It was raining, 10:30 at night with a steady wind swirling around and rapping against the side of his house. Madison had spoken with Chandler a couple of hours ago and learned that his investigator was going to be returning to Sacramento in five days.
Madison had started a fire and was sitting in front of it, reminiscing about the first time he and Leeza had lit the fireplace after the house had been built. There were no kids and they had the evening to themselves. George Winston’s gentle piano solos tinkled from the CD player.
As they sipped Chardonnay, he remembered feeling the drawing heat of the fire warming the skin on his neck. They made love right there, on the carpet in front of the fireplace, Leeza’s moans drowning out the crackles and pops of the burning pine cones.
As he lay there now, sipping Chardonnay and reliving that night, he marveled at how easy life had been. Few worries. And a bright future lay ahead of them, two beautiful children merely one detail in the grand plan of plans.
A knock at the door broke his daydream; he shook his head and shuffled his mind back to reality. As he started toward the door, he thought his prayers had been answered: Leeza.
His heart beating faster than he could walk, he opened the door and saw, dripping wet in the rain, Catherine. Catherine the vamp. He could hear Jeffrey’s voice loud and clear in his head. It must have shown on his face.
He stood there, the door open; she stood there, rain beating against her red hair.
“I thought you’d be glad to see me,” she said.
“I…didn’t expect you to be at the door.”
“Were you expecting someone else?” she asked.
He hesitated, looked down at his tom jeans and old flannel shirt. “No.”
She shivered. “Can I come in? It’s freezing out here.”
“Oh. Sure,” he said, wishing he could instead tell her to get back in her car and leave, to stay the hell away from him.
“I had a good time last night.” Catherine said as she walked into the marble entryway. She hung her coat on a decorative rack against the wall. “I don’t get up this way that often, but I was in town for a deposition that was supposed to last a couple of hours. It went six. I grabbed some fast food and then thought I’d drop by on my way out of town to say hi.”
“How’d you get my home address?”
She smiled. Pearly white teeth. “Is that important?”
“As a matter of fact, it is. I don’t give it out.”
“Let’s just say I have a friend at the DMV who owes me. Big.”
“That’s Illegal.”
“This person isn’t concerned with legalities. He’s more interested in a date.”
She smiled again, but he diverted his gaze away from her face. She was dressed in a suit. Form-fitting, yet professional. She was probably telling the truth. But he didn’t want to see her. Not now. Not with the fire burning in the living room, the alcohol infecting his thoughts.
She ventured toward the fireplace, stopped in front of it, and placed her hands out to warm them. Madison walked over next to her and faced the fire. He stood there, watching the flames dance, feeling guilty having her in his house. In Leeza’s house.
“Look, Catherine,” he started to say, just before she planted a hard, passionate kiss on his lips. He leaned back, but she pushed farther forward into him; they fell backward into the large, plush loveseat that sat perpendicular to the fireplace. She was on top of him, kissing him. He wasn’t resisting as hard as he should have, allowing her tongue to penetrate his mouth, while her hand slid down between his legs. Felt the zipper open. Pressure against his-
“Catherine,” he mumbled, her mouth bobbing up and down as he tried to speak.
She lifted her head up; he moved his shoulders a bit to gain some room.
“I can’t do this. It’s not that I don’t find you attractive,” he said, feeling passion starting to build again at the mere focus of his attention on her hair. Her scent. That scent. “Quite the opposite. I want to rip your clothes off-”
“Then do it. Don’t-”
“No-” he managed to say before she planted another passionate kiss on his lips. The wine. Her soft lips. He let them linger on his for a moment. Shook his head, trying to free his mouth to speak. “I can’t. I’m married. I’m-”
“Hoping that Leeza will come home.”
He nodded.
She sighed, hung her head. Climbed off him, straightened her suit, brushed back her hair with her hands.
He sat up and rubbed his temples. “She could walk through that door any minute.”
“I know that that’s what you’d like to believe.”
“It’s what I have to believe. Or I wouldn’t be able to face each day.”
“I understand,” she said, folding her arms on her chest and walking over to the fire. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”
He rose from the couch, zipped his pants. “If this were another time…” he started to say, and stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
She lightly stroked his cheek with the back of her hand and walked over toward the entryway. Picking her coat off the rack, she walked out of the house, the rapid clickety-clack of her spiked heels against the marble floor echoing in his mind, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.