Lightning (21 page)

“Kind of.” She smiled, trying to retain her composure. It had to be discussed eventually and now was as good a time as any. Better sooner than later. Sam was in the other room, and he looked a little startled when he came back and heard what they were saying.

“Will it look different when you take the bandage off? Is it all gone?” Annabelle looked amazed that a part of her mother had actually disappeared. She looked more than puzzled.

“Maybe. I haven't looked yet.”

“Could it just fall off?”

She didn't want to frighten her or mislead her. “No, it couldn't. But it got pretty hurt. That's why they gave me the big bandage.”

“How did it happen?” Annabelle looked surprised at what had happened to her mother on her trip, but Sam looked annoyed at her. Fortunately, Annabelle left the room to get a game, and forgot to listen to the answer to her question, for which Alex was very grateful, because she didn't have one. “How did it happen?” was one question she didn't want to answer.

But Sam had been listening and he didn't like the subject of their conversation.

“Why did you have to explain it to her? Why does this have to be a topic of conversation with her? She's three and a half years old for chrissake. She doesn't need this.” Neither did he, and he was almost fifty.

“Neither do I, Sam, but we're stuck with it anyway. And she asked me. She was sitting on my lap, and she felt the difference.”

“Don't sit her on your lap then. There are plenty of ways around it.”

“So I've noticed. You seem to be finding all of them.” He was avoiding her at every turn, and later that afternoon, he said that he had to go to the office, which surprised Alex. He rarely ever went there on the weekend. But she knew why he was doing it now. He just couldn't stand being near her.

Alex and Annabelle stayed home, making cookies and watching
Peter Pan
and
The Little Mermaid.
It was three o'clock by the time he left and the atmosphere between them was so tense that Alex thought it was just as well he'd gone out for a while. She really couldn't stand the tension. The air between them was electric.

“Why is Daddy mad at you?” Annabelle asked as they cut cookie dough, and Alex was astonished at the question.

“What makes you think Daddy's mad at me?” she asked, intrigued by the little girl's perception.

“He's not talking to you. Unless he has to.”

“Maybe he's just tired,” Alex explained, rolling out some more dough while Annabelle picked up big chunks and ate them.

“He missed you while you were away. So did I,” she said gravely. “Maybe he's mad at you for going.”

“Maybe so,” Alex agreed, unwilling to bring their daughter into their problems. “I'll bet he'll be fine when he comes home.” She kissed the tip of her freckled nose, and handed her another lump of cookie dough to munch on.

But sitting in his office downtown, Sam was looking glum. He had very little work to do. His work required people and clients, and deals to make. He didn't have the kind of avalanche of paperwork that Alex constantly lived with. And he had come to the office merely to escape, and now that he was here he felt stupid. He was running away from her, and he knew it. But he was afraid to see her body now, or her pain, afraid that he couldn't live up to what she wanted. It was so much easier to be angry at her, and hard on her, and avoid her.

“What are you doing here?” He heard a voice from across the room and jumped a foot as he looked up. He had been absolutely certain there was no one else in the office. The alarm had been on, and the watchman downstairs didn't tell him anyone was there. She must have just come in. It was Daphne. She was wearing a tight black jersey shirt and a pair of black leggings that made her legs seem endless. Her hair was in a long braid, and she was wearing little black suede boots that looked very English.

“I thought you were in Vermont,” he said, still looking very startled.

“I was supposed to be. But Simon got the flu, and his friends didn't want to go without him, so we stayed here. And I thought I'd use the opportunity to catch up on some work. I hope you don't mind, Sam. I didn't mean to intrude. You looked a million miles away when I saw you.” She said it sympathetically, and she looked very young and very sexy as she stood in the middle of his office. “How are things going?”

“Not so great, I guess, or I wouldn't be here,” he said honestly, as he stretched his legs out under his desk and played with a pencil. It was odd how he could say anything to her, and nothing to Alex. He stood up and walked over to her then. “I don't even know why I came in.” He looked at her unhappily, and then he smiled. “Maybe I just had a sixth sense you'd be here.”

