Capital Wives

by Rochelle Alers

  “Very funny…” Marisol’s eyes narrowed when she noticed a woman sitting at a nearby table, staring at them. “Don’t look now, but do you know the woman in red sitting at the table to our left?”

  Surreptitiously, Deanna glanced at the table, her gaze lingering briefly on a young woman with highlighted blunt-cut hair covering one eye. The bodice of her dress was so revealing that she should have been arrested for indecency. Each time she exhaled her breasts shimmied like gelatin.

  “No. It could be she recognizes me—” Her explanation was preempted when Spencer returned with Deanna’s glass of wine. “Thank you,” she said when he sat down beside her and draped his right arm over the back of her chair.

  Spencer stared at his wife’s profile. His reaction when he saw Damon Paxton holding her hand wasn’t generated by jealousy but fear and frustration. He hadn’t expected Jenah to attend the gathering, and to have her seated at a table only a few feet from where he sat with his wife was risky and indefensible. There was no reason why she would attend an event without his knowledge when she knew Deanna would be in attendance. It was as if Jenah wanted to openly flaunt their affair.

  She wasn’t the first woman he’d slept with during his eight-year marriage, but she was the youngest and most difficult to control. Spencer realized he’d made a serious faux pas. He’d told his mistress he loved her in the throes of passion; the truth was he loved what Jenah was willing to do to please him.

  He spent the rest of evening avoiding eye contact with Jenah while interacting with those at his table. Sometime between when the monitors were darkened and instrumental music played while the evening’s raffle was announced, Jenah slipped out and didn’t return. He must have emitted an audible sigh, because Deanna turned to stare at him.

  “Bored?”

  “A little.”

  Though only four years old, Oscar Night was quickly becoming one of Washington’s signature’s black-tie charity events. However, Spencer found it hard to distinguish one from the other, because they were supported by the same people.

  Deanna rested her hand on his thigh under the tablecloth. “I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

  Spencer rose and pulled back Deanna’s chair as she stood up. “We’re going to call it a night.”

  Deanna hugged and kissed Marisol, waved to the others and walked with Spencer to retrieve their coats. She was still disturbed by his outburst, wondering if perhaps he was experiencing a meltdown because he’d been working too hard. What she didn’t want to acknowledge was that he could be undergoing a premature midlife crises.

  Chapter Six

  Spencer was sitting up, his back supported by a pile of pillows, when Deanna walked into the bedroom and got into bed beside him. She was surprised to find that he’d waited up for her.

  The drive home from the museum had been spent in complete silence. Usually that was when she and Spencer talked—about anything. Even after he’d parked his car in the garage and they’d come into the house the silence had continued. Deanna knew instinctively that something was wrong, that their marriage was in trouble and if she and Spencer didn’t talk about it then they wouldn’t stay together long enough to celebrate their tenth anniversary. Reaching over, she flicked off the lamp on her side of the bed, plunging the bedroom in darkness.

  She adjusted the pillows under her shoulders and lay with her back to her husband. “Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice was low, coaxing.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  Deanna held her breath, counting slowly to ten. “Please don’t insult my intelligence, Spencer. I’ve lived with you long enough to know when something is bothering you. Maybe you don’t have to give me all the intimate details, but I’m not going to allow you to shut me out.”

  “It’s work-related.”

  “Is it something you can talk about?” she asked.

  There came a pregnant silence before Spencer said, “I can’t talk about it without mentioning names, and that would breach client-attorney confidentiality.”

  “You’re representing someone who works at your firm?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want to accept his case, but I couldn’t in good conscience stand by and let him go to jail for something he didn’t do.”

  “Are you telling me the man is innocent?”

  “Of course he’s innocent, Dee. I’d never risk my reputation defending a guilty client.”

  “That’s not true, Spencer. I remember you taking on the case of that woman who’d admitted to murdering her husband because he’d discovered she was sleeping with his chauffeur.”

  “I didn’t defend her personally. The firm did. And we normally don’t handle cases that involve murder, but we did because she was the granddaughter of a prominent judge and one of the partners owed him a favor.”

  “She’d confessed to murder, yet the jury found her not guilty of all charges.”

  “That’s because we could prove that her husband had planned to kill her. It’s not often the self-defense theory works, but that time it did.”

  “This case you’re handling for a coworker, does it involve murder?” Deanna asked.

  “No.”

  “Have you thought that maybe you should let another attorney handle it?”

  “Why would you say that, Dee?”

  “Because it’s affecting you,” she countered. “I saw a side of you tonight that frightened me. I’ve never seen you act like a street thug.”

  “I’m a street thug because I thought a man was trying to get into my wife’s panties? Don’t forget I spent the first ten years of my life on the South Side.”

  Deanna ignored Spencer’s reference to his Chicago roots. “Damon Paxton wasn’t trying to get into my panties, so get your mind out of the gutter, Spencer.”

  “Don’t be so naive, Dee.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s exactly what I said. Don’t be naive. Damon is no Boy Scout.”

  “I could say the same thing about a lot of the men I do business with, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with them because they may smile at me or hold my hand.”

