I don’t think it’s any secret that I find you incredibly attractive. There have been times looking at you I am so overcome with lust, I can barely stand not ripping your clothes off and climbing all over you.
I won’t pretend I’m not still deeply in love with the guy I live with. I am. But things have been rough between us lately. Something is missing and I don’t know how to get it back. I don’t think we are able to reconnect with what brought us together in the first place. Maybe it’s crazy, but I thought this might help.
I want to have an affair with you. I want to meet you at a hotel and do wild, lustful things to you until neither of us can stand up any longer. I want to see you lose control and I want to be the one making you do it, then I want to go home and think about you all night long, keep those memories with me during what has gotten to be a stale routine with my boyfriend.
I know this is crazy. You probably think I’m completely nuts. But I think we owe it to each other at least to try this.
Yours,
Lucy
She read it over, then again and once more, making sure the note said exactly what she wanted it to say as she’d planned it, seeing how it looked in the flesh, as it were, typed up and ready to go.
Yes. It did. Good.
Now or never…
Now.
She typed in the To column the name of the man she’d loved since she’d first set eyes on him so many years ago: Link Baxter. Sent up a brief prayer to God that the crazy scheme would work, that it would save them from the disintegration that had started to feel inevitable, that it would save her from the crazy, shallow temptation of Josh.
Link was and always would be the man for her. It was time she stopped whining and despairing and denying and did something about it. If Krista could make her fantasies come true, then Lucy could, too, with the man who at one time had been all of them come to life and who she believed deep in her soul could be all of them again.
She crossed her fingers, crossed herself…and hit Send.
To: Lucy Marlow
From: Link Baxter
Subject: Your e-mail
Lucy, what the hell is this?
Did you mean to send this to me?
Link
To: Link Baxter
From: Lucy Marlow
Subject: re: Your e-mail
Of course I meant to send it to you. You probably think I’m horrible. I’ve never cheated on my boyfriend before. But things are bad right now at home, and you make me so nuts it’s like I have no other choice. I can’t stop thinking about getting you alone and naked.
How about it?
Tomorrow, five-thirty at the motel down the street from your office building. I’ll tell my boyfriend I’m working late. He’s so into his own stuff these days, he barely notices if I’m there or not.
Don’t say no…I have a list a mile long of things I want to do to you.
Lucy
To: Lucy Marlow
From: Link Baxter
Subject: re: Your e-mail
Whoa. Lucy, I’m sure you’re wrong about your boyfriend. There’s no way a man could not notice you.
Though I have to say, my girlfriend has been acting recently as if she’d like me to drop dead, to save her the trouble of dealing with me.
Let me think about this. I’m not the kind of guy who cheats…that is, I never have been before.
But you are temptation, Lucy Marlow. Serious temptation.
Link
To: Link Baxter
From: Lucy Marlow
Subject: re: Your e-mail
There’s no way your girlfriend could want anything but to get closer to you, even if she might have a freaked-out way of showing it. She’s probably just scared she’s losing you.
But I have no fear and no inhibitions and I want you like crazy. Every possible way there is to have you.
Will you come?
Lucy
To: Lucy Marlow
From: Link Baxter
Subject: re: Your e-mail
Interesting about my girlfriend. I never thought about it that way. But if she loses me, Lucy, it will only be to you.
I want you too—this is crazy, but I’m starting to love the idea of having you in a motel. I’m hard right now at my desk, thinking about us together. If my boss comes over to talk to me, he’ll think I’m surfing porn.
So yes, I’ll come tomorrow….
But not as many times as you will.
Link
10
KRISTA TOSSED A NATURAL puffed-cheese snack back into the bag and wiped her crumby fingers on her second favorite old sweats, these baby-blue. She had all of two words typed onto today’s blog: Hello, all. That took her about two seconds.
Then she’d sat there. And sat there. And sat there. Twice she actually typed a few more words. And deleted them.
This never happened unless she was stuck for subject matter, but that wasn’t the case today. She’d promised her readers Chapter Two of the parody book by Aimee Wellington and…well, nothing was coming.
Scratch that, plenty was coming. Her usual sarcastic ranting, let’s face it, the woman had Please make fun of me tattooed on her forehead.
But okay, that encounter with the guy in the supermarket had done two things. Given her a tiny whap on the head that yes, Aimee was a person. A young person. Who probably hadn’t had the grounding in love and common sense that Krista and Lucy had had from their parents.
It had also given her the weird and doubtless paranoid feeling that she was being warned off. As in threatened. Why wouldn’t Mr. Guy In Black just send her an e-mail through her site? Or call and leave her a message at the Sentinel? Why track her down in her civilian life, standing in the cereal aisle? Of course, it could have been a coincidence that he’d shown up in the same aisle in the same supermarket at the same time and recognized her, but it was a whopper of one. Krista wasn’t the kind of celebrity people flagged down in public. He must have taken the trouble to find a photo and study her face. And then the way he’d just stood there and followed every step she’d taken before speaking….
