The Other Man (West Coast Hotwifing) (22 page)

Her skin chilled despite the hot water.

His gaze traveled over her body through the steam and water on the glass door. He knew. He’d guessed. He was looking for signs.

She washed the conditioner out of her hair and shut the tap off. Opening the door, she held her hand out. “Could you pass me the towel?”

He did. She squeezed the water out of her hair, dried it, then ran the towel over her body. Goose bumps sprang up along her skin. She couldn’t breathe in the steam-scented air.

“Tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked, his voice low and harsh.

She held the towel scrunched to her breasts and belly. She could lie and say nothing. But she would have to tell him eventually. Lying now was just delaying the inevitable. All it would do was give her more time to dread the confrontation.

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“Fuck.” He slammed his fist down on the countertop. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

She’d been thinking about doing his bidding, Spence coming in her, Keith licking it out of her. “Bareback was your idea. I was fine without that, but
you
wanted it.”

“Oh yeah, let’s just spread the blame around.” He slashed a hand through the air. “You were supposed to take the fucking pill.”

“I did take it. But I got that flu bug, if you’ll remember, and I think I threw it up.”

“Who the hell gets a flu bug in the summertime?” he snarled. “You did this on purpose.”

“I didn’t.” Her stomach was jumping, and her knees felt weak. She put a hand on the edge of the shower stall to keep herself up.

“I never let you have a child, then Alison gets pregnant. And all you can think about is having a baby.”

“That’s not true. I was fine without having a child. And I’m not jealous of Alison. This was an accident.”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “Fine. It was an accident. Then fix it.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. This couldn’t be fixed.

“Get an abortion. You can’t be that far along.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

“It’s your problem,” he said coldly. “Take care of it.” Then he walked out. A few moments later, she heard the shower on the other side of the wall.

Take care of it? Kill it? It was a solution that had never even occurred to her. But, of course, it would solve everything.

If she could actually do it.

* * * * *

Keith sat on the end of the bed, head in his hands. Zoe had long since left for work. He was going to be late. The traffic would be bad. He wondered why they didn’t drive together, but they never had. There were always errands to run on the way home or working late. But shouldn’t married couples drive together when their offices are close to each other?

It seemed like their marriage had been all wrong for years. It wasn’t just the fucking around. It had happened before that, perhaps as far back as when he’d blithely said that he already had a family and was too old to start another.

Christ, he’d fucked up badly, all the way along. She was right; he’d insisted on the other man fucking bareback. He’d insisted on everything, from the first moment he’d broached the subject of hotwifing. He’d had a vision of how sexy and hot it would be to have her arrive home bathed in another man’s come. He’d wanted her to have a boyfriend. The idea was so damn sexy.

He just hadn’t counted on reality. That she’d fall for the guy. That she’d get pregnant. That she might actually leave and he’d be on his own.

Keith stood, paced the room, trying to outrun the images in his head, the two of them licking the man’s come off her hand, sharing that kiss. He’d known it then, saw it for the mistake it was. It hit home in the video. It was all over by the time Spencer Benedict said he wanted to take her away for a romantic weekend.

His chest hurt, fucking ached. Was he having a heart attack? He pressed a palm to his heart as if that would stop the pain. But nothing would stop it. It was his heart, his mind, his soul. His pacing had taken him to the mirrored closet doors. And what did he see? An old man, gray-haired, tanned skin, wrinkles at his eyes, on his forehead, deep grooves slashing down the sides of his mouth. This was who she was married to. An old man who couldn’t get it up anymore. Of course she would fall for Spencer Benedict.

And she was going to have the man’s child.

He should never have issued that ultimatum.
Get an abortion. It’s your problem. Just take care of it.
So cold, so hard, so unequivocal. They were words he could never take back. They echoed in the silence of the house.

But what was he supposed to do? Raise the child as his own? Or admit publicly that it wasn’t his? He should have thought things through. God, yes, not just what he’d said this morning, but what he’d started three years ago.

He had to face the very real possibility that he might end up alone.

