by Anne Douglas
Emma frowned a little as Joel and the girl with legs a mile long headed toward the garden gate. Whatever happened to good manners? Used to be you said good-bye to your host, even if you only stayed for a short time.
Annoyed, she didn’t notice Joel had come back until he was standing in front of her saying, “Emma?” for what was obviously the second time.
“Oh, Joel. I thought you’d gone.”
“No. Cathy just came by for a short time ‑‑ she had to head to work, so I was seeing her to her car.”
Lord, when was the last time Aaron had thought to see her to her car when she was going somewhere? Not anytime lately, as far as she could recall.
“I noticed Aaron wasn’t home yet, and I thought I’d see if you needed a hand with anything. I’ll take a guess you’ve been on your feet all day getting things ready.” Joel gave a nod to the buffet table, laden with the dishes she’d prepared ahead of time. “The food looks wonderful, as always, Emma.”
Why was it that this man could take one look at her and know she’d been running around like a headless chook all day, yet her damned husband couldn’t even show up to help for a party he’d wanted to give?
“I’ve started up the barbeque, but I really need someone to man it so the meat doesn’t burn. Any chance I can rope you in for that? I’ll even break out the ‘sexy chef’ apron so you don’t get dirty.” Emma didn’t know why she offered that particular apron. It was the one Aaron always wore, and there were plenty of others. So her temper was getting the best of her, and she’d offered it in a fit of pique, but damn it, why the hell not? Wasn’t like Aaron was here to use it anyway.
“Sounds great,” Joel said with a slow, lazy smile. “If you’re going to cook, you may as well be sexy while you’re doing it in my book.”
Emma heard herself make a coy, flirting laugh and gestured Joel to follow her inside. What’s a little fun flirting going to hurt, after all?
Aaron knew he was in trouble, B-I-G trouble. He’d planned to be home just after lunch to help Emma with preparations for the party, but a client emergency, teamed with two staff members who’d started vomiting after sharing leftovers that’d turned out to be bad, had put him way behind. So far behind his arse was hanging out the back door.
He didn’t bother bringing his briefcase inside; he just left everything in the car ‑‑ he was parked in the garage, after all. After a brief scramble through the basket of clean clothes sitting in front of the dryer, he replaced his stale, button-down work shirt with one of his golf shirts.
Looking moderately less businesslike, he slipped through the side door of the garage and out into the backyard to be greeted by a group of people circled around with wineglasses in their hands, discussing anything and everything. His and Emma’s social group was nothing if not varied in their interests.
“Aaron. Good to see you!” Minelle Green stepped forward as she spoke and gave him a one-handed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “About time you showed up. She’d hate it that we noticed, but she’s upset you’re late,” she whispered in his ear before she stood back.
Aaron swallowed hard and gave a slight nod to Minelle before he turned to greet the others in the circle. He plastered on a smile and laughed at their good-natured ribbing about being late to his own funeral, until he’d turned enough to get a glimpse of the barbeque and the person manning it. Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and his smile tightened when he recognized the tall form of Joel Markim. Bastard’s even wearing my damn apron.
“Joel was kind enough to step up and offer to watch over the barbeque when the masses started making rumblings about hungry stomachs,” Minelle said.
Minelle and Emma had been friends since their late teens, and she was a perceptive sort. It didn’t surprise Aaron that she noticed his reaction to seeing Joel in Aaron’s usual position. “So I see. I’ll make sure to thank him.” While I try to remember not to pound his arse into the ground because I’m a forty-seven-year-old man who’s not supposed to get into fistfights.
“Emma? Where shall I put this tray of meat?” Joel asked from behind her.
Caught in the last minute preparation of a warm salad, Emma didn’t turn around, just called out where it needed to go. Footsteps tapped on the tile floor, and then plates clattered ‑‑ no doubt being rearranged ‑‑ followed by the thump of a heavy tray landing on the table.
The kitchen went quiet again. Well, semi-quiet with the noise of the party outside, and the chop-chop-chop of her knife breaking the silence. Perfect for brooding over her missing husband.
