Susan Donovan

by Public Displays of Affection

  For the time being he was still alive. And a man had to eat to live.

  By one in the afternoon Charlotte had done everything listed on her Palm Pilot—picked up three separate dry-cleaning orders, dropped off a chair cushion at the upholstery repair shop, taken a cat to the vet, and finished the weekly grocery shopping and meal planning for three families.

  She still had to stop at the grocery for her own family and figured she had just enough time to get a few things and get home by two, leaving an hour to do her Tae Bo tape before she had to pick up the kids.

  Then the evening rush would begin. On tonight’s agenda: ballet class and Matt’s game.

  Charlotte was in the frozen food aisle when she felt it—someone was watching her. She glanced around, saw no one, and tried to shrug off the uncomfortable buzz that coursed through her. She didn’t often feel unsafe in her life—harried and exhausted, yes, but not in any danger. But right then, goose bumps covered her arms, and she didn’t think they were from the freezers.

  Charlotte rounded the corner and locked wheels with Joe.

  He’d obviously been absorbed in thought, his brow deeply furrowed and his eyes lowered. The instant she smashed into him, his face lightened, his eyes widened, and his goatee spread with the force of his broad, chipped, impossibly sexy smile.

  “Hey, Charlotte.”

  How strange—it was like he really didn’t expect to see her. But if it hadn’t been Joe watching her, then who was?

  “Hey, Joe.”

  But Joe’s gaze had never once caused her that feeling of discomfort. When Joe looked at her, she felt hot and soft and sexy—and guilty, of course—but never scared.

  Charlotte told herself she’d worry about it later and went on to more important matters, like scrutinizing the contents of Joe’s shopping cart. She had to admit it could have been worse—a lot worse. Nothing too heinous that she could see, just fresh fruits and vegetables, a frozen cheese pizza, yogurt, a taco dinner kit, coffee, bagels, cereal, chicken breasts. Not bad for a guy living by himself.

  She noticed him checking out her cart and stiffened in embarrassment at the three cans of squirt cheese balanced on top.

  “Wild party tonight?”

  Charlotte didn’t like the teasing in his voice or the way his eyebrows arched, as if he knew something she didn’t.

  “No,” she said. “I mean, yes. For the kids.”

  “I see.”

  “Well, I need to get going.” She tried to disentangle her wheels from his, but they kept turning into each other. It seemed she couldn’t even go grocery shopping without this man disturbing her peace of mind.

  “I was hoping I’d get to see you yesterday. Did you and the kids have plans after all?” Joe nonchalantly reached down and straightened one of her wheels, then backed away, leaving the carts separated. He was always so cool and collected—he never seemed ruffled.

  “No. Yes. We went to a lake we like.”

  Joe nodded. Then he crossed his arms and leaned forward on the handle of the shopping cart and smiled at her. “Is it possible you’re having second thoughts, Charlotte?”

  “What?” she huffed, turning her cart so that she could pass by him. She really needed to get home. “Of course I’m not. I just need to do my kickboxing video before the kids get home from school, so I guess I’ll catch you later.” She smiled at him in a way she hoped conveyed assertive flirtatiousness. “Have a nice afternoon.”

  “I do a little boxing myself,” he said as she passed by.

  “I know. I saw. I’ll—” It dawned on Charlotte that the only reason she knew he boxed was because she’d spied on him with binoculars. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t catch that little detail.

  “How do you know I box?” he asked, now turning his cart and rolling right along next to her toward the checkout. “I never told you I was a boxer.”

  “Hmm.” Charlotte started to load her groceries on the belt, knowing she was a terrible liar and always had been and wasn’t going to get out of this unscathed. She tried for something close to the truth. “I heard you punching over there one night. At least I assumed it was a punching bag. It sounded like one.”

  “Wanna come over and hit the bags with me tonight?”

  Her arm stopped its movement, a box of Kashi hung in midair over the checkout belt. Eventually she set it down. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Joe.”

  “Oh. So you did have a change of heart.”

  She grabbed a box of tabbouleh mix and threw it on the belt, laughing softly. “And if I did?”