She was creeped out. Add in the other “coincidence” of Seth Wellington showing up at the same restaurant at the same time, in the next booth, alone, where it would be easy to stay silent and listen to her conversation. Add in that he’d bolted the second she’d glanced at him long enough to register his features and, for all he knew, his identity. He wasn’t as public as Aimee, but the Wellingtons had been a premier Boston family for decades and anyone who cared or paid attention to society stuff would undoubtedly recognize him.
In a desperate flash, she wanted the quiet strength and reassurance of John Smith and just as quickly shook her head. As if he was someone she could count on? Mr. Disappear and Reappear and Disappear again? Sure, he’d taken a lot of trouble to assuage her fear in Maine, but then he’d wanted in her pants. Sure, the time they’d spent together had been so intense she’d been stupid enough to develop feelings or think she was developing feelings, stupid enough to grieve his loss as hard or harder than much longer relationships she’d had.
In this strange, vaguely threatening situation, why wasn’t she longing for Lucy or her mom and dad or her close friends from college?
She didn’t even know the guy’s real name. Had never even seen him.
None of that helped. She wanted him with a fierce, determined passion that was freaking her out.
Her phone rang, and she pooh-poohed the adrenaline fear rush, picked it up and spoke firmly.
“Krista. It’s Lucy.”
“Lucy, what’s up?” Krista got out of her chair and frowned. Her sister never called during the day and she sounded pretty worked up.
“First, I thought of the perfect present for Mom and Dad. A dinner and overnight at the Copley Plaza. What do you think?”
“Wow, that’s a fabulous idea.” Krista laughed good-naturedly. She could think all year long and never come up with ideas like Lucy. Christmas was about love—grante
d, this was an extremely expensive way to celebrate love, but why the heck not? “I’ll go in on it with you for sure. It’s perfect. They never spoil themselves.”
“They’ll have a blast. And Krista—” Lucy’s voice dropped to a heavy whisper “—you’re not going to believe this.”
“What? Can you talk louder? I’m not going to believe what?”
“I can’t talk louder, I’m at work, but I couldn’t wait to tell you. I’m going to have an affair! With—”
“Oh my God.” Immediately following the shock came a tidal surge of protectiveness for Link, the very guy she’d been urging her sister to leave. What had gotten into Lucy? “Are you sure Josh is worth this? Shouldn’t you break up with—”
“No, not with Josh.”
“There’s another one?” Krista gasped. Link did not deserve this. Her sister had lost her mind.
“No, will you listen to me?”
“I’m listening.” She stopped pacing opposite her window and stared nervously out at the quaint brick storefronts of Charles Street.
“I’m going to have an affair with Link.”
“What? Who?” Krista’s eyebrows drew down. “With Link?”
“Yes, isn’t it crazy? I propositioned him and asked if he wanted to cheat on me with me and said I wanted to cheat on him with him, and he said yes.” Her sister giggled madly, sounding happier than Krista had heard her in months, maybe years. “We’re leaving work early to meet at the Cambridge Motel. I’m so excited! It’s like we’re going on our very first date all over again.”
Krista’s downed brows shot back up. Her mouth opened and she started to laugh, only the laugh came out half-assed because she was suddenly sick with envy. Not only her parents but her sister, too. A whole family of hotel trysters, only theirs were in the context of real, healthy relationships. She shoved the dark feeling away. This was not about her. “Lucy, that is hysterical! What a fabulous idea. You are a genius.”
“Thanks. I’m really crossing my fingers this works.” Lucy’s voice dropped into a low, emotional zone. “I love this man, Krista. I don’t want Josh except in some silly hormonal way, like when you have a crush on a movie star or someone you don’t know.”
Krista turned away from the window, the dark feeling rising again. Yeah, she could relate. In fact, too well. Her entire love life at the moment consisted of a crush—only it felt like more, but that was probably fantasy, too—on someone she didn’t know. “It will work, Lucy. If he agreed to try it, he’s got to be willing to meet you halfway.”
“I think so, too. I’m so thrilled! I haven’t felt like this since…Oh, hell, my boss is here. Gotta go. ’Bye!”
Krista punched off the phone and set it back into the cradle. Paced her apartment and picked up a picture of her family on vacation in Washington, D.C., when she and Lucy were teenagers. Her mom and dad had their arms around each other, grinning; she and Lucy were smiling at the stranger who volunteered to take the family portrait—a loving, close American family.
She put the picture down, ridiculously lonely. And now that she thought about it, she was also being whiny, which wasn’t like her at all. She was a woman of action, and right now her next act wasn’t at all clear.
She didn’t like unclear.
Lucy was going to have an erotic adventure all her own. But with someone she trusted absolutely. Someone she knew inside out. Someone she loved to such a degree that she’d rather wallow through barnyards of muck trying to find a way to higher ground next to him, than take a simple sidestep and be high and dry easily, either on her own or next to someone new.
And—here came the whiny part—Krista, if she was very lucky, would get one more night or maybe two of anonymous sex with a man who didn’t want her to know who he was, for reasons he didn’t want to tell her.
