Private Indiscretions

“I have business here.”

“When will you be back?”

“Tomorrow night.” He started the car, ending the conversation, ending what might have become a relationship that mattered.

I can’t be seen with you and you can’t be seen with me. It’s that simple.

He watched her in his rearview mirror as he pulled away. She didn’t move except to cross her arms. He’d bet she was giving him hell. And damned if he didn’t deserve it.

“Well,” Dana said as the gate closed. “That was fun.”

She heard the sarcasm in her voice, felt her face heat up and her pulse thunder.

It had been fun, she realized. More fun than she’d had in a long time.

People rarely argued with her anymore. Debated, yes, but nothing with fire behind it, at least not personal fire. There’d been heat between her and Sam. Lots of it. She welcomed the warmth as it settled in parts of her body she’d thought frozen.

Dana walked down the driveway to the mailbox, wondering why she bothered, except that she’d told Sam she was going to. She rarely got personal mail at home. Almost everything came to the office or was transmitted by e-mail or fax. Few people knew this address.

So how did Sam know?

Dana retrieved her Occupant mail from the box that was mounted to the iron fence and headed back to the house, resignation settling in. He’d planned his visit tonight to be short. He’d taken advantage of his flight to L.A. to stop by with a narrow time frame. If he’d wanted to spend time with her, he could have made plans to see her when he got back instead of tonight. What difference would a day or two make?

She locked the house, set the alarm, blew out the candles in the living room and grabbed the bottle of Chardonnay to return to the refrigerator.

The house seemed quieter than usual as she climbed the staircase. She no longer missed Randall’s presence the way she had when he first died. She’d gotten used to coming home by herself. She hated it, but she was used to it.

She stopped in her bedroom doorway and stared at the briefcase she’d flung onto the bed, the same bed she’d shared with Randall. She hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t had time or interest. She felt a sudden need to redecorate, to make it hers, a lighter, airier look instead of the heavy masculine style.

She tossed the mail on top of the bed as she headed for her closet, where she changed into cotton pajamas, then climbed into bed and dragged her briefcase into her lap. Everything inside her churned.

The phone rang. She hated the hope that rose before she could tamp it down. It couldn’t be Sam, and she knew it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pal. How’re you doing?”

She hid her disappointment. “Lilith, hi. I’m worn out but the worst is over. I’m pretty sure that every network and wire service has a quote by now. How are you feeling?”

“Fat.”

Dana laughed, as she was supposed to, but she envied Lilith her pregnancy, her happy and full life with a husband who adored her and work that satisfied her. “This too shall pass.”

“I’m an elephant. I’m sure this is month twenty-two of my pregnancy.”

“You look beautiful. Jonathan undoubtedly tells you every day.”

“I also look in the mirror every day. Listen, Jonathan and I would like you to come to dinner tomorrow night. Just a small group, six or eight, depending on who’s available on such short notice.”

“Any single men?”

“One, but it’s not a setup,” she rushed to add. “He’s—”

“It’s okay, Lilith. Really. I’m ready.” She had to do something with her newly resurrected feelings, and Sam wasn’t interested. A little flirtation might be a good thing.

“That’s a change.”

“I know. It’ll be two and a half years next week. I can’t survive on work alone, as much as I love it.”

“Does that mean I can officially start sending men your way?”

“You mean you were telling the truth when you said tomorrow night wasn’t an unofficial date?”

“Well, not exactly. But there are other men besides this one, Dana. Interesting, intelligent, emotionally secure men.”

More interesting than Sam? “Okay.”

“It’s going to take a while for me to get used to hearing you say that. Um, I take it you didn’t listen to the show today.”

“I didn’t have time, why?”

“Harley called in to the program.”

Dana let that news sink in. Lilith hosted a Monday-through-Friday, commute-time, radio-advice show, Dr. Lilith. Her Ph.D. in psychology qualified her; her warm but no-nonsense personality made her a success, even though she was an ultraconservative living in a predominantly liberal city.

“Something tells me he wasn’t looking for advice on his sex life,” Dana said. “Although he probably needs it.”

“Meow.”

Dana smiled. “Did he identify himself?”

“Of course not. Coward that he is, he got on the air by telling my producer he had a question about how to help a woman lose her frigidity.”

“He said that?”

“Those words exactly. I started to ask him for more specifics, when he said that surely I knew who he was talking about—the princess of Prospector High School. Anyway, I’ll send over a tape to your office so you can hear it. He didn’t name you, but your bio says you graduated from there.”

“How’d you shut him down?”

“You’ll hear the tape. Dana, I don’t think he’s done. His ego is black and blue, and he’s an eye-for-an-eye man. Usually his money and power get him what he wants. You weren’t impressed. He doesn’t like that.”

Lilith wasn’t aware of what had happened between Dana and Harley years ago, only that they’d had a confrontation. Sam knew because he’d been involved, but Dana hadn’t told anyone else except her parents, not even Randall. Like Sam, she buried bad memories.

“Thanks for the warning,” Dana said. “I’ll think about how to handle it.”

“Good. Can you be at our house by seven tomorrow night?”

“If I can’t get away that early, I’ll let you know. As of now, it looks okay.”