“It would seem so,” he said, without meeting my eyes.
“Where did you go?”
“Out of town on business.” His words were cold, stale, and stone-like. I tried to read into them, tried to figure out whether he was lying and discern if he’d really been away for pleasure. His eyes still weren’t meeting mine as he sat down in his chair and put his thumb and forefinger up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it.
“Did you get a lot done?” My voice was calm and smooth. Part of me was still hoping he’d been away on business.
“Lena…”
He didn’t want to talk.
“Will you be coming to bed?” I had no idea why I asked that question. There were two reasons why that question was completely unnecessary. One: I already knew the answer was no. I already knew he wouldn’t be coming to our bed. He would probably never be in that bed again, and I knew that. And two: I didn’t want him in our bed. I was almost sure I didn’t want him in our bed. What I wanted was to go to sleep and wake up, having the last five years of my life be a sick and twisted nightmare. I wanted to wake up to the husband who I loved, the husband who honored our vows, and didn’t sneak away for weekend getaways with other women and his love children.
He didn’t want to talk. So he didn’t. He never answered my question, just clicked his computer on and continued to ignore me, pretending to be interested in whatever had appeared on his screen.
Watching him completely shut me out flipped some sort of switch inside my body. The very last piece of me that was holding out for some sort of understanding, some sort of resolution that included saving my marriage, faded away right into the darkness that filled every room of our house.
I turned and walked back up the stairs and climbed into my cold bed, falling into sleep as I contemplated how I was going to move forward. Unfortunately, all of those thoughts circled around Preston Reid.
The next day, I went to work as if it were any other day of the week. I had a comfortable position at a lucrative and expanding marketing firm in Portland. Derrek would have preferred me to sit on the board of a charity, or spend my time doing more social activities, making connections, networking with wives of powerful men, but I always stood firm on having my own career.
I was halfway through the day, mindlessly tending to all the catch-up from the weekend, when I heard my phone vibrating in the top drawer of my desk. I pulled the phone out and slid my finger across the screen, revealing I had a new text message. It was from Preston.
**I need you tonight.**
I read the words and tried to keep my pulse under control. Then I admonished myself for allowing my body to react so powerfully to his words. I gaped at my phone and felt my core pulsing with every heartbeat, which was rapid and ferocious. I swallowed, but still didn’t move, uncertain of what my next move even was. Before I was forced to make a decision, my phone vibrated again.
**I can be at your house to pick you up around five.**
What in the world was he talking about? I was still trying to recover from his first text, also trying to keep my mind from running away with those words and turning them into something completely inappropriate.
**What, exactly, do you need me for?**
I felt my breathing even out as I waited for a response. There was no hope to focus on anything else until he responded. After what seemed like a millennium, his answer came.
**Lena, there are many things I need you for. The list is long, involved, and dirty. But tonight, I need you for professional reasons. However, if you wish to rearrange the parameters of our relationship, I am open to that discussion.**
Holy shit. He was flirting with me. Well, if one could call that flirting. He was flat out propositioning me. My hand, of its own accord, came to the base of my neck, trailing across my collarbone. I thought about my options for a moment, and even though I tried, desperately, to keep my mind on the task at hand – finding inarguable proof that Derrek was cheating – my mind wandered to Preston’s dark eyes and luscious lips. My fingertips trailed down my sternum and then back up my neck, the tickling sensation making goose bumps appear wherever my skin was bare. Then my phone buzzed again and I jerked my eyes to the screen.
**Sweetheart, are you with me?**
Oh, God.
**I’m here.**
I replied without meaning to.
**Will you be ready at five?**
I swallowed hard and my fingers moved over the screen.
**I’ll be ready.**
At five sharp, I watched as a very sleek, very sexy, black Lotus pulled into my driveway. I continued to watch as the driver’s door opened and Preston unfolded himself from it. He was still wearing that sexy jacket and I wondered if he ever went anywhere without it, or even took it off. He had a dark blue t-shirt stretched over his chest, just tight enough to hint at what was beneath it, and a pair of black jeans. He walked toward my front door and I forced myself to stop peering at him through the living room blinds.
I stood and brushed my hands down my front, making sure I looked presentable. When I heard the doorbell ring, I continued to the door, opening it right after I took a calming breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
When the door was open, we both just stood there, neither one of us able to hide the fact that our eyes roamed the other.
“You’re not dressed appropriately.” He spoke first, his eyes still running up and down my body.
I looked down at my outfit. “What do you mean?” I was wearing jeans and a soft, white, short-sleeved sweater.
“I mean,” he said, stepping into my house, forcing me to step back and allow him entrance, “you can’t wear that. Go change into something dark, like black. We can’t have you standing out.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to follow Derrek home from work. I’m hoping he’ll head to his other home.”
Well, that stung.
I nodded out the door to his black car with very dark tinted windows. “I don’t think anyone will be able to see me through your windows.”
