Читать книгу In Confidence - Karen Young - Страница 9

Cameron Ford ended the call to Rachel Forrester and stood, grim-faced, in the waiting room of the ER to wait for her. It had been a helluva shock to look out his kitchen window and see his elderly neighbor lying unconscious in her azaleas. It had been another shock—and this one almost as unpleasant—to learn that she was Rachel Forrester’s mother. Dinah Hunt had moved next door a couple of months before, but he had not made any of the usual hospitable gestures that he might have done to welcome her. He was pretty much a solitary type to begin with, plus he’d been on deadline with his book and, as always, nothing and no one got much more than momentary interest until he was done. He’d noticed the woman and felt relieved that she lived alone and would probably be a quiet, unobtrusive neighbor.

Which was his excuse for not being more attentive. But what, he wondered, was Rachel’s excuse? He did not recall seeing her over there in the weeks since Dinah moved in. You’d think her daughter would have put in an appearance or two. Too busy sticking her nose into other people’s lives to put in time with her aging mother, he thought. But he’d heard real panic in her voice when he’d called just now. He’d been unable to give her any information since he hadn’t been told anything himself when he’d arrived at the hospital with Dinah, incoherent and pale as the white gardenias she prized. But at least she’d been conscious, sort of. When he’d reached her after spotting her lying at the edge of the flower beds separating their two houses, he had been pretty close to panic himself.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir.”

He turned to find a woman beckoning to him from a cubicle behind a sliding glass partition. With a last look outside, he went to her. “What’s the problem?”

“We need some insurance information on Mrs. Hunt.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. She’s my next-door neighbor, not a relative. I happened to see her when she fainted out in the yard.”

The clerk frowned. “I need to know how to bill this, sir.”

“If you’ll wait a few minutes, you can probably get everything you need from her daughter, who should be here any minute. Dinah told me flat-out that she wasn’t staying. I had a heck of a time just getting her here.”

The clerk sniffed and shuffled forms. “You should have called 911. EMTs are trained to deal with the elderly.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” he said dryly. He glanced again at the entrance just as Rachel rushed inside looking flustered and anxious. “Here’s her daughter now.” Cameron lifted his hand, catching her eye, and she hurried over.

“Where is she? What’s wrong? Is it a heart attack?”

“They haven’t given me any information, but maybe the clerk here can tell you something. For what it’s worth, your mother regained consciousness in the car and did her best to talk me out of bringing her here. She claimed she wasn’t having chest pains, so I don’t think it’s a heart attack.”

Rachel turned quickly to the woman. “Is that right? Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“Someone will be out soon to answer your questions,” the clerk said. “Meanwhile, I need—”

“What happened?” Rachel asked Cameron. “What do you mean, she was conscious and talking? When was she unconscious?”

“When she was flat on her back in her azaleas,” he said, making no effort to be gentle. “Once I got her up and on her feet, she was dizzy and disoriented, but after a few minutes, she seemed to rally.”

Rachel was still confused. “I don’t understand. How did you…I mean, are you saying you were at her house?”

“I was on my porch. I looked over and saw her.”

“Your porch. You looked over and saw her.” Rachel put a hand to her forehead before looking at him and asking incredulously, “You…live nearby?”

“I live in the house next door.” She didn’t look any happier hearing that than he did knowing it.

“How could that be?” She was asking herself, not him. “How did I not know that?”

“Because you don’t show much interest in your mother’s affairs?” It was a cheap shot, but Rachel Forrester had that effect on him. He had nothing against her mother, but he didn’t owe Rachel anything. Just the opposite, in fact. His feelings for her hadn’t changed since that day they had talked in her office after Jack’s funeral, five years ago. Seeing her now was like taking the lid off a pot that still simmered with bitterness.

“Did you call the EMTs?” she asked, ignoring his remark.

“I drove her. She wouldn’t let me call the EMTs.”

