Sweet Anger

by Sandra Brown

She lay perfectly still. It surprised her that he would bring up such a touchy subject now. But she didn’t need to look at him to verify his sincerity. His voice was full of it.

  “I know you are. I am, too. Very sorry.”

  “You don’t still blame me, do you?”

  “No. Of course not. You were just a convenient scapegoat for my anguish.”

  His fingers thrummed her lower abdomen. “You’ll have a baby some day. Maybe more than one.”

  She smiled, but her voice was sad. “Maybe.”

  His hand became still. “There was no permanent damage done, was there? I mean, there’s nothing to keep you from having more children?”

  She drew his hand back and pressed it flat against her. “No.”

  The sudden relaxing of his muscles gave away his relief, both that she could have another child and that they could discuss her miscarriage openly and without rancor. “You’ll have a baby,” he said firmly.

  She laughed softly. “You sound certain of that. It takes two you know. Are you volunteering for the job?”

  His lips found her ear beneath a clump of blond curls. “Always willing to oblige, ma’am.”

  And he was. Right then.

  He pressed her back against him and entered her. His fingers trailed down her belly, sifted through the thick cluster of tawny curls, then moved between her thighs. He caressed her from without, even as he reached higher and higher within, stroking her toward oblivion with each sustained thrust of his manhood.

  After they had climbed to the summit and glided back down, she lay panting in sweet exhaustion. Her body glistened with a sheen of perspiration and shuddered with delicious aftershocks. She rolled over to face him. He looked sexy in the most literal way, with his eyes drowsy, his mouth curved in a satisfied smile, and his hair clinging damply to his forehead.

  She was awed by the emotions that inundated her. “Why did it take me so long to know that I loved you?”

  “I’m just glad you know it now.”

  “Hunter, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  She laid her cheek on his chest. He sank his hands into her hair and held her fast.

  Pinkie looked down at the bowl set before him with undisguised distaste. “What the hell is that?”

  “That,” Bonnie said sharply, “is breakfast.”

  “Breakfast is a Bloody Mary.”

  “Breakfast is plain yogurt with granola cereal. I sprinkled some extra bran on the top.”

  “It looks like bird food. Or bird—”

  “Pinkie!”

  “Oh, hell.” He picked up his spoon and took a mouthful. He knew she wouldn’t let him have his first morning cigarette until he ate it. “It’s disgusting. Give me some black coffee to wash it down with.”

  “What ever happened to ‘please’?”

  “Please,” he grumbled.

  She set the coffee within his reach and joined him at the table. “When are you going to marry me?”

  He nearly showered her with hot coffee as he sputtered. “Marry? Who said anything about getting married?”

  “I just did.”

  “Well, forget it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to get married.”

  “Give me one good reason why not.”

  “You snore.”

  “So do you.”

  “See? Do you want two snoring people in one bed? We’d never get any sleep.”

  “We haven’t been sleeping much anyway. Which brings up another good argument. What if I got pregnant?”

  The spoon stopped midway to his mouth. “Fat chance. You’re too old.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “We’re compatible,” Bonnie went on doggedly.

  “We fight all the time.”

  “Only because you’re so mule-headed.”

  “And I suppose you’re not?”

  “We have a lot in common.”

  “Middle age for one.”

  Teasingly she laid her hand on the top of his thigh and squeezed it. “You’ve hardly acted middle-aged since we’ve been sleeping together. You wore me out last night, Pinkie Lewis.”

  A smile tugged at his mouth before he drew it into a frown. “You’re trying to kill me.” He eyed her suspiciously. “That’s it. You want to marry me, kill me off quickly with one of those sexual marathons you put me through, and then collect my life insurance money.”

  She hooted with laughter. “Try another argument, Pinkie. What insurance company would have been dumb enough to insure your body?”

  Before he could come up with a retort, the doorbell rang. “Who could that be?” Bonnie asked. The minute she was out of sight, Pinkie lit a cigarette and pulled the smoke into his starving lungs.