The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, not a full smile, but a hint of one. He turned and walked further into the house, forcing me to follow.
“Who says we’ll stay in the car?”
I guess he had me there. “I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, grudgingly. When I returned, I looked much the same as I did when Sam and I did our stakeout. I was in black jeans, but instead of the turtleneck, I wore a black, V-neck cotton tee. The jersey knit hugged my chest and I purposefully chose it over the frumpy turtleneck. If I had to look at Preston in his leather jacket and blue, clingy shirt, he would have to endure my tee that gave a slight view of my cleavage. He looked at me when I reentered the room, but quickly motioned toward the front door.
“Let’s get a move on. We don’t have much time.”
The ride to Derrek’s work was silent, and I was okay with that. I spent my time trying to figure out what all the buttons did inside Preston’s Lotus. It looked how I imagined the inside of a space shuttle might: flashing lights, switches, buttons everywhere, and even my ass was warm. He parked across the street from the main door, just like Sam had, and we sat and watched, waiting for him to come out. I was in the middle of wishing we had snacks when Derrek walked out. My breath caught in my throat as we silently watched him walk to his car, and I managed to exhale when he pulled out into traffic. Preston pulled out after him, but we didn’t talk as he tailed him.
Preston was noticeably better at following a car than Sam and I had been. He didn’t need me to tell him where to go, or which direction Derrek’s car was heading, as he seemed to manage both the tailing and driving aspects fairly well on his own. So well, in fact, I began to wonder why he’d even brought me along.
“Why am I here?”
“What do you mean? You want to get your proof, right?”
“Yeah, but I’m obviously not needed. I haven’t said one word and you haven’t asked me one question. I’m not
aiding your investigation one bit. So why did you bring me?”
“Where did you meet him?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the road and presumably Derrek’s car.
“What?”
“Your husband. Where did you meet him?”
“How is that going to help your investigation?”
He shrugged. “It won’t. You just seem a little uptight so I thought I’d give you what you want – a little interaction.”
I eyed him, trying to decide whether I was going to answer his question. I finally rolled my eyes and gave him the answer. “I met him at a frat party my sophomore year of college.”
“Hmm,” was his response.
“Hmm?”
“I could totally see Derrek as a frat guy, but you, well, you don’t strike me as the kind of girl who hangs out with them.” As he said this, his head swiveled toward me and his eyes were gleaming, a slight smile pulling up the corners of his mouth.
“I wasn’t, really,” I said, turning away from him again. “Sam dragged me there and I was holding up a wall, drinking alone, when Derrek approached me.”
“And then he swept you off your feet?”
It was my turn to shrug. “I suppose. I mean, it’s not like we were engaged the next day or anything, but I never dated anyone else after I met him that night.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“That’s not a lot of time to cram in a lot of dating experience.”
“I hadn’t had any.” The words came tumbling from my mouth and I wanted to reach out and grab each and every one before he’d had a chance to hear them. I cringed inwardly. Preston cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with my careless and inappropriate confession, and then suddenly, I realized I wasn’t familiar with my surroundings any longer. “I don’t think he’s heading to the same house as he did the other night.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked, and I couldn’t help but think he was glad for the sudden change in subject.
“This isn’t the same route. Last time, we left his building and made our way straight to the freeway. He’s definitely heading somewhere different.”
“Do you remember which freeway he took?”
“Yes. He took I-84, headed East.”
Before I knew what was happening, Preston slid his souped-up Lotus around the next corner, hanging a right so sharp I was forced to lean to my left, and centrifugal force had me leaning right into Preston’s shoulder. My hands reached out to the sides, trying to find purchase on any surface that would keep me upright.
“What the hell, Preston?” I shouted as the car straightened out. My heartbeat was thundering and I looked to him, searching for an explanation.
“If I get us to the freeway, can you direct me to the house again?”
“You mean his other house with his other wife and children?” My question was snide. How could I forget the house my husband shared with another woman or the path there? Both were branded into my mind.
“Yeah. Can you get me there?”
I blinked at him, my eyes narrowing, eyebrows scrunching together. Somehow, in the last thirty seconds, he’d gone from somewhat aloof, asking me pointless questions, to this high-strung man making demands and full of tension.
“Yea…yes, I think I can get you there,” I stammered.
Again, we were thrust into silence as he navigated his way to the interstate. When we’d been driving for nearly thirty minutes, I recognized our exit and then proceeded to direct him back to the house.
We pulled up and drove by slowly. The house was dark and seemed empty. It was only early evening and it seemed unlikely that someone was inside, considering how dark it was. Preston kept driving, but at the next intersection, he made a U-turn and then pulled over a few houses down the road. We sat in silence and I stole glances at Preston, waiting for his next move.
“What are we doing here?” I whispered. No one could hear me but him, but it felt like a situation that warranted whispering.
“Investigating,” he said slowly, his eyes still on the house.
“But no one’s here,” I whispered in response.
