Breath of Scandal

by Sandra Brown

  “Just think,” Marla Sue whispered in his ear, “tomorrow night it’ll just be us. Alone.”

  Neal groaned and embraced her. “Don’t talk about it, darling, or I’ll get a hard-on right here in your grandma’s parlor.” Despite her conservative upbringing, she loved it when he talked that way.

  He pulled her into his arms and hugged her close. It was then that he caught sight of the other young woman standing across the room. She was giving him a cool, bold look that he instantly recognized as an invitation. As he watched, she dipped her finger into her wine cooler, then poked it into her mouth and drew it out slowly. He got hard.

  “Neal!” Marla Sue softly squealed, blushing prettily. “Behave yourself.”

  “Then stop tempting me,” he said, letting her believe she was responsible for his erection.

  A few minutes later, the other young woman approached them. “When do I get to meet the groom, Marla Sue?”

  “Oh, Neal, this is my lifelong friend. She’s my maid of honor.”

  He didn’t quite catch her name—which was insignificant, anyway. He had caught the suggestive message in her eyes. “So pleased to meet you at last,” she drawled. They shook hands. As their hands slid apart, the pad of her middle finger caressed his palm.

  At dusk that Friday evening, everyone in the wedding party convened for a rehearsal in the sanctuary of the big Baptist church, where baskets of flowers and candelabras were already being arranged by a harried decorator. Each time Neal’s eyes wandered toward the maid of honor, he was further convinced that the title was a misnomer. If she was a maiden, he could fly; and the looks she was transmitting sure as hell weren’t honorable. Her daddy, he had learned, was Mr. Pickens’s business partner. He had to admire a girl with the gall to flirt so openly and still be clever enough not to get caught.

  From the church, a caravan of cars traveled a few blocks to the restaurant where Ivan was hosting the rehearsal dinner. He had spared no expense. It was a lavish affair. He rose to the occasion, deporting himself as the perfect host. With a glass of champagne held aloft, he got misty-eyed when he said, “If only Neal’s mama could be here tonight to celebrate this happy occasion, it would be perfect. Son, I hope you and your precious bride, Marla Sue, will be a fraction as happy together as me and Rebecca were.”

  While Neal decorously sipped from his wine goblet in acknowledgment of the sentimental toast, the maid of honor was fondling his balls beneath the napkin in his lap.

  When the dinner formally concluded, everybody got down to having a good time. Among the guests was the newly elected sheriff of Palmetto County, Hutch Jolly, who was Neal’s best man. He and his wife danced to the music of the three-piece ensemble.

  Marla Sue opened wedding gifts, squealing with delight as one treasure after another was unwrapped. The maid of honor made a point of brushing past Neal as she left the room. “Excuse me,” she breathed seductively.

  Neal waited about sixty seconds before bending toward his bride and excusing himself. “I’ve got something to do.”

  “What?”

  He cupped her face between his hands. “Brides shouldn’t ask nosy questions unless they want wedding surprises to be spoiled.”

  Her blue eyes twinkled. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He gave her a soft kiss before wending his way through the crowd. He had almost made it to the door when he was waylaid by Hutch and Donna Dee. “She seems to be a nice girl,” Donna Dee said. “Far better than you deserve.”

  “You know, Donna Dee, with that two-edged tongue of yours,” Neal said, “it’s a wonder you haven’t sliced Hutch’s cock to ribbons.”

  “Eat shit and die, Neal.”

  Hutch tried to be the peacemaker. “Looks like you’re really marrying into a fine family, Neal. Her folks seem crazy about you.”

  Somewhere in the building, a young woman with the hots for him was waiting. The danger of getting caught added spice. The intrigue was irresistible. He was in a fit of impatience to join her. “Y’all make yourselves at home, hear? Daddy spent a mint on this party. Drink up.”