  “Oh, my lord,” Bonnie exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you. Come in.”

  Pinkie assumed it was one of her sons. He dropped his cigarette in astonishment when Kari came sailing through the kitchen door and smothered him in an exuberant hug.

  “Hi! I’m so glad to see you. Gosh. Three months. Can you believe it? What’s that?” It all came out in a rush. The last question was asked as she stared into the bowl at Pinkie’s place setting.

  “She makes me eat junk like this all the time,” he said, shooting Bonnie a poison look. “She’s put me on a diet.”

  Kari laughed as she sat down in a chair across from them. Her eyes rested first on one, then the other. “I should be furious with you two for not telling me about your ‘arrangement.’ ”

  “We’re getting married,” Bonnie said happily.

  “Like hell we are,” Pinkie said.

  “I think it’s a terrific idea,” Kari said. She didn’t think Pinkie was half as opposed to it as he let on. Beneath his scowl, he looked like a happy elf.

  Still, ornery as he was, he said, “I think the idea stinks. She’s weird. You should see the kinky books she brings to bed with her.”

  “I’d love to,” Kari laughed.

  “Why you hypocrite!” Bonnie smacked him on his bald spot. “I haven’t heard you complaining about those ‘kinky’ books before. You were ready to try it all.”

  Kari laughed even harder.

  “She nags me all the time,” Pinkie whined. “ ‘Eat this. You can’t eat that. Remember your blood pressure. How many drinks does that make?’ ”

  Kari ignored him and asked Bonnie, “What about his smoking?”

  “Oh, she’s rationed that, too,” Pinkie answered before Bonnie had a chance. “I’ve had to cut down to five packs a day.”

  The women laughed. Bonnie bent down and kissed him soundly on the cheek. She left a proprietary arm across his shoulders as she said to Kari, “You’re positively radiant.”

  “Am I?” she asked coyly. “It must have been the mountain air.”

  Pinkie was too shrewd to accept that blithe explanation. “Who told you I was, uh, staying with Bonnie?”

  Kari challenged him back. “Who knew?”

  Pinkie’s face split into a broad grin. “He found you!”

  She laughed, her happiness spilling over. “Yes, he found me.” She wrapped her arms around her waist as though trying to contain the joy inside. “And he’s wonderful and we’re madly, deliriously, ridiculously, recklessly, hopelessly in love.”

  “Hot damn,” Bonnie said, slapping the tabletop. “I knew it.”

  “You knew it?” Pinkie countered. “Remember, I’m the one who sent him up there after her.”

  “Well, whoever was responsible, the two of you or my guardian angel, I’m grateful. He’s … oh, he’s …”

  “I think we get the point,” Pinkie said dryly. He never wanted to be accused of being a softy, though his eyes were suspiciously damp. He was gripping Bonnie’s hand beneath the table. To see Kari happy again meant the world to him. “I’m real happy for you, sweetheart. Where is this paragon of masculinity now?”

  “He wanted to come over with me but had to go t
o his office. He said his desk would be piled high.” She gazed down into the coffee Bonnie had poured for her, which so far had gone untasted. “Speaking of which, do I still have a desk? That’s why I came here instead of waiting to catch you at work. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.”

  Pinkie sipped his coffee. Bonnie diplomatically excused herself to go finish dressing. “What makes you think you might not have a desk? Management didn’t fire you. I’m still news director. Or I was as of last Friday evening when I left for the weekend. I still have the power to hire and fire.”

  “But I’ve seen Smiling Sally on the set every night. And last time we spoke you said the city hall beat had been given to someone else. Not that I want it back,” she added quickly. “I think I’d find it harder than ever to be objective about our D.A.” She flashed him a brilliant smile. Then her face became grave again. “Do I have a job, Pinkie?”

  He sat back in the bentwood chair, which was too small for his barrel-shaped torso. “I’ve been giving an idea some thought. Let me bounce it off you.”

