In Confidence

by Karen Young

  She was a little breathless when he let her in. “Apples and cheese,” she said, holding up the bag. To go with the wine.”

  “Sounds good.” But as he took her offerings, he noticed something in her face. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “It’s nothing. I—” She shook her head. “All this talk of intrigue has me spooked a little, I guess.”

  He picked up her hand. “Scared of the dark?” She thought for a minute that he was going to kiss her again, but he just gave her a quick hug and, keeping his arm about her waist, walked with her to the kitchen, where he put the bag on the counter. “So, is Nick okay?”

  “Dead to the world. Sleeping like a man without a guilty conscience.”

  “One of the few advantages of being fifteen.”

  She watched him remove the Brie and apples from the bag, then took the cheese from him to unwrap it. “I’ve been thinking about the Sims’s place on the lake, Cam. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that Monk felt comfortable including people like Joseph to a gathering of teenage boys? It makes you wonder if Robbie’s father knows what’s going on.”

  Cam watched her peel away the wrapping on the Brie. “Maybe he knows it and turns a blind eye.”

  “Do you have a serving dish for this?”

  He produced a dish that appeared to be pewter. “Will this do?”

  “Uh-huh, but I bet you don’t have a spreader.” At his blank look, she added, “For spreading the cheese.”

  “You’d be wrong.” He reached up on top of his refrigerator and took down a box with four small knives, never opened. He broke the seal and handed over one of the knives, which had a mouse for a handle. “That adds a touch, don’t you think?”

  “Very cute.” Setting the Brie aside, she reached for the apples and washed them at the sink. “If Sims knows and is turning a blind eye, you know what that means, don’t you?”

  “His kid gets a leg up for a scholarship.” Cam took a paring knife out of a drawer and handed it over. “Or am I being too cynical?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Robbie has one nailed down, but it’s not what his father wants. Mr. Sims was in my office a few weeks ago telling me he was confident something better would materialize soon. It was a not-so-subtle hint, but I’m no miracle worker and I told him Robbie’s chances of getting a better offer were unfavorable considering his GPA.”

  “Maybe he should offer to outfit Tyson’s office with new furniture, although what I saw when I was there didn’t look as if it needed replacing.”

  “He’d have to get in line,” Rachel said dryly, thinking of the ratty couch in her office. “Tyson has numerous local VIPs ready to ante up for the sports program. I just wish they’d spread some of that largesse around. I could certainly use some new furniture. That couch in my office gets a lot of traffic, as you can imagine, and I don’t see money in the budget to replace it anytime soon.” She arranged the apples and Brie on the platter and, with a damp sponge, gave a swipe to the island counter where she’d worked. “I’ll just go to the powder room and freshen up if you’ll tell me where,” she said, dropping the sponge in the sink.

  “Second door on the left, but I’ll show you.” She went with him and waited as he pushed the door open, crossed an arm in front of her to flip the light on. “I’ll take the platter in the den, then run upstairs and check the answering machine. Be right back.”

  In the bathroom, she stood before the mirror after washing her hands and applied fresh lipstick. With a small brush from her purse, she gave a few swipes to her hair, and then, as she dropped the articles back into her purse, she took out the small perfume bottle she always carried but seldom used. Removing the cap, she dabbed a bit in the cleft between her breasts and caught a glimpse of herself as she recapped the bottle. She’d just spent a full day with Cam, and in spite of the purpose of the trip, she had loved every minute of it. She loved being with Cam. When, before her marriage failed, had she last spent a day with Ted and loved it? When was the last time she’d put on perfume with Ted in mind? When had the joy of being together faded for them?

  Caught up in her thoughts, she started at a quick tap on the door and Cam’s voice. “Everything okay in there?”

  She closed her purse with a snap and opened the door, smiling at him. “Yes, everything’s fine.” He was a bit closer than she expected and she again went a little breathless when he reached behind her to pull the door shut.

