In Confidence

“Ridiculous,” Dinah said with a dismissive click of her tongue. “Ignore him. Besides, we both know where his hostility is coming from.”

“His son,” Rachel said, giving a sigh. “He must still believe that I should have picked up on Jack’s depression and done something before it was too late.” She paused a long moment. “Maybe I should have, Mom. I’ve relived those last few weeks of Jack’s life many times. Maybe Cameron’s right.”

Dinah made an impatient sound. “If you could read the mind of every kid in an emotional tailspin at Rose Hill High, you’d wind up in one yourself. You do a good job with those children, Rachel. God knows, Jack’s suicide was a tragedy, and what makes it even more tragic for you is that you were in the process of working with the boy, but sometimes there’s just no foreseeing these things. Cam’s reaction today was simply that he wasn’t prepared to see you and it reminded him of what he’d like to forget.”

“Cam?” she questioned dryly.

“He told me to call him Cam,” Dinah said, rubbing at a smudge on her elbow. “Try not to dwell on what you may or may not have done. I, for one, know you always do your best.”

Rachel stared at the muddy sneakers in her hand, thinking back to that time. “Jack just didn’t strike me as suicidal, Mom. I must have spent a hundred hours going over those last few weeks of his life. There was something troubling him, I knew that. His grades were slipping and he seemed distracted. His teachers had noticed a change in him. Of course, he was adjusting to a new school in a new state. Big difference between New York and Texas. And his parents were recently divorced, so he had a lot to contend with. It made sense that he was unhappy. Almost any teenager would be. I had a talk with him the day before he…before it happened. Why didn’t I see it coming? If I could have just—”

“Could just what, Rachel? Live that day over? Be all things to all kids?” Dinah removed her socks. “This wasn’t the first tragedy that will happen on your watch, hon. And it won’t be the last. Cam is unable to let it go and maybe that’s understandable, but you’re in a different place. You must let it go.”

Rachel drew in a deep breath and managed a fleeting smile. “I know.” She scooped up the overalls that Dinah had tossed on the bed. “I’ll put these in the washing machine for you and then I’m going to make you an omelette before I leave. And don’t bother arguing, Mom.”

“If you must.” Dinah rolled her eyes and pulled her T-shirt over her head. “May as well throw this in with everything else.” Then, as if still trying to put her finger on something else in Rachel’s mood, she added, “Is everything okay with you and Ted?”

Rachel stopped with the washables bundled in her arms and smiled brightly. “Define ‘everything.”’

Dinah frowned in the act of donning a robe and looked hard at her. “You tell me, Rachel.”

“Maybe, as you say, Mom, I am feeling a little neglected.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Dinah said flatly. “You’ve been willing to put your own needs aside to accommodate Ted almost from the moment the two of you met. I’ll always resent that you dropped your own plans for medical school to help him get his M.D. and a specialty. And now, after all you’ve done—” Dinah was pacing, her hands waving and slashing with heartfelt emotion. It was no secret that she’d long believed Rachel’s sacrifice of her original plan for a career in medicine was a big mistake. She stopped suddenly. “You know what the problem is, Rachel? You’ve spoiled Ted rotten. You haven’t demanded enough from him. I’m happy to hear you finally say you’re feeling neglected. All you have to do now is tell him that.”

Rachel made a short, futile attempt to laugh. “Yeah, that’s all I have to do.”

Dinah gave her a hug. “Go home, hon. Forget my laundry and the omelette. Tend to your babies and then take a long, hot soak in the tub and practice how best to let him have it. I promise you won’t have another call to the ER about me.”

“You should have told me about the onset of hypoglycemia, Mother,” Rachel said with a chiding look.

“I know, but that would be just one more thing on your worry list.”

“You’re my mother. I’m supposed to worry about you.”

“Not if I can help it.” She gave Rachel a gentle shove toward the stairs. “Kiss the kids for me and tell that spoiled rotten husband of yours when he finally gets home that there’re going to be some changes made.”

Rachel wasn’t the only one thinking of changes. Ted stood at the glass doors in the master bedroom of the lake cabin in deep thought. Moonlight dancing on the surface of the lake hinted at the chill of the night, but inside it was cozy. He’d built a fire in the fireplace and had knocked back a couple of stiff drinks. It had helped erase the bad taste he had in his mouth over the scene with Rachel at the restaurant, but he had a headache now, not the beginning of a migraine, which struck him sometimes in the throes of stress or crisis, but a nagging, unpleasant nuisance of a headache. And the euphoria he usually felt when he was with Francine hadn’t quite anesthetized it.

