He bungled tying his tie several times before getting it right; he couldn’t find matching socks; it took him ten minutes to finish dressing. However, when his
wife emerged from her bedroom after his soft tap on her door, she didn’t remark on the delay.
Together they went into the living room, where Zee was reading Mandy a story. Nelson was watching his favorite TV detective chase down the bad guys
and bring them to justice.
He glanced up when they walked in and gave a Song wolf whistle. “You two look like the bride and groom on the wedding cake.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Tate answered for both of them.
“She hardly looks like a bride in that black dress, Nelson.”
“She hardly looks like a bride in that black dress, Nelson.”
Tate was sure his mother hadn’t meant for her comment to be insulting, but that’s how it sounded. It was followed by an awkward pause that was finally
broken when Zee added, “But you do look very nice, Carole.”
“Thank you,” she replied in a subdued voice.
From the day they were introduced, Zee had been reserved in her relationship with Carole. She would have preferred that their love affair had died before
it had come to marriage, though she would never have said so.
She had warmed up to Carole while she was carrying Mandy, but that maternal affection soon cooled. For months prior to the plane crash, Zee had been
more openly critical than before. Tate knew why, of course. Neither of his parents was stupid or blind, and they had always disparaged anything that hurt
Jack or him.
Tonight, however, he had hoped that everything would go smoothly. It already promised to be a strained evening. While his mother’s thoughtless comment
hadn’t ruined it entirely, it certainly hadn’t helped relieve any tension.
Mandy revived the festive mood somewhat when she slid from her grandmother’s lap and shyly approached them. He knelt down. “Come give me a big
hug.” Mandy placed her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.
To his surprise, Carole crouched down beside them. “I’ll come kiss you when we get home. Okay?”
Mandy raised her head and nodded solemnly. “Okay, Mommy.”
“Be a good girl for Grandma and Grandpa.”
Mandy nodded again, then removed her arms from Tate’s neck and hugged Carole. “Bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye. Give me good night sugars.”
“Do I have to go to bed now?”
“No, but I want my sugars ahead of time.”
Mandy kissed Carole’s mouth noisily, then scampered back to her grandmother. Ordinarily, Carole complained when Mandy ruined her makeup or
mussed her clothing. All she did now was lightly dab at her lips with a Kleenex.
He couldn’t figure it, except that she was playing the good-mother role to the hilt. God only knew what her motive was. This newfound affection for Mandy
was probably phony as hell. No doubt she had picked up pointers from talk shows and magazine articles during her convalescence.
He placed his hand beneath her elbow and guided her toward the front door. “It might be late before we’re back.”
“Drive carefully,” Zee called after them.
Nelson left his detective with gun drawn and followed them to the door. “If this was a beauty contest and ballots were handed out tonight, y’all would win.
Can’t tell you how proud and pleased I am to see the two of you stepping out with each other all dressed up.”
Was his father suggesting that whatever had come between them should be forgiven and forgotten? Tate appreciated his concern; he just didn’t think he
could oblige him. Forgive? He’d always found that hard to do. Forget? It just wasn’t in his nature.
But as he seated Carole in the silver leather interior of his car, he wished he could. If he could erase all the anger, pain, and contempt, and start over with
this woman tonight, would he want to?
Tate had always been as scrupulously honest with himself as he was with everyone. Looking and behaving as Carole did tonight, yes, he told himself, he
would want to make a new start.
Plainly, he wanted her. He liked her when she was like this, soft-spoken and even-tempered and sexy. He didn’t expect her to be a doormat. She had too
much vivacity and intelligence to be a silent, submissive partner. He didn’twant her to be. He liked sparks of anger, of humor. Without them, a relationship
was as bland as unseasoned food.
She smiled at him as he slid behind the wheel. “Nelson’s right. You look very nice tonight, Tate.”
“Thanks.” And just because he was weary of being scornful all the time, he added, “So do you.”
She dazzled him with a smile. In the old days, he would have said, “Screw being late, I’m going to make love to my wife,” and taken her right there in the
car.
A fantasy of doing that flashed into his mind: nuzzling her flushed breasts; sinking into her deep, wet heat; hearing her gasps of pleasure when she came.
He groaned, quickly covering it with a cough.
He missed the spontaneity, the fun of having hot sex with someone he loved.
To conceal the fierce light in his eyes, which she would instantly recognize as arousal, he slid on his sunglasses, even though the sun had already set.
