Once again, Jeff was dreading having to return home. What a dilemma. There it was, lights glowing on all three floors, even at midnight, the Colonial mansion that he had occupied for nearly five years, on Queens Street in the cuddlesack. If only all those lights felt welcoming, instead of a mere waste of energy.
He breezed around the circular drive, activated the garage door opener, and swooped silently inside. On the way he’d had to detour past the sleek and shiny black Mercedes that belonged, he knew, to good old reliable Roger Kendricks.
“Well, hello, darling,” came Annajane’s sultry drawl from the sumptuous living room upon his entrance. “Home just before the cherished car turned into a pumpkin, I see.”
She was sitting on one of several dark brown suede and silk couches, still clad in her gala outfit of floor-length shimmery blue gown. Diamond earrings the size of chandeliers, part of an ostentatious matched set of necklace, bracelet, and two rings, swung almost to her shoulders. All in all, given the shadowed background and the reflected light from fireplace and strategically placed crystal fixtures, she presented a picture of imperturbable elegance and sun goddess radiance.
Beside her sat a tuxedoed Roger, still holding her hand, comfortable as all get out in someone else’s house.
Jeff, paused in the doorway, felt his blood begin to boil. “Hello, AJ,” he greeted them coolly. “Roger. How was the big Chesterton estate auction tonight?”
“Oh, a colossal bore, actually. Roger and I were just hashing out the whole thing. Who was there, what they were wearing, what dreary things they were saying.”
“Huh. Sorry it wasn’t more fun. Maybe you should have stripped yourselves naked and streaked through the crowd. That probably would have added some excitement.”
Handsome Roger, the Renaissance Man, laughed. “Not much for me, I’m afraid. Now, had that been Annie, here…”
Pretending annoyance, she lightly slapped his arm. “Roger. How many times must I remind you, I hate that name!”
“Yeah. She does hate that name. It’s unclassy.” Unbuttoning his suit jacket and pulling loose his striped tie, Jeff wandered into the room and plopped down on the huge square leather cocktail table / ottoman.
Roger, Jeff was pleased to note, had assumed a look of irritation—or of dyspepsia; maybe the guy had indigestion—that the master of the house had returned at an inopportune moment. He also reluctantly released his clasp of Annajane’s hand.
“And your dinner, darling, was it equally boring?” she purred.
“No, not a bit. I enjoy talking with clients, helping them plan for the future and build for retirement some day. Kinda late for you to still be out and about, isn’t it, Rog?” With my wife, damn your accommodating hide!
“Don’t be rude, Jeff,” chided Annajane. A little line had appeared between her finely brushed brows, one that forewarned of an oncoming sulk. “Since you were unable to attend, at least thank Roger for escorting me to the gala tonight.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you’ve already done so, AJ,” Jeff said smoothly.
“Just being a good neighbor,” Roger slipped that in as if he had practiced it.
Smiling, he rose lithely, in one smooth motion. His host, watching, could only marvel at the man’s agility. Must be all those years of riding a polo pony. Or playing racquetball. Or sailing his yacht halfway around the Sound and back.
“Thank you, dear lady, for the pleasure of your company. We’ll talk soon. Good night, Jeff. Sleep well.”
“Sure to.” You scavenging weasel.
It wasn’t until they had seen their guest to the door, closed it behind him, and returned to the living room that Jeff could fully unclamp his jaws to speak. “Mind explaining what was going on there?”
“Oh, Jeff, don’t be silly. Nothing was going on, except a little after-hours conversation. So please don’t perform any caveman histrionics.”
“Caveman histrionics? Annajane, I am pissed. I am royally pissed. I come home at midnight and find you—you and your escort—noodling together on the couch like a couple of jilted lovers. What d’ you think you’re doing, anyway?”
Tall and slim as a runway model, she reached up to slip her bare left arm around his neck. “We were just talking, Jeff. In fact, we’d only arrived home a few minutes before you did.” Her right hand lifted to lay flat on his chest, one manicured finger slipping between the buttons and inside to stroke muscular flesh. “So it isn’t necessary to act like a cuckolded husband. Not when you and I can continue this delicious discussion upstairs…in my bed, where you belong.”