  Before they could detain him, he stepped through the door. The private dining room where the party was being held was adjacent to a foyer. To the right was a short hallway. Neal almost went past it before the door to the powder room opened. The maid of honor smiled at him invitingly.

  “What took you so long? I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

  He slipped into the powder room and locked the door behind him. The dim room was reminiscent of an expensive bordello, full of floral chintz and gilt-framed mirrors. He barely had time to take in the room’s appointments before the bridesmaid embraced him. Their open mouths ground together in a rapacious kiss.

  “You’re crazy,” he mumbled as he devoured her neck. “You must really hate Marla Sue.”

  “I adore Marla Sue.” She squirmed against him, tearing at the buttons on his shirt and caressing his smooth chest with sharp fingernails and a wet, wicked tongue. “This is a hobby of mine, that’s all. Some girls collect music boxes or antique bottles. I collect grooms.”

  When he hiked up her skirt and gripped her derriere, he discovered that she was wearing a garter belt and stockings but no panties. He pulled her high and hard against his straining fly.

  Since his hands were occupied, she opened the bodice of her silk dress and shimmied her braless breasts against his starched shirt. The abrasion made her nipples hard. Neal ducked his head to take one into his mouth. She unbuttoned his fly and worked down his underwear until his stiff organ was fully exposed.

  “Mmm,” she moaned as she stroked it.

  “You want it, baby?” he grunted. “You got it.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her to her knees in front of him. She was game, promptly taking him into her mouth. He plowed his fingers through her hair and thrust his hips forward. Throwing his head back, he rolled it from side to side against the door, becoming lost in the sensations of her mouth.

  She managed to wrest her head out of his grip. “Sorry. No way am I going to get the short shrift.” She backed up to an upholstered chaise and lay down, raising her knees. Neal stumbled forward and fell on her. He buried his face between her breasts, kneaded them roughly, and slammed his body into hers. The harder he pumped, the better she seemed to like it. They came together explosively. He bit one of her breasts to keep from crying out.

  For several moments afterward, they lay panting against each other. When Neal finally pulled away from her, she sat up, shoved her hair out of her eyes, and investigated the teeth marks on her breast. “You son of a bitch.”

  Chuckling, he restored his clothing, moved to the sink and washed his hands, then smoothed back his hair. At the door, he looked back at her. She was still sprawled on the chaise in disarray. “You’d better wash before going back to the party,” he said, nodding toward her pelvic region. “You reek to high heaven of come.”

  When he unlocked the door and opened it, he was met with an unpleasant shock. Ivan was standing on the threshold, his expression murderous.

  * * *

  “You stupid little cocksucker!” Ivan thundered.

  Ever since they’d left the rehearsal dinner, Ivan had been berating Neal for his indiscretion. It had been a wild and crazy thing to do, but it had also been a hell of a lot of fun. He was a groom, but he wasn’t dead. No red-blooded man under the age of ninety-five could have resisted such freely given snatch.

  No one other than Ivan had discovered them. Nobody else had even missed him. Neal had returned to the party and taken his bride in his arms and kissed her while her friends and family smiled indulgently. The maid of honor wasn’t going to tell. What harm had been done? His old man’s anger was unwarranted, and the temper tantrum was beginning to grate on Neal’s nerves.

  “Actually, Daddy, she was the cocksucker,” he said blandly.

  Ivan let go of the car’s steering wheel and backhanded him across th
e mouth. The blow caught Neal completely off guard. “What the hell!” he shouted. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Don’t you ever do anything that stupid again. Banging the bridesmaid while the bride and her family are in the next room,” he muttered. “What the hell were you thinking of? You could have blown this whole thing wide open by pulling that damn fool stunt.”

  “But I didn’t,” Neal shouted. “So just shut up about it.”

  “I’ve hired three whores for your bachelor party. You couldn’t have waited an hour longer for one of them?”

  “I intend for you to get your money’s worth, but I’ll bet nothing your hired whores do is as exciting as fucking your bride’s maid of honor the night before the wedding.”