  “I’m listening.” Though she didn’t want to appear too eager, her heart had begun to pound. This would be the moment of truth. Would Pinkie trust her enough to give her another responsible position, a position worthy of her talent and experience? Or would she be given an assignment so insignificant that she’d be forced to resign?

  He drew on his cigarette and squinted his eyes against the smoke. “Your strong point has always been the human way you approach a story. Whether you’re giving a movie review or dissecting the D.A., you talk to the viewers as though you were chatting across the fence to your next-door neighbors. Your dialogue is natural and unaffected. No fancy stuff. They like that. It makes you a real person to them. I’m not talking about just credibility like a Cronkite or Brinkley has. You’re where the viewers are at. You’re real.

  “So, what I was thinking of doing,” he continued on a deep breath, “was to turn you loose, give you no specific beat, but let you do human interest stories. The real gut-grippers. For instance if there’s a disaster, we report the disaster in the regular line up, but you do a human factor story that focuses on the people involved. Get my drift?”

  She was already getting excited and it showed. “Yes, yes. I like it, Pinkie. I really do.”

  “All right, now listen up. Management is gonna be watching you with magnifying glasses. I don’t have to tell you that you’ve got some fences to mend. Tread softly for the first few weeks.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  He saw her eager face, her shining eyes, and cursed. “I wish I could believe that. Hell, Kari, you’ve never treaded softly in your whole life.”

  * * *

  The intercom buzzed.

  “Damn!”

  Hunter was up to his ears in paperwork and mail that needed his attention. All the details his secretary couldn’t handle in his absence were waiting for him to attend to. He wanted to get finished with it so he wouldn’t have to stay late. He planned to spend the evening with Kari.

  “I asked not to be disturbed unless it was absolutely necessary,” he said into the box.

  “I’m sorry, but Mrs. McKee is here.”

  Hunter was momentarily taken aback. His first thought was that his mother had come to see him. But that was unlikely, as she rarely traveled from home without his father. If they were planning to visit, they would have called ahead of time. There was only one other Mrs. McKee it could be.

  “Send her in.” He stood up and buttoned his suit coat. He rounded the desk just as Pam came through the door.

  She looked sensational. Her sable hair was still glossy and hung straight to her jaw, just curving inward toward her cheek at the last inch. Her body was as lithe and graceful as ever. She hadn’t a trace of extra poundage. She was taller than Kari and attractive in a totally different way. While Kari exuded a feminine vulnerability, Pam was all cool sophistication. Even when Kari was playing her professional role, she seemed warm and approachable. Pam always maintained an aloof detachment.

  Hunter grinned broadly as he went to her with both hands extended. “This is a surprise.”

  She laughed as she accepted his hands. “I thought it might be.” Glancing at the paper-heaped desk, she said, “I know you’re very busy.”

  He smiled ruefully and turned to offer her a chair. “You caught me on a bad day. I was out last week.”

  “Oh?” One dark brow arched eloquently, just the way he remembered.

  “Vacation,” he said succinctly, indicating the subject was closed to discussion. He sat on the corner of his desk.

  She assessed him with dark, liquid eyes, eyes that promised more warmth than was there. “You look good, Hunter.”

  “So do you.” He returned the compliment sincerely. Her suit was chic and fit her figure to perfection. As always, she was impeccably groomed. “You’re as gorgeous as ever.”

  Her hair moved against her cheek as she laughed. “And you’re as full of blarney as ever. But it’s nice to hear.” She cocked her head to one side. “I sensed an urgency when you said you were finally agreeing to a divorce. I’m curious. Was there a specific reason?”

  His expression was guarded. “Yes.”

  “Hmm,” she said coolly. “A woman?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you happy?”

  “Very.” There was no qualifying that. He’d never been happier in his life. “You?”

  She shrugged. “My work is extremely satisfying.”

  That had been their problem. When he had met her, she was in her final year at medical school. He had been attracted to her intelligence, her courage, her ambition.

