Jennifer Greene - Trouble in Paradise

“Susan?”

Her head jerked up at the sound of Lanna’s voice from behind the closed door; one hand brushed rapidly at her eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You don’t need to,” Lanna called smoothly. “It’s nearly twelve, though, and I’ve gotten rid of the crowd. I just wanted to tell you that the Closed sign is going up.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

“No,” Susan said quietly. “Everything’s fine.”

She stared at the closed door until she heard the sound of Lanna’s footsteps fading; then she got up from behind the desk. Why couldn’t she get her head together? She had been so very sure they were doing the right thing when they got married, and she’d known all about his children then. She’d known in her heart that the marriage would work. It had seemed so simple. All it took was enough love; she knew she had enough love, and she knew Griff had enough love…

She opened the door of her office. A silent shop greeted her, late fall sunlight glinting in faded yellow patches through the two windows. She let down the blinds, removed the key from beneath the register and remembered distractedly that she’d walked here. She didn’t have a car; she didn’t have a change of clothes; Lanna’s sweater was too tight; she was hungry and miserable and didn’t have the least idea where she was going.

But she went. At least as far as opening the door, closing it and fitting the key into the lock.

“Susan?”

She whirled at the sound of Griff’s voice, her face turning pale. The Viking’s features were carved in granite, his eyes boring into hers like some piercing stab of life.

“I…” She took the key out of the lock and put it in her pocket, not looking at him. “I didn’t mean to just…leave. I wasn’t leaving you, Griff. I can’t even imagine…really leaving. I just needed a little time alone. If you’ll just give me a little time…”

“No way,” Griff said quietly. His voice came out in a growl. “You’re coming with me.”

The vise that enclosed Susan’s hand would have put a handcuff to shame. Griff had left his car in the no-parking zone directly in front of the shop. Before she realized what was happening, her head seemed to be leaning back against the soft upholstery of the passenger seat. She was locked in; Griff had bolted around to his side and was starting the engine.

“That was unforgivable. Sending the children,” she accused him uncertainly.

“Tough.”

The conversation wasn’t moving any too smoothly. “You don’t have to sound quite so angry…”

“Madder than hell,” he corrected.

“With me.”

“With you,” he agreed.

“Griff,” she said quietly, “you’re not the only one capable of having an honest temper tantrum on occasion. I wouldn’t push it if I were you.”

The words had come from nowhere and were so out of character that Griff shot her a startled look. “I think, Susan,” he said gently, “that that’s exactly what we’re going to have to do. Push it.”

“I…”

The conversation wasn’t just difficult, it was impossible. Susan subsided, staring out at the Saturday drivers, weaving in and out of traffic, determined to have their weekend fun as dangerously as possible. Speed was the essence; murder the sideline. They arrived safe and sound, but the place they arrived at took Susan back.

Anderson’s, the sign said. The plant was a long, low mass of glass and concrete; nestled back from the road among trees and shrubs. Griff parked the car near the entrance, came around to her side, opened the door and waited patiently.

She just looked at him as she unfolded her legs and got out of the car.

“The kids are at my sister’s, but this is the one place where I know no one will interrupt us.”

On a Saturday, that was undoubtedly true, but she was suspicious of his motives. First he’d sent the children to soften her up, and now he expected her to do battle on his turf. She hadn’t known when she married him that he fought dirty. There was no one but a watchman to let them in. The corridors were yawning empty; the lights were dimmed; the switchboard silent; the elevator creaked plaintively… They got off on the third floor-Susan knew the route to his office.

She led the way, her back rigid, not looking at Griff. Her heart felt sick; she didn’t really know what to say to him. He opened the door, and she walked into his private working domain; she heard the click of the door as it locked behind her like some frightening omen.

Executive elegance was not the style of this room. Griff was a working man; there was a brown leather couch, yes, but only for those occasions when he catnapped while working extra-long hours. The gold carpet was deep-piled only for the purpose of blocking out the sounds of machinery, and Griff’s walnut desk was piled high with paperwork. The credenza beyond held a pair of phones, a computer and a small, square refrigerator where he stocked supplies for five-minute lunches of the kind she herself usually ate. He strode past her and crouched down in front of it now, a thousand times more calm than she was. “Have you had lunch?”