Jeff couldn’t help continuing to rumble a bit, just on general principle. “You’re my wife, AJ, not his. Yet here you are, seeing him more and more often. Spending more and more time with him.”
“I can’t argue that point. However, if you weren’t working so many hours—if you were more willing to attend my favorite events with me…” She assumed a plaintive air. “I like male companionship, Jeff. I get lonely.”
“Do you?” His voice dropped into a husky range. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m afraid my job is pretty demanding. But I’ll see what I can do about cutting back, how’s that?”
“That would be delightful, Jeffie, dear. Now, why don’t we seek out some privacy, where you can unzip this cumbersome dress of mine and refresh your memory of how it’s always been between us?”
With a mock growl of surrender, he dipped his head for a mock nip at the slender swan’s neck. “Just what I was thinking. It’s been too long.”
“Far too long,” she purred.
It wasn’t until they were heading up the wide carpeted stairs, arm in arm, that Annajane casually mentioned the services of her firm had been retained by Roger Kendricks, to redecorate a number of rooms in the crenelated palace next door.
Chapter Three
“Hi, Jeff. You’re in early this morning.”
Patty had breezed into his office with her greeting, and Jeff, glancing up to return it, did a double take. Dressed in her usual casual business attire of jacket, loose top, and pencil skirt, she was also wearing a hat on her well-coiffed head. A confection of a hat, with wide slightly upturned beribboned brim and a pink chiffon rosette to match her blouse.
“Well, well.” Smiling, he put down his pen and leaned back to survey her, this administrative assistant who never failed to surprise him. “Been shopping, I see. I like it, Pat. There’s just something about a hat…”
“I agree. Yes, online shopping, at your client’s website.”
“Just Livvie?”
“Uh-huh. Easy to order, reasonably priced, and fast delivery. I love it, Jeff. Already planning to get a few more.”
The smile broadened into a grin. “I’m sure Olivia would be delighted to hear it. Let’s pass the information on to her, if we hear from her again.”
Patty paused on her way out the door. “Didn’t you see your message pad? She called late yesterday afternoon. You were with a client at the time, so I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“Hmmph.” He frowned slightly. “Nope, guess I missed it. No problem, I’ll call now. Thanks.”
It was a gloomy Friday, with lowering gray skies that had, earlier, splashed heavy rain down on commuters and pedestrians alike. The onslaught had eased, from the torrent of a few hours ago to mere sprinkles with a dash of wind now. Not the most pleasant day to be out and about. In fact, Jeff realized, with a yawn, he’d much rather be sprawled in front of a plasma screen TV’s baseball game, knocking back a cold beer and settling in for a nap.
The telephone rang at Olivia’s number a few times before the answering machine picked up. Jeff left an apologetic message for his delay, hoped she’d been doing well over the past week, and asked that she return the call at her convenience.
Lunch with several other of the firm’s advisors at a nearby restaurant had come and gone, and he had returned to finish up some paperwork details at his desk, before she got back to him.
“Well, hi, there.” His tone automatically low
ered into a deeper, huskier register. He couldn’t help it; this was just the way he was made. Like Pavlov’s dogs who responded to the ringing of a bell by salivating, he responded to the sexy timbre of a woman’s voice with a quickening of the heart rate and a tightening of the loins.
“Jeff. Hello. I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“No bother at all, Liv. I told you to call anytime. How’s everything?”
“Oh, fine, thanks. Busier than I ever imagined I could be, with orders coming in from all over, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “I’d certainly say so. Add my secretary’s name to your list of satisfied customers.” And he described the hat Patty had purchased, and how attractive it was.
A sense of brightness infused her words. “Oh, thank you, I’m so glad to hear that. Please let her know how much I appreciate her business. And are things okay for you, as well?”
His lengthy pause at that point provided a silent answer to her question: Not so much.
