In Another Man’s Bed

by Francis Ray

  In Another Man’s Bed

  ALSO BY FRANCIS RAY

  Trouble Don’t Last Always

  I Know Who Holds Tomorrow

  Somebody’s Knocking at My Door

  Someone to Love Me

  Rockin’ Around That Christmas Tree

  Like the First Time

  You and No Other

  Any Rich Man Will Do

  Dreaming of You

  ANTHOLOGIES

  Rosie’s Curl and the Weave

  Delia’s House of Style

  Welcome to Leo’s

  Going to the Chapel

  Gettin’ Merry

  Let’s Get It On

  In Another Man’s Bed

  FRANCIS RAY

  ST. MARTIN’S GRIFFIN

  NEW YORK

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  IN ANOTHER MAN’S BED. Copyright © 2007 by Francis Ray. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  www.stmartins.com

  Design by Maggie Goodman

  ISBN-13: 978-0-312-35613-2

  ISBN-10: 0-312-35613-7

  First Edition: February 2007

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  To health-care workers around the world who tirelessly care

  for those entrusted to their care. I salute you.

  Special Thanks

  Angelique Boyd, B.S., R.N., an extraordinary nurse

  with a boundless energy, ready smile, and unwavering

  passion to always be the best that she can be.

  Thanks for the unending support.

  Prologue

  Justine Crandall had seduction on her mind, and in less than ten minutes she would be in bed with the man she adored.

  The racy thought made Justine grin, then she laughed out loud at her uncharacteristic naughtiness. Both she and Andrew, her husband of five years, were as conservative as they came, but since they’d been apart for two weeks she didn’t think he’d put up much resistance.

  In the cocooned luxury of the Porsche Carrera, she sighed in pleasure and anticipation as the sports car easily took the sharp turns up the Appalachian Mountains. She’d been on the road since five that morning and couldn’t have picked a better day for the drive.

  Spring was in full force. The air was crisp and clean, the sky a startling blue, the roadside bursting with wildflowers. She smiled and slowed as a deer bounded gracefully across the road and disappeared over the steep incline. She’d seen several this morning. It was a good thing DEER CROSSING signs were posted. As owner and operator of It’s a Mystery Bookstore in Charleston, she seldom had a chance to enjoy nature.

  Last night, after Andrew had finished his last workshop at the men’s retreat in Gatlinburg, he’d called to say he was too tired to make the four-hour drive back to Charleston on Sunday afternoon. Justine suggested he stay at their nearby cabin for a few days before returning. He could work on the book he wanted to write.

  As soon as she had hung up, she’d begun planning to surprise him. They were going to have two whole days by themselves, something they hadn’t had in a very long time. They’d built the cabin as their retreat two years ago, but it had been almost a year since they’d been there together.

  Justine patted the Gucci overnight bag on the seat beside her. Inside was a new blue negligee. Andrew loved blue and he loved her.

  She’d be the happiest woman in the world if they could begin planning a baby. Andrew wanted to wait until he wasn’t away from home so much, but she was hoping she could change his mind. For the past nine months Andrew had been on a grueling schedule conducting a number of retreats for men across the country. There hadn’t been very many occasions for “trying.” Justine didn’t begrudge the time Andrew spent away from her because she felt his work was important. Perhaps if someone had counseled her father, he might not have left her mother for another woman.

  Justine knew she’d never have to go through divorce. She and Andrew were committed to each other for a lifetime. Not just because they loved each other, but also because neither wanted to repeat the mistakes of their parents.

  Shortly after nine she pulled up to their cabin, a two-story structure with a gabled roof and a balcony that ran along the back of the house. Disappointment hit her on seeing another car parked beside her husband’s Escalade. She’d wanted them to have this time alone. Annoyance crept in. He should be resting instead of counseling someone.

  People sometimes took advantage of Andrew’s goodness. He didn’t know how to say no. Usually she stayed out of his business affairs, but lately he’d been preoccupied and easily distracted. It was time he was a bit selfish and put himself first, she thought.

  Getting out of the Porsche, a birthday gift from Andrew, she shoved the keys into the pocket of her white slacks and started toward the hand-carved front door. She and Andrew could unload the car later. Right now, she couldn’t wait to see her husband after their two-week separation.

  As she went up the stone steps, she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the Peace roses that were in full bloom on either side of the house. She made a mental note to put a bouquet of the lush pink flowers in their bedroom.

  Upon entering the spacious interior that she had lovingly decorated in warm earth tones and comfortable easy-to-care-for leather, she turned, expecting to find Andrew and his guest in the kitchen. The big plateglass window in the breakfast nook provided a spectacular view of the heavily wooded mountains, which always beckoned them to begin their day there over a leisurely breakfast.

  She started in that direction, then heard a sound from upstairs. She glanced at her watch. 9:10. Andrew was an early riser. Worried, she started up the stairs. He didn’t take care of himself when he was away from her. She wished he were home more. He was a wonderful, loving—

  Her thoughts abruptly halted as an unmistakable moan of sexual pleasure drifted out to her from their bedroom. Stunned, she stood at the top of the stairs, a tightness in her chest, her throat. She wasn’t aware of how long she remained immobile before she moved down the hallway in a daze. Her tennis shoes were soundless on the wool runner on the polished oak floor as she stopped at the open door of the master bedroom.

