Sandra Brown - Play Dirty

He wrapped up his phone conversation with a promise to continue it soon. Laura was standing with her back to him, staring out the window. “To what do I owe this honor?” he asked. “You’re usually too busy to pay me a call during business hours. Or is this business? Are you here as department head or wife?”

“Wife. Do you have time for me now?”

“Always.”

She’d taken his rejection of SunSouth Select hard, harder than he would have guessed. Since joining the executive ranks of the airline, she had been overruled and outvoted on numerous issues, but she took those small defeats in stride and ultimately gave wholehearted support to the majority rule.

Not this time, and with reason. Although she’d given others credit for creative and informative input, Select had been her vision, and he had essentially squelched it. Judging from her mood over the past couple of weeks, she had regarded it as a personal rejection.

The subject had come up only once in the meantime. Last week during an executive meeting, Joe McDonald had mentioned Select in passing. Laura had shot him a warning look that said: Don’t talk about that. It hadn’t been spoken of again, at least not in Foster’s presence, and he didn’t think it was being whispered about behind his back. Nowhere in the building had he seen any of the materials Laura had used for her presentation. He got a sense that, since he hadn’t taken up the baton, everyone considered it a dead issue.

He had snuffed SunSouth Select while, actually, the prospect of offering alternative carrier service was exciting. Unbeknownst to Laura, he had been thinking about it himself and doing his own research into that growing market, assessing how he might claim a large segment of it.

He’d studied the new superlight jets and considered ordering a fleet of them with which to begin a top-notch charter service. He’d even given thought to doing as Laura suggested and starting an off-shoot of SunSouth.

But whatever form the innovation took, it would be his conception and his design. Not hers or anyone else’s. He would be the leader, not the crippled has-been.

He’d given her space and time to nurse her wounded pride, basically by pretending not to notice her dejection. Was this unscheduled visit to his office a sign that she was finally climbing out of her funk? One could hope.

He said, “You didn’t bring wine this time.”

She turned around and looked at him quizzically.

“Has it been so long ago that you’ve forgotten? You surprised me with lunch here in this office. To celebrate our three-month anniversary.”

“Four-month. And it was champagne.”

“Was it? What we drank isn’t the part I remember. However, I vividly recall dessert.”

She smiled and modestly ducked her head. “Fun times.”

“I miss them.”

After several beats, she raised her head and looked at him, all seriousness now. “We could still have fun times, Foster.”

“Not like that.”

“Not exactly like that. Different. But just as good.”

He gave a mirthless laugh. “Not from my standpoint.”

She held his gaze for a moment, then declared, “I’m not going back.”

“Back?”

“To the house. To Griff Burkett. I’m not doing it again.”

So. This was how she was going to pay him back for hurting her feelings. Keeping his expression impassive, he folded his hands in his lap, clasping them loosely. “Oh?”

“No.”

“Why this sudden-”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve thought about little else since…since the last time. I’m not going back.”

“You said that. I think I deserve to know why.”

“Because it’s wrong.”

“Wrong by what standard? How can it be wrong if I sanction it?”

“I don’t. It’s wrong by my standard.”

“I see. When did you decide it was wrong?”

She looked away, saying in an undertone, “When you first proposed it.” Then, more staunchly, she said, “I was against it from the beginning. I consented to it only because I love you and wanted to give you anything you asked of me. But I can’t do this. I won’t.”

“I thought you wanted a child as much as I do.”

“That hasn’t changed,” she exclaimed. “I do want a baby. I want that for us. Very much. But we have options. I can be artificially inseminated using an anonymous sperm donor.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

She hesitated, then said, “All right. I’ll make that concession. Since Griff Burkett is already in our confidence, we can use his semen. He suggested that at our first meeting with him, remember? That way he wouldn’t lose out on his money. We’d take his specimens to the doctor’s office and claim they were yours. No one would know the difference.”

“I’d rather not resort to that method.”

“I don’t see it as resorting.”

“I do. And, anyway, isn’t it too soon to go to plan B? It’s only been three cycles.”

“I know how many it’s been,” she said curtly. “But even if it was only one, I’m not doing it again.”

“Is it Burkett you find objectionable? Does he treat you badly?”

“No.”

“Rudely, roughly?”

“No.”

“Because if he does-”

“He doesn’t.”

“Okay.” He let that lie without further comment, giving her time to collect herself.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My decision has nothing to do with him. This is about me. And the whole idea of it.”

“We discussed the idea for months, Laura. We went over every aspect of it, time and again.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“And you agreed.”

“Yes. But talking about it in the abstract and actually…” Suddenly she drew herself up to her full height. “I shouldn’t have to justify the way I feel. Or try to explain it. I don’t want to do it,” she said with emphasis. “That should be the end of it.”

He let several moments elapse, then said, “This surprises me. It’s not like you to leave a job unfinished.”

“True.”

“You’ve never walked away from a commitment.”

“No, and I didn’t plan to break this one. I thought I could approach it like any other challenge. But I can’t.”

“I didn’t think it would cause you this much emotional distress.”

“Well, it does.”

“Perhaps you’re taking it too personally.”

She looked at him aghast. “I’m your wife. I’m having sexual intercourse with another man. How in God’s name can it not be personal?”

“You’re becoming hysterical, Laura.” He cast a cautious glance toward his office door.

She hugged her elbows and turned her back on him. He rolled forward and back three times, then wheeled his chair away from his desk and moved up behind her. He reached out and placed his hands on either side of her waist. She flinched and tried to move away, but he held her firmly. “I miscalculated. I didn’t think it would offend your sense of right and wrong.”

“I hate disappointing you, Foster. I know how much this means to you. But there’s a moral ambiguity that I cannot get past.”

“I honor your feelings, of course. As well as your decision.”

She expelled a soft breath. “Thank you.”

He applied enough pressure to turn her around to face him. “You’ve been morose for weeks. I haven’t remarked on it, but I’ve noticed.”

“I admit I haven’t been myself. This has been weighing heavily on my mind. It was distracting me from work. Worse, it was creating a barrier between us. Knowing it would be a disappointment, I put off telling you, but had to before it was time to meet Burkett again. The dread of telling you has been nerve-racking. I’m glad to have this conversation behind us.” She gave him a tremulous smile, then leaned down and kissed his lips.