  She watched Joe nod and compress his lips, as if carefully considering her question. He straightened to his full height and looked down at Charlotte with eyes that intrigued her, challenged her, and basically sexed her up. She started to breathe fast.

  “Then I’d change it right back, dumplin’.”

  Oh, how wrong LoriSue had been—Joe Mills wasn’t as hot as a Chippendales dancer. He was much, much, much hotter. And the way he was toying with her had the flames shooting higher than ever.

  Charlotte hoisted up a mesh bag of organic navel oranges and studied him, noting that the playful gleam in his eyes was being replaced by a scorching stare.

  She gulped.

  “If you stay…” Charlotte set down a package of dry White Northern beans and tried to keep eye contact with him. “What happens if you’re like those potato chips, and I can’t eat just one?”

  Joe’s mouth twitched. He rested his elbows on the shopping cart. “That’s all right with me.”

  “What if I have to have some every day?”

  “No problem.”

  “What if I—”

  “Do you have your preferred shopper card today, ma’am?”

  Charlotte whirled around to the checkout girl and handed her the card with trembling fingers.

  That sure took long enough, Jimmy thought, watching Charlotte exit through the automatic doors and push her cart into the parking lot. He wondered why the lovebirds had arranged a rendezvous at Kroger’s when they lived right next door to each other. Maybe they already needed a little something to liven things up. Maybe they had one of those kinky preferences for doing it in public places.

  Jimmy was admiring Charlotte’s ass as she unloaded her groceries into the minivan—much like he’d done in the frozen foods section moments before—when his eye caught Joe Mills coming out the door. The guy made him sick. He hated men with earrings. He couldn’t see why some women—like Charlotte and the entire office staff at Sell-More, including his own friggin’ wife!—would find that appealing.

  Charlotte drove off, never even glancing at Joe. Ha! At least she’d waved to him that morning in front of school. Jimmy found comfort in that.

  He climbed out of his Excursion and headed over to earring man and his shiny little Mustang. Jimmy hated little cars. He’d take a big-ass SUV any day, one that could take a Mustang like it was a speed bump in the church parking lot.

  “Well, good morning, Joe!” Jimmy was a good-sized man, so it annoyed him that he had to look up a few inches to meet Joe’s eye. He saw a flicker of surprise in Joe’s face.

  “Hello. Jimmy, right? LoriSue’s husband?”

  Jimmy thought, Fuck you, but just smiled.

  “Hey, Justin’s a great kid. I got to know him the other day at the campout.”

  Well. Wasn’t that a smooth way of letting him know he’d spent the night in Charlotte’s bed? Jimmy sniggered a little and shook his head, knowing an outright challenge when he heard one. Was this just Joe’s way of letting him know that LoriSue was next?

  “Good to know you’re enjoying yourself here in Minton—getting real comfy, it sounds like.”

  Joe finished placing the last of his grocery bags in the trunk of his gigolo mobile and shot him a look that any man with a background in athletics would recognize as an outright physical challenge.

  “It’s a nice town.”

  “Stay away from both of them.”

  Joe loo
ked so innocent. Jimmy guessed that made him a gigolo and an actor. Those poor women never stood a chance.

  “Who would that be, Jimmy? Are you talking about Justin?”

  “I’m talking about Charlotte and my wife, you loser. Mess with them and you’re messing with me—Jim Bettmyer. Got it?”

  “Excuse me just a moment.” Joe pushed his cart down the row of cars and gave it a push into the cart exchange lane. Then he walked back, got out his car keys, and said, “I’m sorry, Jim, but I need to be heading back. I think you might be jumping to some inaccurate conclusions.”

  “The hell I am.” Jimmy took a step closer to Joe and put his index finger in the man’s solar plexus. He felt Joe’s body flinch—he also felt some real solid abs and he had to give the man credit where it was due, but they weren’t here to discuss his workout regimen. They were here to decide who got the women.

  “LoriSue is still my wife, so back off. And Charlotte and I have had a relationship for many years, and she is not available. So your little fun ends right here, right now. You feel me?”

