Naked Ambition

It would be easier if J.D. hadn’t been her only lover so far, Susannah thought. “Sex is pure mechanics,” she agreed, determined to be her own best cheerleader. “It’s just a matter of knowing what to touch, for how long, and when.” Still…what if J.D. had ruined her for somebody else? Maybe she could forgive him for being a lousy husband, but for ruining her sex life, she’d have to kill him.

Ellie suddenly murmured, “Joe sort of looks like J.D., doesn’t he?”

“No! Joe’s got blond hair and brown eyes, Ellie! And he always wears suits! J.D. never bothers with a shirt, much less a tie. He goes around bare-chested in worn-out jeans and cowboy boots. He’s dark, too, from staying out in the sun too much.”

“I’m talking about Joe’s body type,” Ellie persisted. “He’s medium height and angular, with slightly bowed legs and the same bony cowboy butt. He’s even got a goatee.”

“That’s what’s in style now,” Susannah scoffed.

“I just noticed,” Ellie continued as if Susannah hadn’t even spoken. “Maybe you’re not going to be able to get over J.D., after all. Are you sure you want this divorce, Susannah?”

Susannah gaped. “You’re supposed to be my best friend, the person I can turn to in a crisis. I started using my maiden name again,” she added. “If there’s any resemblance between Joe and J.D., it’s completely coincidental.”

“A lot of guys have flirted with you, but you picked Joe,” Ellie countered. “His voice is like J.D.’s, too. I mean, not exactly. J.D.’s a famous singer, of course. Still, Joe’s voice is gravelly and low.”

“He’s a man, Ellie! All men have gravelly, low voices!”

The argument ended because Joe slipped behind Susannah. As he wrapped both arms around her waist and pulled her against him, Ellie said, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Fine by me,” Joe murmured huskily. His muscular thighs strained against the backs of Susannah’s and she could feel the nudge of what promised to be an erection soon. “I can’t wait for Garrison to call. Excited?”

Susannah’s knees threatened to buckle. Ellie was right! His voice was like J.D.’s! Oh, his voice was pitched higher, and she’d never mistake it for her husband’s, but there was a resemblance. Why hadn’t she noticed before? “Uh…yeah,” she managed.

Then she noticed Ellie motioning her to the phone.

Garrison.

“The call,” she whispered, panicking. As soon as she spoke to Garrison, she was supposed to sleep with Joe!

He was pulling her toward the phone, but as they reached it, Susannah slowed her steps. Something was wrong, she realized. Ellie had turned chalk-white. Extending the phone, she whispered, “It’s Robby.”

“Robby Robriquet?” Ellie hadn’t spoken to her ex-lover in eight months; no wonder she looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Taking the receiver, Susannah brought it to her ear. “Robby?”

“I have bad news, Susannah. I just talked to Sheriff Kemp, and we decided it might be better if I was the one to call. Uh…we can’t find June.”

“My sister?” As Susannah’s fingers curled more tightly around the receiver, she visualized Sheriff Kemp on the doorstep of Banner Manor years ago. Clad in a tan uniform, he’d kept his hands in front of him, stiffly holding his hat. “We need to go inside and sit down, honey,” he’d said. “It’s about your mama and daddy.” Susannah’s whole body froze. “What’s happened to June?”

“No…not June.”

Relief was short-lived. Was the call about June’s husband, Clive? Or one of her nieces, Laurie or Billie-Jean?

Before Susannah could ask, Robby continued. “June’s fine, but we were hoping to track her down before we called you.”

“J.D.?” The truth hit her with the power of a freight train. They’d been looking for June, so she could provide Susannah comfort. A cry tore from Susannah’s throat, and vaguely she wondered if this was how Mama Ambrosia saw things in her crystal ball not really seeing them at all, but only feeling them deep down in her bones. A hand shot to her neck, and her fingers closed around the engraved charm that lay against her skin.

“I’m sorry, Susannah,” Robby was saying. Had he continued talking all this time?

“There was an explosion on the Alabama around eight o’clock. An attendant at the marina saw him onboard. The coast guard’s bringing what’s left of the boat up, but it’ll take a few days. Until then, we won’t know whether it was mechanical failure, a fire in the galley or the generator. The boat blew sky high, then sank just as fast.

