A Wife Scorned: Complete Series Read online

It was hot out though. Should I offer him something cool to drink?

  Stop it. I needed to get back to my own work and let him do his. I was just looking for an excuse to interact with him, and that was the last thing I needed to do. I was attracted to him, there was no doubt in my mind about that. But I was certain that it was all on my side, and I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself like a girl with a crush on the star football player. The loneliness inside me longed to spend time with him, but I couldn’t be sure that I could keep my distance from him. I wasn’t about to humiliate myself by making an advance on someone like him, someone who would reject my desire for him as ridiculous.

  I was about to turn away from the window when he stopped what he was doing. I ducked back a little so that I was hidden by the edge to the door. God, what if he saw me watching him? How could I explain why I was here spying on him working on the shed?

  Fortunately he didn’t look my way, and as I watched he lifted the hem of his shirt and used it wipe his face. I reached out and gripped the edge of the door. Oh my. I swallowed hard as my eyes traced over every line of his tanned, muscular torso. He could have been sculpted from marble, with every muscle under his smooth tanned skin arranged in aesthetic perfection. What would skin that smooth looking, muscles that hard looking, feel like under my hand?

  He had a sprinkling of dark hair going from under his navel down to the waistband of his jeans. I imagined my hand traveling down that trail of hair and underneath the denim. Would I find just as much perfection under the jeans as there was above?

  I turned my back, and pressed against the wall beside the French door, its smooth surface cool against my overheated body. What was I doing? I was spying on him and fantasizing about touching him. He was young enough to be my son, it was wrong for me to be thinking what I was thinking. And not to mention, foolish, because in what world would the longing I had for him be reciprocated? A man like him, young and in his prime, wouldn’t be interested in a woman who’d been married for twenty years, who had children and a grandchild.

  I fanned myself with my hand as I felt the heat of my desire rising inside me. I was going to need another shower if I didn’t stop watching him. I needed to get my head in the real world and out of the clouds. I’d just turned forty, and I couldn’t even keep my husband’s interest in me. What made me think I could interest a man like Michael?

  That thought was like cold water being doused over me. My husband, who was legally obligated to be with me, had sought his pleasures elsewhere rather than with me. And this was Earl, a man who was on the other side of forty and hadn’t had a visible stomach muscle for fifteen years. If I couldn’t keep his interest, I had no chance with a man like the one fixing my shed.

  I stepped away from the wall, and looked out the door one last time. Thankfully he’d dropped his shirt back in place, sparing me the sight of the skin and muscle that made me delusional. Unfortunately, he chose that moment to look toward the house. He couldn’t see me standing here watching him, could he?

  The answer to that was in the wave and smile he gave me. Why did I have to try to get one last look at him? If I’d gone deeper into the house when I stepped away from the wall he would not have seen me. And he wouldn’t be walking toward the house right now.

  Oh God, what was I going to do now? What was I going to say? How as I going to explain what I was doing watching him out my back?

  I gave myself a mental shake. This was my home and I had every right to look out whatever door I wanted to. The closer he got to the door, the hotter my body got and the more my brain raced for some way to justify why I was standing there. The truth was I’d been spying on him like some lonely voyeur, and I’d been caught. I had to come up with some reasonable explanation for what I was doing standing there at the door.

  He was standing on the other side of the glass, and I had no choice but to open the door. I couldn’t stand here doing nothing while he looked expectantly at me.

  The heat from outside hit me and my already overheated body melted for a moment. A bead of sweat trickled down his his cheek, traveled down his throat and disappeared under the collar of his T-shirt. I was mesmerized by the notion of watching it until I found out where it landed. Michael cleared his throat, and my eyes darted up to him as my face heated. Hopefully the redness I was sure was show was showing could be explained by the heat and not by the fantasies that were playing in my head while I stood in front of him.

  “Is there something you wanted, Mrs. Randall?”

  I wondered for a moment what he would say if I told him that I wanted him. The notion was so ridiculous that I had to press my lips together to keep the nervous laughter from escaping from me. I had to come up with something to say with him looking so expectantly at me. I said the first thing that came into my panicked brain.

  “It’s awfully hot out there, why don’t you come in for a cool drink and some lunch?”

  Oh God, why had I said that? The last thing I needed was to have him in the house with me. I was aware of just how quiet the house was with no one else in it. There would be nothing to stop me from doing something stupid and humiliating myself with him. But the invitation was out now, and I couldn’t rescind it without appearing foolish.

  A smile stretched across his face, and it only made the longing inside me worse. The problem with that bright white smile of his was that it made him look approachable. It made it seem like my regard for him was returned, and that there was an interest in me in his eyes.

  “I’d love to have some lunch and get a chance to cool off, as long as it’s not too much trouble, Mrs. Randall.”

  Now that the invitation was out, it wouldn’t be too much trouble to make him something to eat. A man built like him had to have a big appetite, and I shoved from my mind the thought of what other appetites he might have besides the ones for food. Lunch was all he was having while in this house. I would repeat it to myself over and over until my body got the message.Michael

  “It’s no trouble. You’ve been working hard all morning and I’m sure you’ll need a break.”