Driving away from the house, he admitted that he missed what they had had, but he didn’t miss her. Because while the sex had been hot and good and
frequent, there had been little real intimacy. That cerebral exchange and spiritual bonding had been lacking in their marriage from the very beginning,
though he hadn’t put a name to the missing component until much later.
He couldn’t miss what he’d never had, but he still yearned for it. Winning the Senate seat was going to be sweet. It would mark the beginning of what he
hoped would be a lifetime career in public service. But the victory would be tainted by his marital unhappiness.
It would be much sweeter, and his political future would look much brighter, if he could share it with a loving, supportive wife.
He might just as well wish for the moon, he thought. Even if Carole had that kind of love to give, which she didn’t, he wouldn’t take it. She had destroyed
any possibility of that long ago.
The physical attraction was still there, inexplicably stronger than ever, but the emotional attachments were dead. And he’d be damned if he would accept
one while being cheated of the other.
He figured the resolution just hadn’t reached his cock yet.
He glanced at Carole from out of the corner of his eye. She looked fantastic. His mother had called it correctly. She had too much poise and
sophistication and sexiness for a bride.
She looked like a well-loved, well-sated wife very unlike Carole.
NINETEEN
Eddy Paschal stepped out of his shower. He quickly patted the towel over his arms and chest and down both legs. Flinging it over his shoulder, he caught
the other end and rubbed it back and forth across his back as he moved from bathroom to bedroom. As soon as he cleared the door, he drew up short.
“What the ”
“Hi, there. Didn’t know you were into dirty pictures.”
Fancy was stretched diagonally across his bed. She was propped up on one elbow, thumbing through the Penthouse she had found lying on his
nightstand. After a dispassionate glance at one particularly provocative pose, she looked up at him and smiled slyly. “You naughty boy, you.”
“What the hell are you doing in here?” He hastily secured the towel around his middle.
Fancy stretched with feline laziness. “I was sunbathing out by the pool and came in here to get cool.”
Eddy lived in an apartment over the ranch’s garage. Shortly after he was hired to be Tate’s campaign manager, he had asked if he could rent the
efficiency. The Rutledges had vehemently protested.
Zee had been the most vocal. “Servant’s quarters? I wouldn’t hear of it.”
Tate had added his own protests, stating that if Eddy was going to live at the ranch, he would live in the house with the family.
Eddy had explained that he needed the convenience of living close to them while maintaining his privacy. The garage apartment satisfied both
requirements. They had relented and he had moved in.
His privacy had now been invaded. “Why cool off in here?” he asked querulously. “Is the air conditioner in the house on the blink?”
“Don’t be tacky.” Fancy tossed the magazine aside and came to a sitting position. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“There’s certainly plenty to see,” he muttered, ruffling his wet hair. It was fine, straight, and pale. “I’ve seen Band-Aids bigger than that bikini. Does Nelson
approve of you running around like that?” Abundant flesh was overflowing the skimpy swimsuit.
“Grandpa doesn’t approve of anything erogenous,” she snorted. “I swear I don’t know how my daddy and Uncle Tate ever got conceived. I bet Grandpa
sings ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ while he’s balling Grandma. Or maybe ‘Off We Go, into the Wild, Blue Yonder.’” She drew a thoughtful expression.
“I just can’t imagine her coming, can you?”
“You’re hopeless, Fancy.” In spite of himself, he chuckled at the images she had conjured. Then he propped his hands on his hips and looked at her
reprovingly. “Will you please scram so I can dress? I told Tate I’d meet him and Carole at the Waller Creek, and I’m already running late.”
“Can I go with you?”
“No.”
“Why?” she wheedled. “No more tickets.”
“You could manage it.” He shook his head no. “Why not? I could get ready in a jiff.”
“It’ll be a stuffy, grown-up affair, Fancy. You’d be bored stiff.”
“You’d be stiff if I went along. But I guarantee you wouldn’t be bored.” She gave him a licentious wink.
“Are you going to leave, or what?”
“What, I think,” she replied flippantly. She unclasped her bikini bra and let it fall. Leaning back, she propped herself up on her elbows. “How do you like
my… tan?”
Her breasts were full and soft, rising from a band of baby pinkness between her suntanned chest and stomach. The areolas were oversized, and her
nipples were rosy and raised.
Tilting his face ceilingward, Eddy pinched his eyes shut. “Why are you doing this now? Come on, get up. Put your top back on and get the hell out of here.”