In fact, since Annajane’s casual and tactless comment about her contract with Kendricks had effectively squelched even the slightest hint of her spouse’s move toward the bedroom, the atmosphere at their three story Colonial had felt almost glacial. The polar ice caps couldn’t have appeared colder or more forbidding.
Oddly enough, it was AJ herself who was feeling the injured party in this latest round of hostilities. So much so that she had packed a bag and driven to a friend’s house somewhere (the redoubtable Roger?) to stay a few days until she had calmed down. Or wised up. Or gotten lucky.
Oh, well. Mentally Jeff shrugged. He was doing his best to carry on. Still, he was worried by the fact that their disagreements were cropping up more frequently, with less reason and more intensity, with less provocation and more regularity.
“Fair to middling,” he finally responded, with false jocularity. “What can I do for you, Liv?”
“Jeff, I received all the official paperwork yesterday for the transfer of my accounts, and as I was looking over everything I found a problem.”
“A problem?” His heart clutched, and then restarted itself. “What kind of problem?”
“Well, possibly I’m reading it wrong…or I’m not understanding it properly…”
“Go on.”
“Actually, this shows my statement listed as an annuity. We discussed this, as you remember, and I definitely did not want it set up as an annuity, so I was wondering—”
“Liv, I’m so sorry.” Jeff was feeling like the biggest kind of incompetent fool. “Obviously there’s been a huge error made, one that I’ll rectify at once. It will mean changing all the account information, here at our end, and in home office. Also—and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience—it will necessitate your signing a whole new set of agreements. Is that something that can be easily done?”
“Oh. Well.”
Clearly not. “I could get everything together and mail the package to you,” he suggested reluctantly. Not the happiest of solutions, but certainly doable. And it would mean foregoing his chance to see her again.
“I returned home last weekend,” she said, thinking her way through the problem. “However, I could come back to the Harrison area whenever you think you would be ready for me.”
Jeff managed to stifle his groan. Sweetheart, I’m over and above ready for you right now! “Let me get to work on this right now, then I’ll give you a call back early next week and we can set a day to get together. How does that sound?”
“That sounds fine.” A tinge of relief had crept into her voice. “Thank you, Jeff.”
“No, the thanks are all mine. I appreciate your being so understanding about this colossal screw-up. But we’ll take care of it, I promise you.”
For a while after he had hung up the phone, he sat daydreaming, lulled by the muted drip drip drip of raindrops plopping at the outside of his window, and the sweet fresh scent of air that a thunderstorm always brings. Washed clean of dust and grime, every leaf, every blade of grass, every living growing thing.
If only his marriage could be so washed clean.
He could just picture her, this lady from his past, with her affinity for hats that had so inexplicably turned on his imagination and his desire. She was probably sitting primly behind her own desk as he was sitting behind his own, working away on her newest creation. Wearing—what? One of those demure business suits, probably, in a color to match the daring or cute or delectable little bonnet that had his insides tied up in knots.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Okay, so he’d run into a snag or two with the woman he’d chosen to be his partner from here into the future. Okay, so he’d been either blinded by her beauty or duped by her wiles at the very beginning of their relationship. Okay, so he wasn’t seeing any easy way out of this predicament at the moment.
He was not the type to throw in the towel, after only five years of marriage; he’d seen too much of that cut-and-run behavior from the old man. Nor was he the type to indulge in mindless affairs, even if he did over-enjoy the sight of a beautiful woman now and then. Especially decked out in an equally beautiful hat.
Too many facets of his life seemed a mess right now. But, Jeff, ever the optimist, realized that the details would eventually smooth out, the storms would pass, and the sun would shine once more.
Sighing, he pulled Just Livvie’s voluminous folder from the stack on his desk and set to work.
Ensconced In the kitchen of her warm, cozy cottage that stood as part of Westhalen, Connecticut, Olivia Bower was neither sitting behind a desk nor dressed in a business suit. Let alone wearing a hat.