Chapter Twenty

She’d seen her doctor and would have the results in a couple of days. Even without it, both her doctor and Zoe were sure. She’d left armed with a shopping list of vitamins and instructions on what to eat, how much to rest, no stress, on and on. The doctor said she was at a critical stage. After all, she wasn’t a
spring chicken.
She could miscarry.

She didn’t tell the doctor that her husband would be very happy if she did. She hadn’t asked for advice on where to get an abortion. How did you even ask a doctor?
So, like, where do I go to get an abortion, Doctor?

But if I miscarry—

Problem solved. No decision necessary.

She dumped the bags of groceries and vitamins on the counter. Keith wasn’t home. In the bedroom, the bed was still unmade. She’d walked out this morning without bothering.

She kicked off her high heels, rolled down her pantyhose, and shimmied out of her skirt and blouse. Donning a pair of leggings and an old crop top, she pushed her feet into worn flip-flops and padded back into the kitchen.

Her phone was on the counter. Spence hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted or left a message. She’d told him to go away and he had.

She clenched her teeth against a sudden sharp pang. Then she squeezed her eyes shut before she actually started crying. How could she miss a man she’d known just over a month? Somehow, the intimacy they’d shared had torn down all the barriers.

Some people could have casual sex. She’d had it with strangers in hotel rooms in far off cities. But she and Spence had stripped away anything casual between them. She’d believed that marriage was more than sex, and it was true, but marriage without sex also lacked an essential intimacy. She
needed
that intimacy. It was vital to her. Spence had taught her that.

Zoe put a hand to her stomach.

There was nothing casual about the baby growing inside her. There was nothing casual about her feelings for its father. God, her heart hurt. One hand on her belly, the other gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turned white, she stood for what seemed an eternity. Until she heard the rumble of the garage door opening.

She swallowed, wiped at her eyes. Her fingers came back wet.

Her husband didn’t want this baby. Spence wouldn’t want it either. And he wouldn’t want her if she kept it.

It.
That was the problem: the baby wasn’t an
it.

The door in from the garage opened, Keith’s briefcase slapped on the floor just inside his office, then his dress shoes beat a rhythm along the hardwood hallway.

She waited a beat, gathered herself, then turned. “I’m not getting an abortion.”

The muscles seemed to hang on his face. His shoulders slumped. He looked years older than he had only a week ago. “I can’t tell people it’s my child.”

She sighed. “I know. I’ll move out.”

He held out a hand. “Zoe, can’t we—”

She shook her head. “We made a mistake. This whole hotwifing thing wasn’t a good idea. Sex for me is about the emotion as well. I can’t take a stranger to bed and get what I need out of it.” She swallowed, her throat hurting. “And I need sex. It’s not a marriage without it.”

She didn’t even talk about the baby. Or Spence.

He shook his head, his eyes bewildered like a little boy’s. “Why didn’t you tell me that in the beginning?”

“I only just realized it with—” She shrugged, unable to finish the sentence, unable to hurt him that way.

He heard the unspoken name anyway, his lips moving slightly, his cheeks rippling as he clamped his teeth. “Are you in love with him?”

“I’m not leaving you for him. I’m leaving you for the baby.” She didn’t bother to say that Spence wouldn’t want the child any more than Keith did. He’d never signed on for that. No, he was the other man, the one who made her come, who touched her, kissed her, licked her, made her crazy. Then sent her home to her husband. She was Keith’s problem, not Spence’s. She would never see him again. He would never know about…

She ground the train of thought to a halt before it brought her to her knees. “I’ll pack a bag tonight. Get a hotel room. We can figure out the rest later.”

“If I agreed to take the kid, would you stay?” He said it so softly, she almost didn’t hear. Maybe it was her imagination. Something she conjured, wanted, needed.

But they’d gone too far.

“That wouldn’t work, Keith. Things are different now.” She loved him. But she wasn’t in love with him. She wasn’t sure when that had ended. With Spence? Three years ago when Keith said he wanted her to take other lovers? Or long before that? “It’s best if I just go tonight,” she said. “Get a hotel room.” She’d figure out where to go from there.

