conference was over.” His voice definitely sounded accusatory now.

“It was. I mean, it is. I just noticed this presentation happening tonight and thought it would be an interesting way to spend my evening.” She felt a twinge of guilt for not sharing the whole truth about Steve, but knew that if she did, it would only require more explanations to calm Craig’s jealous concerns. She simply didn’t have the energy.

“Really. What is the presentation about?”

“There’s this guy talking about the work he is doing with prostitutes in Mumbai. I thought it would be a good opportunity to do some research—you never know what can spark a story idea.”

“Oh. Sure.” He paused. “This guy a pimp or something?”

Sarah frowned. “Yes, of course he is. And I went to the meeting looking for a new job.” She immediately regretted her sarcasm, but it was too late.

“Or you could have been looking for ideas for your book, like you said. Don’t get bitchy with me.” His voice was steel striking granite. He hated it when she was sarcastic with him.

Maybe it was the illusion of safety created by the distance between them at the moment, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

“I know! In my next book, the spicy scenes will be between a twelve-year-old and her ninth customer for the night!” She snorted in derision at the thought. As if the things I write aren’t disgusting enough already.

“Well, if it would sell more books . . .”

“Craig.” What he had just suggested made her taste bile. She swallowed to control her revulsion. “I write this filth because it sells, and my publisher insists. I only came to this conference because Becky thought the exposure of giving that talk about writing erotica would be a great idea. It wasn’t. I hate talking about it. I hate the fans that gush about every bloody scene in my bloody books as I sign them. Don’t you ever wonder if I want to do something besides write smut for a living?”

He was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it was the pandering, calming tone of a wise adult to a small child.

“Your agent knows what she’s talking about. You should be thanking her for getting you on that panel, not complaining about it. And if she figures writing bleeding-heart literary pieces is a gamble, why wouldn’t you want to stick with what you know? We gotta pay for your shopping habit somehow, honey.”

He was right about Becky Sun, of course. She was a good agent and hadn’t ever steered Sarah wrong.

But the way Craig said “honey” made her want to throw her phone at the wall. Never mind that her income easily matched his, and he had invented her shopping addiction out of thin air. She took a slow, deep breath. Getting angry at him wouldn’t help her win this battle.

“So, I keep writing smut.”

“And you keep selling books. A lot of books. Don’t the cheques make it all worth it?”

No. Not in a million years.

“I guess we’ll live happily ever after in our gilded pigsty.” Sarah said it without thinking, spewing it out like a venom-spitting snake. She immediately regretted her brazenness.

Fear pebbled her skin. She might not be within arm’s reach of her husband, but his words could sting as much as his hand. Maybe he would let that one slide if she—

“A pigsty, is it? That’s what we’ve got?” His voice was frozen iron.

Too late.

A knot formed in Sarah’s stomach and her heart stuttered. She studied a spot on the wall panelling. She put her anger and her fear into the spot and held them there. They couldn’t touch her.

“No, of course not.” Her voice sounded like it was coming to her own ears from a great distance. “I didn’t really mean it.” No response. Her gut tightened. His silence screamed at her. “I’m sorry I shouted. I just get so frustrated sometimes, and this weekend has been fairly stressful.”

Why wouldn’t he answer? What else could she say? What if he was much angrier than she thought? Was he thinking about kicking her out of the home she so obviously didn’t appreciate?

Her eyes watered. She swiped fiercely at the wetness and stared at the tears on her fingers like they were foreign objects. How dare her emotions betray her right now? She gulped and forced her voice to steadiness. “Craig, you know I love our life together. I sometimes wish I could write something different, that’s all.”

Craig still didn’t say anything. She could hear him breathing hard on the phone.

The knot in her stomach turned to ice.

“Will you forgive me?” she added in a small voice.

An exaggerated sigh blew into her ear. “I guess.”

Sarah let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The knot in her stomach loosened a little, but she recognized that brooding tone. Best to get him thinking of something else.

A porter pushed a tray of covered food down the hallway. Sarah turned toward the wall to shield their conversation from listening ears.

