Sandra Brown - Play Dirty

“He didn’t. I did.”

Up till then, he’d been growing steadily angrier. But that stopped it. This was her decision, not Speakman’s, and not one they’d reached as a couple. He said the first thing that popped into his mind, the first thing he wanted to know. “Why?”

“I can’t…” She faltered, then started again. “I can’t continue with you like this, that’s all. I agreed to it only because it was what Foster wanted. And I love him. I do. I love my husband.”

“All right.”

“That’s the only reason I consented to this.”

“So you said.”

“But I can’t be with you anymore.”

“I got that, too. And when it comes right down to it, that’s all you had to say. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

She looked at him strangely, then lowered her head. Neither of them moved. Seconds ticked by while he stared at the way her hair grew in a swirling pattern around the crown of her head. Finally he said, “When did you decide?”

“I knew when I left here last time that I wouldn’t come back. But I fretted over it, and didn’t tell Foster of my decision until two weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you call to tell me then?”

“We decided to wait and see if I was pregnant before we told you. If I was, it would be a moot point. I thought the matter was settled.” The red top expanded with the deep breath she took, straining the white buttons. “But Foster has spent the past two weeks trying to change my mind.”

“He still wants his baby conceived the natural way.”

“Yes. He hasn’t really applied pressure, but he’s made his wishes known. He’s made it clear how disappointed he’ll be if we change course now. He’s used every tactic he knows to try to persuade me that we should continue as planned, at least through several more cycles.”

“Only he didn’t persuade you.”

“No.”

“Then why didn’t you call and tell me the deal was off? Why are you here?”

“Because I let Foster think he finally wore me down.” Her gaze moved around the room, then came to rest for several seconds on the third button of his shirt before moving up to meet his eyes. “He kept after me until I agreed to meet you one last time. If I don’t conceive today, he said, he promised, he would never ask me to come here again and will agree to switching to a clinical method.”

Griff assimilated that. “One last time.”

“Yes.”

“Today.”

“Yes.”

“So he thinks we’re-”

“Yes.”

“But we’re not.”

“He’ll never know, will he? He’ll think this time had the same result as the previous three.”

“Only the two of us will know different.”

“Unless you tell him.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I hate that word,” she said with obvious anguish. “I don’t like keeping secrets from my husband.”

She looked beyond him toward the hallway that led to the bedroom, and her gaze stayed fixed on it so long that Griff looked over his shoulder to see what could possibly be holding her attention. The hallway was empty. He thought she might be seeing into the bedroom, seeing them moving together, seeing herself coming. That would be a secret she would want to keep from her husband.

He came back around just as she looked up at him. Their gazes held for several long moments, then she gestured at the front door. “Well…”

“Your meeting.”

She gave a wan smile. “There’s no meeting.”

“I know.” He returned her smile, but he didn’t feel it.

She reached behind her back for the doorknob. “Don’t forget your jacket.”

“Right.”

“Be sure the door is securely closed so it will lock.”

“Of course.”

She pulled open the door, and they were struck with a blast of hot air. She said, “Depending on circumstances, this could be the last time I’ll see you.”

“Could be.”

She paused, then gave a self-conscious shrug. “I can’t think of anything to say that seems appropriate.”

“Small talk seems smaller.”

She smiled faintly at the reminder of her words to him the night they’d met.

“You don’t have to say anything, Laura.”

“Then…” She stuck out her right hand. “Good-bye.”

He took her hand. They looked down at their clasped hands, then at each other. She released his hand and his gaze simultaneously, and turned toward the open door.

But she did only that. Turned and stopped.

Griff hesitated only heartbeats before acting. He moved in close behind her, reached over her shoulder, put his hand flat against the door, and slowly pushed it shut.

Laura stared at herself in the vanity mirror. The reflection looking back seemed to be of someone else. The woman in the mirror was disheveled, not as meticulously turned out as usual. Most disturbing, her eyes were filled with uncertainty. Where was the characteristic self-confidence? What had happened to the surety that she had a grip on the situation? Who was this tremulous stranger?

She ran her fingertips across her lips and dabbed at the smudge of mascara at the corner of her eye. No question, the image in the mirror was hers.

“Laura?”

She spun around, flattening her hand against her chest. “Foster. I didn’t hear you.”

“Obviously not. You nearly jumped out of your skin.” His wheelchair was straddling the threshold between bedroom and bath. “Manuelo told me you were home.”

She had parked in the detached garage, entered the house through the mudroom, and used the back staircase. “He said you were on the telephone.” She forced a light laugh. “At least I think that’s what he said. I didn’t want to interrupt your call. I’m glad you chose to stay at home today. The heat is unbearable. It’s making everyone cranky. People were driving like maniacs, so rush hour was more hazardous than usual.”

Realizing that she was talking too much and too fast, she forced herself to slow down. “All this to say, I’m a mess and wanted to take a quick shower before seeing you. How was your day?”

“Uneventful. Besides the weather and the traffic, how was yours?”

“I had back-to-back appointments this morning, including the one with the reps from the FAA to discuss Southwest’s and American’s complaints.”

“You’ll have to be more specific. Southwest and American are always filing complaints against us.”

“Highest form of flattery.”

He grinned. “If we were failing, we’d never hear a peep out of them. How did your appointment with Griff Burkett go?”

The question came so suddenly and out of context, it took her off guard. “The same as before. Briefly. Efficiently.”

“I thought he might be the reason you’re so late getting home.”

“Why would you think that?”

“No reason.”

She let it drop. “I hope you didn’t wait dinner on me.”

“Mrs. Dobbins made a sandwich to tide me over.”

“Good.”

“So why are you late?”

“I was almost home when I remembered something I’d left at the office and had to go all the way back for it. Myrna was still there.”

“My assistant is usually the last to leave. Unless it’s you.”

“She was finishing up some business letters and asked if I would wait on them so I could bring them home for you to sign. I have them right here.”

She tried to squeeze past his chair into the bedroom, but he caught her hand. “The letters can wait. I want to know Burkett’s reaction when you told him this was the last time you’d be meeting him. Or did you tell him?”

“I told him as soon as he arrived.”

“And?”

“And nothing, really. Once I assured him that we would adhere to the original terms if he remained the donor, he said it was all the same to him. Something like that.”