  “Have you ever cheated on me?”

  Deanna went completely still, unable to believe what her husband had just asked her. “I can’t believe you just asked me that,” she said, voicing her thoughts aloud.

  “Just answer the question, Dee.”

  Her temper flared. “I’m not on trial, so I’m not going to answer anything.”

  “Not answering can be construed as an omission of guilt.”

  Deanna popped up like a jack-in-the-box and turned on the lamp. “I’m not your client, so don’t try and relate to me like one. We had this conversation before we got married, and I remember telling you that if I met someone I wanted to sleep or be with I’d be forthcoming and tell you, Spencer, because I don’t do subterfuge. And the fact that in eight years I’ve never told you that I want a divorce or a separation means I’ve never cheated on you. Or better yet. Do you want me to cheat on you, so it would make it easier for you to cheat?”

  “I’ve never cheated on you,” Spencer lied smoothly.

  “So you say.”

  He sat up. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Let’s say I believe you until I find out differently. The truth is like cream. It always rises to the top.”

  “Maybe it’s a good thing we decided to wait ten years before starting a family, because bringing a child into marriage where trust is an issue—”

  “Trust is not an issue,” Deanna interrupted. “You’re making it an issue. If I didn’t trust you, Spencer, then I never would’ve married you. If I didn’t trust you, then I would have hired someone to follow you when you claim you’re working late or you’re not coming home because you’re stuck in some hotel suite preparing for trial. I’m not so insecure that I need you in my face 24/7, so you’re going to have to come up with another excuse as to why our marriage may be in trouble.”

  “Our marriage i
sn’t in trouble.”

  “What is it, Spencer?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I know,” Deanna countered quickly. “Our marriage is in a rut. When was the last time we went on vacation together? I can’t remember the last time you called to tell me to meet you in a hotel where we would act like married lovers and fuck our brains out. I used to get so excited thinking about what I wanted you to do to me that I had to change my panties a couple of times before I left the house. I miss our date nights, the impromptu rendezvous, and just my waking up with you beside me.”

  “Aren’t you the one who complains if I come in late and wake you because you need your sleep?”

  “Why can’t you come home earlier?”

  “I can’t because I’m working.”

  “Why do you make it sound as if you’re the only one who’s working?” Deanna asked. “I usually don’t plan daytime events. There are plenty of nights when I don’t get home until three or four in the morning, but there are nights when I don’t have an event and I’m home alone. You’re well aware of my schedule because it’s on the board in the kitchen and in the upstairs office. And there is never a time when you ring my phone that I don’t answer. Let me assure you that if I did have a man between my legs not only wouldn’t I answer the phone, but I’d turn it off.”

  “I can’t answer my phone when I’m in the middle of—”

  “You don’t answer your phone, Spencer,” she corrected. “Whenever I call your office either the receptionist answers or it goes to your secretary. And I don’t call your BlackBerry because you claim you use it exclusively for business.”

  “I do use it exclusively for business.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?”

  “What’s up with you, Deanna? It’s as if you’re looking for an excuse to argue.”

  “I’m not looking for an excuse. I just need clarification.”

  “About what?”

  “If our marriage is worth saving.”

  “We don’t have to save it, because there’s nothing wrong with our marriage,” Spencer said confidently. “We have very demanding careers. And don’t forget what attracted us to each other is our ambition to be the best. It takes hard work and sacrifice to be the best. What you have to decide, Dee, is what are you willing to sacrifice when it comes time to start a family?”

  “Becoming a mother doesn’t mean I’ll have to give up my business. I’ll hire an assistant, or maybe more than one, and delegate. And once the child is school-aged, then I’ll resume a more active role.”

  “And I’ll rearrange my schedule to come home and eat dinner with my wife and baby, even if I have to bring work home.”

  Deanna smiled. “That sounds like a plan.”

  Spencer returned her smile. “See, baby. It’s not impossible when we talk it out. Maybe we do need a date night.” Shifting slightly, he angled his head and kissed Deanna, pulling her lower lip between his teeth. He gently suckled her. “If my gorgeous, sexy wife doesn’t have anything on her schedule for tomorrow I’d like to take her on a mini road trip where we can stop and check into a quaint inn and fuck our brains out.”

  Resting a hand on his cheek, Deanna deepened the kiss. “My calendar doesn’t have a thing on it but the date. Shall I pencil you in?”

  “Yeah. With a permanent marker.” Reaching over her body, Spencer turned off the lamp, then his hand began a slow exploration of his wife’s body under the silk nightgown.

  Within minutes everything they’d talked about was forgotten when he guided his blood-engorged penis inside Deanna. Making love to her was always a reminder of why he’d married her. She completed him.

  Chapter Seven

  Damon Paxton stood by the entrance to Bethany’s bathroom, watching as she dotted moisturizer on her face and neck before going through a ritual of massaging her forehead, cheeks and throat.

  He didn’t know why she found the need to buy and use so many creams and lotions, but he signed the checks payable to her dermatologist because it made her happy. And there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep Bethany happy.

