Her laughter vibrated against him.
He curled his body around hers and nuzzled her neck.
“Do you think the hot water heater has had time to work yet?”
“Yes.” He slipped his hand under the sweater and ran his finger beneath the edge of her bra. “It should be full of hot water already. It runs on propane. It’s the well pump that can’t run without power.”
“What do you say we take a nice hot shower?”
“Can I be in charge of the soap?”
She sighed and twisted her mouth around. “Well….”
He tickled her side.
“Yes.” She grabbed his hand. “Yes. The soap is yours.” She stood up. The sweater came to mid-thigh against her bare legs.
Daniel reached up and pulled the edge away, peering up at her. She swatted his hand and jumped back.
“You’re no fun.” He pouted.
“That’s not what you said a minute ago.”
He stood up and wrapped the blanket around his waist. Marienne laughed.
“What?”
“Are we going to shower or just play tent here in the family room?” Her eyes drifted down.
“I’m up for either.” God I missed you.
Daniel walked up the stairs behind Marienne, blanket trailing on the floor behind him, still trying to peek up her sweater.
“Will you stop,” she said, pretending to be annoyed.
“Sure. Take the sweater off, and I’ll stop.”
“I thought you loved me in your clothes.”
“Yes, but I love you out of clothes as well.”
****
Marienne headed into the bathroom, and Daniel followed close behind. She turned the shower on full blast and he wrapped his arms around her, spinning her toward him. Her lips were full and puffy from all the kissing they’d already done but he couldn’t keep his mouth off hers.
The tile floor was achingly cold even through his socks. He dropped his blanket. Marienne worked her hands beneath his shirt, lifting it as she went. She kissed her way up his chest. He tugged his shirt the rest of the way off then went to work on his sweater. He inched it up her back, slowly caressing her bare skin as the room steamed up around them.
She reached her hand into the shower. “Mmm. Hot.”
“Yes.” He eased the sweater over her head then unhooked her bra with a flick of his wrist.
He bent his head to kiss her breast but she backed away, stepping into the shower. He stepped in alongside her, drawing the curtain closed. She leaned her head back under the spray, slicking her hair off her face, her breasts rising as she lifted her arms. He wasted no time grabbing the soap and lathering his hands. His slippery fingers circled her breasts, and she moaned leaning into him, making him soapy too. He ran his hand down her waist then slipped it between her thighs. He rubbed his thumb against her gently until he heard her give a sharp intake of breath. There we go. He continued to rub, slowly, watching the look on her face as the water rushed over her.
“Oh God,” she whispered, her eyes tightly closed.
“You’re so beautiful.”
She whimpered beneath his touch. He braced his arm around her back to hold her up as she pressed harder against his hand. Her breath puffed faster. He bit his lip, trying to keep his rhythm steady, torn between wanting to kiss her and wanting to watch her come. So close. He could see it in her face. Her mouth dropped open, her head back, her breasts still sliding against his chest. With a low moan she let go, quivering around his fingers.
“Kiss me.” She rasped.
His mouth was on hers before she finished asking. She turned them in a slow circle so he was directly beneath the water’s spray. He heard her hand slapping against the shower wall in search of the soap dish. He was about to remind her that he was in charge of the soap, but her creamy hand slipped around his balls before he had a chance. “Jesus.” He groaned.
She slithered her fingers down the length of him, stroking until the slickness washed away as she kissed her way down his chest. He was about to ask if she wanted to make love when she lowered her head and took him into her mouth.
Her hands and mouth wrapped around him. He pressed his back against the still cool tile wall, bracing his hand on the corner of the shower. So good. Everything was slippery. Her lips, her fingers, the wall, his thoughts. She sucked harder, spiraling her tongue as she stroked. He wanted it to go on forever but he couldn’t wait. His fingers grasped at the tile as the pleasure rocketed through him. Marienne swallowed, slowing her hand. She kissed her way back up his body as she stood. His eyes were still closed, his breathing ragged. He thought he might pass out. She kissed him, his briny taste on her lips.
He opened his eyes to see her smiling.
“You can have the soap back now if you’d like.” Her eyes sparkled.
“I love you,” he said, then lowered his mouth to hers once again.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Marienne was overjoyed to have Daniel home. She had missed him so much and the week had been so awful. She snuggled into bed beside him, so happy that the four of them were back under the same roof and the power was back on. Daniel’s breathing was a welcome sound compared to the silence of the dark nights she’d spent alone.
She closed her eyes, expecting to fall right to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her mind kept going back to Justine. Daniel Gardner’s line. The sound of her voice on the other end of the phone line was unnerving. He explained why she was there. Daniel wouldn’t lie to me.Would he? She shivered and sat up in bed. Daniel was still breathing evenly. Marienne grabbed her bathrobe and crept out of bed.
She tiptoed downstairs and went into his office. Should I? She debated before she turned on the computer. I should trust him. Her hand stopped. She pulled back and almost turned around then she remembered reading all of Frank’s messages after he died. I have to know for sure. She held her breath as she hit the power button and watched his screen light up.
