Chapter 4
You’re not worried?”
Jeff Surrey stretched and yawned and then turned onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Not in the slightest. This is a ploy to get attention. Emory wants me to be worried about her.”
“It’s not like her not to call.”
He frowned. “And at the most inopportune times. Like last night.”
His cell phone had vibrated across the bathroom vanity just as he and Alice were climbing into the shower after a round of strenuous sexual activity. Talking to his wife had actually added a bit more excitement to the soapy afterplay. Even so, he’d resented Emory’s interruption, which had almost seemed deliberately timed.
Lately, she’d been calling him often throughout the day, more likely than not for something mundane. Did he want to eat in or out? Was she supposed to pick up the dry cleaning, or had he volunteered to run that errand? Had he called the gutter company to schedule a cleanout, or should she?
The ruses were laughably transparent. She thought she was being oh-so-subtle, when it was clear that she was keeping track of his schedule. For the past few months he’d had to account for everywhere he went and how long he’d been there. Her constant monitoring had become increasingly tedious, and he was running low on plausible excuses for the time he spent with Alice.
“Hasn’t it been terrific? Two days, virtually undisturbed.”
“You’re spoiling me. Breakfast in bed this morning.”
“More like lunch,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
She groaned. “I can’t believe we slept so late. How much did we drink last night?”
“I don’t think it was the wine, I think it was the weed. Very high grade.”
She covered her face with her hands and laughed. “It had been years since I’d indulged. My tolerance had lapsed.”
“It was naughty fun.” He trailed a finger between her breasts. “It made you very sexy. Not that you need help in that department.”
Alice wasn’t a head-turner. Her dark hair and eyes complimented her olive complexion, which some might consider striking. She could be called a handsome woman. But even the most forgiving critics would rate her no higher than a five.
However, there were advantages to being involved with a plainer woman. Fear of rejection made her grateful; gratitude made her easily pleased and effortlessly malleable.
A vertical line of concern formed between her eyebrows. “Do you think Emory knows about us?”
“No.”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly, no. She doesn’t.”
His firm denouncement was basically truthful. He could truthfully say that Emory hadn’t accused him of having an affair, which wasn’t to say that she didn’t suspect it. But to alleviate his lover’s concern, he rubbed the space between her eyebrows with his index finger, smoothing out the worry line. “She’s pouting, that’s all.”
“Did she say anything to you before she left?”
Mildly irritated by her persistence, he sighed. “Yes. She said good-bye.”
“You know what I mean. Did she say anything to indicate that she was on to you?”
“I went home to see her off, and put up token resistance to her going. But frankly I didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The sooner she was out of town, the sooner I could get you into bed.” He placed his hand on her breast and began reshaping it with gentle squeezes.
“Nothing else was said?”
“I asked her to call me when she arrived at the motel, and she did.” Near her ear, he growled, “And delayed the fulfillment of my shower fantasy. For which I’ll never forgive her.” He bent down and gave the tip of her breast a love bite.
But she wasn’t so easily distracted. “That was over twenty-four hours ago, Jeff, which is a long time without hearing from her.”
“She said she might spend another night up there, depending on how tired she was after her run. Apparently that’s what she’s doing.”
“How do you know she hasn’t come home while you’ve been here?”
“Because if the house alarm goes off, it beeps my phone. Thank God for apps.”
“Wouldn’t she let you know if she was staying over?”
He sighed with resignation. “Not that I enjoy discussing this, especially during foreplay, but, if you must know, we were angry with each other when she left. She’s miffed and is punishing me by not calling tonight.”
“What were you angry about?”
“That damn marathon she’s running.”
“What do you have to do with her running a marathon?”
“Exactly!” he said with heat. “That’s what I asked her. It’s not my thing, so why should I always have to tag along?”
“To cheer her on?”
“I’ve done that. Every frigging marathon. For hours I jostle for space at the finish line, waiting for the ten seconds it takes her to run past me and receive my applause for her outstanding achievement. I refused to do it again. But this is a special race for her, so she got her feelings hurt, and… Why the hell am I talking to you about my marital woes, when I’d rather be doing this?” He slid his hand between her thighs. “Isn’t this a better plan?”
She sighed and squirmed against his hand. “A much better plan.”
He rolled on a condom and settled between her thighs, which felt entirely different from Emory’s. That was, from how he remembered Emory’s open thighs feeling. It had been so long since they’d had sex, his memory of it had grown dim.
He was unsure who had cooled first, her or him. Was he cheating because marital sex had become so infrequent and unexciting, or had it become infrequent and unexciting because Emory intuited that he was finding fun in another woman’s bed?
Not that he was accepting all the blame for his unfaithfulness. Oh no. A large portion of it lay with Emory. Every day, she was up and out before dawn, never home before dark. She worked endless hours at the clinic, then took calls at all hours of the night from frantic parents asking her what to do about their kid’s runny nose, or fever, or diarrhea.
Her free time was devoted to training for her damn marathons. She ran. All. The. Time.
She’d been a runner when they met. Initially he had admired her athleticism, stamina, and self-discipline. As well as, of course, her trim form and shapely legs. For a couple of years they’d run together. But then she’d gone fanatic on him.
Fine. He had let her indulge in her hobby, while he’d indulged in his, and right now his was clenching her soft thighs against his pumping hips. He gave one last push and came. He wasn’t sure Alice did, but she was better than Emory at faking it.