Friction Read Free

weeks. It’s an order.”
    Sarah had a hard time believing what she was hearing—he was forcing her to take a vacation? Wasn’t that against the constitution or something?
    “That’s ridiculous. I don’t want or need a vacation. You can’t dictate my free time. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself anyway, and I—”
    “Exactly. That’s the problem. You don’t do anything but work. Sage and I went to a nice resort over in Cape Charles—it’s small, more like an inn, and it’s close. You can get there easily. I’ll make the arrangements and all you have to do is show up on Monday. And no laptop. In fact, you can leave it here. With me.” He shot her an evil grin. “And they don’t allow cell phones at the resort. Or PDAs. Just so you know. If they find them, they’ll ask you to store them in their office until you leave, so as not to disrupt the other guests.”
    Sarah felt the color drain from her face.
    “No, Ian, please, I—”
    “You’re going. Either that or you’re enrolling in the stress relief program that they’re starting up this week. Make your choice.”
    Sarah felt her breath come up short—how could he? The stress relief program was a nightmare—everyone was doing whatever they could to avoid it—six weeks of deep breathing and sharing your feelings. God. It was a numbers game, she told herself. Two weeks of torture was better than six.
    “Fine. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll go.”
    Her voice was tight and unhappy, and Ian chuckled, shaking his head and turning away. “Sarah, I want you to enjoy life a little. I want you to relax, have fun. Maybe you’ll even like it.”
    Sarah fell back in her chair, the ache in her leg throbbing more insistently as she grumbled to herself about her predicament. Vacation? No computer? No cell phone? No work?
    And here she’d thought Ian liked her.
     
    L OGAN S ULLIVAN paused for a moment on the steps leading up to the broad wraparound porch that hugged the sides of the Chesapeake Inn. He felt as though he was walking into one of those old plantation-style mansions he’d seen in the movies. Colorful flowers and ivies grew everywhere, and large fig trees sprawled in the side yard. Wicker furniture was placed strategically around the large porch, some chairs grouped together if guests wanted to socialize, others tucked away in corners if they wanted to relax solo.
    Not fifty yards away the Chesapeake Bay stretched out before him. The water was calm today. The Eastern Shore was a stretch of sand only a bit more than a mile wide, the Bay on one side and the ocean on the other. The little town of Cape Charles was at the southern base of the shore, its tip at the mouth of the Bay. The city of Norfolk, part of the area known as Hampton Roads, formed the other side.
    Logan was familiar with the area, having lived inMaryland his entire life. It was a marvelous place for a vacation, and in his loose khaki shorts, white T-shirt and worn leather sandals, he looked every bit the vacationer—which was how he wanted it. However, vacationing was the last thing on his mind.
    Hefting his bags up the stairs, he opened the door and walked in, the air-conditioning hitting him like a wave. Though the hot weather didn’t bother him at all, he still found the coolness refreshing. And the heat here was different, nothing like the suffocating heat he’d gotten used to in Baltimore. Here the air was clear and a soft breeze came in off the water, stirring the leaves on the trees. It was pleasant.
    A cheerful woman—a slim blonde who was, he guessed, in her late fifties—rounded the corner, her face the very definition of welcome. She reminded him a bit of his mother, or his childhood memories of her.
    “Hello! I’m Karen Sanders. You must be Mr. Sullivan. Welcome to the Chesapeake Inn. Are these all your bags?”
    Logan smiled. It was impossible not to, her friendliness made him feel at home. “No, I have more in the car, but I’ll get them. This is