“I got you something.” Her voice was low and teasing. “There’s a Victoria’s Secret near my hotel.”

“Really.” His voice had a different tone, too. He didn’t mind her spending money when it was on lingerie. “What is it?”

She smiled so he would hear it when she spoke.

“You’re going to have to wait and see.” She pictured his green eyes with the intense, hungry look he always got when she talked that way. “I’ll give you a hint. There’s red. And lace.”

“I can hardly wait.” Craig’s voice was husky now. “Sounds more like the gift wrap, though.”

Sarah laughed, hoping it sounded genuine. “Remember that scene from The Heart of Darkness?”

She knew he did. The scene in question was the one that had landed her a publishing deal with Steampressed—and was one of her husband’s favourites.

“How could I forget?”

“I was thinking we haven’t done that in a while.”

She heard a low groan over the phone. The knot in her stomach finally released.

“I thought you’d like that.” Her lips curved. She’d managed to turn him on. They were okay again. “Wait, someone’s coming.”

The meeting was emptying out. She could see Steve standing near the now-open door of the conference room chatting with some of the attendees. She felt relieved that she had an excuse to change the topic to something more publicly acceptable.

“It’s getting busy here. So, what did you do today?”

When Craig spoke, his voice was inexplicably strained. “Oh, you know. Work. Erica and I were at the office pretty much all day.”

“You made her work through the weekend again?” Sarah thought of the grimace her best friend often wore when she complained about how many hours Craig made her work. Sarah knew that Erica was grateful for the job as his personal assistant, but she sometimes felt caught in the middle between her husband’s and her friend’s venting.

“She didn’t seem upset. She said she was . . . glad of the company.”

“Yeah, I guess. I know it’s been hard on her going home to that empty apartment.” Sarah paused, thinking of how glad she was not to be in Erica’s shoes, dealing with the aftermath of a rather ugly break-up. She and Craig might have their problems, but at least they had each other. “Thanks for helping her out. You know I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said. “She and John are my . . . friends, too.” His breathing still seemed disjointed.

Sarah hesitated and decided to broach the subject she had been avoiding for almost a week. “Hey, I was hoping we could have dinner together tomorrow night. There’s something I need to talk about.”

“That sounds serious. Could you just tell me now?”

“I’d, um, rather not discuss it over the phone. I’ll make you dinner tomorrow, okay? Can you be home by eight?”

Sarah heard a dog bark in the background and smiled.

“Nelson wants his walk. You just got home, didn’t you?”

“Uh, yeah.” His voice sounded gruff. Sarah pressed her lips together. Craig didn’t much care for Nelson, and the feeling was mutual. “I didn’t mean to be out so late but it just kind of . . . happened.” He groaned, then continued. “I have a dinner appointment tomorrow night already.”

“Oh. That’s fine, I guess. We can talk about it when you get home.”

Craig paused. “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about, too. I’ll cancel my dinner date and be home for eight.”

Sarah blinked in surprise. What could he need to talk to her about? A lead weight of dread settled in her stomach.

Another bark. And was that a moan or the dog whining?

“Alright then. Give Nelson a pat for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She paused, thinking of the news she would have to tell him soon. A sudden yearning for comfort overtook her. “I love you.”

“See you tomorrow. Can’t wait to open my present.” He was still breathing heavily. “Make sure it’s waiting when I get home,” he growled, then the phone beeped and he was gone.

The smile dropped off of Sarah’s face like a mask coming untied.

Steve started heading in her direction. She pretended not to notice and fled toward the lobby, swiping at tears.

Craig never told her he loved her on the phone, ever. She knew he would tomorrow night, though, while they were in bed.

If only she didn’t want so badly for him to say it tonight.

*

Sarah was already on her second glass of wine when she caught sight of Steve strolling into the lounge. He spotted her and made his way toward her at the bar. She ducked her head and dabbed at her makeup with a napkin to make sure that the tears hadn’t left her with raccoon eyes. She had no way of telling if she was successful before he reached her.

Oh, well. He was gay, anyway. And I’m married.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Sarah mustered a smile and pretended nonchalance. “Why not?”