He moved toward the bed and extended his hand down to assist her up. Fancy took his hand, but she didn’t use it as leverage. Instead, she carried it to
her breast and pressed his palm against the distended center. Her eyes were alight with mischief and arousal. As she slowly rotated his palm over her
nipple, she used her other hand to pull away his towel and affected a gasp of surprised pleasure.
“Hmm, Eddy, you have a beautiful cock.”
She gazed at it avidly as she inched to the edge of the bed. Her fingers encircled his penis, then she squeezed it through her fist, elongating and
stretching it. “So big. Who are you saving it for? That ugly redhead down at headquarters? Or my Aunt Carole?”
She flung her head back and looked up the length of his torso. The cold glint in his eyes alarmed her for an instant before she decided that she liked him
best when he was being a bastard. He posed more of a challenge that way.
“I can and will do more for you than either of them.” Having made that breathy pledge, she bent her head over him to prove it.
At the first deft, damp stroke of her tongue, Eddy’s knees buckled. In seconds, Fancy was on her back in the middle of his bed and he was lying above
her, his tongue inside her mouth, spearing toward the back of her throat.
“Oh, God. Oh, Jesus. Yes. Yes,” Fancy panted when his hands roughly caressed her.
He threw her arms behind her head and attacked her breasts with his mouth, sucking ardently, biting hungrily, licking furiously while the girl writhed
beneath him. She became so lost in his rowdy foreplay that it took several seconds for her to realize that he was no longer doing it.
She opened her eyes. Once again he was standing at the foot of the bed, smiling with amusement.
“Wha “
Only when she tried to sit up did she discover that her arms were tied above her head. She swung them forward. Her bikini bra was wrapped around her
wrists, the ends knotted.
“You son of a bitch,” she yelled. “Untie my fuckin’ hands.”
Calmly, Eddy went to the bureau and took a pair of briefs from the top drawer. As he pulled them on, he made a tsking sound. “Such language.”
“Untie me, you bastard.”
“I’m sure that a resourceful young lady,” he stressed with one eyebrow skeptically raised, “will think of a way to free herself.”
He took his rented tuxedo out of the plastic bag and began dressing. For as long as that took, Fancy lambasted him with every epithet her fertile mind and
unlimited vocabulary could produce.
“Save it,” Eddy said tersely when the crude tirade had ceased to be amusing. “I just want to know one thing.”
“Screw you.”
“What did you mean by that remark about Carole and me?”
“What do you think?”
He reached the bed in three strides, grabbed a handful of Fancy’s hair, and wound it around his fist until it pulled against her scalp. “I don’t know what to
think. That’s why I’m asking.”
He frightened her. She lost some of her defiance. “You’re getting it from somewhere. Why not from Aunt Carole?”
“First and foremost, because she doesn’t appeal to me.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Why bullshit?”
“Because you watch her like a hawk, especially since she came home.”
Eddy continued to stare at her coldly. “She’s my best friend’s wife. They’ve had their problems. I’m concerned how their marriage might effect the
outcome of the campaign.”
“Some marriage,” Fancy scoffed. “He can’t stand her because she’s screwed around on him. My true blue Uncle Tate won’t put up with that kind of crap
from his wife. He’s only staying married to her until the election is over.”
Then Fancy smiled. She was almost purring. “But, you know what? If you do want in Carole’s pants, I think you’re out of luck. I think they’re patching things
up. I think she’s giving to him if he wants it what she was giving to you before the airplane crash.”
Gradually, his hand relaxed and he released her hair. “That’s quite a theory, Fancy.” His voice was cool and calm. He moved to the dresser, stuffed a
handkerchief into his pants pocket, and slid on his wristwatch. “It just happens to be wrong. There never has been or will be anything between Carole and
me.”
“I might ask her and see what she says.”
“If I were you,” he said softly, addressing her over his shoulder, “I’d keep my jealous speculations to myself.”
Without the benefit of her hands to assist her, Fancy wiggled off the bed and came to her feet. “This is getting old, Eddy. Untie my hands.”
He angled his head to one side, as though giving her demand careful consideration. “No, I don’t believe so. I think I’d rather put some distance between
us before you get loose.”
“I can’t leave here until I get my hands free.”
“That’s right.”
She padded after him to the door. “Please, Eddy,” she wailed. Tears formed in her large blue eyes. “You’re being cruel. This isn’t a game to me. I know
you think I’m a slut for throwing myself at you, but I felt like I had to make the first move or you never would. I love you. Please love me back. Please.”
