by Robin Wells
But if she had spoken to Susanna ... The very thought made him feel like he'd eaten a dozen rotten oysters. Susanna would assume that things had gone further than they had. She'd think that he and Kelly had actually done the deed instead of just danced around it.
Hell, he was an idiot—a fool, a moron, a lowlife cad. How could he have been so stupid? He couldn't wait to we Susanna, to talk to her, to make her understand, to beg her forgiveness. He didn't know what he'd say or do, but somehow, he had to make things right.
Bob poked Tom's arm with his elbow. "Hey, man— check out the Barracuda. I told you that gal was a head case." He angled the neck of his beer bottle toward the pool.
Tom looked where Bob indicated, and felt a burst of alarm shoot right through him. Kelly was sitting on a lounge chair, peeling off her shirt to reveal a skimpy red bikini top. She shot him a pointed stare.
"Oh, Christ," Tom muttered, abruptly turning his back on her.
Bob continued to gawk. "Oh, wow—now she's taking off her skirt." Tom felt Bob's elbow dig into his rib cage. "Holy mother of Batman! She's wearing a thong! A thong, can you believe it? I've only seen those things on pinup calendars. Are they even legal? Come on, Tom, you gotta get a load of this."
Tom took a long swig of his drink and refused to turn around.
Bob obviously couldn't pull his eyes away. "Now she's rubbing suntan lotion all over herself."
"Suntan lotion?" Tom said derisively. "It's five in the evening."
"Well, I guess you can't be too careful when you're exposing that much skin. Man, check out her glutes!" "No, thanks."
"Wow, Tom, she's looking right at you. I think this show is for your benefit." Bob poked him with his elbow again and chortled. "You know what she's saying, don't you? `This butt's for you!'"
Tom tried to smile, but he couldn't seem to find one. If there was anything he hated, it was a public spectacle. He placed his empty glass on a passing waiter's empty tray. "I'm going up to my room to wait for Susanna.
She'll probably stop there to change clothes or freshen up before coming to the reception."
Without another word, Tom strolled away, never turning back.
"Bob will kill me for the money I spent, but that figurine was just too cute to pass up," Barbara Bennett said as she and the six other wives descended the wide steps to the pool terrace.
"It is adorable," Susanna agreed cordially, but her mind was far removed from china trinkets. She scanned the hotel terrace, looking for her husband among the sport-coat clad men milling around the pool.
Barbara abruptly stopped as they reached the bottom of the terrace. "My goodness—would you look at that! That woman barely has a stitch of clothing on. Wouldn't you think that the hotel would close off the pool to swimmers and sunbathers when a group like ours rents out the area for a reception?"
"I'm afraid she's a member of the association," said a diminutive wife of another attorney from Tulsa. "That's Kelly Banyon."
"No!" gasped a wife from Texas. "She's an attorney?" "I'm afraid so."
"I've heard about her," said another wife. "She's supposed to be a real little home wrecker. Wasn't she the other woman in the Youngs' divorce?"
The stocky brunette wife of an Arkansas attorney craned her neck for a better look. "I heard she collects divorces like wild Apaches collected scalps."
"What does she think she's doing, baring herself like that?" asked another wife.
"Getting every man in the place to look at her, that's what. Imagine showing up for an affair like this in a bikini!"
"Well, it is a pool party," Susanna said automatically. She immediately regretted it. Why should she stand up for. Kelly? It was just her nature to come to the defense of anyone being publicly maligned, and she'd spoken without thinking.
"What kind of woman actually wears a swimsuit to a pool party?" Barbara demanded.
The other wives nodded in agreement. "One who wants to flaunt herself before a bunch of bug-eyed men," said the Texan.
"Look! She's turning over," one of the other wives announced.
"Oh, my heavens." The heavyset woman from Arkansas clutched her chest as if she were having a heart attack. "She's mooning us!"
"No. She's wearing a thong," said the Texan. "A thong!"
"Somebody needs to put an end to this exhibition," the stout gray-haired matron announced.
"I have an idea," Barbara suggested. "We can go sit at that long table behind her. That way we'll block her from everyone else's view."
