A Compromising Affair (The Harringtons)

by Gwynne Forster

  “Do you want to go home now, or shall we stop at a restaurant?” he asked her, framing the question so that she’d know he wanted them to spend time together.

  “Let’s go home. We can order dinner from a restaurant a few blocks away.”

  “Are you sure? Before you answer, think about where you want us to go in this relationship.” All around them, people rushed into the arms of their lovers, spouses or friends. After what seemed like forever she grabbed both his arms.

  “I just kissed you. Didn’t that tell you anything? Yes, I’m sure.”

  With one hand, he picked up her overnight bag, and with the other he held her tightly around her waist. “Let’s go.” He didn’t want to run, yet walking seemed more like crawling.

  “How was it?” he finally made himself ask.

  “Fine. Just fine.” He released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and allowed himself a half smile. Maybe. Just maybe.

  It was already dark when they walked into her apartment. Inside the foyer, she flicked on the light, turned and looked at him as if expecting he couldn’t imagine what. But it didn’t take him a minute to understand that she wanted reassurance, that she wanted evidence of his need of her. However, what his body needed wasn’t his priority. He was after something to ease his mind and his heart.

  “It’s a bit early for dinner,” he said. “Let’s talk for a while.”

  “Okay. Would you like a glass of wine or something stronger?”

  “White wine’s fine if you have some.”

  He caught himself pacing the living room floor and sat down, taking a chair across from her so that he could observe her as she talked. She placed a tray on the coffee table with wine and a bowl of pecans. He took a glass from the tray, more to please her than because he wanted it.

  He leaned forward, raising his glass to her. “How do you feel?”

  She sipped the wine, and he reached into the bowl for a handful of pecans, stood and handed her a few, but she didn’t extend her hand. With her lips parted, she leaned forward, and he put two of the pecan halves into her mouth. Without taking her gaze from his, she chewed them deliberately and slowly as if savoring the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted. When she finally swallowed it, she licked her lips, sending a blow to his gut and firing his libido.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Those were the best nuts I ever tasted.” His eyebrows shot up, but she seemed unperturbed by her remark. Then she placed the glass on the coffee table, leaned back and crossed one of the shapeliest legs he’d ever seen.

  “Scott, I went to Chicago to settle an old score, to get an answer to a question that has troubled me for twelve years.” Just as he’d thought, so he tried to appear relaxed, though he doubted that he succeeded.

  “I won’t give you his name, unless you ask me to,” she said.

  “Go on.”

  “During the summer after my high school graduation, I continued seeing a boy I’d dated casually since I was seventeen. He’d been away at college his freshman year and was home for the summer. He’d become more mature during the year away from Waverly. He talked of our future, what he wanted for us, and swore on his knees of his undying love for me. We were intimate, and it was my first time. He knew that, because it was difficult for me.

  “In September, weeks before he was to go back to school and I was to start at Princeton, I went to him to tell him that I was almost two months pregnant. I never got the words out, because he declared that he was moving on. I reminded him of his vow of eternal love. But he said he lied about that, because I was hard to get, because I was the only thing he’d ever wanted that he hadn’t gotten easily.

  “I squared my shoulders, and told myself that I’d deal with it. But that meant I was left with the problem of facing my parents, who had such high hopes for their only child. After weeks of unbearable stress, depression, sleeplessness and lack of appetite, I had a spontaneous miscarriage. I forced myself to go on to Princeton as planned and get on with my life.

  “I hadn’t seen him since until today. I got his phone number from his parents and called him. He agreed to meet me in a restaurant. That’s where I met him, and that’s where I left him. He still doesn’t know that I was ever pregnant, and he never will.”

  “I see.” He didn’t, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was the last thing he’d expected to hear. He got up and went over to her, sat down and put his arms around her. “I could break his neck. What an awful time that was for you. I don’t understand how you came through it and became the woman that you are.”

  “You don’t think I brought it on myself? You don’t think I’m…that I’m not the kind of woman I seem to be?”

  He grabbed her shoulders. “Look at me. You loved the man, and he swore that he loved you. Lovemaking between two consenting adults is the most natural thing in nature. He hadn’t shown his colors, so you trusted him. You couldn’t have known that he would be so selfish. What is he doing in Chicago?”

  “He’s a professor at the university. He told me that less than a month later, he married a girl whose father told him he’d either marry his pregnant daughter or take a bullet in the head. He’d treated her badly, he said. She wasn’t what he wanted in a wife. He said he’s made himself content with her and their two children. I felt nothing for him. And I realized at that moment that I’d rid myself of the pain he’d caused me.”

  “What did you hope to accomplish by contacting him after all these years?”

  “I wanted to let him see the woman I’ve become, to see that my pride was still intact. And I admit that his frank appreciation of me as a woman when he greeted me did my soul good. I wanted especially to let him know what I thought of him, which isn’t much, and I accomplished both. In retrospect, I realize that I needed to rid myself of the uncertainty I felt as a woman, and I associated that with him.”

  “Is that all?” He realized that the question might seem cruel, but he had to know.

  She moved away from him. “You want more than that?”