He laid his hand in the curve of her waist and squeezed it gently. “I’m sure you can find some other guy who’ll appreciate me warming you up for him.”
Her cheeks bloomed scarlet. “You son of a bitch.” The wheedling humility vanished. Her low voice now vibrated with rage. “You’re goddamn right I’ll find a
man. I’ll fuck his brains out. I’ll suck him dry. I’ll ”
“Have a good evening, Fancy.” Unceremoniously, he pushed her out of his way and jogged down the exterior stairs to his parked car.
Fancy put her foot to the door and slammed it hard behind him.
As Avery came out of the ladies’ room, she didn’t even notice the man at the pay telephone. She was anxious to get back to the party. The banquet had
been interminable, the after-dinner speaker ponderous.
However, once they were free to mingle, Tate had been the center of attention. It seemed that everyone in the room wanted to meet him and shake his
hand, whether they shared a party affiliation or not. Even political rivals were friendly. None was hostile certainly not enough to want him dead.
He was respected even if his ideas weren’t unanimously popular. It was a heady feeling just to be standing next to him as his wife. Each time he made an
introduction, he did so with a certain degree of pride that thrilled her. She hadn’t made any social blunders. She had covertly taken her cues from him
when someone Carole would have known approached. Everything was going splendidly.
Tate had touched her arm briefly as she excused herself to go to the powder room, as though he dreaded even that brief a separation.
Now, as she passed the bank of telephones, a hand shot out and manacled her wrist. She emitted a cry of astonishment and spun around to confront the
man who had accosted her. He was wearing a tuxedo, signifying that he belonged to the crowd in the banquet hall.
“How’s it going, baby?” he drawled.
“Let go of me.” Taking him for someone who’d had too much to drink, she made a painful attempt to wrench her arm free.
“Not so fast, Mrs. Rutledge.” He slurred the name insultingly. “I want to get a close-up look at the new face I’ve heard so much about.” He pulled her closer.
“Except for your hair, you look the same. But tell me what I really want to know. Are you still as hot?”
“Let me go, I said.”
“What’s the matter? Afraid your husband is going to catch you? He won’t. He’s too busy campaigning.”
“I’ll scream bloody murder if you don’t release my arm this instant.”
He laughed. “Are you pissed because I didn’t come see you in the hospital? Now, would it have been seemly for one of your lovers to elbow your husband
away from your bedside?”
She glared at him with cold fury. “Things have changed.”
“Oh, yeah?” He put his face close to hers. “Doesn’t your pussy itch like it used to?”
Incensed and afraid, she renewed her struggle to release her arm, which only seemed to incite him. He bent her arm up behind her and hauled her
against the front of his body. His breath was humid and boozy against her face. She tried to turn her head away, but he trapped her jaw with his free hand.
“What’s with you, Carole? Do you think you’re high and mighty now that Tate’s actually in the race? What a joke! Rory Dekker’s gonna kick his ass, you
know.” He closed his fingers, hurting her jaw. She whimpered with pain and outrage.
“Now that you think he might make it to Washington, you’re really sucking up to him, aren’t you? Tonight you looked straight through me. Just who the hell
do you think you are, bitch, to ignore me like that?”
He ground a hard kiss upon her lips, smearing her fresh lipstick and making her sick by poking his tongue between her lips. She doubled up her fists and
pushed with all her might against his shoulders. She tried to drive a knee into his crotch, but her slim skirt prevented that. He was strong; she couldn’t
budge him. He consumed all her air. She felt herself weakening, growing faint.
Dimly at first, and then louder, she heard approaching voices. So did he. He shoved her away and gave her a smirking smile. “You’d do well to remember
who your friends are,” he sneered. He rounded the corner seconds ahead of two women who were on their way to the powder room.
Their conversation died when they saw Avery. She quickly turned her back and fumbled with the telephone receiver as though she were about to place a
call. They went past and entered the ladies’ room. As soon as the door swished closed behind them, she collapsed against the shelf beneath the public
phone.
She broke a nail in her haste to undo the clasp on Carole’s beaded evening bag in search of a Kleenex. Finding one, she wiped her mouth, rubbing it
hard, ridding it of the smeared lipstick and any taste of the hateful kiss she had endured from Carole’s ex-lover. She unwrapped a peppermint and put it in
her mouth, then dabbed her tearful eyes with the tissue. During the tussle an earring had come off; she clipped it back on.
