Capital Wives (17 page)

D
eanna took a step back, surveying the room that had been decorated to resemble a Japanese teahouse in the third-floor ballroom. A trio of Japanese lanterns was suspended over a table set for twenty, their light reflecting off the red tablecloth and a gold-embroidered runner.

One corner of the large room had been transformed into a garden with an indoor fountain surrounded by bonsai plants. Low tables were covered with white and red candles that would be lit within minutes of the arrival of her first guests. Tall, narrow windows were covered with white panels that resembled rice paper. Futons were set up around the perimeter of the room for her guests to lounge on before or after dinner. The florist had delivered vases of white flowers she had positioned around the expansive space and in the unlit fireplace.

She'd set up serving tables where the caterer and her staff would set up a buffet for casual dining, and the bartender had arrived and was going through the inventory in the built-in
bar. Spencer had offered to stand in as bartender, but Deanna had convinced him to play host while she conferred with the caterer and his staff. Instead of her two favorite caterers she'd contracted with a man who'd earned a reputation for preparing Asian-fusion dishes that had made him a much a sought-after D.C.-area chef.

“It looks nice, Dee.”

She turned to find Spencer standing at the entrance to the ballroom. He looked incredibly handsome in a white silk shirt with a banded collar piped in black and black slacks. “Thank you.”

He walked into the room and stared down at the water falling over the rocks. “The fountain adds a nice touch.”

“Help me light the candles, then I want you to dim the lights until you think we achieve the right nightclub atmosphere.”

Working in tandem, Deanna and Spencer lit the subtly scented and unscented candles. Deanna stood at the entrance to the ballroom while Spencer tapped the wall switch, lowering the setting on the recessed lights until she told him to stop. Two small lamps on the bar provided enough illumination for the talented mixologist to concoct his exotic cocktails.

Looping her arm through Spencer's, she stared at his profile. She'd noticed a change in her husband, a tenseness that had begun earlier in the week. He'd gone to meet with a client Sunday afternoon and had returned in a dark mood. When she'd asked him about it, he claimed attorney-client privilege wouldn't permit him to talk about the case. However, when he'd joined her in bed later that night he'd made love to her as if he'd been denied sex for months. She was no longer using birth control and it was as if Spencer wanted to get her pregnant as soon as possible.

Deanna wasn't certain why Spencer had changed his mind about waiting another two years, but refused to ask because she'd been nagging him about having a baby. There were moments when she tried imagining how much her life would change once she became a mother. She knew she would have to curtail traveling and refer her clients to another area event planner. She and Roslyn Abrams weren't rivals but friendly competitors. When Roslyn was unable to take on a client because of her schedule she would refer them to Deanna, and she would do the same when scheduling conflicts wouldn't allow her to contract with a client.

And it wasn't for the first time that Deanna had thought about owning and operating a bed-and-breakfast. When she'd gone to Reston to check out the site for her client's daughter's Western-themed sweet-sixteen party, she'd written down the telephone number of the broker advertising the sale of an abandoned two-story farmhouse. Deanna hadn't mentioned it to Spencer, because she knew he loved living in the Tudor, but it was an idea that she'd begun fantasizing about.

What she didn't want to think about was Richard Douglas calling her again. It'd been more than two weeks since she'd met with him, and with each passing day she prayed that she would never hear from him again. If she was ever presented with an opportunity to relive her life, that night would head the list of do-overs. But she realized there were no do-overs in life—just don't make the same mistake twice.

“What do you think?” she asked Spencer.

“I think you're incredible,” he said softly.

“I'm talking about the room.”

Deanna heard the words, but there was no passion or excitement in Spencer's voice. “Please come with me.” She led him out of the ballroom and into their home office, closing the door behind them. “What's the matter, baby?”