“I—thank you.” Rachel pressed the fingers of both hands hard against her lips. “Maybe it’s a stroke,” she whispered. “But the last time I was over there—”

“Yeah, when was that, Rachel?” he asked, fixing her with a hard look. “I see the neighbors dropping by, I see the postman chatting her up, I see the guy delivering her prescriptions from the pharmacy, but I don’t see much of you.”

He could see he had her attention now. She stared at him. “I do not neglect my mother,” she said stiffly.

“Yeah, well, you could have fooled me.”

“Dinah Hunt. Someone for Dinah Hunt?” Both turned as a young resident appeared and stood looking over the occupants in the waiting room.

“Here,” Rachel said, moving toward him. “I’m Rachel Forrester. Dinah Hunt is my mother. How is she?”

“I’m Dr. Carruthers.” He smiled at both Rachel and Cameron, who’d followed her. “Your mom’s just fine. In fact, she’ll probably be out here demanding to be taken home before I finish talking. She told me in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t about to spend a night in a hospital bed.”

“What on earth happened?” Rachel asked anxiously. “Mr. Ford said he found her unconscious outside where she was working in her garden.”

Carruthers nodded. “That’s her story, too. And it’s not uncommon in patients with hypoglycemia.”

“Hypoglycemia?” Rachel repeated blankly.

“We don’t have the results of her blood work yet, but she tells me she’s been diagnosed as borderline hypoglycemic and she confessed to spending most of the day doing yard work without stopping for lunch or even taking a break.” He paused. “How old is your mother?”

“Sixty-two.”

“Amazing. Couple that with her medical condition and the fact that she worked in full sun without a hat and you have a recipe for a blackout.”

“Hypoglycemia means low blood sugar, doesn’t it?” Rachel asked.

“Yes. You knew, of course?”

She was shaking her head. “No. No, I didn’t.”

“Well, now that you do, try to persuade her to make a few concessions to her body’s need for frequent, small meals, preferably high in protein.” He smiled again. “And perhaps pacing herself a bit when she plans to do yard work.”

“Is this a serious illness?”

“Not particularly, so long as a few common-sense precautions are observed.” He included both Rachel and Cameron in his next words. “If she seems reluctant to discuss it with you, just stop by my office and pick up a pamphlet. You need to be aware so that you can help her adjust. The pamphlet lists some suggestions that help prevent sudden drops in blood sugar, which is what caused her to faint. Again, I don’t have the results of her blood work and I might be jumping the gun here, but chances are we’re on the right track.”

Just then, Dinah emerged from a treatment cubicle and, spotting Rachel, headed directly over. She was dressed for gardening in a pair of loose-fitting denim overalls over a faded tie-dyed T-shirt and muddy, once-white sneakers. A neat size eight, she ordinarily looked ten years younger than her age, but her collapse had taken a toll. There was a liberal sprinkling of gray in her hair, which had probably once been the same rich, near-black shade as Rachel’s, Cameron noticed now. But whereas Rachel’s cut was short, sleek and smooth, Dinah’s style was wildly curly and much longer. She’d probably started the day with it confined at her nape in a leather thong, circa the sixties, but much of it had long since worked itself loose and the overall effect was one of a slightly aging flower child.

“As I mentioned,” Dr. Carruthers said with a chuckle, “I guessed she’d be out here before I was done.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Rachel murmured, turning back to Carruthers and extending her hand.

“My pleasure,” he said, shaking it. He looked then at Cameron. “You did the right thing insisting on having her checked out, Mr. Forrester.”

“Ford, not Forrester,” Cameron said, shaking the doctor’s hand. “And I’m just a neighbor.”

“Oh.” Carruthers paused for an awkward beat or two, then turned again to Rachel. “The results of the blood work should be available sometime tomorrow, Ms. Forrester. If there’s anything unusual, I’ll call you. Otherwise, the results will be mailed.”

“Call me, Dr. Carruthers,” Dinah instructed firmly, “not Rachel. I’m not too fragile to hear bad news, at least not yet.”

