The Saint's Wife (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

They just had to work in Chris’s home office today, didn’t they?

Of course they did. There was no need to drive all the way into downtown Seattle for everything they needed to do today. David had a conference call in a couple of hours. Chris was crunching numbers. Both were going over proposals from several management teams for new projects and taking a couple of departments in new directions, not to mention a bid from a company interested in buying one section of Berserker Tech. Plenty of work to do, but nothing that couldn’t be done from home.

Damn it.

As he thumbed through files on his tablet, David searched for an excuse to go into the downtown office after all. Some reason to justify losing an hour of productivity for the drive across Lake Washington to the city. Coming up with a believable reason required focus, though, and he didn’t have any of that today.

It wasn’t like he had to justify himself to Chris. They were business partners. Equals. But deep down, David was convinced that any move he made would be suspicious. That Chris might look at him and see what happened last night.

Or, quite possibly worse, Chris might ask a benign question, and David would unleash the tirade that had been simmering at the tip of his tongue since yesterday. If it weren’t for the wad of peppermint gum, he’d probably have ground his teeth down to nubs just since breakfast.

My wife, you son of a bitch. You fucked my
wife
. You fathered my
kid
.

So help me, asshole, if you weren’t sick, I’d choke you with my bare hands.

I would have done it yesterday. Instead of going to Joanna’s workroom and—

His stomach clenched. This guilty conscience was unbearable. Especially since it was bullshit to even feel guilty about it. Yeah, he’d made out with Joanna, and given half a chance, he’d have fucked her, but—

That thought sent a shiver through him.

“Cold?” Chris asked.

“No.” David thumbed the pages of the file he’d been staring at. “I’m good.”

Chris eyed him. Panic shot through David. Did he know?

Chris tilted his head. “You all right? You seem a bit distracted today.”

Oh, you could say that…

David’s cheeks were suddenly hot. “I’m, uh…yeah. I’m good. Just…” He scrambled for a believable excuse. “Nothing to worry about. Just some shit with Alexandra.”

“Gotcha.” And Chris went right back to looking at his tablet. No flinch. Not even a flicker of concern or fear or panic.

Fuck you, asshole.

David went back to trying to read the pages in front of him, but he couldn’t concentrate. He could barely sit still. Every time he so much as looked at Chris, the guilt burned even hotter. And then came the anger. And more guilt.

I should’ve called in sick.

But then I’d have to come in tomorrow.

Fuck
.

You fucked my wife.

I almost fucked yours.

You don’t deserve either of those women. You treated both of them like shit, you asshole.

David rubbed his eyes. His emotions jerked him in so many directions, they may as well have been a tilt-a-whirl. One second, he was furious with Chris. The next, he wanted to confess what he’d done and beg his friend’s forgiveness. And then he’d remember what it was like to be in Joanna’s arms and wish he could do it again. And maybe not stop this time.

“Have you gone over the specs R&D sent over?” Chris asked without looking up from his tablet.

David pressed his gum against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. “Not yet. Have you?”

“No.” Chris rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Can’t think clearly enough to get past the first page or two.” He leaned back and sighed. “I think this new drug is fucking with my brain.”

Hilary glanced at him, forehead creased with worry. Then her eyes darted toward David, and he swore she was silently pleading with him to either tell her this was fine, that it would pass and everything would go back to normal, or fix it. Which, of course, he couldn’t.

And with that, the anger and frustration boiling over in his chest turned back to guilt.

While you had your tongue down Joanna’s throat, her husband was up here in this office, inching closer and closer to dying.

You dick
.

“I’ll, uh…” David cleared his throat. “I’ll look at it as soon as I finish this.”

“I promised an answer before close of business today. We need to get on it ASAP.”

Of course, in this case, “we” meant “you”, which had always been one of Chris’s little passive-aggressive techniques. And David couldn’t even get pissed about it now, or shoot back a snide
then get on it
like he would’ve just a few months ago. Chris wasn’t pawning it off out of boredom or laziness. The man was trying not to die, and the side effects of his treatment were damaging his concentration.

David stood abruptly and spat his gum in the trash. “I’m going to get some more coffee. I’ll be right back.” Halfway to the door, he paused. “Hilary? You want anything?”