  Justine’s heart clenched and her breath snagged as she caught a glimpse of a woman’s naked butt and shoulder going into the master bath. Her gaze stayed glued to the closed door as if she were putting off looking at the bed for as long as possible. Her hands clenched, she finally made herself look. Hot rage rolled through her.

  Her husband lay naked on the wide bed. His eyes were closed, one long leg was drawn up, and a satisfied smile curved his soft mouth upward. Justine tried to remember if she’d ever seen that look of complete satisfaction after they had made love. She couldn’t.

  She must have made a sound, because Andrew’s eyelids flew up. Stunned, he stared at her with those light brown mesmerizing eyes that had swayed and motivated thousands, then he sprang out of bed to cut her off from the bathroom.

  “You lying, cheating bastard!” Justine snarled.

  Andrew looked as taken aback by the harsh words spewing from his wife as by her appearance. “Justine, please let me explain—”

  The open-palmed slap across his face echoed through the silent room. He stared at her as if she’d gone mad.

  There were so many hot emotions running through her that she thought she might just have done so. She’d alw
ays been quiet, had never raised a hand to another person, had never given her mother or her teachers one moment of trouble, but right then she wanted to scratch Andrew’s handsome face to shreds.

  She’d given him everything and he’d left her with nothing. The only reason she didn’t slap him again was fear of not being able to stop. He would defend himself and that meant he’d have to touch her. She never wanted his hands on her again.

  “I trusted you. I loved you,” she said, her voice trembling with rage and pain.

  “It only happened once,” Andrew told her, his hand on his cheek, his eyes wide and uncertain.

  She fought the urge to hit him again. “Do you think that makes the betrayal any less?”

  “Hon—”

  “Don’t.” Justine stepped away from the hands reaching for her. “Who is she?”

  “It doesn’t matter. She means nothing to me.”

  Justine raised her hand to hit him again, then clenched it into a fist instead. “That takes you even lower.” She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “Don’t come home. I’m filing for divorce as soon as I get back.”

  Fear leaped into his eyes. “You can’t throw away all that we mean to each other, all that we’ve shared.”

  “I didn’t. You did. Now, get out of my way.”

  “No!” Andrew said, spreading his arms wide so she couldn’t go around him. “Let’s go downstairs and talk.”

  Hysterical laughter burst forth. “You’re naked and your lover just left the bed I picked out for us. Nothing you can say will change anything. Good-bye.”

  “Jus—” His hands lifted purposefully toward her.

  “Try to touch me and you’ll regret it,” Justine promised. She looked over his shoulder at the closed door. There was no sound coming from the bathroom. Whoever was behind that door could hear them.

  Justine had a few words for her. “There’s a word for women like you, but I don’t want to foul my mouth saying it!” With that parting shot, she turned and walked from the room. What she really wanted to do was scream and kick and howl.

  Her world had just been torn apart, her heart yanked out of her chest. With one arm wrapped around her heaving stomach, she stopped on the stairs for just a second, then continued downward. She had to get away.

  Her pace increased. She didn’t want to give Andrew or his lover the pleasure of seeing how much their betrayal had hurt her. She ran faster, stumbling on the way out of the door, picking herself up to stumble forward again.

  By the time she reached her car, her hands were shaking so badly that it took several tries to get the key into the ignition. As she pulled off, Andrew, always well groomed and fashionable, ran out of the house with his shirt open, his slacks unfastened. He was carrying his shoes. She gunned the Carrera and spun out of the driveway, fighting the upheaval in her stomach, the gut-wrenching loss of her dream, as Andrew leaped into his own vehicle and began to chase her.

  Justine was an excellent driver and she used that skill to pull farther and farther away from Andrew. She tried to keep the image of her husband’s deceit at bay, but it kept returning.

  Her hands gripping the steering wheel of her sports car, Justine threw a quick glance in her rearview mirror. Andrew was at least a quarter mile behind her. On the winding mountain road his Escalade was no match for her Porsche on the sharp turns of the narrow descent. With each rotation of her wheels, he lagged farther and farther behind. It would be laughable, if it weren’t so tragic, that he had given her the means to evade him.

  “This car will be carrying the most important and precious person in my life.”

  Justine’s hands flexed on the steering wheel as she fought to keep the tears from falling. Lies. A man didn’t love one woman and have sex with another.

  Her mind shied away from the scene she had just witnessed. She wouldn’t let herself think about it, or she’d never be able to get down the mountain and make good her escape. She had surprised her husband, all right, but not in a way either of them had expected.

  Her eyes shut tightly in an attempt to keep the sickening picture of Andrew’s betrayal at bay. It was useless. She heard the moans, saw the backside of the woman and her husband’s naked body and satisfied expression.