“I don’t anticipate giving you bad news, Mrs. Hunt,” he said, with a grin. “And remember, no working in the sun without a hat and no skipping meals.”

Dinah gave him a droll look. “I’ll try to remember that, as I sure don’t want to wake up looking at the underside of azalea leaves again.”

Still chuckling, he left them to enter another cubicle a few steps down the hall.

“Let’s go, Mom,” Rachel said, taking Dinah’s arm. “The insurance—”

“In a minute.” Dinah resisted being hustled away. “First, I need to thank Cameron.”

“You don’t owe me any thanks,” he said. Now that he knew the older woman wasn’t suffering a stroke or worse, he itched to get back to his work. He was only half done with the proposal for his next book.

“Well, of course I do. And I meant what I said in the car, Cameron. Anytime you feel like having a break, come over for coffee or some iced tea. I like to bake and usually have a little something on hand—cake or cookies. Nick and Kendall can vouch for that.”

“Nick and Kendall?”

“My grandchildren, Rachel’s babies.” Dinah moved over toward the area where the insurance clerk waited and presented the appropriate cards before looking back at him. “And thanks again for giving me a ride to the hospital, although I still say it was not necessary. I knew what was wrong the minute I began to feel dizzy. But by then, it was too late and I just keeled over. Plain bad judgment on my part,” she said, taking the clipboard that was passed through the partition by the clerk.

“You should have waited until the weekend, Mom,” Rachel scolded. “That’s the kind of work Nick can do for you. And this just proves what I was telling you about moving out of your apartment. The upkeep on a house and yard is arduous. You should have gotten a condominium.”

“Do I advise you where to live, Rachel?”

“No, of course not, but—”

“Then when I become senile, you can start advising me. Until then, I make my own decisions. Now,” she said briskly, “as I said, I exercised bad judgment today, but the day dawned so sunny and clear and the ground was nice and soft from that shower Wednesday. I knew I wouldn’t have a better chance to get those shrubs relocated and to tackle the weeds in that bed where the daylilies are planted.” She studied the form to be completed on the clipboard for a moment. “My word, I’m going to have to sit down to fill this thing out. Must be fifty questions on it.”

“Let me do that for you, Mom.” Rachel reached for the clipboard.

“I’m still capable of filling out my own medical history, Rachel.” She moved to a line of chairs against the wall, sat down and began writing.

Rachel drew a frustrated breath, then looked gamely into Cameron’s eyes. When she spoke, it was in a tone that Dinah couldn’t hear. “It’s frustrating trying to keep my mother from taking on more than she can handle, and since you believe that I neglect her, I’ll say nothing more about that. Nevertheless, I appreciate what you did this afternoon. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” he told her, just as he’d told her mother. “I did what any decent neighbor would do.” She simply looked at him and something in her expression prodded the devil inside him. “Your mother’s not getting any younger. She bought the house she wanted and you should be gracious enough to help her enjoy it. An occasional visit would be nice.”

She flushed as his barb found its mark but, as good as her word, she didn’t offer any defense. Something flashed in her eyes and he caught it just before it was veiled by her lashes—very long lashes, he noted. Then whatever he’d glimpsed was gone. Still stonily silent, she gave him a curt nod—just a quick dip of her head—before turning on her heel and striding to a chair on the far side of her mother and taking a seat. She didn’t look at him again.

“Mom, won’t you please reconsider and come home with me tonight?” Frustrated, Rachel watched Dinah strip the leather thong from her hair and run her hands through the unruly curls. A couple of dried leaves and a broken twig landed on the bedroom carpet.

“For the tenth time, Rachel, I’m perfectly fine.” Sitting on the side of her bed, Dinah pulled off her dirty sneakers and handed them to Rachel. “Will you drop these in my washing machine on your way out, please? Don’t turn it on. I’ll need to throw in the overalls when I’m done with my shower.”

“You won’t forget to eat before going to bed then, will you?”

