Impossible

“Good. You need a little confusion in your life. You need some nice surprises, and a little less control.” As he said it, Socks looked up at her new mistress with interest, squatted, and peed on the rug again. It was obvious to Sasha that she no longer had any control at all. Neither over him, herself, and surely not over the dog. The puppy was only eight weeks old, and wouldn't be housebroken for months. She was going to have to roll up her rugs at home.

“She was a wonderful surprise, Liam. I'm still a little stunned.” She wasn't even sure how to react, or why he had done it. But she appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“I was wondering if I could come and see her this weekend. Now don't get nervous. I'm not coming to see you. Just the dog.”

Sasha hesitated, and there was a long moment of silence at her end. He hadn't sent the puppy to pressure her, it had been an outpouring of love for her. Now that he'd been to Paris to visit her, he realized how lonely her life really was. The silence and solitude in her house had made him sad for her. He thought the little dog might help. And if she let him, he wanted to help, too. “I don't know,” Sasha said honestly. “Liam, I'm scared. It's just too crazy if we get involved. I think we'd both regret it in the end.” Particularly she would, if he found a woman closer to his age, after she fell head over heels in love with him. She could easily imagine him with a twenty-five- or thirty-year-old, rather than a woman her age. An affair between them, from her point of view, could only come to a bad end.

“It doesn't have to be that way. Sasha, stop being so obsessed about my age.”

“It's not just that. It's everything. I represent you. If this goes sour, it could screw up our whole working relationship. You're not divorced. You could go back to Beth any day. I'm nine years older than you are, you should be with a woman half my age. You want to be a wacky artist, and my life is so conservative and boring, it would drive you insane.” These days it even bored her. Besides, she couldn't take him anywhere without feeling foolish, and she had no idea how he would behave, but she didn't say that to him. “There is absolutely no part of this that makes sense.”

“Does love always have to make sense?” he asked, sounding disappointed. She ticked off her list of concerns like deal points in a contract she was refusing to sign. But that was how her life worked, and how she saw it.

“It should make sense. Relationships are hard enough without taking two people who are as radically different as we are, and trying to make it work. I just don't think we can. And besides, this isn't love, it's physical attraction. It's some kind of insane chemistry that makes me lose my mind whenever you're around.”

“You didn't lose your mind this weekend,” he reminded her. “I wish you had. But you didn't. I thought we were very well behaved,” he said proudly.

“And just how long do you think that would last?”

“Not long, I hope.” He laughed, and she loved the sound of it. She was smiling as she listened to him, and watched the dog. “I had to take cold showers all night when I got back to London.”

“That's my point. If we hang out together, one or both of us is going to lose our minds and do something we'll both regret later on.” The attraction she felt to him was like putting a match to dynamite. They had proven that on Friday, after dinner at Harry's Bar.

“So now what do we do?” he asked, sounding discouraged. He wasn't convincing her. Sasha was every bit as stubborn as he was.

“I become your very respectable art dealer. And you behave like a good boy.”

“I hate it when people tell me what to do. I'm not a child.” He sounded annoyed.

“Sometimes one has no other choice but to do the right thing,” she said sensibly. “It's much more fun to do whatever you want. But when you do, people get hurt.” She had the good taste not to remind him of his dalliance with his sister-in-law, which had cost him his marriage.

“I want to see you, Sasha,” he said insistently. “I want to come to Paris this weekend.” And then as an afterthought, “I think I should see the dog. I'm her father after all.”

“No, you're not,” Sasha said stubbornly. “She's a fatherless child, and she'll just have to grow up that way, like it or not. You can be her godfather, if you like.”

“All right, all right. She's my god-dog. But I'm coming to Paris this weekend to see you both.”

“I won't let you in,” she said firmly.

“Why not? What else do you have to do, sit in a dark house by yourself and work yourself to death? For God's sake, Sasha, let yourself live for once. You deserve it. So do I.”

“No, you don't, and neither do I, if we're going to make fools of ourselves, or of me. You're just indulging yourself, and I won't let you do that at my expense.” She meant it. The stakes were just too high for her. Only Liam had nothing to lose, except his heart.

“That's not fair,” he said, sounding hurt.