"Great idea," said the stout wife. "It'll force our husbands to see us while they try to ogle her."
"Let's go," said the Texan, leading the charge. Susanna hung back. She didn't want to get within fifty yards of Kelly. What if she tried to resume their conversation about Tom?
"Come on, Susanna," Barbara urged.
She searched for a way to stall. "I'll go get drinks for everybody. What would you like?"
The women gave her their drink preferences, then strode toward Kelly. Susanna watched the women settle themselves behind the blonde, obscuring her from view. A few minutes later, the thick-necked bartender slid a tray of white wines and margaritas onto the bar toward Susanna. "Here you go, ma'am."
"Thank you." She dug in her purse for a tip. As she searched for her wallet, her fingers settled around a hard, round tin. She pulled it out.
It was the old, rusty tin of itching powder—the talisman that Annie had given her, the symbol of generations of women determined to hold their families together.
Susanna held the tin in her hand, a deliciously wicked thought forming in her mind. She turned and looked toward the pool. Kelly seemed to know that the women were trying to thwart her exhibition, because she tossed them a snide look as she rose from her chair. She slowly strode to the water's edge and gave a langorous stretch, her hands in the air, her chest and bottom provocatively thrust out. After long moments of flexing and posing, she executed a perfect dive into the water.
Susanna's fingers tightened on the box. Oh, it would serve Kelly right. It would be perfect, poetic justice, and it would be such fun to watch. Too bad she didn't know anyone who had the nerve to actually do such an outrageous thing.
Did she?
Her heart beat fast at the thought. It went against all of her breeding, all of her upbringing, all of the refined behavior she'd been taught to value. It would be unkind, unladylike, and impolite. It would be completely out of character, unlike anything she'd ever done in her entire life.
All the more reason to do it. After all, this was war. Her brow furrowing in determination, Susanna slipped the tin of powder into the pocket of her linen dress..
"Did you need anything else, ma'am?" the bartender asked.
Susanna pulled a bill from her wallet and pushed it into the tip jar, then gave the man a smile. "Could you please tell me where I might be able to find a towel? I'm sure my friend will need one when she gets out of the pool."
Susanna must have gone directly to the reception after all, Tom decided fifteen minutes later. Leaving his hotel room, he took the elevator to the terrace level and strode. through the double glass doors just in time to see Susanna hurry from the ladies' changing room toward the pool.
She had a folded towel tucked under her arm, and from the determined, expression on her face, she was on some kind of mission. Tom stopped behind a dense row of wide-fronded palm trees and watched her, his heart pounding uneasily in his chest. Through the leaves of the plants, he saw her bend down and speak "to someone .• in the water.
Kelly. Tom's pulse pounded in his temple. Susanna was bringing a towel to Kelly. He gingerly moved behind the trees, drawing closer, straining to hear.
"Here," Susanna said. "I'm sure you'll want to cover up when you get out."
Kelly pushed her hair back from her face and sneered. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Susanna placed the towel on a nearby chair. "I'll leave it here. Suit yourself."
"Don't worry," Kelly said, her lip curved in a sn
ide 'y curl. "I always do."
Tom's stomach tightened. From the tone of the: exchange, it sounded as if the two had indeed already a talked. And yet Susanna didn't appear to be shattered or upset or heartbroken. In fact, she seemed strangely calm and controlled.
That worried him. His wife had the composure of someone who'd decided on a course of action.
Oh, God—what if she'd decided to leave him?
Fear, cold and clammy, seized his belly. She couldn't leave! He couldn't live without her. He loved her. With #1l his heart and soul, he loved her. He'd loved her and only her for his entire adult life, and no one could ever due her place.
Why had it taken him so long to realize it?
He watched Susanna settle in a nearby chaise lounge, her gaze locked on Kelly. The blonde climbed out of the pool, swinging her hips as if she were Bo Derek emerging from the surf in the movie Ten, then picked the towel. With a seductive smile at a group of gawking men, she suggestively ran it over her body.
Tom closed his eyes, then slowly reopened them. Kelly was behaving like a low-class stripper, not a professional at a conference with her peers. How could he ever have been attracted to someone so obvious, so blatant, so lacking in class?