“How could I? I’m as hungry as a bear.”

Rachel went to the door. “I’ll make you something while you shower. How about an omelette?”

“Not necessary, Rachel. And instead of feeding me, shouldn’t you be worrying about Nick and Kendall?” Their eyes met in the mirror. “It’s dinnertime and I’ll bet Ted isn’t home yet, is he?”

“No, he’s…he has a meeting. He’ll be late. And I’ve called Marta. She’ll look out for the kids until I get home.”

Dinah held her gaze for a moment, then with a skeptical sound, began to work at the snaps on her overalls. “That man has so many night meetings, you’d think he was a politician instead of a doctor. If he doesn’t watch out, the kids are going to grow up not knowing him any better than they know the town’s mayor!”

“I can’t disagree with you on that, Mom.”

Holding the overalls against her, Dinah studied Rachel’s face. “Have you two talked about this? How long is he going to neglect his responsibilities? Have you discussed the importance of Nick and Kendall having both a mother and a father?”

“I wouldn’t define our encounters as discussions,” Rachel said frankly. “They usually wind up with me nagging and Ted clamming up.”

Dinah sank with a sigh onto the side of the bed. “I guess it’s not helpful to hear me harping on it, either, is it? I’m sorry, Rachel, but you’d think—”

“Speaking of the kids, I’d better be going.” Rachel stood in the shadows of the hall where her mother couldn’t see how her words had stung, especially tonight. “You’re sure you won’t reconsider and come with me?”

Dinah didn’t reply for a moment, but Rachel knew she wasn’t finished. “I’m sure.” She cocked her head, studying her intently. “How was your day? Those kids giving you more than the usual grief lately?”

“No more than usual. I counseled a pregnant sixteen-year-old this morning and then I drove to Dallas and picked up Jason Pate, Coach Monk’s star quarterback. He was being held by the Juvenile authorities on a DUI charge.”

“Oops.”

“Uh-huh. Jason is the heart and soul of the Mustangs. Hence, Coach Monk’s concern. Or rather the play-offs, which are in full swing, are his main concern and Jason is key to that.”

“And then you came home to find your ditzy mom had landed herself in the ER,” Dinah said with a grimace.

Rachel rubbed her temple with two fingers and managed a weak smile. “I suppose it has been one of those days.”

“And that’s all?” Dinah said, still trying to define something more she had sensed in Rachel’s mood.

“Unless you want to count the lecture I got from Cameron Ford.” She was still stinging from his unflattering assessment of her as a daughter. Five years ago, he’d been brutally judgmental about her ability as a counselor, now it appeared she hadn’t risen a jot in his estimation. Bad counselor then, bad daughter now. It made no sense for her to care what he thought. She must be particularly vulnerable and he’d hit a nerve.

“I guess I’m shocked to learn you’ve moved next door to a man who hates me,” she told her mother with a weak laugh. “If I’d known he was going to be your neighbor, I would have argued even more fiercely against you buying a house instead of a condo.”

She knew the man’s reputation as a gifted author and she bought all his books—on the sly, of course, as it seemed inappropriate somehow, considering how brutal and accusatory he’d been about her job. It would be awkward having him right next door every time she visited her mother, although she supposed he wasn’t any different from other Rose Hill residents who’d sampled life elsewhere before coming back home to live.

They’d both attended Rose Hill High, but Cameron had been four years older than Rachel, which made him as remote from her world as seniors are from lowly freshman girls. Even then, he’d been a brooding, nonconformist sort and she thought he wasn’t much changed today. It was silly to be bothered that he had a low opinion of her. She knew him to be a decent person, if somewhat aloof—if his press was accurate—which should be all she needed to know since he was going to be her mother’s neighbor. It wasn’t as if he’d be her neighbor. Thank God.

Dinah was frowning. “A lecture from Cameron? About what?”

“He thinks I neglect you. He told me I should find more time to visit. He thinks you get more attention from the postman and your neighbors than you get from me.”