Without looking up, she shook her head.

“Chris?”

A dismissive gesture.

Fine. At least neither of them made any motion to come with him. He needed a few minutes alone to collect his thoughts.

Halfway down the hall, he paused and glanced back at the closed door. How many times had he left Chris alone with his personal assistants over the years? Sometimes for a moment to get coffee, sometimes to go downtown.

“Take your time,”
Chris had said one day when David had decided to go to the Seattle office.
“I’ll see you when you get back.”

And David had gone, and he’d taken his time, and he hadn’t even thought twice about the fact that Chris would be alone with his assistant for a few hours with a bed right across the hall.

Because he’d trusted Chris. He’d trusted Alexandra.

David swore and continued down the hall.

Hilary, do yourself a favor. Just…don’t.

It was probably just as well that Chris was too sick these days to get physically involved with anyone. He’d done enough damage to enough people.

In the kitchen, the coffeepot was empty, so David busied himself making some more. He focused solely on the grounds, the filters, the water—anything that wasn’t work or all the shit he’d learned about his best friend in the last few days.

Of course, that didn’t last long. Now that he had a room to himself, with some silence and some time to think, his mind jerked back toward one of the two topics that had been occupying his thoughts most of the time. It was either Joanna or…

Tiffany.

David winced. Alexandra had promised they would keep things the way they were. No paternity tests. No changes to their custody agreement. She’d sworn over and over and over—and made him swear over and over and over—that Tiffany would never know the truth. With the revelation that Tiffany wasn’t biologically his, he and his ex-wife had vowed that only one thing would change—there’d be a test to ensure their daughter hadn’t inherited any genes that might condemn her to what Chris was going through now. Nothing else would change.

Well, in theory.

Nothing else would change where Tiffany was concerned, but between David and Alexandra? There was no pretending that things were, or would ever be, the same. They’d struggled for a long time to come to an uneasy ceasefire after their bitter divorce. They’d managed to be civil, sometimes even friendly, though the affection was long gone. Knowing she’d cheated on him, knowing she’d had a child with his best friend… There weren’t enough olive branches in the world.

Behind him, quiet footsteps tapped on the tile and jarred him back into the present.

He cleared his throat, quickly composing himself, and asked over his shoulder, “Changed your mind about the coffee?”

“No, I think I’m okay.”

David damn near jumped out of his skin, and spun around.

Joanna.

No makeup. Dark hair up in a ponytail. Thin shoulders hunched beneath a plain hoodie. So much like the day he’d gone to Tillamook, and yet, completely different.

“Hey.” He swallowed. “I, uh…didn’t realize it was you.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. “It probably shouldn’t be. We might want to…um…”

“Avoid each other?”

Joanna nodded. They met each other’s eyes over the kitchen island. As the seconds dragged on, David was surprised the granite countertop didn’t split beneath the weight of the tense silence between them.

After a while, she fidgeted uncomfortably and stared at the counter. “I wanted to apologize. For yesterday.”

“It was as much my fault as yours. No hard feelings.”

“No hard feelings, but…” She lifted her gaze. “We can’t let it happen again.”

“It won’t.”
No matter how much I want it to.

“I know.” She held eye contact for a couple of uncomfortable seconds, and then, without a word, turned and walked out of the kitchen.

David leaned hard against the counter. His appetite was suddenly gone. So was his concentration. Even a piece of gum wasn’t going to be enough to channel this nervous energy.

Christ. What the fuck did they do?

And why was it so hard to stand there and let her go?

Chapter Sixteen

The guilt was eating Joanna alive.

It wasn’t just the fact that she’d made out with David, or that she’d been a heartbeat away from tearing his clothes off and fucking him. It was the fact that, in spite of the guilt, she wished she could go back and relive those few delicious moments that never should have happened.

Ever since she’d faced him in the kitchen, her mouth telling her they couldn’t do this while her body ached to take him someplace private, she’d been a mess of guilt and confusion and emotions she didn’t even understand.

Breaking her vows and cheating on her dying husband was bad enough. Fucking up the tentative alliance she’d formed with David? Crap. As if letting it slip about his daughter hadn’t been bad enough. Now they had this hanging over them.

