Were they?
No! Charlie Miles was as faithful as the day was long. Perhaps he let some colleague borrow his email account for assignations with this EJT person. I tapped my fingernails on the edge of the table. My heart was in my throat. Panic was setting in.
Scrolling back to the top of the inbox, I scrutinized the list, trying to see if the note right after he died was indeed the last one. It was. There were newer emails, but no more from EJT135. They’d stopped arriving right after he died. Did that mean they were Charlie’s? Unless… unless the other guy started collecting them somewhere else.
Dammit, I knew too little about how the Internet worked to know what was possible. I’d always just gotten my email from my email account. I’d used the same email address since the day we signed up all those years ago. I knew how to shop online and Google any topic, but the technical stuff was beyond me. I clutched my throat. Pain was building inside me, making clear thought more and more difficult.
A list to the left of the inbox indicated an archives folder.
Ah, okay, older emails.
I clicked it and got another inventory of folders, including another inbox. When I clicked, a list showed up. All the emails in the archive inbox folder were from EJT135—according to the counter, 227 of them dating back two years, which was about when Charlie bought the computer.
I read a few of them—they were all the same. Passionate, sexy, full of EJT’s longing for Doc and Doc’s reciprocal hunger.
Jesus Christ!
I slammed the lid on the laptop and paced the length of the apartment, then back again.
Not my Charlie. God, please.
This Doc had a Jag and he was a surgeon. Arms crossed over my belly, I stared out across the city lights to Lake Michigan, ransacking a list of Charlie’s colleagues in my mind. Who else had a Jaguar? Who was most likely to be screwing around? Frank Forrest? He was always groping me at parties. And Jamie Talbot was a terrible flirt, frequently whispering wicked suggestions in my ear behind Charlie’s back. But Frank drove a Hummer and Jamie, a BMW. Besides, both of them were smart enough to use their own private email accounts.
Whirling around, I stomped to the table and yanked the cover up again to read more of the messages. I couldn’t seem to stop myself in spite of the knot forming in my stomach and the anguish clouding my mind. She adored him and he was nuts about her. Who was this woman? The relationship was long-distance. He had to fly to her and never once did they mention her coming to see him. An idea occurred to me—when was the last time Charlie went to a medical conference?
One of the tabs at the side of the program window was for a calendar. I found it and furiously clicked the arrow to go back to June year before last. Oh, God! He’d had a cardiology conference scheduled for that last week in June, but it didn’t say where. Did I know about that?
Oh, wait, he saw her six months before he died… either August or September of last year.
Was he away then? My brain was so muddled, I couldn’t remember. I went back to September, but there was nothing listed there.
Thank God.
I moved one month back and scanned the August calendar. Dear Lord in heaven, he’d had a conference at the end of August last year. Bile rose in my throat. Where? Crap, the location wasn’t listed. He’d just put “conference” in a four-day time span. What the hell? Who doesn’t list locations and times on their calendar?
Someone trying to hide something, apparently. But he never let anyone on this computer—why would he hide his itinerary? Possibly because there was no itinerary beyond falling into EJT’s bed.
Where had he been last winter? Right before he died? Menopausal short-term memory loss meant I barely remembered what I ate for breakfast that morning, let alone where my busy husband had traveled over a year ago. I had to think.
I couldn’t think. Stabbing pain pierced my heart, and suddenly my entire body ached and I doubled over with the agony of the discovery. It hurt so badly, I couldn’t even cry and the fact that I remained dry-eyed confused and scared me. I’d never know this kind of heart hurt before. Not ever. This was worse than Charlie’s death. Was there such a thing as pain so terrible you couldn’t even cry?
Charlie’d had an affair.
For at least two years that I knew of for sure.
My mind was racing, but it was going nowhere as hurt and fear turned into hot anger that began to build in my brain.
The bastard!
I slammed the lid down on the computer again, kicked the chair back, and watched it clatter to the floor as a red veil of rage fell over my thoughts.