“Ridiculous,” Dinah said with a dismissive click of her tongue. “Ignore him. Besides, we both know where his hostility is coming from.”

“His son,” Rachel said, giving a sigh. “He must still believe that I should have picked up on Jack’s depression and done something before it was too late.” She paused a long moment. “Maybe I should have, Mom. I’ve relived those last few weeks of Jack’s life many times. Maybe Cameron’s right.”

Dinah made an impatient sound. “If you could read the mind of every kid in an emotional tailspin at Rose Hill High, you’d wind up in one yourself. You do a good job with those children, Rachel. God knows, Jack’s suicide was a tragedy, and what makes it even more tragic for you is that you were in the process of working with the boy, but sometimes there’s just no foreseeing these things. Cam’s reaction today was simply that he wasn’t prepared to see you and it reminded him of what he’d like to forget.”

“Cam?” she questioned dryly.

“He told me to call him Cam,” Dinah said, rubbing at a smudge on her elbow. “Try not to dwell on what you may or may not have done. I, for one, know you always do your best.”

Rachel stared at the muddy sneakers in her hand, thinking back to that time. “Jack just didn’t strike me as suicidal, Mom. I must have spent a hundred hours going over those last few weeks of his life. There was something troubling him, I knew that. His grades were slipping and he seemed distracted. His teachers had noticed a change in him. Of course, he was adjusting to a new school in a new state. Big difference between New York and Texas. And his parents were recently divorced, so he had a lot to contend with. It made sense that he was unhappy. Almost any teenager would be. I had a talk with him the day before he…before it happened. Why didn’t I see it coming? If I could have just—”

“Could just what, Rachel? Live that day over? Be all things to all kids?” Dinah removed her socks. “This wasn’t the first tragedy that will happen on your watch, hon. And it won’t be the last. Cam is unable to let it go and maybe that’s understandable, but you’re in a different place. You must let it go.”

Rachel drew in a deep breath and managed a fleeting smile. “I know.” She scooped up the overalls that Dinah had tossed on the bed. “I’ll put these in the washing machine for you and then I’m going to make you an omelette before I leave. And don’t bother arguing, Mom.”

“If you must.” Dinah rolled her eyes and pulled her T-shirt over her head. “May as well throw this in with everything else.” Then, as if still trying to put her finger on something else in Rachel’s mood, she added, “Is everything okay with you and Ted?”

Rachel stopped with the washables bundled in her arms and smiled brightly. “Define ‘everything.”’

Dinah frowned in the act of donning a robe and looked hard at her. “You tell me, Rachel.”

“Maybe, as you say, Mom, I am feeling a little neglected.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Dinah said flatly. “You’ve been willing to put your own needs aside to accommodate Ted almost from the moment the two of you met. I’ll always resent that you dropped your own plans for medical school to help him get his M.D. and a specialty. And now, after all you’ve done—” Dinah was pacing, her hands waving and slashing with heartfelt emotion. It was no secret that she’d long believed Rachel’s sacrifice of her original plan for a career in medicine was a big mistake. She stopped suddenly. “You know what the problem is, Rachel? You’ve spoiled Ted rotten. You haven’t demanded enough from him. I’m happy to hear you finally say you’re feeling neglected. All you have to do now is tell him that.”

Rachel made a short, futile attempt to laugh. “Yeah, that’s all I have to do.”

Dinah gave her a hug. “Go home, hon. Forget my laundry and the omelette. Tend to your babies and then take a long, hot soak in the tub and practice how best to let him have it. I promise you won’t have another call to the ER about me.”

“You should have told me about the onset of hypoglycemia, Mother,” Rachel said with a chiding look.

“I know, but that would be just one more thing on your worry list.”

“You’re my mother. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“Not if I can help it.” She gave Rachel a gentle shove toward the stairs. “Kiss the kids for me and tell that spoiled rotten husband of yours when he finally gets home that there’re going to be some changes made.”