And what if they needed to lean on each other again? Joanna had no doubt they would before all this was over, but how could they do that when they couldn’t even look at each other?

If that night was so wrong, why did it feel like it was exactly what she’d needed?

Right or wrong, for better or worse, she couldn’t get David’s kiss out of her mind. She was no idiot—she knew damn well that everything they’d done had been a “fuck you” to Chris. David hadn’t wanted her. He’d wanted revenge.
You fucked my wife, so now I’m going to fuck yours, asshole.
And Joanna had been caught up in the liberating feeling of someone else finally getting it, of her husband’s closest ally finally realizing that Chris wasn’t the saint everyone made him out to be, and that maybe, just maybe, everything she’d felt was justified.

That was how it started, anyway. But for the briefest period, Chris hadn’t even existed. Maybe it was just the shock of the moment. The realization that she was kissing David. Then the realization that she liked it. And how easily it could have and should have turned into feverish touching, frantically shoving clothes out of the way, his hard cock rubbing against her and driving her crazy until he’d finally—
finally!
—fucked her.

Right up until reality had set in, she’d liked it. She’d loved it. The heat of his body against hers. The taste of his kiss.

She shivered.

“Something wrong?”

Chris’s voice startled her, and her head snapped up. He watched her from across the dinner table.

“I…no. No.” She shook her head. “Sorry. I was just…distracted.”
By your best friend’s lips…hands…tongue…

Chris sighed heavily. “I thought you gave up all of that studying bullshit.”

Her teeth ground together and she glared at him. “I put my degree on hold for now, yes.”

“So, what’s distracting you, then?”

How much I wish I could finish something I had no business starting.

Her cheeks burned, and shame knotted in her gut. “It doesn’t matter. Were you saying something?”

He scowled but didn’t speak, and focused on slicing off a small piece of chicken. At least he was eating. The treatments did terrible things to his appetite sometimes.

Don’t act like you care.

She cringed at her own thought. She did care, damn it. Chris was an asshole, but he didn’t deserve what the cancer was doing to him. She stared at her plate to avoid looking at him and chased a piece of zucchini around with her fork to avoid eating anything. Her stomach couldn’t cope with the guilt or any of these other emotions and threatened to throw back anything she tried to swallow.

Divorcing her terminally ill husband would have earned her a special place in hell.

Cheating on him? With his best friend?

Shit. What did I do?

And even thinking about finishing it? Doing it again?

This wasn’t her. Joanna had always been a faithful wife. She wasn’t perfect by any means, and she’d started plenty of the screaming matches they’d had over the years, but that was one line she’d always refused to cross.

But then David…

And that moment…

And the loneliness…

And that kiss…

She chewed the inside of her cheek and picked at her food.

“You’re very quiet tonight.” Funny how Chris could make the simplest observation sound like an accusation. Probably because, knowing him, it
was
an accusation. A thinly veiled
How dare you ignore me?

Joanna lifted her gaze, an apology and an excuse at the tip of her tongue, but paused when she met his eyes.

Because she felt nothing. The guilt was still there, but even that seemed to be tucked away beneath a thickening layer of numb indifference.

Didn’t I love you at one point?

Staring at him now, she dug deep into her memories, into her emotions, searching for a hint of what she’d felt for him way back in the day. It wasn’t his appearance that ceased to make her stomach flutter now—no, this apathy predated any of his diagnoses. She couldn’t remember when it had started.

More to the point, she couldn’t remember when that giddy, fluttery feeling had ended.

You’re still alive, but when did
we
die?

He cocked his head, eyebrows lowered slightly. “Jo?”

She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I…haven’t been sleeping well.” As soon as the words were out, she cringed.

And there it was: the humorless laugh as he brought his glass up to his lips. “Good to know I’m not the only one losing sleep these days.” There was a snide accusation in there somewhere, but Joanna was too exhausted to unpack it and figure out what he was implying.

She lowered her gaze again and finally decided she needed to eat something before she ran out of what little energy she had left. She stabbed a piece of zucchini with her fork. It was lovely, but even her sense of taste seemed dulled by that shroud of numbness.