  The blast of a car horn jerked her eyes open in time to see an oncoming truck directly in front of her. She yanked the Porsche back into her own lane and out of the truck’s path with only seconds to spare. Her heart pumping with fear and anger, she glanced in the rearview mirror again. There were so many questions running through her head that she couldn’t sort them all out. She’d worry about them later. Now, she needed to get away.

  “Let me explain.”

  There was no way in hell he could explain away what she’d just witnessed. If it hadn’t taken her those several moments on the stairs to stop shaking and compose herself enough to drive, he wouldn’t have gotten this close to catching her.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement in the thick brush on the side of the road. Three adult deer and one fawn emerged as she passed by. Instinctively she glanced in the rearview mirror.

  She eased off the gas and onto the brakes. Her heart pounded even more as she glimpsed the deer crossing the road. She hit the horn just as Andrew’s car rounded the curve.

  The fawn froze. The others scampered away. Andrew didn’t brake; he swerved around the animal, putting his vehicle perilously close to the edge of the ravine.

  Justine didn’t realize she’d stopped and gotten out of her car until she felt the imprint of the door handle biting into her clenched hand.

  She could see Andrew desperately wrestling with the steering wheel, his eyes wide with terror. Then the back wheels began to lose traction. For a moment their eyes locked, then the Escalade slid down the cliff.

  Justine screamed, then she was running. She stared in horror as the vehicle flipped over and over before coming to a halt. Through the dense trees and shrubbery she barely distinguished the gleam of the gray exterior of Andrew’s SUV. A plume of thick black smoke spiraled upward.

  Justine hesitated for a moment, then began to scramble down the hundred-foot embankment toward her lying, adulterous husband.

  One

  Three months had passed since Andrew’s accident, and the flowers, cards, and telegrams continued to arrive daily. The massive outpouring of prayers and well-wishers showed no signs of abating; in fact, it was increasing. A staff member from Having It All, Andrew’s firm, had been assigned to keep track of all the mail and send thank-you notes.

  “He looks so peaceful. Don’t you think he looks peaceful, Justine?”

  “Yes, Beverly.” Justine answered the way she always did. Andrew’s mother had asked the same question daily for the past month since he’d been care-flighted from the hospital in Gatlinburg to a hospital in Charleston. Justine really couldn’t tell if he did or not. She’d never been able to look Andrew in the face, not after . . .

  “The brain wave patterns are growing fainter each day.” Dr. Lane’s somber voice intruded on Justine’s chaotic thoughts. “Mrs. Crandall, you need to make the decision as to whether you wish us to disconnect life support if brain activity ceases.”

  Andrew’s mother edged closer to Justine, showing her distress, but also her support of Justine’s decision. A decision she’d wrestled with since the day after Andrew had arrived in ICCU almost a month ago and his condition had begun to deteriorate.

  “There’s nothing more we can do. We need to know what you’d like for us to do. Your husband didn’t have a living will.”

  No, Justine thought. They were going to live happily ever after.

  “Mrs. Crandall?”

  Justine looked at the doctor, a tall man with a long face and bushy eyebrows over tired eyes that looked out from behind wire-rimmed gold glasses. The white lab coat hung on his lanky frame as if he’d lost weight. He was the top neurosurgeon in the state. He was the reason they’d transferred Andrew.

  However, Andrew�
��s heart had stopped en route to Charleston. It had been his second cardiac arrest since the accident. This time his heart had refused to beat longer than during the first arrest two months earlier.

  “It would be the humane thing to do,” the doctor said, sounding as tired and as weary as she felt.

  Humane perhaps, but did she want them to disconnect the respirator if he coded and was determined brain-dead because he had betrayed her or because it was the right thing to do? She’d risked her life to save his because it wasn’t in her to do anything less. The scratches, cuts, and bruises on her body from dragging him to safety were healed; those on her heart and soul remained open and painful.

  “Are you sure there’s no hope of him waking up?” Beverly asked, her slim hand stroking the pale, gaunt cheek of her son as the respirator pumped air in and out of his lungs. Always perfect, there wasn’t a hair out of place in Beverly’s short, stylish black hair. The Albert Nippon pink suit fit her slim frame perfectly. “I’ve heard that a lot of people wake up from comas.”

  “The broken bones have healed, but the head injury was more severe. Each time he arrested, the possibility of brain damage became more and more likely. It would be a miracle if he woke up, and if he did wake without brain damage, it would be truly miraculous,” the doctor answered, clearly tired of repeating himself over and over.

  “Miracles happen.” Beverly smiled up at Justine. “Andrew said it was a miracle that he found you. You were there to save him at the accident. Another miracle. He loves you so much. You’re the reason he keeps fighting so hard to come back to us, to you.”

  Not me, the other woman.

  Justine clamped her lips together and wrapped her slim arms around herself to keep the angry words from spilling out. Beverly loved her son, almost worshipped him. Justine wouldn’t steal her illusions as hers had been stolen. Andrew’s mother had welcomed Justine with open arms when Andrew had taken her to meet his mother after their second date.