 

Spencer stared at the neatly twisted hair Deanna had tucked into a chignon on the nape of her long neck. The black silk tunic and matching slacks were in keeping with the Asian theme of their dinner party. Smoky shadows gave her clear brown eyes a mysterious look. His gaze lingered on her vermilion-colored mouth.

“Nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?”

“You're distant, Spencer. It's as if you're preoccupied with something else whenever I talk to you.”

He forced a smile he didn't feel. What he couldn't tell Deanna was that his so-called perfect life had come crashing down around him when Jenah told him she was carrying his baby. Spencer didn't know whether to believe her, but he suspected she'd told him that because she felt it would force him to leave Deanna in order to save face. After all, he wouldn't be the first man to have an extramarital affair and find himself in baby-mama drama.

When he and Deanna had first begun sleeping together he'd used condoms, but after they were married she'd opted to go on the Pill. And that meant whenever he cheated on her he had to use protection. The exception had been Jenah. And having her fitted for an IUD had been his idea, not hers. He'd messed up big-time because he should've continued to sleep with married women who had as much to lose as he did
and
he should've never slept with Jenah without a condom.

“I can't talk about the particulars, but I have to decide whether to defend a client who wants to bring sexual harassment charges against her boss who just happens to be a member of Congress.”

“Why don't you give the case to another lawyer at the firm?”

Spencer closed his eyes. “This is a personal client.”

A slight frown appeared between Deanna's eyes. “I thought you didn't handle personal cases because you don't have the time.”

“I usually don't, but this one is different.”

“Why is
she
different, Spencer?”

His frown matched hers. “I didn't say my client was a woman.”

Deanna's mouth formed an O. “The member isn't a woman?”

Spencer nodded. He would perjure himself under oath if it meant saving his marriage. “He's thinking about quitting since she's threatened him, so he doesn't know what to do.”

Curving her arms under Spencer's shoulders, Deanna leaned into him. “I'm sorry. I thought you were shutting me out.”

“You know I would never deliberately do that. I love you, baby.”

She smiled up at him. “I love you, too. I need to go downstairs and check to see if Dennis is ready to start setting up the cocktail hour.”

“Do you want me to help with anything?”

“You can put on some background music.”

“Consider it done.”

 

Deanna had hired a staff of four experienced servers she'd worked with since starting up Tyson Planners. They'd rotated duties, handling coat check and maître d' with waiters, making certain each could fill in at a moment's notice. Her brother and sister had declined because they were unable to find someone to babysit their children, thereby eliminating a possible confrontation between Spencer and Neva.

Bryce and Marisol arrived at five-thirty and the maître d' escorted them into the elevator and up to the third floor.
Marisol stepped out of the elevator, resplendent in a white kimono with a black obi sash.

“Chica! Everything looks beautiful.”

Deanna gave her an air kiss, then pressed her cheek to Bryce's. “Thank you and welcome. The bar is open and there are hot and cold hors d'oeuvres.”

The elevator brought a steady stream of invitees into the ballroom as they stared in awe at the space the Tysons had set up for entertaining their guests. The invitations had indicated Asian-inspired dress optional, but everyone had worn something that reflected the theme. Most of the women wore jade jewelry, while the men had opted for loose-fitting shirts with mandarin collars.

Dennis Wen and his catering staff had prepared sushi and hot and cold appetizers from Thailand, Vietnam, Korea, China and Japan. The bartender, who went by the single name of Prince, did brisk business pouring, mixing and shaking drinks with his normal silent precision.

Damon and Bethany arrived minutes after six and Deanna went to greet them. “Welcome.”

Bethany was like a child in a toy factory. “Oh, my word! This place is beau-ti-ful.” The word came out in three distinct syllables.

Deanna felt a warm glow surge through her. It was the first time she and Spencer had entertained since renovating and redecorating the house. “I'll only take some of the credit because Marisol helped me select the furnishings.”

Bethany slipped her arm through Damon's. “Darling, would you mind if I redecorate some of the rooms?”

Damon stared at his wife. “I told you the house is yours to do whatever you want with it.”