The two women came out, speaking in hushed tones as they walked past. Avery murmured needlessly into the receiver, feeling like a fool for enacting
such a ridiculous charade.
But then, she had become very good at playing charades, hadn’t she? She’d fooled one of Carole’s lovers.
When she finally felt composed enough to face the crowd again, she hung up the telephone receiver and turned to go. As she did, a man quickly rounded
the corner and ran right into her. Seeing only the front of his tux, she cried out in fear.
“Carole? For God’s sake, what’s wrong?”
“Tate!”
Avery slumped against him, tightly wrapping her arms around his waist. Resting her cheek on his lapel, she closed her eyes to block out the vision of the
other man.
Hesitantly, Tate placed his arms around her. His hands stirred the silk against her body as he stroked her back. “What’s the matter? What happened? A
lady drew me aside and said you looked upset. Are you sick?”
He had immediately deserted the limelight and rushed to her assistance, even though she was an unfaithful wife. Whatever scruples she had had against
sleeping with another woman’s husband vanished in that single moment. Carole hadn’t deserved him.
“Oh, Tate, I’m sorry.” She lifted her face to his. “So sorry.”
“For what?” He took her firmly by the shoulders and shook her lightly. “Will you tell me what the hell is going on?”
Because she couldn’t tell him the truth, she foundered for a logical explanation. When she arrived at one, she realized that it wasn’t entirely untrue. “I guess
I’m not ready to be surrounded by so many people. The crowd was overwhelming me. I felt smothered.”
“You seemed to be doing fine.”
“I was. I was enjoying it. But all of a sudden everybody seemed to close in. It was like being wrapped up in those bandages again. I couldn’t breathe,
couldn’t ”
“Okay. I get the picture. You should have said something. Come on.” He took her by the arm.
She dug her heels in. “We don’t have to leave.”
“The party’s breaking up anyway. We’ll beat everybody to the valet parking.”
“You’re sure?” She wanted to leave. To return to the banquet hall and possibly confront that gloating face again would be untenable. However, this was her
audition. She didn’t want to blow it and be left at the ranch when he went campaigning.
“I’m sure. Let’s go.”
They didn’t say much on the way home. Avery tucked her feet beneath her hips and turned in the seat to face him. She wanted to touch him, to comfort
and be comforted, but she satisfied herself with simply facing him.
Everyone was in bed when they arrived home. Silently they went together to Mandy’s room, and, as they had promised, kissed her good night. She
mumbled sleepily in response but didn’t wake up.
As they moved down the hallway toward their respective bedrooms, Tate said offhandedly, “We’ll be attending several formal functions. You probably
should take that dress on the trip.”
Avery spun around to face him. “You mean you want me to go?”
He looked at a spot beyond her head. “Everybody thinks it would be a good idea.”
Unwilling to let him off that lightly, she gave his lapel a tug. His eyes connected with hers. “I’m only interested in what you think, Tate.”
He deliberated for several tense moments before giving her his answer. “Yeah, I think it’s a good idea. Eddy’ll give you an itinerary in a day or two so
you’ll know what else to pack. Good night.”
Bitterly disappointed in his lukewarm enthusiasm, Avery watched him walk down the hall and enter his room. Dejectedly, she went into hers alone and
prepared for bed. She examined her dress, looking for damage done by Carole’s ex-lover, whoever he’d been, but thankfully found none.
She was exhausted by the time she turned off the lamps, but when an hour went by and she still hadn’t fallen asleep, she got out of bed and left her room.
Fancy decided to enter through the kitchen in case her grandfather had set up an ambush in the living room. She unlocked the door, disengaged the
alarm system, and quietly reset it.
“Who’s that? Fancy?”
Fancy nearly jumped out of her skin. “Jesus Christ, Aunt Carole! You scared the living shit out of me!” She reached for the light switch.
“Oh, my God.” Avery sprang from her chair at the kitchen table and turned Fancy’s face up toward the light. “What happened to you?” She grimaced as
she examined the girl’s swollen eye and bleeding lip.
“Maybe you can lend me your plastic surgeon,” Fancy quipped before she discovered that it hurt to smile. Touching the bleeding cut with the tip of her
tongue, she disengaged herself from her aunt. “I’ll be all right.” She moved to the refrigerator, took out a carton of milk, and poured herself a glass.
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