Free Along for the Ride by Ruby Laska Page A

perhaps you would marry me, is that it?” Rafi heard the contempt in his voice. He knew he was going too far, but he could not stop. He could not bear her rejection, and so he would get there first, even if it meant hurting her this way. “Would you settle for a courthouse wedding, no white gown, no champagne toasts? Would you enjoy the paperwork and the indignity of the officials scrutinizing our lives?”
    Her silence was deafening. It held her answer—she did not need to say a word.
    “I’ve learned, Lauren,” he said in a softer voice, finally mastering his anger. “I will not love another woman, not until I have something to offer. Everything to offer.”
    “But Rafi—”
    He could not bear to hear her voice breaking, the tears coming. “Good night, Lauren,” he whispered softly, and broke the connection.
    #
    Later—it seemed like hours—he left the apartment and walked. Horns blared when he ignored the signal; he barely glanced up.
    He arrived at the lake and crossed the band of sand. Night had fallen, and only a few souls remained, some unfortunate ones with nowhere else to go, others troubled, like himself.
    At the water’s edge he took the box from his pocket, and lifted out the tiny earrings. They were cold in his hand, but they caught the moonlight and sent their flashing beams as he moved his palm.
    And so it is over , he thought bitterly, flinging them as far as he could into the cold dark water.
     
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    On Monday Lauren called a new service.
    By the third week with her new driver, she was growing accustomed to him. He called her Sweetie. He had thirteen grandchildren and, to be polite, she looked at the fan of photographs he updated each time.
    He caught on and respected her need for silence. She passed it off as well as she could—“I’m just not a morning person”—and closed her eyes and shielded her temples with her hand on the way to the airport.
    Her blouses were once again buttoned to the top. The garters had been relegated to the bottom of her bureau, and her hair, in the gaining heat of early summer, was twisted into a style that kept her neck cool but did little to set off her features.
    Philip finally got the hint when she spoke the words “restraining order,” but it was not victory she felt when she hung up on him for the final time. It was defeat. Weariness.
    And an overwhelming sense of loss.
    #
    Lauren slid her papers into the flap pocket of her computer bag and zipped it shut. It was late, and she was hungry. The building was nearly empty, which was good — she would not have to make pleasant conversation as she left.
    “Lauren.” Jack Morgan stood in the door to her cubicle. Jack, with the confidence of a man who was sure he’d be CEO someday, with his tie loosened and his cuffs rolled up.
    “Hi Jack. I was just getting ready to go.”
    “Yeah. Me too. I was thinking, want to get something to eat? There’s a place back at the hotel, not bad. They do a mean crème caramel.” He smiled at her, but to Lauren it looked almost like a smirk. Self-consciously she put her hand to her throat, tugged at her skirt.
    “I don’t know. I’m pretty tired.”
    Jack ambled into the small space. Stood too close. His eyes followed her hand to the skin at her throat, then traveled down. “You know, Lauren, when you did the Karock Associates presentation last month, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I guess I never noticed before that you’re a really attractive woman. And I mean that in the best way.”
    Lauren edged away from him, slipping behind her desk. “Really. And what way is that?”
    “I mean, you’re hot. Lauren, you’re different. I never noticed it before, but you’re a sensual woman. I can tell.”
    “Oh?” Anger surged from some unknown well inside her. Jack Morgan had never given her the time of day in all the years she’d worked with him. “How exactly can you tell?”
    Jack shrugged, and licked his lips. He wasn’t catching on; maybe