Steve slid onto the bar stool next to her and asked the bartender for a soda and a menu. The dark-haired man nodded and disappeared.

Sarah took a gulp of wine and shook her head. “You’re persistent, aren’t you? How did you find me here?”

Steve studied her for a moment, a quizzical grin on his face.

“What makes you think I was looking for you?”

“Well, you pretty much stalked me all day, though I have no idea why. It seems highly coincidental that you happen to show up in the very lounge where I’m enjoying some private time.”

“Not so much when you consider that said lounge is in my hotel.”

Sarah closed her mouth, chagrined. I guess I had that coming.

“I wasn’t looking for you—I only wanted supper. The lounge seemed like a good spot since the restaurant is already closed. Do you want to be alone? I can leave.”

Sarah shook her head, then regretted it as the room spun slightly. “No. I’m tired of being alone. Stay.”

He gave a small frown and tilted his head. “Alright. If you insist.”

She smiled languidly back.

The euphoria of an alcoholic buzz had already set in and made everything seem less urgent. Hard things felt easier. And the pain and fear she didn’t want to feel were diminishing by the second.

Perfect.

Steve glanced over the menu sheet. Sarah rested her head on her hand and watched him. She liked to watch him.

The bartender came back with Steve’s soda. Steve ordered a burger and handed back the menu, then glanced at Sarah as he took a sip.

“So, why’d you ditch?”

Sarah tried to look apologetic. It was hard to focus on conversation when his dimple was so adorable. “My husband called, and I had been trying to reach him so I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Huh. I figured you must have had a good reason.” He drew lines with his fingers through the condensation on the side of his soda tumbler. “What did you think?”

She gave him a blank look. “Of what?”

“My presentation. Did you get the answer to your question?”

She vaguely remembered asking him something that afternoon, that there was a reason she had gone to see the presentation in the first place—other than something to occupy her mind for the night. Oh, yeah. This guy—this strange, alien man—he cared. About everything. Why?

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I left too early.” Wow, the wine was good. The bartender came by and she ordered another.

The bartender looked hesitant, but nodded, then turned to Steve and pointed toward the partially-drained soda. “You okay, man?”

Steve smiled and nodded, and the short, Hispanic man left. Then Steve’s eyes—his beautiful, sparkly, baby blue eyes—turned back toward her.

“Would you like me to tell you about it now?”

She couldn’t get enough of those eyes. Blue, not green. And they cared. She knew it. She rested her head in her palm again and nodded. Keep looking at me, Steve. I want to care, too.

She half-listened as he explained how he had just finished his third year of law school—

“Craig’s a lawyer, too. Did I mention that?”

“Um, no. And I’m not actually a full-fledged lawyer.”

“Well, he is.”

“Okay.”

—when he took a summer tour with a buddy through Western India. He knew very little about it when he arrived, but what he saw there changed his life.

He fell in love with the people, the culture, and the food. But he was devastated when he saw the way the poor lived. He was drawn to learn more and more, and every step he took into the depths of Mumbai’s slums broke his heart into smaller and smaller pieces.

“I didn’t know what to do about it, but I knew I felt called to do something.”

Sarah swallowed the last mouthful of wine from her third glass and frowned uncertainly.

“Called? Who called you?”

“Well, uh, God did.”

Sarah stared at him, waiting for him to laugh at his joke. When he didn’t, she did.

“‘God did?’ You’re serious?” She laughed again. “What did he do, dial your cell phone?”

Steve’s mouth closed and he just looked at her.

“If God cares so much, why are there children being forced to sell their bodies to survive in the first place? Or parents who break their children’s limbs so they’ll be better beggars? Why did Sita have her face destroyed? And all that other stuff you talked about? Why didn’t he do something about that, huh?” She didn’t normally talk this loud.

Steve’s reply was quiet and firm. “He did. He sent me.”

Sarah blinked at him. For a guy who smiled all the time, she would have thought this would be the biggest joke of them all. But he definitely did not look like he was joking. She tittered and grasped at words like eels.