The rotten, cheating son of a bitch!
I grabbed my wine glass from the counter and hurled it into the sink, where it shattered into a hundred sparkling shards.
Oh, God, Carrie’s crystal!
Somehow, I figured she’d forgive me given the circumstances. My stomach burned and my head pounded as I stormed through the apartment, trying desperately to find something to destroy.
When I got to the bedroom, I spotted the framed photograph of Charlie on the bedside table. Carrie had taken it a couple of years ago—he was drop-dead gorgeous in a yellow polo shirt, standing on our deck, laughing with Liam. His dark grey, leonine mane was swept back from his forehead, his white teeth straight and perfect, and his rugged features almost too handsome.
“You bastard,” I whispered. And then I shouted, “Bastard! Fucker!” before yanking the photo from its mahogany frame. I ripped the picture in two and then ripped it again and again until it was nothing but confetti.
It didn’t help.
Now too angry to cry, I hurled the frame across the room where it landed with unsatisfactory plop in the laundry basket by the bathroom door. I had to get out of there. I needed a drink, a walk, something… someone to help me make sense of this horrifying discovery.
Suddenly, I knew exactly where to go, exactly who to see. Snatching my keys from the dresser, I shoved them my pocket and headed out the door.
TEN
I jammed my finger hard on the doorbell, at the same time glancing up at the clock above the elevators—midnight was only minutes away. Will was probably closing up shop for the night. What would he think when he peeked through the peephole and saw me standing outside in the hallway, barefoot and tousled, red-faced and agitated? The door lock clicked.
“Julie? Everything okay?” Will’s deep voice was laced with concern.
I simply gazed at him for a moment. His brow was furrowed, his eyes dark blue in the dim hallway lighting. Then I reached for him, gripping his shirt front in one hand and tugging him toward me. My other hand snaked around his neck as I brought his lips down to mine in a searing kiss right there in the doorway.
I didn’t give him any time to react. Instead, I pushed him back into his apartment and shoved the door closed behind me. All the while my mouth was pressed to his. Instinct must’ve kicked in because he responded in kind, opening my lips with an eager tongue. He still tasted of wine and chocolate, and the delicious scent of him filled my nostrils as we shared deep hungry kisses. He let his hands wander at will, up and down my spine and down over my hips, and I felt him rise to attention, already hard against my belly.
Jerking his shirt out of his pants, I found the skin of his back, and my fingers drew sensual circles there, right above his belt. He didn’t fight me or stop to question what had happened or why I was there. No, he simply slid one hand down my butt to my thighs and lifted me into his arms. I rained tiny kisses down his cheek to his neck as I nuzzled there. My tongue tasted the skin beneath the neckline of his shirt, making goose pimples rise wherever I touched.
Amazingly, he got to the bedroom without bumping into anything and lowered me to his bed. Pulling back, his gaze locked on mine.
Before he could speak, I put my finger to his lips. “Shh…” My voice cracked. “Please…”
He pushed my finger away, nodding as he lowered his head.
Will’s lips on mine sent heat straight t
o my center, adding even more fuel to the bonfire of rage that burned deep inside me.
Fuck you, Charlie. You’re not the only one who can screw around.
I shoved that thought aside and concentrated on divesting Will of his shirt, yanking at the hem. He tugged it off, then pulled my sweater up and over my head. The urgency was contagious as we tossed our clothing away from us.
He ran one finger over my collarbone and down between my breasts, stopping at the center clip of my bra. His lips followed, touching my skin, his tongue tracing a line over each breast. The hair on his chest tickled my palms as I slid them over his broad muscles, wondering idly if he worked out in the gym downstairs. There wasn’t an ounce of excess flesh on the man—unlike Charlie, the old bastard, whose body had begun to go soft with age before he died. I’d even teased him a little last time we’d showered together.
Focus, Julie! You have a deliciously handsome man unhooking your bra, for God’s sake, and besides… Charlie’s dead.