Especially when he was married to a lady like Susanna. Tom looked back at his wife. She seemed strangely riveted by the actions of the blonde, who was 110w slinking toward the bar.
Guilt, heavy and smothering, made it hard for Tom to breathe. He couldn't just stand here, lurking behind the palms. He needed to set things right, to explain, to try to make amends. He needed to get Susanna alone and tell her that he loved her, that he was sorry, that there would never be any woman in his life but her.
Screwing up his courage, he straightened and crossed M terrace toward her. "Hi, honey," he said, bending down and kissing her cheek.
She looked up in surprise. It had been a long time since he'd greeted her with. a kiss, he realized with chagrin.
But to his relief, Susanna smiled. "What good timing you have!"
"I do?”
"Yes. Have a seat." She patted a place on the chaise lounge beside her. "The show is about to begin."
He gingerly sat beside her, nonplussed by her cheerful greeting and the odd remark. He was on the conference entertainment committee; aside from the jazz trio that was currently taking a break, no other entertainment was scheduled for this event. "What do you mean, `the show?' ”
"Just watch. Over by the bar."
He turned to see Kelly, leaning on the counter of the bar, slowly rub her arm. The rubbing quickly escalated into scratching—first one arm, then the other, then her neck, then her stomach. A moment later, she was standing on one leg, clawing at her right calf with her left big toe. And then she was flailing at herself as if she were on fire.
"Get them off me!" she shrieked.
The entire party fell so quiet, it could have been a mime convention. All heads swiveled toward her. "What?" the beefy bartender asked,
"These bugs that are biting me!"
The bartender's forehead scrunched into pleats as he leaned forward and peered at her. "I don't see any bugs."
Kelly jumped up and down, rubbing her arms, swatting her neck, hitting at her legs. "I'm itching all over. They're everywhere. What are they?"
The bartender lifted his shoulders. "I don't know, lady. I don't see a thing.
"Well, don't just stand there. Do something!" Twitching wildly, she contorted her arms in an attempt to scratch her own back.
The bartender eyed her warily, clearly doubting her sanity. "Okay. I'll, uh, call security."
He picked up the phone and punched in a number, keeping a cautious eye on her the whole time.
Kelly was frantic now, scratching and twitching like a dozen flea-bitten hounds. Her bikini; top came loose. She grabbed at it, but not before two pale,, rubbery objects plopped out on the flagstone, looking like boneless chicken breasts.
"What are those?" Tom gasped. They looked like jellyfish, but it made no sense to him that jellyfish would be in either her swimsuit or the swimming pool.
"Breast enhancers," Susanna murmured, her gaze transfixed. "In our day, they were known as falsies."
Scratching madly, Kelly raced toward the swimming pool and jumped in. Two hotel security officers burst onto the terrace, walkie-talkies squawking, just as Kelly's bikini top floated to the surface of the water.
"What's all the commotion about?" one of the uniformed officers demanded.
A group of attorneys, speechless for what was surely the first time in their lives, pointed to the pool, where, Kelly stood clutching her chest.
The taller officer drew an immediate, if inaccurate, Conclusion. "Sorry, ma'am-no topless swimming allowed."
"I'm not this way on purpose, you idiot!" she snarled. "I was being eaten alive by a swarm of bugs. I'm going ID sue the hell out of this hotel, and if you don't want I1 be named personally in the lawsuit, you'll hand me y top this instant."
The short, dumpy officer hurried to the side of the pool, leaned in and fished out her bikini top. Kelly held out her hand and reached for it, unwittingly exposing herself.
The officer gaped, open-mouthed, and nearly fell into the pool. In his effort to regain his balance, he flailed his arms, flinging her bikini top into the crowd. It landed on the forehead of an attorney with a self-important air and a goatee, where it rested like a pair of fight goggles.
Someone in the crowd giggled.
"You incompetent moron!" Kelly shouted at the security officer as he scurried to retrieve her top. Her face was purple with rage, her hair hanging in her eyes like sodden straw. "You'll pay for this. I'll sue you down one side and up the other, and by the time I'm through with you and this bug-infested hotel, why ..."