  “Just a second,” he said, leaning in even closer as if to give her another soul-shattering kiss. “Hmm, whatever you put on in there smells good. What is it?”

  “Eternity. It’s nothing special.”

  “On you, it’s special.” He slipped an arm around her waist and fell into step with her, heading for the den. But no kiss. He had some technique, she thought, kissing her when she least expected it and not kissing her when she did. “I was thinking,” he said, “why don’t I donate some stuff for your office?”

  It took her a moment to recover. “What a good idea,” she said, thinking he was joking. “And I’d also like a new carpet. Oh, how about a piece of original art, too? Something like that fantastic watercolor you have in your foyer.”

  “Go pick everything out and I’ll have it delivered.”

  She looked at him. “Are you serious? They wouldn’t even let me accept a bouquet of flowers, let alone furniture and a new carpet.”

  “Sounds like a double standard. Tyson can take whatever’s offered in the name of sports, but you can’t have a new couch?”

  “I know it makes no sense, but that’s pretty much the way it is.”

  “You said you needed it and I’d like to do something for the school. In Jack’s name. As for school bureaucracy, let me handle that.”

  In Jack’s name. A gift to the school. Cam’s first outward gesture in coming to terms with his terrible loss. At last, Rachel thought with joy bubbling up inside her. He’d been moving in the right direction, but such a gesture was indeed a giant step emotionally. And that he would choose to outfit her office, of all places, in Jack’s name warmed her heart. She hoped it meant he was letting go of the bitterness he’d felt toward her for failing to save his son. She wanted to hug him as he bent to turn on a lamp near the sofa.

  The glow threw into relief the austere look of his features, shadowed now with dark beard. She liked looking at him, she admitted. Too much. Turning, she headed for a big, man-size chair and a half that, combined with the matching ottoman, looked big enough for a bed. Curling up in it, she watched him go to the bar and take down two wine stems. Being with Cam all day was making her too aware of him as a man.

  “Still prefer red, I hope?”

  “What?” He held up the bottle. “Oh, the wine. Yes, red. Thanks.”

  She realized that what she felt was more than being pleased to see a friend coming out of a long, dark winter of grief. Cam wasn’t merely a friend now, and her reaction meant much more than that, but she shied away from defining just then exactly what he had become to her.

  My God, she really was falling in love with him.

  He crossed the room carrying the wine he’d poured for them. “What was Ted’s problem last night?” He handed hers over and put napkins for each of them within reach on a table beside the chair.

  Glad to turn her thoughts elsewhere, she took a taste of the wine.

  “He wanted to tell me that Francine is thinking of breaking off their affair and going back to Walter.”

  “I’m shocked. Walter’s playing hardball with Francine as far as splitting the marital assets. He’s also got Ted by the short hairs splitting the assets of the practice.” Cam sat on the huge ottoman facing her. “Which puts the lovers in financial straits and takes some of the fun out of life.”

  She sputtered out a startled laugh and quickly sat up, blotting her lips. “What are you, psychic or something? That’s exactly it. And you were pretty psychic in your observations about what he stood to lose in all this. Seems he’s waking up and might be thinking he’s made
some mistakes.”

  Cam got up and came back with a fresh napkin. “Why come and cry on your shoulder about it?”

  She set the wineglass on the table. “The same thing my mother asked. But I think it was more force of habit than anything else. He had no one else to talk to, is my guess.”

  Cam said nothing, but pretended to draw a bow across an imaginary violin. Rachel gave him a chiding look, resisting the urge to laugh, and shoved at his knee, very close to hers. This was awful, laughing when Ted might genuinely be in a midlife crisis.

  “I remember when it first happened I reminded him that Francine was married when she met Walter, who was better off financially than her husband, whom she dumped without a qualm. Well, Ted told me then that the love they shared was special, implying whatever we’d shared was chopped liver, I guess.” She reached for her wine again and took a long swallow. “It hurt at the time.”

  “And now?” He was studying her face, his eyes intent.