Emma felt the heat of a body behind her, not quite pressing against her, but encroaching on her personal space, and hands slid onto the bench, bracketing her.
“Another perfect spread, Emma. You’re a wonderful…hostess.”
Expecting her husband, not another man, Emma stiffened at the low drawl of Joel’s voice as he leaned in close to her ear. Humid puffs of air brushed over the crook of her neck as he spoke.
Emma dropped the knife, and the ting as it hit the glass chopping board shocked her into moving. She twirled around in the cage of Joel’s arms, but he stood his ground and didn’t step back ‑‑ didn’t close in the intimate positioning, either. She looked up and saw the question in his eyes and flushed ‑‑ he’d obviously seen her looking at him earlier and made some assumptions about what she wanted. Only he had everything backward. It wasn’t Joel she wanted; she just wanted her loving, caring, take-charge-in-the-bedroom husband back.
“Joel, what are you doing?” she hissed, low and nearly under her breath.
“Thanking an attractive…maybe lonely woman for what is sure to be a tasty meal.”
Emma couldn’t miss the innuendo loaded into the sentence. Joel had decided she was a bored, lonely housewife ripe for an affair.
Bored and lonely, and a housewife she might be, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her husband every bit as much now as she had when she’d said her vows. “I’m married, Joel. I don’t want any part of what I think you’re suggesting.” Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. Lord, did she seem so dissatisfied that people thought she was willing to cheat on her husband?
Emma dropped her gaze and focused on the exposed indent of Joel’s collarbone, unable to look the man in the eye for fear he might see just how unhappy she was and take advantage of it.
He leaned in a little, and she felt his mouth on her hair as he said, “I’m not suggesting anything you’ve not already thought about.”
Her spine stiffened, and she spun back to face the bench as Joel hit much too close to the mark. She’d not thought about having an affair as such, but she had been green with envy over what other people seemed to have, and she’d wanted it for herself. But she wanted it with Aaron, not someone else.
Joel pressed closer, and she felt the bulge of his semi-aroused cock press into her backside. “I love my husband, Joel.” Emma took a step to the side and ducked under the cage of Joel’s arms. She turned back to him with her arms crossed and her stance rigid. “Besides, I don’t even come close to comparing to your usual arm candy, so don’t make a fool of you or me by going any further.”
Joel looked at her oddly, as if she were a puzzle for him to solve, and then shrugged as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, reverting back to his usual casual stance as he leaned one hip against the bench top.
“All right, then.” He took a step back, and Emma let herself relax a little, only to stiffen back up as he said, “I’m not going to apologize, though. You’re an attractive woman, Emma. You might not think you measure up to the younger women I date, but believe me, you have some attributes of your own they can’t even begin to compete with.” His eyes roamed her body, and she saw open admiration on his face that mimicked the momentary twinge of appreciation she’d felt when he’d pressed against her for that moment.
Disbelief shocked her into silence. She stared mutely at Joel and wondered if the man was cracked in the head.
A loud chorus of, “Aaron!” and, “You fin
ally made it to your own party!” rang out close to one of the open windows in the dining area beside the kitchen.
“Looks like you won’t need my barbequing skills for the rest of the night.” Joel pushed off the bench with his hip and with a long stride moved past her, pausing briefly to quietly say, “I mean it, Emma. If he’s dumb enough not to fix whatever’s wrong between you two, I’ll have you in my bed and a new ring on your finger so fast your head will spin. I know exactly what I am, Emma, and even I’d not be so stupid as to turn away a woman like you.” Joel’s mouth fairly snapped closed, and his eyes narrowed, as if he’d surprised and angered himself by what he’d just revealed.
She didn’t know what to say to a declaration of that enormity, so said nothing, and Joel walked away, leaving the ranch slider she hadn’t realized he’d closed open behind him.
She’d written off Joel as shallow and self-serving years ago, and even though he’d just hit on her ‑‑ she was still getting over the shock value of that ‑‑ she watched him walk away and wondered if there was hope for Joel Markim yet.