  He watched Joe’s face empty of all expression, and frankly, it spooked him. It was scary to see a man turn into a stone statue right before your eyes. Then, without a word, Joe got in his car and drove off.

  Jimmy shook his head. What a total psycho case. Just because somebody lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood didn’t mean shit these days. There were psychos everywhere.

  He looked at his watch and cursed—he was late for his Rotary Club meeting.

  Bonnie sensed that things were moving fast with Joe. She just didn’t know how fast. At the campout, she’d seen the way Charlotte and Joe looked at each other. Oh, they’d

  been perfectly polite. And it made the attraction between them all the more obvious. It zinged around like an electrical storm. It was pulled as tight as a tension wire between them.

  They wanted each other—bad.

  And now, as Bonnie watched Charlotte zoom around the kitchen the way she did nearly every afternoon, she looked for telltale signs that it was too late to do anything to stop it.

  But Charlotte didn’t seem particularly relaxed or dreamy eyed. She wasn’t sighing without provocation. She wasn’t looking off into space. In fact, Charlotte seemed a tad snippy.

  “How’s your day been, honey?”

  “Same ole shit, Bon.” Charlotte blew a strand of hair away from her face. “Shit to do for my clients. Shit to buy at the grocery. Shit to do around the house. You know—shit that’s supposed to be upstairs is downstairs. Shit that’s supposed to be downstairs is upstairs. Shit that’s supposed to be cooked is frozen. Shit that’s supposed to be clean is dirty. Same old shit.”

  Bonnie had never heard Charlotte say the word shit in all the time she’d known her—and she’d just said it nine times without taking a breath.

  Interesting.

  The family room door flew open. “I’m hungry, Mama,” Hank said.

  “You’ve already had your snack. Go back outside and play.”

  “But I’m starving!”

  “No, you are clearly not starving, Hank. You can wait for dinner, which will be in about an hour. Now go back outside with Justin and Matt.”

  “But Justin and Matt are out riding their bikes and I don’t have anybody to play with.”

  Charlotte tossed the carrot peeler into the stainless-steel sink with a loud sigh. “Then go ride with them.”

  “But they rode into town and we’re not allowed to ride into town.”

  “They did what?”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “How many times have I told that kid not to ride into town without telling me first?” Charlotte massaged her forehead. “Just come on inside and read.”

  “I don’t have anything to read.”

  “You have an entire bookshelf full of books, Hank.”

  “But—”

  “That’s it!” Charlotte jogged around the kitchen counter and whipped open the doors. “Out! Now! Get some fresh air! I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  She ushered a miserable Hank outside, then slammed the door.

  Nope. Charlotte hadn’t been laid yet.

  Ned had been right, of course. Bonnie wasn’t withholding any actual information from Charlotte about Joe, because she had no information to give. Not until tomorrow, at least, when Ned got the results from the fingerprint analysis. Bonnie wanted Ned to be right—she wanted Joe to be a good man, a man worthy of Charlotte.

  “So what happened Saturday after we left? Did Joe stay?”

  Charlotte stood at the stove, her back to Bonnie. “For a while. We sat outside and talked.”

  “That’s it? Just talked?”

  Charlotte spun around, and that’s when Bonnie saw the confusion in her young friend’s face. It nearly crushed her heart.

  “Honey, are you okay?”

  “No!”

  Charlotte flung her elbows down on the butcher block and hid her head in her arms. Bonnie rose from her seat at the table and rubbed her shoulders. “What is it?”

  “Can we go into the other room for a minute?”

  Charlotte stalked off into the living room without waiting for an answer, and Bonnie was fully aware that the last little chat they’d had in that room was the one when Charlotte first told her about Joe.

  What would it be this time?

  They got comfortable on the sofa and Bonnie felt Charlotte reach out for her hand.

  “I can’t hold back any longer.” Charlotte looked at Bonnie with wide, damp eyes. “But I’m trying to figure out if there’s a way to balance it all, my life as a mom and a provider with… a little… I don’t know—”

  “Passion?” Bonnie patted her hand.