“No. Griff, I couldn’t be less hungry.” Was he insane? The last thing on either of their minds was food.

“You didn’t eat much at breakfast, I’m guessing…” Griff started piling food on top of his desk. “A cheese sandwich?”

Her stomach turned a somersault. “God, no!”

Still on his haunches, he swiveled around to look at her. All that lethal fire in his eyes was suddenly tempered by a sudden quirk of a smile. “So your problem is going to be cheese, is it?”

“Griff…”

“Sit down, Susan. We’re going to have a hell of a fight. We might as well eat first.”

He might have been saying that tonight there would be a ten percent chance of rain; his tone of voice was that conversational. She slumped down on the couch, bewildered, exhausted and increasingly angry. He handed her a small carton of milk, then two slabs of French bread with peanut butter in the middle, then an apple. He took a slice of cheese for himself and sat back behind his desk, calmly watching her eat.

She really didn’t intend to eat a bite. She had a terror of being sick to her stomach and dizzy again, and yet eating bought her a measure of time. His children were small guns, but they’d been effective enough. She wasn’t ready for the barrage he was about to hit her with. She wanted just what she had asked him for. Time. Privacy. Just because she was a wife and stepmother didn’t mean she didn’t have a right to those things.

She wiped her hands on a napkin, settled back in a corner of the leather couch and stared at him. “Griff, have I done anything so terrible?” she demanded finally, since he refused to break his silence. “Everyone has to have a little time to herself-”

“Occasionally, yes, and you need more privacy than most people do. But not today, Susan. If I let you spend a few more hours alone today, you’ll worry yourself inside out. You’ll wall all your doubts up inside you, and I’ll never hear a word about what’s troubling you. Now, talk, Susan. Let’s hear it.”

She shook her head. “Taking off in the middle of the night was stupid-you don’t have to tell me that. I didn’t mean to cause such a rumpus. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Be honest, Susan,” he demanded. “What’s troubling you, really?”

She glared at him, “I want to be alone!”

“Take one step toward that door and see what happens,” he suggested, but his voice was curiously gentle.

Which didn’t make sense. “Griff. I can’t explain…”

“Try, honey.”

The gentleness in his voice threatened to produce tears in her eyes, but she fought them with her anger. She leaped to her feet. “Look. I never have any time alone with you. I need time with you. I love you, and I need to just be with you. Alone. Suddenly, we can only make love when the lights are out and we’re both too tired. Suddenly, when I’ve got a thousand things to tell you, I have to save them all up for the minute and a half when I can catch you, and I end up never saying them at all. You think I don’t love the children, Griff? Well, you’re dead wrong. But I want more than just to be a mother for your kids!”

Griff was around the desk before she could finish, his shoulders rippling and a fiery gleam in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me they were giving you trouble? Why couldn’t you come to me about Barbara’s party? They were creating a little hell for you, and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about it! They were damned happy being waited on hand and foot. Tiger’s under the impression you want a houseful of animals, and Tom thinks you love rock music turned up full blast. Why didn’t you tell me what the devil was going on?”

“Nothing was going on!”

“You thought I expected you to put up with their nonsense,” he growled. “That’s what kills me, Susan.”

She hesitated, unable to bear his fury any longer. She looked down at the carpet with miserable, doe-soft eyes, her heart still beating like a tom-tom. “You could have seen-”

“I would have seen,” he corrected. “In very short order. I didn’t plan on having all three kids descend on us at the same time I had two weeks of crisis here at work-but long before that, you were having trouble with the children, Susan, and you never said one word. You were all smiles whenever I asked you-”

“You asked me about Barbara,” she cut him off defensively. “But I couldn’t break trust with her by running to you like a tattletale, Griff. I was having a hard enough time-”

“So I’m just beginning to understand-but this has nothing to do with Barbara. Or the other two children. It has to do with trust, between you and me-and you should have come to me. The kids adore you, Susan, but I knew that would happen before they even laid eyes on you. Sure, that mattered to me, but if you think I married you to provide a mother for the kids, you’re out of your mind. I married you solely because I love you so much it hurts, and in the relationship I thought we had, it’s understood that we turn to each other when one of us gets into deep water.”