Hadn’t she been lonely?
“Yes, of course,” she said out loud to the empty room. “Loneliness, missing Greg-that’s been the source of my frustration and discontent.”
But the words roused her conscience, which forced her to admit that she’d actually enjoyed having a week to herself. Enjoyed not worrying about meshing her crowded schedule with Greg’s insane calendar. Enjoyed spending her evenings in peaceful silence, catching up on her reading. Cooking simple meals for herself or just ordering in. Hanging out in ratty old clothes.
Greg didn’t really enjoy quiet evenings at home. He preferred elegant meals at upscale restaurants. While Mallory definitely liked that once in a while, she also liked grabbing a pizza and popping a movie into the DVD player. Or just curling up with a good book. Greg liked being on the go. Driving into Manhattan to check out the latest club, bar or restaurant. Again-all fun, but she was definitely a girl who needed and enjoyed her downtime and beauty sleep, whereas Greg thrived on only four or five hours of shut-eye a night.
They usually got together two or three nights a week, then again on Saturday or Sunday evening. Greg complained that she worked all day on the weekends, but hey-she was a Realtor. Those were her two busiest days. Recently, on the odd evening she managed to talk him into staying in, he invariably ended up bored and channel surfing.
Of course, it hadn’t been that way when they’d first met. No, then he hadn’t minded so much staying in, and their sex life had been very good. Well, okay, it had been good. Oh, all right, it had been adequate. But Greg was a decent, intelligent, hardworking, attractive guy who’d persistently pursued her and she was willing to put in some time and effort to see where the relationship might-or might not-go. He was steady and stable. Dependable. He owned his own house. Had worked for the same law firm for the past ten years. Didn’t want to live anywhere other than Long Island. Wanted to raise a family here.
Not that they’d talked about marriage yet, but the subject would have to be addressed eventually. Not too long ago she’d considered broaching the future, but over the last few months, things hadn’t been going all that well. Greg hadn’t been as attentive, and quite frankly, neither had she. He’d been traveling to Los Angeles frequently, a couple of times spending the weekend there. Their sex life had, in her opinion, declined from adequate to perfunctory.
Which had led her to Picture This. Which had led her to Adam. Unfortunate timing as he was the guy who’d set the bar for her sexual expectations-set it so high, no other man had ever come close. Which had led to a really confusing week where the more she tried not to think of her former lover, the more he invaded her thoughts. Which surely would change as soon as she saw Greg again and showed him the photos. Yes, surely that would get them back on track and light a fire beneath both of them. She wasn’t a quitter and wasn’t about to give up on a decent guy without trying simply because they’d hit a rough spot.
She and Greg had spoken over the phone several times this past week, but the time difference to the West Coast made it difficult to keep in touch daily. He was flying home tomorrow and they were meeting for dinner. She couldn’t wait to show him his present…
Her gaze drifted to the manila envelope on her desk. Unable to stop herself, she reached out. After opening the envelope, she slid out the photos and studied them carefully. And with each photo her discomfort and guilt increased.
Adam had said she looked sexy, and she couldn’t deny that she agreed. Sexy and…aroused. Which she’d definitely been. Which is precisely how she’d hoped to look.
Only problem was that it wasn’t thoughts of Greg that had inspired her arousal. It was memories of Adam.
“Argh!” She pressed her fingers to her temples in a fruitless attempt to change the direction of her thoughts then slipped the photos back into the envelope, where she couldn’t see them taunting her, whispering, Adam is the one you were posing for. Whose hands and lips and tongue you imagined touching your body.
Damn it, just as she’d feared, having lunch with him today had been a bad idea. An exercise in futility that had sorely tested her self-control. The effort she’d expended not to touch him, to keep her thoughts on track, to suppress the memories of their affair, to resist the urge to delve more deeply into his personal life, had left her frustrated and emotionally exhausted.
She absolutely shouldn’t have spent any more time with him-time that had only fueled more memories and fantasies. When his lips had brushed her fingertips while taking a bite of her onion ring, the vivid images pounding through her brain had stolen her breath. How many hours had they spent feeding each other? Everything from grapes to Hershey’s Kisses to French fries. It had become a game, a form of foreplay that had always ended with them making love. Feeding him today had resulted in a bolt of lust that had practically incinerated her. It had required all her willpower to hide her reaction, and she wasn’t certain she’d succeeded.
Then, when they’d parted, that light kiss on the cheek…
Her eyes slid closed and she instantly recalled how great he smelled. Clean, with just a hint of fresh-smelling soap. He’d never cared for wearing cologne, and clearly his preference hadn’t changed. She recalled how she used to love burying her face in the deliciously warm spot where his neck and shoulder met and just breathe him in.
Opening her eyes, she sighed. His suggestion that they stay in touch had hit her with the cold, wet washcloth of reality. Definitely not a good idea. Especially since she’d wanted so badly to agree-a fact that only made her feel more guilty and disloyal toward Greg. She’d demurred, but the effort had cost her. As it had cost her to walk away after he’d weakened her knees with that single word: six.
A heated flush engulfed her. He’d remembered they’d made love six times that afternoon on the boat. And God help her, she’d never forgotten.
Her cell phone rang, yanking her from her thoughts, and she dug the flip phone from her handbag. Her caller ID informed her it was Kellie. Before Mallory could so much as say hello, her best friend said, “Okay, out with it. How’d the pictures come out?”
Mallory’s glance cut to the manila envelope. “Surprisingly well.”
“Where are you now?”
“At the office.”
“Good. Stay there. I’m only a few minutes away. Bye.”
Mallory closed her phone, then, determined to concentrate on work until Kellie arrived, spent the next ten minutes pulling up new home listings in the area on her computer. She didn’t look up until the front door opened.
Kellie Straton walked into the office with the bubbly enthusiasm of a teenager. Dressed in cutoffs and a tank top over a neon-pink bathing suit, her honey-blond hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail and designer sunglasses resting on top of her head, she looked cool and perky-or at least as cool and perky as one could be during a July heat wave.
“Off to the beach?” Mallory asked.
“Absolutely. It’s the only place to be on a beastly day like this.”
“And what about Kellie’s Korner?” she asked, referring to the funky clothing-and-jewelry boutique Kellie owned in the center of town.
“The air-conditioning unit broke down during lunch and the repairman can’t come until Monday. I stayed open for a couple hours, but when it became too hot inside, I closed up shop.”
“Sorry to hear about the air-conditioning.”
“Me, too. But business was slow anyway. So c’mon. I have an extra bathing suit in my bag,” she said, patting the huge bright green terry-cloth satchel hanging on her shoulder. “You can change here and come with me. I’ll look at your pictures while I wait.”
“Wish I could, but I still have work here.”