He should be feeling good, he thought. The moment he’d dreaded for months had come and gone. Rachel knew about the affair now. She’d been shocked, as expected, and mad as hell, as she’d had a right. But all in all, it hadn’t been as difficult as it could have been. For a moment, in the parking lot, he’d thought she might turn really mean, but it hadn’t happened. There had been a horrific incident a couple of years ago in Houston when a woman caught her husband with another woman and after an argument in the parking lot of a swank restaurant, she’d climbed in her car and run him over. Not satisfied that she’d hurt him enough, she’d backed up and rolled over him again, killing him. No chance of that with Rachel. She was too practical to do something that would jeopardize the kids and their future. Or herself, for that matter.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he turned away from the view. The site for the cabin had been carefully chosen by Rachel when they’d decided to invest in real estate on the lake. She’d researched every lot available, looking for just the right one, and she’d hit a home run, as usual. She was good at that sort of thing. She managed time and her responsibilities so well that he often thought she could run the Pentagon if she wanted. The trouble was that she wasn’t what he wanted anymore. The type of person she’d been when he was in med school and then setting up the practice was okay, but now he wanted—needed—a woman who was more feminine, more hip, sexier. A woman who needed him and made him feel as if he was special. Sometimes he thought Rachel went for weeks without really looking at him. But when Francine gazed up at him, impressed by his opinions, interested in his experiences, and so damn responsive as a lover, God, he felt incredible.

She stood smiling at him now, shedding the black suit one piece at a time, moving slowly, her body language sensual and provocative. Apparently, she wasn’t feeling the same conflicting emotions as he about having their affair out in the open, but then they hadn’t faced the major hurdle of telling Walter yet. When she wriggled out of her skirt, all she had left were thigh-high stockings—black—a wisp of a bra and thong panties. When he looked at her delectable little ass in that thong, it never failed that his dick went hard and his mouth went dry.

Like a cat, Francine put a knee on the bed and with a playful growl began a provocative crawl over the mattress toward him. “You’re looking too serious, sugar,” she murmured, puckering her lips at him in a wind-kiss. “Get naked and let me make you smile.”

His brain went numb and his erection throbbed at the look of her stalking him across the bed, her sweet butt in the air and the heavy globes of her breasts threatening to burst out of that excuse for a bra. He knew she’d had breast enhancement, but it only made her more voluptuous, sexier. She was a wet dream come to life and she was his.

He pressed a palm against his erection and pushed thoughts of Rachel and Walter from his mind. Francine was across the bed now and her hands were at work unfastening his belt. Next, she’d have him freed of his pants, and with her already in position, one touch from her pink tongue would send him over the edge. He wondered if she gave Walter…

“Wait, Franny,” he told her as she reached for the zipper on his pants. “Hold on, baby.” He caught her hands and squeezed them, stopping her.

She looked up at him, moist lips parted. Seeing his expression, she sighed with resignation and rested her forehead against his abdomen. “What?” There was impatience in her voice. She didn’t like being interrupted.

“We need to talk about it, Franny.”

She moved away, drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her sexy mouth was now in a pout. “What’s to discuss, Teddy? She saw us, she knows now. There’s no turning back. It’ll make everything easier.”

“How do you figure that?” he asked. “Walter will find out, my kids will soon know. Everyone in the practice will be buzzing with it. Hell, within twenty-four hours, all of Rose Hill will be buzzing with it, trust me.”

“They’ll get over it, Teddy,” she said, speaking as if he was slightly dim. Her way of focusing solely on herself made him uncomfortable sometimes.

“It was easier before when nobody knew but us, Francine. Complications will begin to multiply, big time. We need to be prepared.”

“For what?”

She couldn’t be as unconcerned by the consequences as she seemed, he thought. He drew a breath and spoke patiently. “What I’m trying to say is that both of us need to be on the same page, especially with Walter. He’ll have questions. We need to settle between us what we’re going to answer.”

“Forget Walter. I’ll think of something. Whatever he says, I’ll handle it.”

“He’s not going to accept you sleeping with me, Franny. You need to make him understand this isn’t just some meaningless affair that’ll play itself out if he’s patient. You need to tell him it’s serious between us.” Ted rubbed at a temple, now throbbing. Maybe it was the onset of a migraine. He wished for a couple of Darvon tablets, but he’d taken the last of them just a couple of days ago. “Has it occurred to you that Rachel may be talking to him right now?”