He stood half in and half out of the kitchen, his hand on the doorjamb. His knuckles whitened but that was the only outward sign of emotion. “Yes,” he agreed. “That’s best.”

A part of her wanted him to get angry. Shout. Beg. This was too damn civilized. For God’s sake, she was having another man’s child. But their marriage was dying the same way their sex life had died, with a radical change that neither of them had been prepared for. He couldn’t have sex with her so why not let other men do the job? And he hadn’t wanted a child, so why not just let her have one with another man?

Problem solved.

* * * * *

Spence had no rational reason for tagging along on the debugging process. Farris wasn’t attending. It was just Paul, the production planner, and their MIS guy. Spence said he was going to Bay Metals because he’d been the originator of the idea.

They’d purchased enough targets to fill the five cathodes in their sixty-inch coater. If anything went wrong, the production run was small and would minimize losses. Not that they would pay for it; the test run was on Bay Metals’ dime. Unless, of course, it worked perfectly.

First, there were a couple of issues to resolve with the system interface. Spence didn’t have a thing to do with it, but he was going anyway. He hadn’t seen Zoe in two weeks. Hadn’t called. Hadn’t emailed. Hadn’t texted. And it was the worst two weeks of his life since he’d lost Fiona. He’d never used the word
love
. He’d never needed to. But he knew damn well what it was, how it felt, how it ripped you apart on the inside when you knew it was impossible.

He wouldn’t beg. Or cajole. Or pressure. He wouldn’t even try to seduce her. He just wanted to see Zoe. That was all. He wouldn’t ask for anything. He just wanted to look at her.

For a man who’d professed he’d never fall for a woman, he’d fallen hard. Except that he hadn’t told anyone. Not even Ward. He wasn’t into sharing his inner thoughts. Unless they were about someone else.

They were set up in a computer room in MIS, which was the hub of the debugging process. Don, Bay’s programmer, linked into both systems on two different terminals. Zoe showed up ten minutes into the process. She stopped short just inside the door when she saw him. Obviously, she hadn’t anticipated his involvement.

“Hi,” he said, smiling big. Yeah, he wanted to make her uncomfortable. He wanted her to be aware of every moment she was near him.

He almost laughed. What the hell happened to that bit about all he wanted was to see her?

“Things are actually going well,” he informed her, needing to engage her so she couldn’t run away. “There haven’t been a lot of problems. But we don’t want to go live without covering all the bases.”

“That’s great,” she said. “Looks like Don’s got everything under control. I’ll just—”

Don waved a hand at her. “Zoe, look at this.”

She had no choice but to fully enter the room. She was all flowery shampoo, body lotion, and woman. God, she was beautiful. Her skin seemed to glow, her hair to shine a glossier black. Her breasts beneath the fine silk made his mouth water. He imagined they were fuller, more tempting. He could almost taste her on his tongue.

She leaned over, one hand on the table to brace herself as she scanned the terminal Don sat in front of.

He’d warred with himself these past two weeks. Leave her alone or ride in on his white charger and steal her away from the wastrel husband? His gut wanted the battle; his head told him he’d only make things worse for her. His heart simply asked,
Why the hell didn’t you tell her you loved her?

Her cell phone rang. She’d been holding it in her hand, and she raised it to read caller ID. Her lips thinned, her jaw tensed. And she glanced at him.

Then she punched a button and turned her back to answer. “Hi,” she said softly, followed by a pause as she listened, then, “Here?” her voice rising. Her shoulders rounded, her arm went across her abdomen. “Okay,” she finally answered. “I’ll be right there.”

Turning back, she studiously avoided Spence’s gaze and pointed to the screen, discussing a couple of items with Don. Then she excused herself. Waving her phone in the air as she exited, she said breezily, “Call me if you need me.”

It was her husband. Keith was here, in the lobby or out in the parking lot.

“I’m going to the men’s room,” he said, rising, following her fast. She disappeared around a corner at the end of the hall. He made it to the turn in time to see her exit through a side door.