Her heart was pounding as she opened his email account. He had it set to automatically log in. She scrolled through his messages, terror and guilt churning in her stomach. Sort. From. Her hands were ice cold as she typed in “Justine.” Twenty messages popped onto the screen. She was shaking as she clicked and started to read.
The first few messages were the initial ones Daniel had told her about, practically word for word. She started to feel guilty about doubting him. As she read she realized there were many messages he hadn’t mentioned. Justine was asking more and more questions about his screenplay. She had to keep reminding herself to breathe as she read. All of Daniel’s answers were straightforward and simple. He didn’t mention going out to California. They hadn’t arranged any meetings.
He was telling the truth.
She breathed a sigh of relief then heard a noise.
Daniel stood in the doorway. “What are you doing?” He walked toward her. Even in the dim light of the computer’s glow, she could see the look on his face. A blend of hurt and anger.
“Are you reading my emails?”
It wasn’t possible to lie—the last one was still open on the screen.
“I’m sorry.” She clicked it closed, as if that would help.
“Do you really distrust me that much?”
She couldn’t look at him anymore. “No, it’s just—”
“Just what? You couldn’t find anything else to read?”
“It’s Justine. I keep hearing her picking up your phone. And I know the history you two have. I was upset. I was worried. I kept thinking about Frank and how the wife is always the last to know and…” Her voice cracked.
Daniel sighed and pulled the ottoman next to his desk chair. He sat down with a thump and ran his hands through his hair.
“There are some things you might not know about Justine,” Daniel said.
Marienne tensed, bracing herself for what she was about to hear. Please don’t let him still be in love with her.
He took a deep breath.
Oh God
. Did he sleep with her? Her heart skipped every other beat. She wiped her clammy hands on her robe.
“Did Justine ever tell you about her childhood?” he asked.
Her childhood? She shook her head. “No, why?”
“Justine grew up with a very wealthy father who had no time for her, a mother who was more concerned about plastic surgery than about parenting, and three older brothers who, in Justine’s eyes, were perfect.”
Marienne furrowed her brow. What does this have to do with why I shouldn’t be upset?
“She always felt like she couldn’t catch up to her brothers. I remember her saying that it was hard to feel proud of the fact that she got the lead in the fifth grade play when her brother found out the same day that he’d been named a Rhodes Scholar. Nothing she ever did seemed good enough.”
That did explain Justine a little, but it still had nothing to do with her having been in Daniel’s hotel room.
“While her brothers were off at college and her parents were busy doing their own thing she used to go through their rooms, searching for keys to their success. All she found were their stashes of dirty magazines. She learned about sex from reading Penthouse forum and looking at pictures in Hustler. In her mind the only advantage she had over her brothers was that men were susceptible to her charms.”
Including you? Her heart fluttered out of control. She couldn’t get the words out.
Daniel reached over and took Marienne’s hand, fiddling with her rings. “Justine only wanted to marry me because she thought a husband—a successful husband—would make her more equal to her older brothers. She was still playing catch up. That’s why she was so disappointed when I decided to teach instead of model or write or any of the other things she’d had it in her head I’d do.”
Marienne found her voice. “But you loved her.” Do you still?
“Yes, I did. I was extraordinarily lonely when we met, and I mistook her expectations of me for faith in me.”
“Plus the sex was fantastic.”
Daniel laughed. “Yes, the sex was very good. I’ll admit that.”
Marienne’s stomach dropped.
“But it was only good in comparison to sex I’d had at the time.”
What? His dark, steady gaze drew her in, soothing her. “I’d always thought of sex as a physical thing. I mean, it is a physical thing. Especially for Justine.”
Her shoulders slumped, and she looked away.
Daniel sighed. “I’m doing a terrible job of explaining this to you. What I’m trying to say is that I thought I’d had an amazing sex life with Justine—our relationship was largely based on sex—but it wasn’t until I made love to you that I realized how amazing sex can really be.”
Wait. Really?
“Sex with you is different. It’s not just a physical act. It’s not an act at all. It’s an extension of our love. Well, that sounds a bit pervy. It’s like….” He paused, his lips twisted as he struggled to find the right words. “It’s like—”
Marienne interrupted him. “But Justine is beautiful.”
“Yes, she is—”
“And you’ve admitted she’s great in bed.”
“Yes, she is—”
Marienne’s throat constricted and she struggled to breathe. She forced herself to swallow. “And….”
Daniel’s fingers pressed against her lip. “And none of that matters because the one thing Justine will never be is you.”
Marienne’s eyes filled with tears.
“I wish you could understand that. I don’t want to be with Justine, and I haven’t for a very, very long time. What I want—the only thing I want—is to be with you. Why are you so quick to doubt me?”
“I don’t doubt you. But I also don’t trust Justine. She’s tricked you before.”
Daniel’s eyebrows rose.
Why did I say that?
“What do you mean?” Daniel asked.
Marienne opened her mouth then closed it, debating what to say. “It’s… never mind.”