“Because of all the legal goings, on between you and J.D., Garrison’s here. J.D. left everything to you. Earlier today, he refused to sign any divorce papers, saying you were his beneficiary. You need to catch the first plane you can. Ellie, too. It would be good if she traveled with you.”

“He wanted me to meet him on the boat at eight,” she said.

“Oh, no,” Robby whispered.

The thought hung in the air. Had J.D. caused the explosion because she hadn’t shown up? But no…he may be wild, but he wasn’t suicidal. Maybe he was okay. Maybe…

“He’s gone, Susannah.”

Her consciousness seemed to leave her body. She was floating away, high above the room, staring down at herself as if she were having an out-of-body experience. “I’m on my way,” she managed, but the words sounded foreign, as if a stranger had spoken them. It felt as if she were inside a vacuum. From somewhere far off, Tara Jones had started singing one of the last songs Susannah needed to hear, “Precious Memories.”

“That publicist, Maureen, keeps asking me about arrangements,” Robby was saying. “I guess she’s bringing camera crews here. Would it help you if I talked to folks at the funeral home before you get home? Or do you want—”

Camera crews? This was a private matter. “Please,” she murmured. She couldn’t face this without help. Even then, she wasn’t sure she could handle this. “Get those people out of my house,” she whispered. “Especially that woman Sandy Smithers. Get her out.”

“I will,” Robby promised.

Somehow she said goodbye and hung up. The color was still gone from Ellie’s face. “J.D.?” She asked hoarsely.

Woodenly, Susannah repeated what Robby had said.

“I’ll come with you,” Joe said, pushing hair from Susannah’s eyes when she looked at him.

Had she really considered sleeping with this man? Joe O’Grady was comparable, but she’d known J.D. since she was five years old. Now J.D. was gone and Joe was all she had, and yet, she only wanted J.D. It was wrong, but suddenly she didn’t even care about all the mistakes J.D. had made, including sleeping with Sandy Smithers. “I wish I’d never left Bayou Banner,” she tried to say, but no words came out.

“The manager can watch the restaurant,” Joe said. “I’ll help you pack.”

But her dresses were still hanging where they belonged, sandwiched between the cowboy shirts she’d always starched for J.D. although he’d never bothered to wear them. No doubt, her shoes were still in the over-the-door rack. The lefts and rights had probably been switched by J.D., something that always made him laugh because if she was sleepy enough, she’d put her shoes on the wrong feet.

“I have to go alone.”

“You need somebody with you,” Joe persisted.

She’d have Ellie, Robby and people in her community who’d known her all her life. Otherwise, she wanted to be alone with anything J.D. had left behind, his effects and memories. Didn’t Joe understand? Could anyone? J.D.’s death felt even more private than all the things they’d shared in bed.

Would she really never feel his lips crushing down on hers again? Or the damp, hot spear of his tongue as it plunged into her mouth? Or his huge hands as they glided down her belly, then arrowed between her thighs, stroking and building fiery heat? A whimper came from her throat as she imagined his biceps—bulging with corded muscles, shot through with visible veins—wrapping around her and squeezing.

Due to the exertions of performing on stage, J.D. always worked out, even when he was partying too hard, so he was ribbed top to bottom. She could smell the strangely sweet, musky scent of his sweat, and she wanted to shut her eyes and revel in the feeling of its dampness against her own skin. Right now, she needed J.D. more than ever. Only he could comfort her, but that was impossible. He was gone!

She’d been in denial. She’d never get over him, no matter what horrible things he’d done, but now she had no choice. “Maybe in a few days,” she forced herself to say. “Let me go down first, Joe…see what’s going on. After the funeral, maybe then…”

“I should come now.” His eyes were probing hers. All along, he’d thought she was ready to become his lover. She’d thought so, too. But it was a lie. She searched her mind, hoping she hadn’t led him on, but how could she be expected to explain emotions to Joe that she hadn’t yet admitted to herself? And besides, she wasn’t sure how she felt. She couldn’t gauge the compass of her heart tomorrow. Although she hadn’t seen him for months, J.D. was her husband.

Joe seemed to respect that. “We’ll talk every day?”

“Yes,” she agreed numbly, confused but unable to cope with pressures. Would she have called off the divorce? Refused to sign legal papers? A whimper escaped her throat. If she’d stayed home, maybe J.D. would be alive.