  When he’d been told that she was in the museum’s bathroom throwing up his first thought was Bethany was pregnant—again. At fifty-four he didn’t need another child, yet he hadn’t taken the necessary steps to make certain he would never father another. When Bethany reassured him she’d eaten something that hadn’t agreed with her Damon was finally able to relax. He had his daughters, and he also had a son to carry on the Paxton name.

  “Are you certain Mrs. Rodgers can’t bring you a cup of tea to settle your stomach?”

  Bethany met his gaze in the mirror’s reflection. “I’m good.”

  She turned to walk out of the bathroom, but Damon blocked her retreat. “Not tonight, Beth.”

  Her luminous violet eyes darkened. “What are you talking about?”

  His hands went to her shoulders, tightening slightly when she attempted to escape him. “You’ve spent the past two weeks sleeping in the guest bedroom. It stops tonight.”

  “Why tonight, Damon? What makes tonight so different from the others?”

  He closed his eyes for several seconds. “When Marisol McDonald told me you were in the bathroom throwing up I thought you were pregnant again.”

  “Would that have been so horrible?”

  Damon smiled. “No. At least not for you.”

  Bethany’s pale eyebrows lifted. “And it would be for you?”

  “Do you realize how old I am?”

  “I know how old you are, Daddy.”

  His smile widened. Bethany always called him Daddy when talking to their children, but there were times when making love she did call him daddy. “I love my children, but at fifty-four I can’t see myself with a newborn.”

  “You know I’m on the Pill, so that should alleviate your worry that I’ll become pregnant again.”

  “I’m not worried, Beth. The only birth control that is guaranteed is sterilization, and if you were to get pregnant again you know I’ll be here with you.” With each of her pregnancies, Damon had rearranged his schedule to accompany her to every appointment and test. He’d been her Lamaze coach and sat with her when she’d opted for natural childbirth.

  “I know that, Damon.” Taking a step, Bethany buried her face between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t need any more children. We have a son and a daughter, so I’m totally fulfilled.”

  Damon’s arms came down and he looped them around her waist. “I love you, Beth. I love you more than I could have imagined loving any woman. I’ve never made it a secret that I married Jean because she was pregnant with Paige. When I look back I realize it was a piss-poor reason to marry, but I wanted to do the right thing.”

  Curving her arms under Damon’s shoulders, Bethany molded her breasts to his solid chest. “Never apologize for doing the right thing.”

  “I know it hasn’t been easy for you because everyone believes you broke up my marriage to Jean, but it was over before it had a chance to begin. I’m not one to kiss and tell, but I don’t think we made love a dozen times during the time we stayed together.”

  Bethany pulled back, staring up at Damon staring back at her. “What did you do?”

  “I slept with a lot of women, including you.”

  Her eyelids fluttered wildly. “But…but you told me you never cheated on me.”

  “And I haven’t. From the first time we slept together I’ve never looked at another woman, because I don’t have to.” He ran a hand through her thick hair. “You’re everything I want. You’re beautiful, smart, sexy and a good mother.”

  “I want to be a good wife, too.”

  He kissed her nose. “You are a good wife.”

  “The wives of your business associates don’t think so. They hate me because they blame me for breaking up your marriage.”

  “They’re not worth talking about.”

  “They are,” Bethany insisted. “Not one of them sitting at the table tonight loo
ked at me or uttered a word.”

  “They were jealous.”

  “They are heifers.”

  “I agree,” Damon said, smiling. “They don’t have to like you, but the moment I hear that they’ve said something that’s out of line their husbands will pay the price.”

  “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

  “You don’t understand, Beth. It’s about taking care of what belongs to me. It’s my responsibility to protect you the same way I protect Paige, Abby and Connor.”

  Bethany wanted to talk to Damon about Paige, but knew it would end in a row or stalemate. Her meltdown at the fundraiser was the result of Paige sabotaging the chili she’d made for Abigail and Connor. Her children loved her to cook for them, and she did at least five days each week. It was apparent Paige had emptied an inordinate amount of salt into the pot when she wasn’t looking. And when she’d questioned the girl about it she’d turned the tables, claiming Bethany wanted to get her in trouble with her father.

  After dumping the pot of chili into the garbage, she had Mrs. Rodgers drive the children to a local restaurant for dinner. Paige continued to taunt Bethany when she’d used a tube of her favorite lipstick and wrote the word chili on her bathroom mirror.

  Bethany was tempted to leave it for Damon to see, but decided ignoring Paige would be more effective than giving her the negative attention she craved. It was when a woman at the table had asked Damon about Paige and he began to sing her praises that Bethany had suddenly felt physically ill. She knew if she hadn’t left the table she would’ve not only embarrassed herself but also Damon. And she knew within a matter of hours the rumors would’ve been swirling around D.C. that Mrs. Bethany Damon had had an emotional meltdown at a VIP fundraiser.

  And she had Deanna Tyson to thank for rescuing her. Despite her emotional state, Bethany knew she’d found an ally in Deanna when she told her not to give the old cows the satisfaction of seeing her upset. That single sentence had the same impact of being doused with icy-cold water, being shocked by a volt of electricity or slapped violently across the face.