Not only that, if she kept on her current path of holding Aimee up to anything resembling standards, she could get her kneecaps split by Mr. Black Leather, no doubt acting on orders from Mr. Privilege himself, Seth Wellington.
A vision of the press conference showed up right on cue, and turned on the proverbial lightbulb. Of course. Now that Wellington had unveiled the empire’s new direction with Aimee in the visible lead, the family and corporate big guys would go to any length to keep negative publicity away from her.
Which made Krista’s position all the more complicated. If she continued to blast Aimee, she might be making powerful enemies. If she backed down, she’d be implicitly condoning exactly the kind of pandering she detested the most.
An animated buzzing fly announced the arrival of an e-mail. From Lucy. Apologizing for cutting her off.
She smiled at her sister’s excitement and impulsively checked her Hotmail account.
Oh my God.
An e-mail from John. It had come in last night and she’d promised herself to stop checking so obsessively, so she hadn’t seen it until now.
Hey, I’ve been massively busy the last few days, but you’re on my mind—as usual. What’s new?
A slow burn of pleasure started in Krista’s belly. It wasn’t over. She was on his mind…as usual. She’d get to see him again and…
Not see him.
She frowned and stared at the e-mail. What was new? She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him all of it and hear his reactions and his thoughts and feel his strong arms around her again. Not to mention have him take her to heaven and back a few times while she did the same for him.
But what did any of it mean, really? It was anonymous sex in the dark.
She wanted more.
The thought popped into her head as if it had been dictated by her subconscious and shot through a hole of denial into her brain.
She stood, paced around her living room, stopped by the window again and noticed an actual patch of blue sky. Glanced at her watch. Nearly two. Soon Lucy would be packing up for her tryst with Link. What would John Smith be doing? Did he work in an office? Would he pack up and go home to his wife and kids? To a lonely apartment? To a fabulous condo or a house in the burbs?
She wanted to know.
She whirled around, sat back down at her computer and, before she could have second thoughts, hit the reply key on his e-mail, typed in her cell number and clicked Send.
There. If he was sincere and single, he’d call. If he wasn’t, he’d disappear.
So all she had to do was wait.
Easy.
Not.
Half an hour later, still no blog written, entertaining the idea of pulling out every one of her hairs one by one, she thought getting out of the house for a nice brisk power walk was probably a better idea, winter’s chill be damned. Cell phone with her, of course.
So shoot her, she was weak.
Five minutes of power walking and then power walking wasn’t enough, so she broke into a jog, enough nervous energy going to run the Boston marathon, around the Public Garden, then left on Beacon, crossing Storrow Drive on the pedestrian bridge, then jogging along the Charles River, her body warming slowly.
Approaching the Harvard Bridge, it happened. Her cell rang. Number blocked.
“Hello?” She slowed to a walk, trying to keep her panting in check. Pleeeeez, oh, pleeeeez.
“You sound out of breath.” A deep, dark, sexy, familiar voice.
Ohhhhh, extreme happiness.
“Hi.”
“You in the middle of someone?”
She laughed too loudly, puffing clouds of steam, feeling too happy. Hell, even the sun was about to come out. “No, no, I’m out running.”
“Should I call back?”
“No.” She rolled her eyes at her panicking eagerness. She was more nervous than when Ralph Press called her in sixth grade. “Now is good. Now is really fine.”
“Okay. How was your week?”
“It was…pretty…Well, there were…I mean…It was okay.” She smacked herself on the head and got a strange look from a mom pushing a bundled up baby in a stroller. Oh, that was coherent. And pretty much sum
med up her feelings. She wanted to tell him everything, wanted to reach out, but how? She’d given him her number. He’d blocked his.
“I don’t think I’m getting the whole story there.”
She laughed uneasily. “It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got time. Meet me in an hour?”
Krista came to an abrupt stop, while her adrenaline took off racing ahead of her. He wanted to meet with her? So he could hear about her bad week? Would they meet in public this time, maybe over a drink? “Where?”
“The Ritz.”
Her adrenaline backed off. In a hotel room. Again. In the dark. “You have a standing reservation?”
He chuckled. “If you say yes, I don’t care how full the hotel is. I’ll get one.”
She laughed, not really amused, horrified at how much she’d wanted the date to be about sitting at a café at Quincy Market, sharing a beer and people watching, about unburdening herself to him and having him not only listen but hear her. Sex was great, she liked sex, particularly with him, she liked sex. But…
Oh, she was so getting herself in trouble here.
“I guess I better say yes.” Her voice came out a husky whisper, which wasn’t as much about erotic promise as it was about disappointment.
“I’ll leave the room number for you at the front desk.” His voice dropped, too, but she doubted for the same reason.
“For Jane Doe?” She grimaced. Might as well have affair tattooed on her forehead.
“Good point. I’ll call you when I have a room and let you know the number.”
“Deal.” She waited for him to sign off. And waited. “Okay, I’ll—”
“Is something wrong?”
Krista closed her eyes, fighting back a tear. He could read her moods even over the phone. Why were they wasting something this special in the dark?
“No. No.” She forced enthusiasm back into her voice. “It sounds great. See you soon.”
All I Want… Page 14