Will cupped my breast, molding and caressing. A quick intake of breath and his lips closed over my nipple. Dear God, I’d forgotten the unrelenting pleasure of a man’s mouth on me, and Will Brody was already demonstrating he was truly gifted. His tongue swirled around my erect nipple, sending a spasm of sensation to my core. I ran my fingers over his scalp, amazed to feel only his thick, spiky hair.
Huh, barely any product.
Another inane thought, dumbass. Just concentrate.
I did, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back on his pillows. He moved his mouth lower to the flesh under my breast before kissing his way down my belly. I reached between us to unzip my jeans, but he stopped me.
“Let me.” His voice was husky and when he raised his head, his eyes were dark with passion.
My heart sped up at his expression, so full of wonder and something else… some other emotion I recognized but couldn’t define. Suddenly, I wanted this man. I wanted him so badly I could taste it. I pulled him up to kiss him again, ravaging his mouth as hunger built in me. A dam had burst, and the wall I’d erected in the months since Charlie’s death fell. Desire crashed over me. I needed Will’s touch, his pure unadulterated admiration of me, more than I’d ever needed anything in my life.
He was trying to be gentle, his hands sliding slowly into the waist of my jeans and easing them down as we explored one another, but I didn’t want gentle. I pushed his hands aside and shoved my jeans and panties down, kicking them away even as I groped for the snap on his pants. When the back of my hand brushed over his erection, he caught his breath. I reached for him, encircling his hardness with my fingers as he squirmed out of the rest of his clothes.
I stroked and tugged while his hand slipped down my belly to find the sensitive place between my legs—a place I’d forgotten even existed. It had been so long since I’d been touched, for a moment, I worried that my body wouldn’t remember how to respond. But I was there, I was engaged, raising my hips off the bed to Will’s exploring fingers. He created magic there, sending spasms of pleasure through me.
His breath was hot on my throat and on my collarbone where he pressed his lips to my skin before he again found my nipples. First one, then the other, sucking and licking, creating mindless heat deep inside me—heat like I’d never known before. One finger slid into me, then a second, while his thumb rubbed and massaged.
“Now, Will,” I whispered, opening my legs. “Please… “
Drawing back, he fumbled in the bedside drawer and for a second, I didn’t realize what he was doing.
Condom. Oh yes, of course.
Before I could give the matter another moment’s thought, he was sheathed and filling me up.
Dear God in heaven, I forgot. I forgot how delicious a man inside me feels.
He pulled back slowly and then plunged into me before pulling back oh-so-slowly again. I moaned and slid my hands down his brawny back to his butt, pressing my fingers into his muscled flesh, urging him on. All I wanted was for him to take me, to ease the ache.
We moved together in a perfect familiar rhythm, and I slipped further into the moment, unable to think of anything except Will, right now, inside me. My hips rose to meet his as he thrust deeper into me, so deep he found the emptiness in my soul and filled up the places I thought would never be filled again. Overwhelmed at the erotic power of his touch, I spiraled into mindlessness, crying out as I fell over the edge into oblivion.
* * * *
Will hurried into the bathroom, which gave me a chance to pull the sheet up over my nakedness. I couldn’t believe what I’d just done.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Holy shit. I’d just used a wonderful, kind man to exact sexual revenge on my dead husband. That had to be six kinds of sick. But damn, Will Brody sure knew his way around a woman’s body. I blushed, thinking of how I’d reacted to his touch, moaning and crying out, and dear lord, did I scream? Oh surely not. Did I?
When he came back out, I gave him a wan smile and blurted, “I never make noise when I have sex, Will.”
He grinned. “Um… yes, you do.”
“I mean, I usually don’t make noise.” Heat flushed my cheeks. God, he was gorgeous, all tousled and looking tasty enough to eat.
“I’m going to attribute that to mastery of the art, okay?” Giving me a wink, he slipped into bed and scooped me into his arms. “Next time, we’ll go slow, and I’ll see if I can make you meow.”