  “I’m sorry that Ted has made some disastrous decisions, but whatever bit of sympathy I feel isn’t based on any special concern for him. I’d feel bad for anybody whose life was in shambles. But I was pretty distraught myself when this first happened and he hardly noticed. Nick and Kendy were both shocked and scared, plus, we were forced out of our house and we were suddenly in financial straits. Ted, meanwhile, seemed oblivious to the havoc he’d caused. His basic responsibilities were last on his list of priorities.”

  “What exactly did he want from you last night?”

  “You mean besides permission to stay the night?” She cut her eyes in his direction, curious to see how he’d react to that.

  She said it to be funny, but Cam wasn’t amused. Far from laughing, his gray eyes were as sharp as cut glass and a scowl darkened his face more than his beard. “You didn’t let him?”

  She shook her head. “No, of course I didn’t let him. I cut off the whiskey to be sure he was sober enough to drive, gave him a pep talk and sent him on his way.” She kept to herself that she’d been less interested in listening to Ted than in wanting to be alone to savor the memory of the first real kiss she’d had in longer than she cared to count. “Ted’s always needed a little propping up when stressed.”

  He gave a disgruntled “Huh.” Then after a brief silence, he added, “She’ll probably dump him and he’ll probably be back wanting sympathy and a second chance. He’s relied on you for years and he’ll revert to form. It’ll be for the children’s sake, he’ll say. He made a mistake and he’ll swear never to do it again.”

  “He’s already asked me to help him rebuild his relationship with the kids. I said I would.”

  Cam stood up suddenly, put his wine on the bar, barely tasted, and reached for a bottle of Scotch. “Yeah, well, it’s the right thing to do,” he said, pouring himself a stiff drink. “Nick and Kendy…they need to know he’s there for them. You won’t be the first woman to forgive and forget in this situation.”

  Rachel got up and went over to the bookcase that covered a whole wall of his den. He had very eclectic taste. “Did you build these yourself?”

  “Yeah, my first carpentry project. Don’t look too close.” He was beside her then, preparing to refill her wineglass.

  “No, no more,” she said, covering it with her hand. Actually, it looked like a very professional job, she thought, but she was hardly qualified to judge cabinetmaking. She ran a finger over some of the titles and found none of his own books and decided he must keep them upstairs. She wondered what his office looked like. And, as she imagined a writer’s workplace was extremely personal, she wondered if she’d ever see it.

  “That’s all I promised Ted I’d do for him,” she said, examining a framed picture of Cam and Jack when the boy was about ten. It was tucked in among Cam’s mother’s well-read collection of Agatha Christie novels. With the picture in her hand, she turned to look at him and added, “Nothing else.”

  He put his glass down and walked over to her. “Because you can’t forgive him for cheating?”

  She thought for a minute. “Well, I guess I can forgive him, but I sure wouldn’t ever be able to forget it. I don’t think I could forgive his callous disregard for the kids, either. I’d never be able to trust him not to run out on us again. So, what’s a relationship without trust?”

  “A very rocky one.”

  “I don’t love him anymore, Cam,” she said, frowning. It was troubling to admit, but true. “I don’t think I have for a long time, and I think Ted sensed it before I did, and in admitting that, I have to assume some of the responsibility for the death of our marriage. Maybe, because Nick and Kendy are such a major part of my life, I didn’t feel the void as soon as he did. You get caught up in the everyday things of family life, kids’ activities, keeping house, shopping, social obligations, career demands…” She stroked a finger over the face of his son in the photo. “Counseling is fulfilling. Oh, it’s thankless at times and I tend to take kids’ problems home with me, but at a deep emotional level, I love helping when I can. So, if my marriage was somewhat disappointing, there was much in my life to compensate.”

  “It’s pretty obvious that Ted compensated by finding an extramarital sex partner,” Cam said dryly. “Besides, the man’s a physician. If you want to talk about fulfilling work and helping people, isn’t medicine the ultimate?”