  “I’ll just put my tools away and I’ll be right in. Thanks, Mrs. Randall.”

  His insistence on calling me Mrs. Randall made me feel a hundred years old, and I don’t know what made me say anything about it but I did.

  “Call me Grace. I’ll see you in a few minutes, Michael.”

  I closed the door as he turned away with a smile, and went to my kitchen. I shouldn’t have told him to call me by my first name. I needed the shield that his use of a formal address for me provided. But like everything else that had happened today, it was too late to go back. All I could do now was go to the kitchen, make some lunch and hope that I didn’t throw myself at him.

  With any luck he would eat quickly, and then go back outside. And I would manage to keep what I was feeling inside to myself and he would never know just what I longed to do with him.

  I put the sandwiches I'd made for him as well as the tall glass of ice water in front of him, and hoped to make my escape to the kitchen. Now that he was inside the house, within touching distance, it was getting harder for me to pretend that I wasn't disconcerted by his presence. If I could get away from him, at least for a few minutes, I could sort myself out and pretend I was the respectably married woman that he thought I was.

  "Are you not eating?" He looked up at me, with eyes so deep and blue that they were like an ocean I wanted to drown in. God, I needed to get away.

  "No, I'm not hungry right now. I'll eat something later."

  I turned away, intent on leaving the dining room and going back into my kitchen. I needed to find something to occupy my thoughts before the fantasies I was having about him overwhelmed me. I heard the scrape of a chair behind me. I turned my head to look, and he'd used his foot shoved out the chair that was across from him.

  "Come sit and talk to me. I’ll feel bad about making you go to the trouble of making lunch for me otherwise." He flashed that white smile of his, and I couldn't
say no to him. I came around the table and sat across form him, doing my best to pretend that everything was fine. He was just a man, one who'd I'd known for years and sitting here talking to him would be the same as if I was sitting across from anyone else.

  Despite what I was telling myself, I knew that talking to him wouldn't be like talking to anyone else. The combination of desire for him, and shame over feeling that desire made it difficult for me to contemplate having a normal conversation with him. But I had to say something to him, I couldn't sit here and stare at him eating. I had to pretend that everything was normal, despite the riot of feelings going on inside me.

  "So what have you been doing for the past five years?" I pasted a smile on my face as I looked at him, and I felt like a Barbie doll sitting there across from him. My face felt fake and plastic, and I was certain he could see through me. He was in the middle of chewing his food and he took the time to swallow what he was eating before he made his reply. At least he didn't have my husband's habit of talking with his mouth full.

  "Once I was done school, I joined the navy. I was in for the past three years, and got to see some of the world. It was an adventure, but I wanted to be a little more settled and less nomadic. What about you? What have you been up to since I saw you five years ago?"

  I hadn't been up to much, certainly nothing as exciting as being in the Navy and seeing the world.

  "I'm afraid my life hasn't been nearly as exciting as yours. I've been busy raising my girls, and the past couple of years I’ve been planning weddings for first Gloria and then Beverly."

  "And Mr. Randall? What is he doing these days?" There was a tightening of his lips when he mentioned my husband, and I wondered about it. Did he have a problem with Earl for some reason?

  "He's been busy working." I left it at that, since I didn't want to get into the problems with my marriage with him. I was certain that my situation with my husband was no secret in the neighborhood, although no one had actually come up to ask me what was happening with Earl that made it so he never came home anymore. Their pitying looks and the distant whispers behind the hands of the other housewives around me told their own story.

  "I see." He took a bite of his sandwich and looked thoughtful as he chewed. He looked like he wanted to say something, and my curiosity got the better of me. It was so rare for me to have anyone in the house anymore that I didn't want to stall this conversation now that it was getting started and I was getting over my initial reluctance to sit across from him.

  "You look like you want to say something. What's on your mind, Michael?"

  I knew that his parents live out of state where they'd moved when they'd left town five years ago. Perhaps he needed some motherly advice and I was the closest thing he could get. The thought was disheartening, because if I was honest with myself I wanted him to see me as a woman, not as a mother.

  "I have something I need to confess. Work wasn't the only reason I answered your ad. I do need a job, but that wasn't what really drove me to come here yesterday."

  I swallowed as he looked me straight in the eyes. What was he going to say? What was his reason for coming here? I took a deep breath. Was I sure I wanted to know? The silence stretched between us and I knew my curiosity wouldn't be satisfied unless I asked him outright what he meant.

  "What made you come here if it wasn't because you wanted the work?"

  He licked his lower lip, looked down at the table for a second and then back up into my eyes. My heart thumped and I held my breath. He looked nervous about something, but what on earth would he be nervous about telling me?

  "The first time I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. The reason I started hanging around with Gloria when I was in school was because I wanted to see you. I had a crush on you five years ago and I came here yesterday to see if it was still true. I wanted to know if the woman I've been dreaming about, fantasizing about, during those long nights at sea was as beautiful as I remembered."