“No, I want to know what you’re talking about. Tricked me how?”
Marienne took a deep breath. She couldn’t expect him to be honest with her if she wasn’t going to be honest with him. “Way back when we all first became friends Justine told me the story about how you two met.”
“Okay.” Daniel looked confused.
“You had already told me that you’d met by chance, in the college cafeteria.”
“Right.” He nodded. His head tilted to the side.
Do I tell him? “Well.” Her eyes scanned his, waiting to see his reaction. “It wasn’t by chance, at all.” He blinked rapidly. “Justine had seen your photo on the cover of the Village Voice, and she decided she wanted to meet you. She found out your schedule and arranged to bump into you. She bragged to me about how you never found out that she’d planned the whole thing.”
Daniel’s mouth had dropped open.
“That’s part of the reason I never became closer with Justine. I never felt like I could trust her.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”
“I figured it was a moot point. You two had already been married a few years. I didn’t want to start trouble, and I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Daniel nodded. “Well, thanks, I guess.” He still appeared to be processing the information. “She actually bragged about it?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to see that look on your face.”
“What look?” He crinkled his brows.
“That hurt look. I hate it when things hurt you.”
Daniel reached out and stroked her face. “Justine’s not capable of hurting me. The only thing that hurts is when you doubt me.”
“Well, does it make more sense now? Why I don’t trust Justine?”
“I’m not asking you to trust Justine. In fact you probably shouldn’t. But I am telling you that you can trust me. I’m not a horny, naïve nineteen year old who can so easily be swayed by Justine.” A smile crept onto his face, his eyes narrowed seductively. “I’m more of a horny, hopelessly romantic thirty year old who is madly in love with his wife.”
Marienne bit her lip. “I guess I can believe that.”
“You guess?” He moved his face closer, his nose trailing along her cheek. “Which part do you need me to prove? The madly in love part? I’ll marry you all over again if you want.” He kissed right below her ear.
“Mmmmm”
“Or the hopelessly romantic part…” He moved her hair aside, kissing her neck. “I could sweep you off your feet and carry you off to bed if you’d like.”
“Well….”
He brought his mouth to hers, kissing her until she ran out of breath. “Or perhaps the horny thirty year old part? I could—”
Marienne didn’t let him finish his sentence. “Let’s start there.” She wrapped her arms around him.
He pulled her onto his lap.
She could feel him, long and hard against her leg. “Okay, I believe you.” She laughed.
“Well I’m glad.” He pulled her closer. “But I think we’d better make absolutely certain….”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It was a chilly night, and Daniel had had a long tiring day. He wanted to go to bed but decided to check his email one last time. Daniel’s inbox contained twenty-five new messages. He scrolled through them to see if anything looked important. Conference date. School announcements. Staff meeting. Nothing that required immediate attention. Then he read the last subject line. “I knew Elizabeth Gardner”—Daniel’s hand froze on the mouse as he saw his mother’s name. He didn’t recognize the sender’s name or the email address, cromwell.com. He clicked to open the message.
He read the first sentence and felt his stomach lurch into his throat.
Dear Daniel,
There’s no easy way to say this and I hope you don’t stop reading immediately, but I believe I am your father.
My name is Roger Cromwe
ll. I met your mother, Elizabeth Gardner, on a warm summer night in 1967. I had just completed my Masters in Business at Cambridge and taken on a job at my father’s company, Cromwell and Associates. Your mother was the new summer intern.
I can still remember seeing her for the first time. Her long hair was flowing down her back, her summer dress blew in the breeze. She was helping serve drinks to all the clients my father had invited to the annual customer appreciation soirée. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She was beautiful.
I watched her all night, but it wasn’t until the end of the evening that I got to speak with her. I fell in love with her the moment I heard her voice, and more in love with each passing word. I was married at the time, quite unhappily so, and talking to Elizabeth at work quickly became the highlight of my days. She was the only bright spot in my life.
We tried to deny our attraction to one another. It wasn’t proper for her to become involved with someone at work and it certainly wasn’t proper for me to court her when I wasn’t truly available, but it became impossible for us to resist one another—it consumed us both.
When we finally gave in I was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. We spent three glorious months together, then one day she disappeared. She gave notice at work, moved out of her flat, her roommate refused to tell me where she had gone. I was beside myself—frantic.
With enough searching I learned that she had moved back in with her mother, in Oxford. I drove there that night, desperate to convince her to come back to me. I told her I was leaving me wife, and that we could be together for real. She wouldn’t believe me. She told me to go away and never contact her again. I drove back to London, crushed. It was the longest drive of my life.
I did leave my wife and I sent Elizabeth proof of our separation and our divorce, hoping she would take my declaration more seriously, but it made no difference. She refused to see or even speak with me. My subsequent letters were returned unopened. I finally accepted the fact that she must not have felt the same way that I had felt about her.
I requested a transfer to a different division of the company and began to travel constantly for work. Anything was better than sitting in the office where Elizabeth and I had met. I couldn’t bear it.
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