  But that very ambition had finally been the undoing of their marriage. Like any man, he had wanted to be needed, just a little. He wasn’t a chauvinist, much as he had teased Kari about it. His problem hadn’t been that his wife enjoyed a successful career. His problem had been that her career came before anything else, even before her husband.

  With each passing year, their life had become less a marriage and more a contest to see who could reach the top of his chosen field first. When he had been offered a chance for advancement in another city, she had refused to move with him and leave her position in a major hospital. He had seen that as a definite choice on her part between him and her career. It had been a bitter pill to swallow.

  “You’re stubborn, Hunter,” she said now. “You held out for three years of separation before you called and said you’d grant me a divorce.”

  “You know I hate to fail at anything. I didn’t want to fail at the most important commitment of my life. Which is what a marriage should be.” He smiled lopsidedly. “I finally had to admit that we had. Or that I had. I’m willing to accept my losses and go from here.”

  “I never considered it a failure for either of us. We just outgrew each other.”

  She must be dating a shrink, he thought a bit unkindly. “I suppose.” He agreed merely to avoid another argument on a tired subject. Besides, her opinion no longer mattered to him.

  “I brought you this.” She extracted a legal-size envelope from her purse. “Apparently the attorneys didn’t have your latest address. They sent both copies to me.”

  “The final divorce papers?” he asked, not opening the envelope.

  “Signed, sealed, and delivered. You can’t ask for much more than that.”

  She stood and he joined her. Taking her arm, he escorted her to the door. “I’m glad to have seen you, Pam.”

  She gazed up at him. “Me, too, Hunter. We had some good times, didn’t we?”

  He recognized a plea for ego-salving. Now that she was no longer an element in his life, he could feel kindly toward her. And probably, if he thought about it very hard, he could remember a few good times before things had gone wrong.

  “We had some very good times. I’m sorry we couldn’t make each other happy.” He wasn’t about to say he was sorry it had come to this. He was now glad it had. Meeting Kari had made hi
m glad. “Good luck to you, Pam.”

  “To you, too, Hunter. Good-bye.” She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

  Kari virtually danced up the steps of the district attorney’s building. She had stopped at a deli across the street and picked up two corned beef sandwiches, not even knowing if Hunter liked corned beef. But, busy as he must be, she knew he would welcome the distraction of seeing her. The few hours they’d spent apart already seemed like days. Besides, she couldn’t wait to share the news about her job with him, and telephone calls were so unfulfilling.

  The halls on the first floor were deserted and quiet. Most everyone was out to lunch. The outer office was empty. Hunter’s secretary’s desk was littered with memos and unanswered correspondence, but her typewriter was switched off.

  Kari went straight to his door, knocked once, and then pushed it open.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE SCENE WAS STRAIGHT OUT OF A BAD FARCE: THE MAN caught in the arms of another woman by his faithful lover.

  The guilty culprits sprang apart. The scorned lover summed up the situation in one glance and wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Or that she could die on the spot. Or better yet, that the man would die a slow, painful death.

  The other woman, as befitted the script, was strikingly beautiful. Her dark hair and almond-shaped eyes gave her the exotic look of a stereotypical temptress. And of the three of them, she seemed to be the only one with any poise remaining.

  She stepped toward Kari. “From the guilty expression on Hunter’s face, I suppose you’re the reason for the rush on the divorce.” She extended a slender hand. “Hello. I’m Pam McKee.”

  Kari ignored the offered hand. Instead her eyes flew to Hunter. “Your wife?”

  “Until a few weeks ago.”

  Kari felt her whole body caving in and wondered if it were visible from the outside. She envied Pam McKee’s composure.

  The woman turned back to him and said, “Good-bye, Hunter.”

  “Good-bye.”

  “I’m sorry about this.” She waved a hand toward Kari.

  “I’ll straighten it out.”

  Kari watched them share a sad smile, then Pam glided past her. They were silent until the tapping of her heels could no longer be heard, then Kari faced Hunter. “Don’t count on it,” she ground out.