  He refused to waver. “If there is more, yes.”

  Her lips quivered, and he could see her struggle for control. “I’ve told you the truth,” she said. “What else do you want? My soul?”

  He knew there was more, and that what she hadn’t told him was what he needed most to know. “Why can’t you trust me?” he said. He’d hoped that when she returned from Chicago she would open up to him at last. Frustrated and desperate, he grabbed her and set her in his lap.

  “Look at me, Denise. Why can’t you trust me? I’m not that guy. I love you! Do you hear me? I love you! I’ve put my cards on the table. What you see is what you get. You haven’t done that, and I deserve better. Talk to me!”

  “I’ve tried. I don’t… I can’t give any more.”

  “Are you saying that it isn’t enough that I love you? Is that what you’re telling me, Denise?”

  “No. No. You’re everything to me. Love me? I need you to love me.”

  She turned around to try and face him, and he saw the unshed tears glistening in her warm brown eyes. It was more than he could bear, and he wrapped her close to him. “Love me. Trust me and love me. I’ll show you a world that you didn’t know existed.”

  “I do love you,” she whispered.

  “What? What did you say?”

  Her lips grazed his neck. “I said I love you.”

  His heartbeat accelerated so rapidly that tremors shook him. Her hand grasped his nape, and when he parted his lips above hers, she took him in, taking his tongue as if she’d been starved for it. He couldn’t let her drag him to the edge. But within seconds, he bulged against her buttocks. A harsh groan poured out of him when her hand slipped inside his shirt and rubbed his pectorals. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t make love with her again until he believed she trusted him implicitly. He didn’t believe that, but he needed her. His hands roamed over her body, caressing, claiming her.

  Suddenly, she jerked open her blouse, popp
ing the buttons, put his hand inside her bra and moaned from the pleasure of his touch. He released her left breast, sucked its nipple into his hot mouth and nourished himself like the starved man that he was.

  She removed the last shreds of his reticence when she moaned, “It’s been so long, honey, and I need you so badly. I’m so… I ache deep inside.”

  He stood, lifted her and carried her to her bed. An hour later, still locked inside of her, he looked down into her smiling face, and he thought his heart would run away from him. His lips brushed over hers, sampling the sweetness so dear to him.

  “I know there’s more, sweetheart, and I know that if I pressure you to tell me, you’ll run from me. But remember this, I’m not interested in judging you. I’m only after what I know you can give me. I want all of you.” When she pressed him to her and said nothing, she confirmed what he already knew. He’d wait, and eventually she would trust him enough to confide fully in him.

  Denise wasn’t at all nervous about her mother meeting Scott, because she knew her mother thought very highly of him. Nevertheless, she wanted them to meet on her turf and not where Congresswoman Katherine Miller had the advantage. After preparing a gourmet dinner, setting the table and giving Denise instructions as to how to serve the meal—not that Denise needed it—Priscilla went home. “There’s no intimacy if you’ve got a housekeeper walking in and out of the dining and living rooms,” Priscilla had explained. “Every time I walk in, the conversation will come to a stop.”

  It didn’t surprise Denise that Katherine pulled no punches. “I’m glad to see you again, Mr. Ambassador, and I was delighted when I learned of my daughter’s interest in you,” she said to Scott while shaking his hand. “I hope the two of you are serious about this relationship.”

  Both women learned that Scott could be as blunt and as candid as Katherine when he said, “How are you? If you don’t mind, I’d like to dispense with the titles. Call me Scott. I’m serious, and as soon as Denise finishes cleaning out her closet, we’ll get down to business.”

  Katherine Miller laughed. “I’d forgotten how you get straight to a point. I’m not going to suggest that you call me Katherine, because I’m old enough to be your mother.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “How often do you broadcast that fact?”

  They settled into congenial conversation, and Denise thought she would burst with pride as she observed her mother’s respect for and deference to Scott. With her insight, Katherine Miller had interrogated more than one high-level politician. Her mother didn’t drink, nor did Scott when he had to drive, so Denise skipped cocktails and hors d’oeuvres and served a delicious meal.

  At the end of the main course, Scott stood, collected the dishes and started for the kitchen. “Who cooks shouldn’t have to clean,” he said.

  Denise hastened to correct him. “But I didn’t cook,” Denise said. “Priscilla did the cooking.”

  “Then remind me to thank her,” he said, winking at Katherine. “Did she leave me any cheese sticks?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t dare let you leave here without them.” Denise realized that she was happy, and then suddenly crestfallen, her whole being seemed to sag. Would he walk away from her if she told him she might not be able to have children? And did she dare continue the relationship without telling him?

  Scott returned to the dining room and walked around the table to collect a serving dish. When he looked at Denise a smile froze on his face. “What is it, sweetheart? What happened while I was in the kitchen?” He looked at Katherine. “Is something wrong?”

  Katherine shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Denise forced herself to brighten. “Sorry. My mind took a hike backward.” She avoided looking at Scott, but she knew that as soon as they were alone, he’d have questions. “Let’s have some of that spectacular crème Courvoisier that Priscilla made.” She said it airily with a smile, but she didn’t miss the studied looks that Scott and her mother gave each other. At that moment, she wished she had her piano, which she kept in her house in Frederick. Given twenty minutes at the keyboard, she could lighten her mood and anyone else’s. Music was a safe topic for both her mother and Scott, so she shifted the conversation to a recent concert at the Kennedy Center.