“That's not worthy of you,” she teased, “but I'll accept it anyway. Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Sure, I'd like that.” He followed her into their pantry, faintly aware of her perfume. It smelled musky and warm and sexy. “I'm sorry,” he said suddenly as she turned to look at him, “I've been acting like a lunatic this week. I don't know if I'm up or down or sideways. It's been hell, and I have no right to take it out on you.”

“If having dinner with me at Le Cirque, and taking me dancing downtown is ‘taking it out on me,' then please feel free to do so anytime you'd like, Sam.” She smiled at him enticingly, but there was more than just sex appeal to her, there was something very warm and sympathetic. She was mischievous and playful, but she seemed very caring too, and he liked that about her. There were so many things about her that reminded him of the best of Alex. And then she turned his stomach over with the bluntness of her next question. Her voice was very soft as she looked at him, but he wasn't prepared for what she asked him. “Is your wife dying, Sam?”

For a long moment he wasn't sure how to answer her. “She could be. I don't know. She's very sick, I suppose, although I don't completely understand it.”

“Is it cancer?”

He nodded. “She had a breast removed this week, and she's about to start chemotherapy.”

“How difficult for you, and your little girl.” All her sympathies were with them, and not with Alex.

“I suppose it is … or it will be …Chemotherapy sounds like a nightmare. I'm not sure I'd do it.”

“That's what we all say, until we're faced with it, and then we fight like dogs and try anything we can, to cure it. My father died last year, and he tried everything including some sort of magic pills he got in Jamaica that were nothing but voodoo. I can't blame her for trying. But it's hell on you. Poor Sam.” They were standing in the small airless room while the coffee brewed, and her voice was barely more than a whisper.

'I'll
shouldn't feel sorry for me,” he whispered back, not sure why they were speaking so softly, they were the only people there, but all he wanted to do was get closer to her and speak softer still. “I'm fine …”

“Aren't you though,” she replied, and then he was completely unprepared for what happened next. She put her arms around his neck, ran her fingers down the back of his neck until he had chills, and kissed him. And he felt his whole body respond with a surge that almost frightened him, it was so beyond his control. He wanted to tear her leggings off and lay her on the floor next to him, but he didn't dare do more than kiss her, and allow his hands to drift hungrily down her body. She was all muscles, and tight stomach, and splendid little behind. She was built like a ballerina, and her breasts filled both his hands. Their mouths and tongues were relentless. It was Daphne who broke away first, breathlessly. She had started an avalanche that she herself could no longer control, it was so exquisite, it was almost beyond bearing. “Oh God, Sam … I can't … oh God …how I want you …”

“I want you too,” he whispered back, devouring her neck and her breasts with his lips, and then he was kneeling next to her, and nuzzling her where her thighs met. She let out a long, soft moan, and as he pulled her closer to him, he suddenly came to his senses. He couldn't do it.

“Daphne … we can't …” He stood next to her again, holding her close to him, feeling guiltier than ever toward Alex. But he was consumed with desire for Daphne. “I can't. I have no right to complicate your life like this … or do this to my wife.”

“I don't care,” Daphne said hoarsely. “I'm a grown woman, I have a right to make my own decisions.”

“It won't go anywhere …you deserve more than this. I'm half out of my mind with wanting you. I have been ever since we met, but what does that give you?”

“A leg over, I hope.” She laughed suddenly at him, using the English expression for a piece of ass. But fortunately, he knew it.

“I'd like to give you something better than that, but I don't have it to give. Not now.” Not yet. And maybe never.

“It would do for a start,” she said playfully. “I don't ask for much.”

“You should. You deserve it.” And then without saying more, their lips met again, and he held her and felt her next to him for what seemed like hours until neither of them could stand it any longer. “We're going to have to do something about this, if it keeps up.” And with that, they both laughed at his very obvious erection. She was stroking it through his jeans, and the touch of her hand was driving him crazy.

“I was suggesting something like that.” She smiled and kissed him again, and then bent to nibble at the lump in his blue jeans.