“Fine. Believe what you want. If you want to think yer some kind of divine instrument, who’m I to tell ya otherwise?” Sarah giggled louder. Then she tilted her head in slow confusion and twisted unsteadily on her stool to face him. “Wait a second. Which god are we talkin’ about exactly?”

Steve frowned a little and lifted his hand behind her back as though prepared to catch her. “You know, I’d love to tell you. But I’m not sure now is the right time.”

Sarah jabbed at him in drunken slow motion.

“Time? Now is never the right time, is it? Never has been, and never will been.” She giggled. “I mean ‘be’.” She shook her head at herself and kept giggling, muttering to herself. “‘Never will been.’ Craig’s right again.” She cocked the finger and thumb on her right hand as though they were a gun and pretended to shoot herself through the temple, sound effect and all.

The ditch in Steve’s forehead deepened. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Look, you can tell me if this is none of my business, but, um, are you okay?”

Sarah focused on his face with effort and rocked a little on the bar stool.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re obviously upset about something, and I know we just met but I, uh, whoa—how are you doing, there?”

Sarah felt the room rock slightly and gentle pressure on her back. She leaned into it, trying to steady herself on the stool back. She kept her eyes on his for a moment longer, then dropped her gaze to the counter. “I’ve just had kind of a rough week.”

When she peeked back up at him from below her eyelashes, Steve’s brow was still furrowed, but he nodded and let the subject drop.

The bartender set Steve’s burger on the counter, along with a bottle of ketchup. Steve gave the man a glance and a nod in gratitude but never turned his body away from Sarah. He looked like he thought she was the most interesting person in the world.

She smiled at that thought. Then she noticed his neglected burger and frowned slowly.

“Aren’t you gonna eat that?” Why did it seem so difficult to speak?

“Maybe. Are you going to stay upright if I let go?”

That’s when she noticed that the stools had no backs. A glance over her shoulder showed one of his hands supporting her back, and the other looked ready to grab her if she teetered too far in the other direction. She hadn’t even noticed before. Suddenly, the whole situation seemed ridiculously funny. She started giggling and couldn’t stop.

Steve frowned at the giggling blonde woman in concern. The hysterical laughing continued as he pulled out his phone. “I’m calling you a cab, okay? What hotel are you staying at?”

“Hotel?” Giggle. “Um, uh, the Windsmere. But I don’t need a cab. I’m fine. I’m fine. Eat your burger.” She waved a loose hand toward him, then tittered again.

“Hi, I need a cab at the Jade Palace Hotel. Yes, that’s right. Thanks.” Steve ended the call and asked the bartender to wrap up his burger. The man nodded and swept up the plate, then came back in a few minutes with a white Styrofoam clamshell and the bill.

“Thanks.” Steve threw a few bills on the counter and slid off his stool. “That should cover hers, too. Can you send this up to 414?”

The bartender nodded and tossed a glance at Sarah, who was staring mournfully into her empty goblet. He nodded again, then disappeared with the takeout box.

“Where are you going?” asked Sarah. “You didn’t even eat your burger.”

“You’re going home. I’m making sure you get there. C’mon.” He grabbed her arm and gently urged her off of her stool. It didn’t take much—she wasn’t staying on it that well anyway.

Steve draped her arm over his shoulders with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist to keep her steady, then helped her out to the lobby to wait.

“You don’t need to help me, you know. I’m fine.”

“Of course you are.” Steve’s voice was reassuring, but he didn’t loosen his hold around her waist.

She smiled up at him. It was a beautiful smile, and after spending most of a day with this too-serious woman, it was nice to finally see it—even if she was drunker than a chickadee in a crab apple tree.

Sarah reached up to touch his face. “You have such pretty eyes.”

Steve pushed her hand gently away.

Sarah’s blue eyes grew wistful and she sighed. “Too bad you’re gay.”

Steve’s jaw dropped in surprise. He closed his mouth and chuckled quietly.

“Well, them’s the breaks, I guess. C’mon. Let’s get you into the cab.”

She hiccupped and giggled.

“Okay, Stevie.” She giggled again. “Whatever you say.”

He shook his head and helped her to the waiting vehicle.