  “It’s time I went home,” Katherine said a little later.

  “I have a few things to do before I turn in. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you better, Scott, and I appreciate your willingness to spend time with me.”

  Katherine Miller was nearly two inches shorter than her five-foot-seven-inch daughter, and he had to lean down considerably in order to kiss her cheek. “It’s been my pleasure, Mrs. Miller, and I’m grateful to you for agreeing to spend an evening in my company.”

  Katherine Miller treated Scott to a withering look. “When a woman doesn’t want to spend an evening in the company of a man such as you—all things being equal—it will be cause for curiosity. I hope to see you again.” She kissed Denise. “I’ll call you.”

  After her mother left, Denise turned to face Scott. His facial expression, more solemn than she had ever seen, scattered her nerves.

  “You were glowing, beaming with happiness so much so that I could hardly keep my hands off you,” he said. “I was in the kitchen five minutes, and when I got back you were a different woman. Did your mother say anything to upset you?”

  She grabbed his arm with her right hand and looked him in the eye. “You’re right.” Denise gave her head a vigorous shake. If she didn’t tell him the truth, he wouldn’t believe her.

  “I thought about how happy I was, how full of love and of the feeling of being loved. And then I remembered how easy it is to lose it all in a second.”

  He looked hard at her, as if trying to will her to follow his thoughts. “That’s long passed, and you couldn’t lose what you never had.” He stepped closer, leaving hardly any space between them. “Don’t confuse a spoiled, self-centered boy unwilling to grow up with a mature man. You can’t lose what you and I have together, but you can throw it away.”

  She wanted to ask him what he meant by that last statement, but she didn’t dare give him an opportunity to probe. “If I did that, I definitely wouldn’t be aware of it. Remember, I’ll be at the riding school this weekend,” she said, changing the topic. “I usually get back to Frederick around six in the evening, provided I don’t decide to spend the night there.”

  “Do you have a house there?”

  “No. Just a little pied-à-terre over one of the stables.”

  “Why can’t I join you on Saturday? I can help you with the children, and I love to ride.”

  “That would be wonderful. You wouldn’t mind? The children can be difficult sometimes.”

  “Why should I mind? I love children.”

  She managed not to look at him. “Great.” She wrote out the instructions and gave them to him. “But you can come along with me Saturday morning. I’ll leave here at seven.”

  Still seeming to search her face, he said, “I’ll be here at a few minutes to seven ready to roll.”

  “Morton has the horses ready before the children arrive around a quarter to ten, but I like to get there in good time. After all, they aren’t his responsibility, but mine.” She sensed in his good-night kiss a question mark, but said nothing, for she knew that when he was ready, he’d open up about it.

  Scott drove slowly that Saturday morning. He hadn’t satisfied himself with Denise’s half-truth about her sudden change in mood the evening he’d spent with her and her mother. He hadn’t imagined it, because Katherine’s obvious alarm was more proof than he needed. She’s going to tell me. I love her, damn it, and we’re dealing with the future here. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t pressure her too much. But it was becoming clear that she didn’t plan to share with him the real problem.

  He parked in front of her apartment building, gave the doorman a five-dollar tip and a few seconds later he rang her bell. Would his heart always dance when he knew he’d see her? Sh
e opened the door, smiled at him and he felt as if he could fly.

  “Hi, hon. I’m ready. Sure you don’t want some lovingly brewed coffee?”

  He pulled her into his arms, covered her mouth with his and let himself relish the sweetness that she poured into him. She didn’t spare him, but drew in his tongue, moaning and caressing him until he reeled beneath the onslaught of it. Shocked by encroaching arousal, he brought himself under control and stepped back.

  “You’re lethal. Where’s that coffee?”

  “Coffee? Wh— Oh, yes, the coffee. You make me forget things.”

  “I wish I was equally adept at making you open up,” he said under his breath. “But I’ll get there, and soon.”

  Chapter 9

  “Ambassador Galloway, this is Morton Sykes, my stable manager and riding instructor.” He sized up the man and extended his hand. Morton Sykes’s grip was that of a man who knew who he was and didn’t mind letting you know it, Scott thought with approval. Denise’s stables were in good hands. She showed Scott through the stables, the tack room and the barn.

  “This is certainly a well-appointed school,” he told them after seeing the lavatories, kitchen and dining facilities.

  “We usually give them lunch outside,” Morton said, “but we have to be prepared for sudden rain, strong winds and other climate surprises.”

  The bus bearing twenty girls and boys from Baltimore arrived at ten o’clock and immediately Morton lined them up for hot chocolate. Scott watched in amazement as Denise mounted a mare and Morton handed a frightened girl up to her. Denise put the girl in front of her and walked the horse around the fountain in front of the stables until the child demanded to take the horse herself. Denise hugged the girl, told her that she was proud of her and dismounted.