Rachel wasn’t the only one thinking of changes. Ted stood at the glass doors in the master bedroom of the lake cabin in deep thought. Moonlight dancing on the surface of the lake hinted at the chill of the night, but inside it was cozy. He’d built a fire in the fireplace and had knocked back a couple of stiff drinks. It had helped erase the bad taste he had in his mouth over the scene with Rachel at the restaurant, but he had a headache now, not the beginning of a migraine, which struck him sometimes in the throes of stress or crisis, but a nagging, unpleasant nuisance of a headache. And the euphoria he usually felt when he was with Francine hadn’t quite anesthetized it.

He should be feeling good, he thought. The moment he’d dreaded for months had come and gone. Rachel knew about the affair now. She’d been shocked, as expected, and mad as hell, as she’d had a right. But all in all, it hadn’t been as difficult as it could have been. For a moment, in the parking lot, he’d thought she might turn really mean, but it hadn’t happened. There had been a horrific incident a couple of years ago in Houston when a woman caught her husband with another woman and after an argument in the parking lot of a swank restaurant, she’d climbed in her car and run him over. Not satisfied that she’d hurt him enough, she’d backed up and rolled over him again, killing him. No chance of that with Rachel. She was too practical to do something that would jeopardize the kids and their future. Or herself, for that matter.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he turned away from the view. The site for the cabin had been carefully chosen by Rachel when they’d decided to invest in real estate on the lake. She’d researched every lot available, looking for just the right one, and she’d hit a home run, as usual. She was good at that sort of thing. She managed time and her responsibilities so well that he often thought she could run the Pentagon if she wanted. The trouble was that she wasn’t what he wanted anymore. The type of person she’d been when he was in med school and then setting up the practice was okay, but now he wanted—needed—a woman who was more feminine, more hip, sexier. A woman who needed him and made him feel as if he was special. Sometimes he thought Rachel went for weeks without really looking at him. But when Francine gazed up at him, impressed by his opinions, interested in his experiences, and so damn responsive as a lover, God, he felt incredible.

She stood smiling at him now, shedding the black suit one piece at a time, moving slowly, her body language sensual and provocative. Apparently, she wasn’t feeling the same conflicting emotions as he about having their affair out in the open, but then they hadn’t faced the major hurdle of telling Walter yet. When she wriggled out of her skirt, all she had left were thigh-high stockings—black—a wisp of a bra and thong panties. When he looked at her delectable little ass in that thong, it never failed that his dick went hard and his mouth went dry.

Like a cat, Francine put a knee on the bed and with a playful growl began a provocative crawl over the mattress toward him. “You’re looking too serious, sugar,” she murmured, puckering her lips at him in a wind-kiss. “Get naked and let me make you smile.”

His brain went numb and his erection throbbed at the look of her stalking him across the bed, her sweet butt in the air and the heavy globes of her breasts threatening to burst out of that excuse for a bra. He knew she’d had breast enhancement, but it only made her more voluptuous, sexier. She was a wet dream come to life and she was his.

He pressed a palm against his erection and pushed thoughts of Rachel and Walter from his mind. Francine was across the bed now and her hands were at work unfastening his belt. Next, she’d have him freed of his pants, and with her already in position, one touch from her pink tongue would send him over the edge. He wondered if she gave Walter…

“Wait, Franny,” he told her as she reached for the zipper on his pants. “Hold on, baby.” He caught her hands and squeezed them, stopping her.

She looked up at him, moist lips parted. Seeing his expression, she sighed with resignation and rested her forehead against his abdomen. “What?” There was impatience in her voice. She didn’t like being interrupted.

“We need to talk about it, Franny.”

She moved away, drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her sexy mouth was now in a pout. “What’s to discuss, Teddy? She saw us, she knows now. There’s no turning back. It’ll make everything easier.”

“How do you figure that?” he asked. “Walter will find out, my kids will soon know. Everyone in the practice will be buzzing with it. Hell, within twenty-four hours, all of Rose Hill will be buzzing with it, trust me.”