  Ivan looked like he might strike him again. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel and pressed down hard on the accelerator. They were headed to the hotel where Neal’s groomsmen had been invited to meet them and celebrate his last night as a single man.

  “I didn’t decide for you to get married on a whim, you know,” Ivan growled. “If all I wanted was a breeder for grandkids, we could have found you a decent enough girl in Palmetto. We picked this girl ’cause her daddy’s pockets are lined with hundred-dollar bills. She’s due to come into a lot of money when she turns twenty-five, and most of it will come your way. But if you go screwing her friends in bathrooms, do you think she’ll entrust you with a nickel?”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Neal said heatedly. “You don’t expect me to change my lifestyle just because I get married, do you? If you do, you’ve got another think coming.”

  Ivan cut his eyes toward his son, though he didn’t decrease his speed. “I don’t care if you diddle every belle from Charleston to Miami and back again. Just exercise some good sense. Treat your wife like a piece of bone china you only use on special occasions. Bring her little presents now and then. Give her babies to keep her occupied. Then you can screw whoever you want to, and she won’t raise a stink about it. But for God’s sake don’t flaunt your infidelities in her face.”

  Neal resented the lecture. If he knew about anything, he knew about women. “Listen, old man, I know how to treat a woman, okay?”

  “You don’t know near as much as you think you do.”

  “I don’t need you telling me—Daddy!”

  But Ivan didn’t have a chance. He never saw the freight train.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Los Angeles, 1991

  “Graham? It’s me.”

  “Hi, Mom! Have you seen any movie stars yet?”

  Jade, sitting with her feet tucked beneath her, grinned into the telephone receiver. She could envision Graham’s fourteen-year-old face. A shock of wavy, dark hair would be dipping over his brows. Beneath them, his blue eyes would be sparkling.

  “None so far, but I bought you a souvenir today.” She glanced at the Los Angeles Rams sweatshirt she had purchased earlier.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  “Is it cool? Will I like it?”

  “It’s supercool and you’ll love it.”

  She inquired about things at home. He assured her that there had been no glitches in their well-oiled schedule. Cathy Hearon was a born organizer.

  “Is it still raining in New York?”

  “Yeah,” Graham said dismally. “Cats and dogs.”

  “Too bad. It’s gorgeous and sunny here.”

  “Have you gone swimming?”

  “I’ve been too busy.”

  “Mom? Do we have to move to that place in South Carolina?”

  Jade’s smile evaporated. Her son’s lack of enthusiasm for relocating bothered her tremendously. “You know the answer to that, Graham. Why do you keep asking me?”

  “I won’t know anybody,” he mumbled dejectedly. “I’ll have to leave all my friends.”

  The closer they came to making the move from New York, the more frequently they had this conversation. Graham knew that the project was important to her from a career standpoint. He didn’t know its personal implications—no one did.

  He had taken their previous moves in stride. Now that he was a teenager, friendships had become more meaningful. He was resistant to the idea of leaving them.

  “You’ll make new friends, Graham.”

  “There’s nothing to do there.”

  “That’s not true. Palmetto’s near the ocean. You’ll be able to go to the beach whenever you want. We’ll go fishing and crabbing.”

  “I don’t even like crab.”

  She let that pass. “Palmetto schools have soccer teams now—I’ve already checked. You’ll be able to continue playing.”

  “But it won’t be the same.”

  “No. It won’t be the same. It’s very different from the city.”

  “It’s hicksville.”

  Dead end. There was no argument to that. Compared to the Big Apple, Palmetto was definitely hicksville. After an ensuing silence, Jade said with excitement, “Tomorrow I’m interviewing the contractor I came all this way to see. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck. I hope you can hire him. And, Mom, be careful. There are some real weirdos in California.”

  “And none in New York?”

  “At least here you can easily spot them.”