“That does it,” Bethany said. “I'm going to talk to Marisol.”

Deanna led Damon to the bar, where Spencer stood with an associate from his firm. “What would you like to drink?”

Damon gave Prince his usual martini order, then nodded to Spencer when he turned to look at him. He extended his hand to the attorney. “Beautiful house.”

Spencer shook the proffered hand. “Thanks. And thank you for coming.” He turned to his associate. “Calvin, I don't know if you're familiar with Damon Paxton.”

Calvin Graham held out his hand, his face flushed with color from his second drink in less than half an hour. “Who hasn't heard of Mr. Paxton? I'm honored to meet you, sir. Calvin Graham.” The two men shook hands, exchanging the requisite greetings before Calvin walked away, leaving Damon with their host.

Damon's expression did not give away his revulsion for Spencer Tyson's irresponsible behavior. “Is there a place where we can talk in private?”

“Sure. Bring your drink,” Spencer suggested when Prince placed Damon's martini on the bar with a cocktail napkin with the Chinese characters symbolizing good health.

Spencer stopped to tell Deanna he and Damon needed to talk, then led the way out of the ballroom and into the office, closing the door behind them. He indicated a leather chair for the lobbyist to sit, then took a matching one. “What would you like to talk about?”

Damon decided to be direct. “I was at the Victoria Sunday with my wife when you were going at it with Jenah Morris.”

Spencer's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he attempted to process what he'd heard. Slumping in the chair, he closed his eyes. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that the lady has accused you of getting her pregnant.”

He opened his eyes. “And just what do you intend to do with this information?”

Damon took a sip of the expertly prepared martini, then set it down on a glass coaster on a side table. “You think I'm telling you this to blackmail you?”

“I don't know,” Spencer countered.

A sardonic grin touched Damon's mouth. “Regardless of what you may have heard about me, I'm not into blackmail. I don't want to say that I told you so, but I'm going to say it anyway. You may be a brilliant attorney, but you're a dumb son of a bitch when it comes to women. You have to think with this head.” He tapped his temple. “Not the one between your legs.”

“I don't need you lecturing me in my own home.”

“Someone should've lectured you before you decide to pick up the wrong woman to sleep with
and
without protection. Yeah, I screwed around on my first wife, but I made certain those women had as much to lose as I did. Women like Jenah Morris are a dime a dozen, and you stooped to a new low when you took up with her.”

Spencer agreed with Damon, but he wasn't about to let him know that. If they had been anywhere but in his home he would've told the older man exactly what he thought of him. Just because Deanna and Marisol had helped out his wife, that hadn't given Damon carte blanche to ingratiate himself into his life. Spencer believed the lobbyist was still smarting from him threatening to kick his ass for coming on to Deanna.

“I don't believe she's pregnant.”

“You would know that for certain if you were fucking her with a rubber.”

Spencer crossed his arms over his chest. “What's your stake in all of this, Paxton?”

“My wife likes your wife. In fact, Deanna and Marisol
McDonald are the only women who have befriended her since I married her. I love my wife and there isn't anything I wouldn't do to make certain she's happy. She was quite upset when she overheard your conversation with Ms. Morris. Her first reaction was to call Deanna and let her know you've been cheating on her.”

Spencer nodded, and had managed not to visibly react to Bethany's reaction. He couldn't understand why women found the need to dime out men because of their intense dislike for the
other woman.
“Women will stick together.”

“Not as well as the old boy's club,” Damon countered.

“What are you talking about?” Spencer asked, sitting up straight.

“I'm going to help you out.”

“Why?”

“Because I know you were breaking it off with Jenah when she dropped the bomb. I'm also indebted to Deanna and Marisol for rescuing Bethany when she had an emotional meltdown. Bethany had been through enough, and I've sworn an oath to protect her and my children. I'm going to do you a favor this one time, but if you fuck up again, then you're on your own.”