“They’ll get over it, Teddy,” she said, speaking as if he was slightly dim. Her way of focusing solely on herself made him uncomfortable sometimes.

“It was easier before when nobody knew but us, Francine. Complications will begin to multiply, big time. We need to be prepared.”

“For what?”

She couldn’t be as unconcerned by the consequences as she seemed, he thought. He drew a breath and spoke patiently. “What I’m trying to say is that both of us need to be on the same page, especially with Walter. He’ll have questions. We need to settle between us what we’re going to answer.”

“Forget Walter. I’ll think of something. Whatever he says, I’ll handle it.”

“He’s not going to accept you sleeping with me, Franny. You need to make him understand this isn’t just some meaningless affair that’ll play itself out if he’s patient. You need to tell him it’s serious between us.” Ted rubbed at a temple, now throbbing. Maybe it was the onset of a migraine. He wished for a couple of Darvon tablets, but he’d taken the last of them just a couple of days ago. “Has it occurred to you that Rachel may be talking to him right now?”

“Rachel wouldn’t do that,” Francine said. She lifted one long leg and began removing the black stockings. It was an invitation, but he still wanted to try to settle this. She dropped the nylons delicately onto the floor. “She’s too…”

“Too decent?”

“Yeah, decent. Too nice for the real world. People like Rachel will always get the short end of the stick.”

Ted felt a prickle of unease at her attitude. She was a maddening, irresistible mix of female charm, sexy allure and street smarts. And the package was captivating. It made him uncomfortable to admit it, but he felt almost enslaved. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Sensing she’d crossed a line, Francine reached out and, with a wicked little smile, ran a finger down the opening of his fly. “C’mon, you worry too much.”

He removed her hand and sat down beside her. “You don’t worry enough. We’ve got to talk about Walter. When he finds out, he’s going to be one pissed-off son of a bitch. I’m not sure he’ll be able to control himself. He’s crazy where you’re concerned.” As crazy as Ted himself was, which was another fact that worried him.

She unhooked her bra and tossed it on the floor. “Like I said, let me worry about controlling Walter, sugar.” Up on her knees now, she slipped her arms around him from behind and began unbuttoning his shirt. She got it off him and pressed her naked breasts against his back as her hands moved all over the front of him. “Hmm, I love doing this,” she crooned, sifting through the hair on his chest. “Walter’s got a gut and he’s about fifty pounds overweight,” she complained, tweaking his nipples with her fingers. “Show me a man with muscles and a flat belly and I get really hot, sugar.” She was nibbling on his ear now and he felt himself weakening.

His lust for Francine had been a keen motivating factor in the exercise program Ted had undertaken a year ago. As a result of hours in the gym, his abdomen was as flat as that of a man fifteen years younger, and his reward was the uninhibited enjoyment Francine took in letting him know it. God, it was a turn-on knowing he excited a woman like this.

One of her hands wandered lower now, slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. He groaned as her fingers curled around him, and he gave up trying to have a practical discussion. Later, he promised himself as he fell back on the bed and let her strip off his pants and briefs. They could work on the practicalities of continuing their relationship later. Rachel might prove difficult once she’d had some time to come to terms with the fact that he was in love with Francine. And Walter was definitely a wild card. He was one possessive bastard where Francine was concerned and Ted could identify with that. But he’d go to hell and back before giving her up.

She had climbed on top now, smiling and tempting him with her lush, heavy breasts cupped in both hands. She still wore the thong and she moved like a belly dancer on top of him, bewitching and utterly sexual, an enticing siren of a woman. Francine called to something deep within him that he’d never known was there and that no other woman had ever tapped. With a groan, he fumbled at the thong, tore it off her and violently buried himself to the hilt. She might deny they were in for trouble, but Ted knew stormy times were ahead. But that thought was lost as he gave himself up to the lust of the moment.