She was sporting shorts and an old college tee underneath her flour-streaked apron, she was padding around barefoot, and she was stirring a bowl of essentials that would eventually become chocolate chip cookies.
Even though the calendar page showed late June, the weather was cool enough in this early summer rain to justify heating up the oven. The room, with its used red brick wall and white cabinets and terra cotta floor tile, not only felt enticing but smelled enticing, as well. Butter and sugar melted together gave that effect. Crowds might well gather outside due just to the aroma, she thought with a twist of humor, and swarm inside at the first chance to taste results.
Olivia loved to bake. And cook. And experiment with recipe ingredients. Her mother considered that a talent almost as important as designing headgear, and certainly as creative. Olivia wasn’t about to argue the fact. As her family’s only daughter, she had learned all the culinary basics necessary to keep everyone well-fed and happy.
Probably she should have been working in her office today. But she had learned that, when the genius urge comes upon you, it is best to give in and follow your muse. Wherever she might lead. So far today Olivia had baked three dozen each of oatmeal raisin cookies and peanut butter supreme and was considering putting together a batch of coconut macaroons.
The flavors didn’t really matter. Every crumb of any kind would be consumed at the homeless shelter where she occasionally volunteered, within a few minutes flat. And temporary residents would be sniffing around for more.
A couple of sharp yips from the fenced-in back yard caught her attention, and she sidled over to the slider door to check on the forces at work. Mainly that meant Bruno, her brown mixed-breed mongrel of medium size, who was right now torn between chasing a squirrel up the young maple and chasing a chipmunk behind the drainpipe. Either option would leave him only slightly more muddy and damply aromatic than he already was.
Deciding that things outdoors could hum along just fine for a little while longer, Olivia returned to her Melamine mixing bowl and wooden spoon. A retro Ingraham wood radio was tuned to a retro station, playing rock & roll from the 60’s, and she hummed softly along to “The Leader of the Pack.” Even, at one point, executing a few jaunty dance steps.
Amazing how well things were working out so far. Her story of discrepancies in her financial accounts had won both Je
ff’s sympathy and concern, and he had gladly taken on the cause. Transferring what she had saved over the years to Thomas Yates Investments was apple-pie easy, almost as easy as tracking down a man from ten years in her past, to begin with; and he had shown little curiosity as to her method or her reason.
Surprising how much detective work could be accomplished online these days, via the talents of some young computer expert!
She had allowed just enough time to elapse since their last meeting to pique his interest. That, and her apparent—deliberate—lack of enthusiasm for seeing him again, had simply served the poor sap up on a platter, chomping at the bit to reunite.
He was a fish, hooked on the line, ready to be reeled in. A wide-mouth bass? Olivia giggled as she began doling out dollops of cookie dough onto the baking sheet. No. More like the angel shark.
Now, the error of moving her cash into an annuity instead of mutual funds, et al, had given her the perfect excuse to contact him again. Had the transfer gone smoothly, without incident, she would have found some other pretext to get in touch. All part of the master plan. All moving smoothly ahead.
This was not her first rodeo. Although Jeff Quinley had certainly been her first rodeo cowboy.
She had observed his wife. Oh, not in order to be formally introduced, of course. From a distance, only, several times; and then closer, twice at a restaurant, and again shoehorning herself into a tiny two-seater sports car. No, not stalking. Stalking was illegal, wasn’t it? She had been—what was that term so often used in crime dramas?—surveilling. That was it. Surveilling.
With her cell phone, and its sharp camera capabilities.
Another woof sounded, deep-throated and near to the door.
“Okay, Bruno, just a second.”
Olivia slipped her pan of cookies into the preheated oven and padded over to open the slider.
“Wait, wait!” she importuned with a laugh, wrapping the dog in a fluffy towel kept just for such occasions. Squirming with ecstasy—as if he had been absent from her presence for months instead of mere minutes—slurping sloppy kisses, slipping on the tile floor, he managed to make an escape and dived for the water bowl.
Hat Trick Page 5