“Stop it,” he said unconvincingly, “…no, don't … oh God …Daphne …I'm going to profess undying love in a few minutes if you don't stop.” She was driving him into a frenzy, and he loved the sensation.

“I was hoping you would.” She smiled mischievously at him, and then she stood up and poured him a cup of coffee.

“How can I do this?” he asked, thinking of both his wife and daughter.

“Things happen sometimes. Those are the realities of life. It doesn't always work out just as we planned. In fact, I'm not sure it ever does. My life certainly doesn't.”

“Mine is a disaster at the moment.”

“Are you close to her?” she asked, as they sipped their coffee, and tried briefly to forget each other's bodies.

“I thought I was. Now we can't seem to talk about anything. The only thing there is, is her disease. It's all she can think about, all she's interested in, all she knows. I can't stand it.”

“I'm not sure I blame her. But it's a lot to expect of you, though, isn't it?”

“I suppose I owe her that.” And then he confessed his darkest secret. “My mother died of cancer when I was fourteen. I hated her for it. It's all I remember about her, how sick she was, how she talked about it all the time, and had endless operations. They chopped her up in little bits, until they finally killed her. And her dying killed my father. I felt like she tried to kill all of us. She would have killed me too, except I wouldn't let her. I wouldn't let her poison me like she did him. I refused to become a part of her tragedy. That's how I feel now about Alex. It's as though I have to keep away in order to save myself.” It was a terrible confession, but he felt better once he said it. And she seemed to understand exactly what he meant, and in a way that Alex hadn't understood yet. She was too wrapped in herself to see his terror clearly.

“You can't do it alone though, can you?” Daphne said in the husky voice that drove him to distraction.

“I'm not sure,” he said. “I think I probably should try. But you're not making it any easier.”

“Actually,” she said, touching the bulge in his jeans again until it grew in her hand and he closed his eyes in pleasure, “I rather thought I was making it harder.”

“You certainly are.” He kissed her, wanting her desperately, but firm in his resolve not to have her. He owed that much to Alex. He wouldn't let her have his soul. But at least he owed it to her to be faithful. It was just bad luck that Daphne had crossed his path at that particular moment. Or maybe it was meant to be that way. Maybe this was his reward for what he was losing.

They stood there together in the pantry for a long time, and it was dark when they looked outside. He felt as though days had passed since he had come there. His voice was ragged with desire for her, as he held her for a last time, and then they put their coffee cups in the sink, and she washed them and put them away, and she followed him back to his office.

“Are you going to stay?” he asked. He hated to leave, but he knew he had to. He had to get home. And he had done absolutely nothing except paw Daphne.

“I'll take my work home,” she said easily. He went to her office with her while she got it, and then he kissed her there too. She fell backwards against the desk in his arms, and the temptation to take her right there was almost irresistible, but again he forced himself to remember that he was married. The leggings she wore didn't make it any easier for him. It was like holding her with no clothes on. He could feel every inch of her beneath his hands, and there was nothing that she tried to keep from him. Eventually, he freed her breasts from the shirt she wore, and they were so beautiful he almost cried. They were perfect and round with pink nipples that stood erect in his fingers, begging for him, and she asked for him as he played with her relentlessly and kissed her.

It was another half hour before she put her shirt on again, and they finally left the office. It was almost seven o'clock by then, and Sam felt like a kid as they got into a cab, and he told her he'd drop her off and then started necking with her in the backseat while she giggled.

“You'd better start locking your office door,” he warned. “I'm not sure I can control myself when I see you.” It certainly didn't seem like it, but Daphne didn't appear to mind.

He dropped her off on East Fifty-third where she'd rented an apartment in an old town house. It had been owned by a movie star, and there was still quite a bit of furniture there, but Daphne said it was pretty shabby.

“Want to come up?” she invited him, standing outside the cab in her outrageously appealing leggings, but he shook his head.

“I don't trust myself to behave.”

“Neither do I,” she laughed, and then looked suddenly serious as she reached into the cab and took his hand in hers. “Come back whenever you want to. Even if you just want to talk. I'm here for you, Sam. And crazy as it sounds at this point … I think I love you.”