  “Yeah. That.”

  “A love affair?”

  Charlotte nodded.

  “Wild sex?”

  A moan escaped Charlotte’s lips.

  “You know, honey, it’s possible to have both a life and a sex life.”

  Charlotte shook her head sadly and whispered, “I wouldn’t know, Bon.”

  That was a bit of a surprise, and Bonnie straightened up on the couch and patted Charlotte’s hand some more. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Charlotte nodded, cast her eyes downward, and cleared her throat. “I’ve never told anyone this, so bear with me, but the thing is that with Kurt, I always felt like I was abnormal, too interested in sex, too, uh—”

  “Horny?”

  Charlotte’s eyes went huge. “I guess.”

  Kurt had always struck Bonnie as a nice combination of maleness and sweetness. Granted, she’d never wondered much about the Taskers’ sex life, but as she sat there with Charlotte now, she wracked her brain for a time when she might have noticed the two were having trouble in their marriage. She couldn’t think of one.

  “So you weren’t happy sexually?”

  “Not at all.”

  “And you thought it was your fault?”

  Charlotte nodded, and Bonnie watched her fight hard not to cry. She reached out and stroked Charlotte’s hair, feeling the pain radiate from her small body. The things we put ourselves through! “And you felt guilty for what happened with Joe?”

  Charlotte turned away from Bonnie’s hand and buried her face in her palms. Bonnie watched her thin shoulders shake, knowing there was nothing at all she could do except be a good listener. She waited a few moments and then said, “Honey. You need to get this out and get on with your life.”

  Charlotte’s shoulders stopped shaking. She looked up at Bonnie with a determined nod. “Except for the times I was trying to get pregnant, Kurt would have been perfectly happy making love about once a month. And when we did, it was so damn predictable and polite and over so quickly that I hardly even knew I’d had sex.”

  She’d asked for the details, Bonnie reminded herself.

  “And when I told him what I really wanted—things I’d had that one time with Joe—he was appalled. Embarrassed. A little worried about me.”
>
  “Good Lord, Charlotte.”

  “So I went through my whole marriage thinking I was a pervert because I wanted him to smack my butt and talk dirty to me. Am I a pervert?”

  Bonnie felt herself experiencing the hot flashes she thought she’d left behind five years before. “Uh, no.”

  “He was just so shy about sex—wouldn’t talk to me about it—and one day he caught me… he caught me…” Charlotte flew off the couch and started pacing. “I’ve always kept this journal of erotic poetry—things that pop into my head at the oddest times that I just can’t keep locked inside. Some of it is very hot.”

  She looked to Bonnie for a sign she should continue, so Bonnie managed a nod. She tried not to look too astonished as she kept thinking, Charlotte writes erotic poetry?

  “Well, one day he caught me with my journal and… well, I was touching myself. He freaked. He picked up my journal, read a few lines of what I’d written, told me he was afraid for me, and walked out of the bedroom. He wouldn’t talk to me about it.”

  “Oh, Charlotte—”

  “After about three days, I left him a note in his briefcase. The note said that I really needed to talk to him about my sexual frustration and how lonely I was for him. I told him I wanted to talk to him about my poetry. I told him I loved him and I wanted desperately to share the sexual part of myself with him.”

  Bonnie hardly dared ask. “What happened?”

  “He never acknowledged the note. He never said a word to me about it.”

  Bonnie couldn’t help it—her mouth fell open. “Oh, my God, honey. Are you sure he got it?”

  “I’m sure. He always got the notes I left him in his briefcase.”

  “And when was this?”

  Charlotte shrugged. “About three years ago. Hank was five. I didn’t know what to do, Bon. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to love him anymore.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Bonnie got up from the couch and put her arms around Charlotte, aware for the first time how much pain her dear friend had been in and ashamed that she’d not seen past Charlotte’s veneer of competency all these years. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me, too,” Charlotte said into Bonnie’s shoulder.

  “Did you try counseling?”

  Charlotte shook her head. “He said he refused to talk about something so personal with a stranger.”