“That’s where the private comes into play.” This he said with a small smile, and damn it if I couldn’t help a smile coming across my face as well. I let the smile settle. It caused a little bit of tension to roll away, and I relaxed into the lush seats of his fancy car. For a few more minutes we sat in the quiet car. Preston’s eyes were locked on the house and then finally he reached down an unbuckled his seatbelt.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going into the house.”
“Oh, no, we’re not,” I stated loudly, a little surprised he would even consider it.
“The proof you’re so desperate for might be inside that house, Lena. Do you think he’s just going to hand it to you? You think he’s just going to give up and hand you half of a fortune he feels one-hundred-percent entitled to? You hired me to find you proof, and this is how we’re going to get it. Now, get out of the car and follow me.”
My mouth gaped open for a moment, then I snapped it shut. He was right. We wouldn’t get the proof I needed sitting in his car. I unclicked my seatbelt and opened the door, shutting it softly behind me, not wanting to draw attention to us. I met Preston at the front of his car and gasped when his hand folded around mine and laced our fingers together. He tugged gently on my hand, pulling me into his side, and he pushed our clasped hands behind me, pressing them into my lower back.
The front of me was fully pressed against his side and his warm fingers were wrapped around mine. I was sure he could hear my heartbeat pounding through my body, and I instinctively pressed my free hand into his chest, trying and failing to push him away. He was too close. He felt too good. I was tugged a little closer and felt his lips on the shell of my ear.
“Don’t pull away, sweetheart.” His breath floated over my skin and I bit my lip to hold in a moan, still fighting my body for control, fighting the reaction I was having. “If anyone is watching us, we simply look like a couple taking an evening stroll.” His mouth lingered and I relaxed. I told myself I was playing along, not wanting to draw attention. Really, I took the opportunity to feel him. My hand on his chest moved slightly, running along the valley between his pectoral muscles. His body was hard and warm, my fingers grazing along his front. His hand gently squeezed mine behind my back, silently reassuring me. My hand moved up over his shoulder, slowly cresting and ending up behind his neck, my fingers running over the softness of the close-shaved hair at the nape. He exhaled and I felt his forehead press into my temple.
“We’re going to go in the house and you’re going to keep watch, yeah?”
I nodded, but left my hand on his neck. I felt Preston’s head tilt slightly, and then his lips were pressed against the sensitive skin just below my ear. My lungs quit working and all the synapses in my body fired at the same time, and I felt my stomach flip. His mouth was on me and it was glorious.
Then he was gone.
He kept a hold on my hand, pulling me toward the house I’d seen Derrek go into just days before. As we walked up the drive, Preston pulled something from his back pocket and when we reached the front door, he let go of my hand and crouched down. I did my duty and looked around, watching for anyone who might see us, and I heard the sound of the doorknob jiggling and metal scraping against metal. When I heard the door open, I turned and saw Preston slowly making his way inside.
My heart thundered so fiercely in my body, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive. Never in my life had I done anything illegal, so breaking into someone’s house was not something I was used to. When I stalled on the front porch, Preston came back for me, wrapping his hand around mine once again, and tugging me into the house, shutting the door behind me.
“Lena, breathe. Everything is going to be fine. No one is here.”
I took his advice and dragged in a breath, doing my best not to pass out in the entryway
. I nodded at him, but couldn’t see his expression in the darkened house. He gave my hand a squeeze, but then let it go and moved away from me.
“Where are you going?” I whispered, this time the whisper totally justified.
“I’m going to investigate.” I didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. “You stay here and keep watch. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know.”
“Okay.”
He disappeared, the darkness swallowing him, but I could still hear him throughout the house. I stood at the door, peering out the windows next to it, watching for anything that might cause alarm. Minutes passed and my heart slowed and my body started to relax. A car came down the road and my breath caught, but when it slowly drove past, I relaxed again.
After a while of nothing exciting, I saw a person walking on the sidewalk across the street. They came from the right and when they were directly across from the house, they stopped and turned toward it and seemed to just stare. They were too far away for me to see clearly, but I knew the person was facing the house and not moving. When they didn’t continue on their way, I panicked and went to find Preston.
“Preston,” I whisper-shouted into the blackness. Not being familiar with my husband’s other home, I was fumbling in the darkness, trying not to run into furniture or walls. “Preston!” I whisper-shouted again. I was walking down a hallway, peering into dim doorways, trying quietly to whisper his name.
I came to another door and noticed a figure moving inside the room.
“Preston?” I whispered.
“Yeah?” he said. I turned into the room and saw a beautiful four-poster king-sized bed. I halted just a few steps in, realizing I was in a bedroom. Most likely, their bedroom. A wave of nausea came over me, but was pulled away from it when a warm hand wrapped around my upper arm. “What is it?”
I blinked, trying to acclimate, trying to see him. “There’s a person across the street watching the house.”
Private Affairs Page 6