Kelly continued to spew dire legal threats as she fastened on her top and climbed from the pool. She cursed and cussed as she stormed across the deck, and by the time her thong-exposed backside disappeared into the changing room, the air was practically blue.
The crowd stood in stunned silence for a long moment, then everyone started talking at once.
Tom glanced at Susanna. Her hand was over her mouth, and she appeared to be coughing. He leaned in, concerned, "Are you all right?"
She wasn't coughing. She was laughing! .He stared at her in 'surprise. In all the years he'd known her, she'd never before laughed at another person's distress.
But then, she'd never before been confronted by a woman who was trying to wreck her marriage. Pain tightened around Tom's heart like a boa constrictor. Dear God—what had he almost done? He had to try to set things right.
The jazz trio shrewdly chose that moment to begin another set. The music had a calming effect on the crowd, and the hubbub quickly subsided.
Susanna's laughter subsided, too. He watched her pick an invisible piece of lint off her lap.
Tom hesitantly placed his hand on top of hers. Susanna's hand froze, but she didn't look up.'
"Susanna—" His voice broke on her name. He cleared his throat. "Suze, we need to talk."
"Yes." Her voice was low, barely above a whisper, and no trace of laughter remained.
"Let's go find someplace quiet."
"All right."
He tightened his grip on her hand. She let him pull her to her feet, but still refused to meet his gaze.
The elevator bank was full. It would take forever to get to their room. Fueled by a sense of urgency, Tom led Susanna across the terrace to the hotel health club. He pushed the door open, and led her into a large, mirrored gym.
The room was empty except for a lone, sweaty man doing leg presses on a weight machine by the door. Tom led his wife to the far end of the room, where a sign on a wide, wooden door proclaimed SAUNA OUT OF ORDER, Tom opened the door and ushered her inside.
The tiny room was cool and dimly lit, and it smelled pf cedar. They sat on a smooth wooden bench.
Tom turned to Susanna. "Suze…" His voice sounded as if he'd just gargled . with gravel. He sw
allowed and began again. "Suze, honey, I've made a terrible mistake, and I need to tell you about it."
Susanna looked down at her hand entwined with his. "You don't need to tell me."
"Yes, I do."
"I don't think I want to hear."
"Look—I know Kelly talked to you." The knot in Tom's throat made it hard for him to speak, but he forced himself to say what had to be said. "I don't know what she told you, but she and I..."
Susanna put her finger on his lip, her eyes pleading. "Don't."
"I have to. It's not what you think. I mean, we never ... it never.. ." He swallowed hard. "I never made love to her."
Susanna gazed at him, her eyes searching his, probing for the truth. He could tell when she found it. Her eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Tom...."
"That's not to say things weren't headed in that direction," he admitted. "I'm not guiltless, but that line was never crossed." He lifted both of Susanna's hands—the hands that had made his meals, cradled his child, pleasured- his body. His heart ached with the weight of guilt, the heaviness of a love he'd nearly betrayed. "I couldn't. There were opportunities, but, Susanna, I just couldn't."
Tears coursed down her cheeks. She raised her hand to his face, her eyes swimming with warmth.
"I love you, Susanna" His voice came out thick and low. His hand shook as he raised a finger and wiped a tear from her cheek. "I know I haven't shown it lately. I've been a jerk, and I don't even know why. I've been so. . . so angry. I don't even think it was you I was angry at"
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "You were angry that I was depressed."
He nodded heavily. "I'm sorry. I know it's an illness. I don't know why I thought it was your fault."
"I felt so dead inside," she whispered. "So locked up inside myself. It was like I was paralyzed. And the longer it went on, the more paralyzed I became."
"I wasn't understanding. I wasn't patient. I wasn't sympathetic."
"You were hurting, too. You needed me, and I wasn't there," Susanna said softly.
"What hurt was the way you didn't need me. You pushed me away. You wouldn't let me comfort you, wouldn't let me even touch you. It was just like when I was ten years old and my father died." His voice cracked, but he made himself continue.