  Shock went through me. He'd had a crush on me? I could understand being the object of his fantasies five years ago when his body was going through so many confusing changes as he grew into manhood, but was that the case now? He was the most beautiful man I'd seen in a long time, and the thought that he saw me as a desirable woman made my stomach flip. The voice of caution in my head told me this was not a road I wanted to go down.

  "I don't know if you should say any more, Michael." I stood up and stepped away from the table. If I stopped this now, I could keep myself from the temptation he presented. He might return my regard, but I knew it couldn't go anywhere.

  He stood too, and his chair scraped across the floor. "I have to say it. If I don't, I’ll regret it. I've been dreaming about you for the past five years, and seeing you now, I can tell you that the reality is so much better than the fantasy."

  This had to be a joke. I remembered my conversation with Gloria on my birthday, remembered her telling me that I should have an affair to liven up my life. Had she put him up to this? He was a friend of hers. Had she somehow gotten it in her head that I needed to have fling with one of her friends? I didn’t think that Gloria would be that cruel, to set me up like this, but how else could I explain that this handsome young man wanted me as much as I wanted him?

  "If this is a joke Michael, I don't find it at all funny. I think you should go back to work on the shed now and we'll forget we had this conversation."

  There. I'd given him an out that he could take without causing me to lose face. I wanted to take the bait he dangled in front of me, but I would only make a fool of myself.

  I moved to go past him, to get away form him before I did something stupid. If this was a joke it was a cruel one.

  He reached out and took my arm in a gentle hold. I could have broken free easily enough if I wanted to, but all I could do was tremble as I stood beside him. I couldn't look at him because I didn't want him to see how his words had affected me when I thought for a spit second that they were true.

  "Look at me, Grace." He put the tip of one calloused finger under my chin and used it to raise my face up so that I was looking into his eyes. There was nothing but sincerity in their blue depths, but I refused to let myself believe it. There were so many reason why doing anything with him was wrong and it was better if this was all one big joke. "I wouldn't joke about something like this. I mean everything I've said. You are the woman I've been dreaming about, and I've been wanting to do something about it for a long time."

  He moved his face closer to mine, and I could feel the softness of his breath fanning against my face. His eyes darted down to my lips and I knew he was going to kiss me. I should push him away, should tell him that it was something I didn't want, but my body made a liar out of me. I leaned in and it was all the encouragement he needed to take my mouth with his.

  He drew me close to his hard, young body and I was certain that he could feel the pounding of my heart. I hadn't kissed any man other than my husband in over twenty years, and feeling him against me was so strange, so exciting and new that I put my arms around his neck and gave myself over wholly to what he was doing to me.

  After what felt like an eternity with his mouth on my own, he pulled back and looked down at me.

  "Does that feel like a joke to you?" His voice was rough, huskier than usual and I could feel his desire for me against my pelvis as he pulled me closer. "Do you feel what you do to me? Does that feel like a joke?"

  I put my hands between us. This wasn't right. He was young enough to be my son, and I was married. My husband might be willing to throw our vows away easily, but I didn't know if I could do that. My upbringing had taught me to be faithful no matter the temptation.

  I pushed him, and he took a step back.

  "We can't do this. It's not right." It hurt me to say that to him, because right or wrong, I did want him. Those moments I'd spent just now, in his arms with him kissing me were thrilling and I wanted more. But it was something I couldn't have.


  "Why isn't it right? Are you saying you don't feel the same attraction to me that I feel for you? Did I force myself on you just now?"

  "You know you didn't." I looked away with a shake of my head. I needed to make him understand why we couldn't be together. "I'm twice your age. I'm old enough to be your mother."

  "But you aren't my mother. And I doesn't matter to me what the difference in our ages are. You are a beautiful woman, and if you haven't noticed I'm a fully grown man."

  I'd noticed alright. That was a big part of the problem.

  "I'm a married woman. Have you forgotten that?"

  "I haven't forgotten, but I think your husband might have. When I lived here five years ago, the big story around town was that your husband had a mistress set up in an apartment that he lived in during the week. Was that only idle speculation or have things gotten worse since your girls have grown up?"

  I swallowed and looked away from him. I had a notion that my marital situation was the subject of idle gossip, but having it confirmed hurt.

  "He doesn't bother coming home at all now. Is that what you wanted to hear? I'll admit it, I'm lonely. What woman wouldn't be? Are you suggesting that I take you up to my bed right now because my husband is a louse and I used you to get some revenge?"

  "I am not suggesting that you be with me for any other reason than because I want you and you want me. I don't want to be used as a tool for revenge. I want you and I think you want me to." He stepped close to me and ran his finger down my cheek. "I didn't bring up your husband to hurt you. The last thing I want is to hurt you. I just think that you are wasted on a man like him. I'll stay and finish the shed. If you change your mind about being with me, let me know. If you want me to leave you alone once the shed is finished, say nothing and I'll be out of your life like this conversation never happened."

  He turned and walked away from him. I closed my eyes. This conversation had unlocked a Pandora's box for me, and I was dying to open it. I knew what the right thing was, it was to tell him unequivocally that I was not having an affair with him. But I held my tongue. I would think it over, and I was certain that once the shed was finished, my answer would be the same.