Caught up in a crowd of friends in his backyard, Aaron hadn’t yet made it inside to find Emma, so he was perfectly situated to watch Joel Markim stride across his back deck and to the drinks table. With a bottle of beer in his hand and a strange smile on his face, Joel moved back to the barbeque and checked it over ‑‑ all the things Aaron usually did to make sure it was safely turned off.
Aaron excused himself and made his way to the barbeque and his pseudo nemesis. “Thank you for helping Emma out.” Had it been anyone else, he might have made his excuses, but not to this man. “I’m sure she appreciates it.” Although Aaron knew he sure as hell didn’t.
Joel nodded his acknowledgement as he piled the used utensils together on the tray that had held the raw meat. “She needed a hand. I was happy to help.” There was a pause before he carried on, “She’s not happy.” Joel’s gaze no longer wandered, and Aaron had a feeling they were no longer talking about Aaron being late to his own party. “You really should go find her; she was looking kind of tired and lonely earlier on.”
Aaron felt the sting of Joel’s backhanded chastisement, and his skin prickled. “I will. I ‑‑” Emma’s voice chimed out from above them, and Aaron looked up to see his wife looking rosy and frazzled in a way that he was sure had nothing to do with her preparations in the kitchen. She sounded a little fragile as she announced that the buffet was ready to go, and Aaron knew he’d lost his chance to apologize to his wife before the evening got further out of his hands. His legendary calm and collected emotions took a hammering as he felt his control tug at its leash.
People moved toward the house at Emma’s urging, leaving Aaron and Joel alone by the barbeque.
“Don’t make me regret my decision, Aaron.”
He didn’t even have time to turn around to confront the man, demand he explain what he meant, before Joel pushed past Aaron’s shoulder and into the midst of the partygoers.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed. His gut twisted as he watched Joel slide easily into the conversations flowing around him, and he knew without a doubt that something had happened between his wife and Joel that night.
Chapter Three
“Talk to me, Emma.”
Cutlery and crockery clanged, and the anger radiating from Emma’s tense body language made Aaron wish he was cowardly enough to run. But he hadn’t made it through twenty-five years of marriage by running from a confrontation ‑‑ and there’d been some doozies.
“Quite frankly, Aaron, I don’t think I’m capable of talking right at this moment.”
“Well, yell at me, then.” Yelling was much better than the cool silence that had slipped between them. He’d let the strain in their relationship go on for long enough. He’d waited for Emma to broach the subject, believing she trusted him enough to come to him with her problems, but she’d said nothing. Their relationship was a partnership, and this time he wasn’t letting their problems slide. It was time to deal with them head-on.
With sharp, angry movements and no regard for neatness, Emma shoved pots into their usual kitchen space before spinning around to face him, her hands on her hips and her jaw set.
“Yes, let’s. It’s not like we have to be quiet so the kids don’t hear.” Emma walked ‑‑ no stalked ‑‑ right up to him, pushing her face up confrontationally into his. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more embarrassed in my life than I was tonight. You couldn’t even come in and apologize, hell, even say hello. You avoided me entirely.”
“It wasn’t intentional ‑‑ being late or avoiding you. Things came up, and I had to deal with them. Then, when I got here, I got trapped out in the back.”
Emma’s face twisted into an ugly visage of anger, one he’d never seen on her face before. “Does this thing that got things ‘up’ have a name? I’d like to know who my replacement is.”
“What?” He had no clue what she was going on about.
“What’s her goddamned name, Aaron? Do I have to spell it out?”
Totally confused, he questioned again, “Whose name?”
Emma took a stumbling step back, and her anger collapsed in on itself, leaving her face desolate as her hands crept up to cover her mouth, moving to press against her cheeks as she spoke. “Have you lost so much of your respect for me you’ll deny it, even as I confront you with it? Am I really that gullible?” Tears, such a one-eighty from her anger of only a moment ago, pooled in her eyes and began to flow down her cheeks, only to be trapped in the web of her fingers as they splayed out over her face.