  “I think Ted went into medicine primarily for the money. I know that’s a harsh assessment, but I’ve had to face several harsh truths lately.” Unconsciously, she held the photo against her chest. “I think one of the reasons I found it so difficult to accept that Ted was serious about Francine was just that, his emphasis on making money. His practice was so lucrative that I doubted he’d do anything to jeopardize it. Stealing Walter’s wife was bound to do just that. The consequences would be dire.”

  She looked over at Cam. “Then again, there are two sides to every story. You said it last night. Francine was probably hot in bed. Apparently, Ted was hungry for that, so much so that he risked everything to have what he wasn’t getting at home.” She shrugged. “I’m just not the hot-and-sexy type.”

  “You could have fooled me,” Cam said. Gently taking the photo from her hands, he set it back in its place. “Want me to prove it again?”

  He really was going to kiss her now and knowing it sent a warm thrill over her. Slipping his fingers into her hair, he tipped her face up and lightly touched his mouth to hers. It was feather-light and tantalizing, a mere whisper of a kiss. Her lashes fluttered and she closed her eyes for what was to come. But instead of following through, he rested his forehead against hers, his thumbs caressing her lips, and said, “Be sure, Rachel.”

  She was sure she wanted more. She was sure she wanted to feel the thrill and pleasure the way she’d felt it Friday night. She was sure she wanted him to go even further. She wanted to be touched, she wanted to lose herself in mindless, sexual sensation. She was sure she wanted it to be with Cam. And she was sure it would not be casual sex. For her, sex with Cam could never be casual.

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I haven’t ever been with any other man,” she told him. “Just Ted. So, I don’t have much sexual experience. And since I didn’t really know what was missing in our sex life, maybe I’m just a lost cause. What I mean is, how could I have been that preoccupied with other stuff and not missed it? So, if we make love tonight, I want to be honest with you. I don’t think I’m using you to prove something to myself, but it’s a possibility.” She looked into his eyes. “Will that make you change your mind?”

  “Maybe…if I could make any sense of it.” He smiled, his thumbs still stroking. “But I think I understand. And I’m willing to take a chance that you’re wrong about yourself.”

  She gave a shaky laugh, and then he was trailing those little kisses over her face again. “I guess you do have a lot of experience?” she managed.

  “Enough to know that when a woman responds the way you did Friday night, there’s not a chance anything’s missing in her
.” He was nibbling the long line of her throat now and she dropped her head back, closed her eyes at the sheer pleasure of it. He was barely started and she was breathless already, her skin tingling everywhere he touched and her blood singing. She never even thought of stopping his fingers as he worked to undo the buttons on her shirt or when he pushed it off her shoulders.

  “Oh, look at this,” he said, smiling. Her bra was a frothy scrap of lace, pretty and provocative. “But it has to go.” Cam popped the front clip and made a satisfied sound as her breasts spilled out into his hands. “Pretty, very pretty,” he told her in a voice going thick with desire. And, watching his face, Rachel suddenly felt appealing and feminine and she exulted in it.

  All it took was just the tip of his tongue touching her nipple and she shuddered, nearly coming apart in his hands. And he hadn’t even kissed her yet, came her disjointed thought. With his mouth at her breasts, he caressed the slope of her shoulders, played the length of her backbone and sought the flare of her hips. Then he opened the fastener of her jeans and found the zipper tab, eased it down and slid his hand inside beneath the lace of her panties to palm the warm skin of her belly. And beyond.

  “I want to kiss you there,” he told her, his breath warm on her skin. “But first…” This time his mouth took hers in a deep, lush kiss. Rachel’s mind reeled. All worry that she was somehow missing the ability to respond sexually went in the hot, hard branding of that kiss. With her palms flat, she slipped her hands under his shirt, then sank her fingers into hard muscle and warm flesh. He tore his mouth from hers when she flicked the tiny bud of a nipple and she heard him suck in a quick, harsh breath. Turning her loose, he grabbed his shirt, pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. Then he helped her take off her jeans, and when she stood naked before him, he suddenly stopped.