“Rachel wouldn’t do that,” Francine said. She lifted one long leg and began removing the black stockings. It was an invitation, but he still wanted to try to settle this. She dropped the nylons delicately onto the floor. “She’s too…”

“Too decent?”

“Yeah, decent. Too nice for the real world. People like Rachel will always get the short end of the stick.”

Ted felt a prickle of unease at her attitude. She was a maddening, irresistible mix of female charm, sexy allure and street smarts. And the package was captivating. It made him uncomfortable to admit it, but he felt almost enslaved. He couldn’t get enough of her.

Sensing she’d crossed a line, Francine reached out and, with a wicked little smile, ran a finger down the opening of his fly. “C’mon, you worry too much.”

He removed her hand and sat down beside her. “You don’t worry enough. We’ve got to talk about Walter. When he finds out, he’s going to be one pissed-off son of a bitch. I’m not sure he’ll be able to control himself. He’s crazy where you’re concerned.” As crazy as Ted himself was, which was another fact that worried him.

She unhooked her bra and tossed it on the floor. “Like I said, let me worry about controlling Walter, sugar.” Up on her knees now, she slipped her arms around him from behind and began unbuttoning his shirt. She got it off him and pressed her naked breasts against his back as her hands moved all over the front of him. “Hmm, I love doing this,” she crooned, sifting through the hair on his chest. “Walter’s got a gut and he’s about fifty pounds overweight,” she complained, tweaking his nipples with her fingers. “Show me a man with muscles and a flat belly and I get really hot, sugar.” She was nibbling on his ear now and he felt himself weakening.

His lust for Francine had been a keen motivating factor in the exercise program Ted had undertaken a year ago. As a result of hours in the gym, his abdomen was as flat as that of a man fifteen years younger, and his reward was the uninhibited enjoyment Francine took in letting him know it. God, it was a turn-on knowing he excited a woman like this.

One of her hands wandered lower now, slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs. He groaned as her fingers curled around him, and he gave up trying to have a practical discussion. Later, he promised himself as he fell back on the bed and let her strip off his pants and briefs. They could work on the practicalities of continuing their relationship later. Rachel might prove difficult once she’d had some time to come to terms with the fact that he was in love with Francine. And Walter was definitely a wild card. He was one possessive bastard where Francine was concerned and Ted could identify with that. But he’d go to hell and back before giving her up.

She had climbed on top now, smiling and tempting him with her lush, heavy breasts cupped in both hands. She still wore the thong and she moved like a belly dancer on top of him, bewitching and utterly sexual, an enticing siren of a woman. Francine called to something deep within him that he’d never known was there and that no other woman had ever tapped. With a groan, he fumbled at the thong, tore it off her and violently buried himself to the hilt. She might deny they were in for trouble, but Ted knew stormy times were ahead. But that thought was lost as he gave himself up to the lust of the moment.

Three

Rachel never had a chance to lay down the law to Ted that night, even if the opportunity had presented itself. Which it didn’t. Marta had fixed dinner for Nick and Kendall, but her loyalty as a friend did not extend to doing the dishes, and without Rachel’s supervision, neither had the kids. So, by the time Rachel had tidied up, supervised homework, monitored television time and urged the kids upstairs to shower and get into bed, it was late. Taking a minute for herself—finally—she had barely begun filling the tub for a long soak and some deep thinking about her marriage and Ted’s infidelity when the phone rang. It was Monk Tyson. She was in no fit shape to discuss Jason Pate’s problems, which she assumed was the reason for his call. She was swamped by her own problems. But Monk was insistent. Consequently, she was tied up for another half hour sharing the details of the boy’s arrest and release from Juvenile in Dallas. It was almost eleven when the call finally ended. And still no word from Ted.

She showered—forgoing the long soak—and turned the covers back on her bed. Waiting up for Ted was something she usually did, or rather, she’d been in the habit of doing so until his hours became so erratic. Now that she knew about the affair, that intimate little ritual of marriage was ended. She felt a pang, knowing Ted probably hadn’t valued that effort on her part for the past year, anyway, considering his infatuation with another woman. He’d be sleeping in the guest room now and was probably relieved to do it. She lay flat on her back, dry-eyed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. She vowed he wouldn’t see her desolation or find her red-eyed and weepy when he finally showed up. But hours later as the clock struck two and then three, she realized he wasn’t coming home at all.