“Emma, you’re scaring me.” Aaron took a step forward to gather Emma in his arms, but she backed up against the wall and then slid down, burying her head between her knees and under her crossed arms as she cried. He went to his knees and pulled Emma toward him, curving himself around the huddled ball of her body. His mind was running double-time, going back over their conversation, trying to find a cause, some sort of reason beyond the obvious for the meltdown. His quietly feisty wife with her determination and drive was gone, leaving her uncertain and afraid. He’d never seen her doubt herself ‑‑ or him ‑‑ not even when he’d taken complete control in their sex play.
“Emma?” Aaron pulled back enough to tilt his wife’s face up to his. Her makeup had run, and her eyes were going red. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but it was his sight, the one he intended to keep right beside him ’til they were no more. “Are you saying you think I’m having an affair?”
Emma sniffed and swiped her fingers across her face as she tried to pull herself back together. “Don’t blame you, really. I mean, look at me: forty-five, fat, good at nothing besides cleaning the house and making dinners that you don’t bother coming home to eat. That whole ‘I’ll lose the weight’ thing’s a crock of shit, by the way ‑‑ no wonder you don’t want to have sex with me anymore.”
“Jesus, Emma. What the hell are you talking about? You’re beautiful. I don’t count raising our children as good for nothing, and as for the sex, you’re the one who doesn’t seem to want sex anymore. You know it’s not in me to force you into anything ‑‑ I’d make love to you every day given half a chance.” He demanded control of their lovemaking, and yes, he was often the initiator, but he didn’t have it in him to force his wife into a situation she really didn’t want. He only demanded control of what she wished to give ‑‑ and until recently she’d given him everything.
“Yeah, right. That’s why you arrive home late every night, and then fall asleep in your armchair so I go to bed alone. Just this week you’ve not been home for dinner, not once. Even tonight, for the party you asked me to organize, it wasn’t worth the effort of you coming home on time.”
“It’s been hellishly busy, Emma. You know that.”
“But why does it have to be you who stays late? Since the kids left, you stay even later. I thought when the kids were out on their own we’d finally get to spend more time together. But you just don’t want to be here, do you? I bore y
ou that much.”
“Stop!” Enough was enough. “I’m not having this conversation on the kitchen floor.” Aaron felt his knees creak a little as he rose to his feet. He held out his hand to Emma, and she looked at it truculently.
“As good a place as any, if you ask me.”
Aaron waited. Anxiousness twisted in his gut when it looked like she wasn’t going to take the offered hand up, but after a small pause, she put her hand in his. Something inside his chest that had gone tight as she’d hesitated eased. She still trusted him, with this at least.
“Well, I’m not asking. We are going to sit down, like the adults we are, and I’m going to tell you a few hard truths.”
The house was in moderate disarray still from the party, so with her hand still in his, Aaron pulled Emma along behind him, through the house and to their master suite ‑‑ their private space. He led her to the bed and, with a hand on either shoulder, pushed her down to sit on the edge.
“Wait right there.”
There was a decorative chair in the corner. It usually ended up covered in clothes, but today everything was neat and tidy in case a guest had decided to go wandering during the party ‑‑ guilt pinged again over not being home to help Emma prepare for the party. Aaron pulled the chair across the room and set it directly in front of Emma, close enough that when he sat their knees touched.
He and Emma stared at one another without speaking, really seeing the other person for the first time in an age.
Aaron broke the silence. “I love you.”
Emma felt so stupid, breaking down like she had. She’d been so angry ‑‑ she still was ‑‑ but she couldn’t keep a hold of it. Her despair overrode her anger about what’d happened that night.
“You love me.” Despite the deadpan delivery, Aaron must have heard the question in her reply as he began a list.
“I love your body, I love your personality, and I love how you raised our children and the way you look after me. Yes, I love you. All of you, good and bad.” Aaron leaned forward and took her hands in his, his eyes earnest as he carried on. “As for having an affair, the only woman I want is you, so what would be the point?”