“Next time?” I hoped he realized I wasn’t being coy. My eyes welled up with tears. “Will, I—”
“No,” he said, brushing my hair back off my face. “Shh… we’re good. This is good. No overthinking, okay?”
“I need to tell you why…” My voice quavered as I sniffed.
With one finger, he stroked the rivulet of tears from my cheek. “Only if you want to. You don’t have to talk about it. I’m just glad you came… and I mean that on several different levels.”
The giggle he was going for emerged and I turned to him, kissing his chest, wetting his skin with my tears even as I shook with laughter. He lifted my chin and pressed his lips to mine. I tasted my salty tears and wine and still the faintest hint of chocolate. My tongue sought his and set off reactions in his lower body that surprised the hell out of me—Charlie had never been back on deck that quickly before. He showed me his need by cupping my behind and pressing me firmly against his erection.
His kisses left me breathless and incredulous. I was naked with another man. I was in his bed, cuddled up next to him, my hands wandering over his chest and sliding down to his hip. His hand slipped between my thighs, and he tugged my leg over his hip, pushing his hard-on against the wet heat between my legs.
I moved up, adjusting my position as we kissed deep hungry kisses. I pushed him over onto his back and straddled him.
But he caught me before I impaled myself on him. “Wait,” he gasped. “Condom.” He could barely get the word out. “Oh, crap… “
“What?” The word came out on a husky breath while I kissed down his chin and neck.
His grip on my hips tightened and he tipped his head back on the pillow. “Um… I… I’m all out.” He tugged my head up so he could he look into my eyes. “Earlier… that was my last one.”
“Will, it’s too late in my life for birth control.” I leaned back down to let my tongue glide over his nipple again and then suck it as he’d done to mine earlier. He drew a ragged breath. I’d never realized a man’s nipples could be so sensitive. “Is there anything you need to tell me about?”
“Not a thing.” He arched his back, nestling into the cleft between my legs and moving up and down, but not entering me.
“Good, me, either—” On those words, I sat up, sliding back until I was perched on his thighs. “Oh, God, at… at least I don’t think so.” I closed my eyes and slipped off him onto the bed, as my stomach clenched. Oh, hell! If Charlie had slept around, maybe I was carrying around all kinds of vermin. “Shit!” I yanked the sheet back up to cover myself.
He rolled over. “What just happened?” With one finger, he turned my face toward him, but I resisted.
“That bastard!” I hit the mattress with one fist. “That goddamned son of a bitch. He cheated on me, Will. God knows how many women he was with. Hell’s bells, I could be crawling with STDs and not even know it.” Sitting up, I threw off the covers. “I need a shower. I gotta get tested.”
“Whoa, hang on.” He reached for me, but missed as I hopped off the bed.
I ran into the bathroom with Will hot on my heels. The harsh light damn near blinded me when I flipped the switch.
Will blinked too, squinting at me. “Julie, slow down. Talk to me.”
Grabbing a clean washcloth from the rack by the shower, I twisted the knob. Water rushed from the double shower heads, soaking us as we stood by the open glass door. Tears burned in my eyes and my lower lip trembled before I caught it between my teeth.
All of a sudden, I let out a wail that would’ve woke the neighbors if Will hadn’t had his walls soundproofed for guitar playing. I bent over, arms crossed over my belly, and sobbed. I couldn’t even speak. I couldn’t find words to tell him how I’d gone into Charlie’s old email box and found those notes from his lover. Pain cut through me so sharply I couldn’t stop crying long enough to admit what had brought me to his bed.
He reached down to lift my face to his. It was right there in his eyes. He’d figured it out. Will knew exactly why I’d knocked on his door and why I’d jumped him after pretending for so long that I wasn’t in the slightest interested. Now, he’d shove me away and probably never speak to me again. I’d used him. It was wrong, so very wrong. He gazed into my eyes, his own expression unreadable at first. But instead of fury, his face softened with sympathy.
“Oh, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
Sex and the Widow Miles (The Women of Willow Bay) Page 7