  “I’m always careful,” she promised. “I hope I can conclude my business in a couple more days and come home. We’ll go out together and do something special. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She was consumed by homesickness for him as she hung up the phone. There were days when he was ornery, but generally he was an ideal son. As he grew older, he assumed a proprietary and protective air toward her, which Jade found both amusing and touching.

  He was already taller than she. That had taken some getting used to. He was strong, athletic, and boundlessly energetic. Jade took secret pride in his physical attractiveness, but whenever someone remarked on it, she stressed her pride in his intelligence and character. He had a keen sense of humor and a sensitivity that she found personally gratifying.

  She didn’t lightly dismiss his reluctance to leave his friends and school and move to another state—another world. The move for him was still months away, as he wouldn’t leave school until the current semester was over. She hoped that when the time came, he would be psychologically prepared for it, although he had already had more than a year to get accustomed to the idea.

  Jade vividly recalled that winter day last year when the project in Palmetto had been approved. Her presentation before GSS’s board of directors had been flawless. The topic had been so thoroughly researched that she had stockpiled an arsenal of statistics to support her arguments. The incisive questions put to her by the board members had been answered articulately and with enough elaboration to gain their trust without sounding ingratiating. She hadn’t given them the hard sell, but had let the facts and figures speak for themselves.

  George Stein, the CEO, was the last surviving founder of GSS. Although he was nearly eighty, he was still at the helm of the conglomerate that had been founded when Charlie Chaplin was the number one box-office star. It had started with one steel mill and had, through the decades, continued to expand. Now GSS provided an umbrella for companies all over the world, encompassing myriad enterprises, both commercial and technical.

  It was common for GSS to buy struggling companies and either dissolve them or reorganize their operations to make them profitable. Initially Jade had been hired to analyze three textile plants that GSS had acquired. Her extensive evaluation had resulted in a career-making meeting.

  Her recommendation to the board had been to close the three existing plants and build a new, larger, more technically advanced one. Several board members had muttered assent. Mr. Stein, whose yellowish hands and bald head were speckled with age spots, had stared at Jade for a considerably long time. The rest of his body was ravaged by time, but his eyes were as keen as those of a twenty-year-old.

  “You seem uncomp
romising in your position, Ms. Sperry.”

  “I am. I’m certain that’s the only way GSS will make any money in the textile business. And Palmetto, South Carolina, is the perfect location for a plant like this because of its proximity to the shipping channel. What better way to utilize our own shipping interests and reach the foreign markets?”

  “What about the management personnel of these plants? Do we simply unload them, too?”

  “Not at all. I suggest we offer to relocate them in Palmetto, or, if they decline the offer, to give them six months severance pay when we shut down.”

  At the conclusion of the discussion, Stein called for a vote. Jade’s plan was unanimously approved. “Very well, Ms. Sperry,” Stein had said after counting the show of hands, “the project is yours. Textile, is it?”

  “Yes,” she had said, trying to camouflage her swelling elation behind a professional demeanor. “I’d like to call it TexTile.”

  TexTile had now been in the developing stages for more than a year. GSS attorneys had quietly purchased land. By a narrow margin, the zoning had been approved by Palmetto’s City Council. Working jointly with David Seffrin, a developer under the auspices of GSS, Jade had retained the architect and already had the blueprints.

  She was in Los Angeles to hire a general contractor. Once that vital job had been awarded, everything would be in place. She would move to Palmetto—which would undoubtedly come as a shock to the townfolk, who had no reason to link her to the vast land acquisition—and excavation would begin in preparation of building. She would start making arrangements to relocate the management personnel who had chosen that alternative.

  A flurry of unrest had gone through the executive ranks of GSS when Jade had joined the company. Few men, and even fewer women, were hired as vice presidents. It took a while before her business acumen convinced others in similar positions that her youth and attractiveness didn’t nullify her competence. At first her male counterparts had given her a wide berth, circling warily, sniffing suspiciously, trying to determine how far her ambitions extended and whether she posed a threat to their individual aspirations.