New Year Escapes. Leslie Kelly

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      Now Sophy stalked into the room and flicked on the light, hoping it made his head hurt just a little. She was glad he’d had the sense to go to bed, and at the same time annoyed that he had waited to do it until she was gone.

      “Damn it, George! You can’t do things like this! You’ve got to—”

      Be careful, she was going to say.

      Except there was no one to say it to. The bed was empty.

      He wasn’t in the adjoining bathroom, either. Nothing had changed from when she’d come up the first time. Now she did feel a shaft of concern. Surely he couldn’t have had a relapse and called 911 in the half hour she had been gone, could he?

      “George!” Back down the stairs she went, pausing to poke her head worriedly into the room she’d slept in just in case he’d only made it that far. But it was empty, too.

      Maybe he had tried to get up, had fallen and was lying somewhere comatose.

      “George!” she bellowed again when she reached the main floor, heading back toward the living room to check again.

      “For God’s sake, stop shouting.” The disembodied voice came floating up from the garden floor office.

      Sophy’s teeth snapped together. She skidded to a halt, grabbed the newel post and spun around it to head down the stairs.

      George was sprawled in his desk chair, staring at his oversize computer screen, reading an e-mail. Gunnar, who had obviously found him right away, looked up from where he lay at George’s feet and thumped his tail.

      George didn’t even glance her way.

      Sophy stared at him in silent fury, then stalked across the room and peered at the screen over his shoulder. “Is this all you’ve got open?”

      “I don’t multitask.”

      “Is it saved?”

      “Of course.”

      “Good.” She stepped around to the side of the desk and pulled the plug out of the wall. Instantly the screen went black.

      “What the hell?” At least he spun his chair a half turn to look at her then—even if the action did make him wince and grab his head. “What’d you do that for?”

      “I should think that’s obvious. I’m saving you from yourself.”

      “You could have just said, ‘turn off the computer.’“

      “Oh? And that would have worked, would it? I don’t think so.” As she spoke she was methodically removing all the plugs from his surge protector, then looking around for some place to put it where he couldn’t just hook it up again. Her gaze lit on the file cabinet. She opened the top drawer, dropped in the surge protector, shut the drawer, locked it and pocketed the key.

      George stared at her, dumbfounded. “Are you out of your mind? I need to work. That’s what I came home for.”

      “Well, you’re not fit to work.”

      “Says who?”

      “Says me,” Sophy told him. “And Sam. You hired me to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.”

      “Then you’re sacked.”

      “Throw me out. Try it,” Sophy goaded him. “You can’t. And I’m not leaving. I gave my word. And I keep it.”

      “Do you?” George said quietly.

      And all of a sudden, Sophy knew they were talking about something entirely different. She swallowed and wrapped her arms across her chest. For a moment her gaze wavered, but then it steadied. She did keep her word. Always. No matter what he thought. She lifted her chin and met his gaze firmly. “Yes.”

      He looked as if he might argue with her. But finally he shrugged. “Maybe you do,” he said enigmatically.

      She didn’t know what he meant by that, wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She kept her arms folded, her gaze steady.

      “I have to get some work done sometime, Sophy.”

      “Not tonight.”

      “My head feels better.”

      “Good. Not tonight.”

      He looked almost amused now. “Are you going to stand there and say that until tomorrow?”

      “If that’s what it takes.” She didn’t move.

      George sighed and shook his head. “You’re a bully.”

      And there was the pot calling the kettle black. She remembered so many times when she’d been expecting Lily that he had gently bullied her into taking extra good care of herself. But that was not a memory she wanted to dig into right now. Sophy just shrugged. “It’s time to go to bed.”

      “Is that an invitation?” George’s brow lifted. He grinned faintly.

      “No, it’s an order.”

      He laughed, then winced at the effect it had on his head. But finally he pushed himself slowly up out of his chair and started to hobble slowly toward the stairs. He had to pass within inches of her to get there.

      She wanted to step back, to give him plenty of space, to keep her distance while he passed. Yet she sensed that if she did, he’d see it as a retreat. And Sophy was damned if she was retreating.

      She stayed where she was, even looked up to meet his gaze when he reached her and stopped to loom over her, so close that if she’d leaned in an inch or two she could have pressed her lips to his stubbled jaw.

      He didn’t say anything, just stood there and looked down at her for a long moment. She could see each individual whisker on his jaw, trace the outline of his lips. She flicked her gaze higher to meet his eyes. He didn’t speak, but the air seemed to crackle with some weird electricity between them. Sophy didn’t blink.

      Finally he limped slowly on toward the stairs. “Coming?” he said over his shoulder, with just a hint of sardonic challenge in his voice. “Or are you going to stay down here and set fire to my office?”

      Sophy drew a breath and said with far more lightness than she felt, “Of course. I’m right behind you—ready to catch you if you fall.”

      It was like climbing Everest.

      And he couldn’t complain because if he did, Sophy would just say, “Told you so,” or something equally annoying.

      He couldn’t even just go lie down on the couch again because when he finally got to the first floor she said, “Might as well go all the way up since you’re feeling so much better. I’ll get your crutches.”

      At least the thirty seconds it took her to do that gave him a half a minute’s respite before she was standing there, holding them, saying brightly, “After you.”

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