She started to reach for another bite, and Chris picked that moment to break the silence again.

“How have your workouts been going?”

“My workouts?” Joanna set her fork down. “Or my weigh-ins?”

His expression didn’t change, and he didn’t clarify his question.

She dabbed her lips with her napkin, set her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. The numbness cracked, letting through some frustration.

Why the hell do I feel guilty for cheating on you?

That thought doubled the guilt, though. He was still her husband. Her dying husband.

Her dying asshole of a husband who cheated on her, belittled her, walked all over her…

Chris tapped his fingers beside his plate and raised his eyebrows.
Well?

Joanna swallowed. “They’ve been…”
You don’t deserve me.
“They’ve been going all right.”

“Just all right?” The smirk made her want to throw her glass in his face. Not just the contents. The fucking glass.

She pulled in a breath through her nose. “Well, I’m thinking of starting a new cardio regimen.”

The smirk turned to an approving smile. “Good. I’m sure Kevin will be pleased.”

Oh, Kevin isn’t going to know about
this
cardio regimen.

She plastered on a smile and took a drink.

And wondered if David was home tonight.

Joanna stared at herself in the mirror. This was one little black dress she hadn’t worn in a long time. Chris approved of the modest top and wide straps, and back when he used to notice her, he’d always loved seeing less cleavage and more collarbone. She’d bought this dress in the first place because she had hoped to get his attention one night, thinking it was just the right thing to pull him away from his work and into their bed.

But he’d barely noticed it. He’d never liked her going out in skirts that short, especially not with heels that high. And when she’d worn this one that night or any night after, he’d never been impressed with the way it held on to her midsection—somehow it always managed to emphasize whatever weight she dared to carry.

She resisted the urge to turn to one side, then the other, and scrutinize how well it fit. She refused to feel that self-loathing in the pit of her stomach, that heavy sensation that came with the realization she wasn’t as thin as she’d been at eighteen, and she forbade herself from inviting in that flood of internal criticism.

Her gaze drifted to her legs, which were currently wrapped in sheer black nylons.

Do I need stockings?

No. No, I don’t.

Heart thundering, she toed off her shoes, hitched up her skirt and peeled off the nylons. Where she was going, they would only get in the way.

Then she put her shoes on, grabbed her purse and left before she could talk herself out of it. There were a million voices in her head trying to tell her this was a mistake, and she was an idiot, and she was a horrible person, but she ignored them. All the way down the hall, down the driveway, down the road, she ignored them.

Right up to the parking lot outside David’s condo, she ignored them.

As her car idled, she stared up at the soft glow coming from his living room window. He was home, at least. And his car was here. Was he alone? Would he turn away?

Was she a complete fucking idiot, not to mention a terrible human being, for showing up here at all?

Probably.

But she was here. And she wasn’t going home. Not yet.

She killed the engine and got out. Her high heels thunked hard on the sidewalk, echoing her pounding heart. The non-skid on the stairs dulled the sound, but only a little. As David’s front door came into view, her stomach twisted into knots behind the slightly-too-tight dress.

In front of his door, she stopped, ordering herself not to get sick or run away or pass out or break down crying just from the overwhelming flurry of emotions. Maybe she’d regret this tomorrow, maybe she wouldn’t. But she wasn’t turning back.

She squared her shoulders, paused to collect herself and then knocked.

Footsteps.
Oh God. Here we go.

The dead bolt turned. Then the door opened.

And their eyes met.

“Joanna.” He swallowed and didn’t quite hide the down-up glance. “This…this is a surprise.”

“I know. I probably should have called.” She paused, chewing her lip. “Um, can I come in?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure.” He stepped aside.

Blood pounded in her ears, and she held her breath as she walked into his condo. The click of the door sent a shudder through her. No turning back now. Right?

And did she want to?

She gave him a sweeping look, taking in the pressed trousers, crisp white shirt beneath a black jacket, and the five-o’clock shadow darkening the stubble that was almost always there anyway. Oh yes. She’d come here for a reason. She could’ve found another man tonight if all she’d needed was a “fuck you” to Chris, but there’d been no other man on her mind.

No, she didn’t want to turn back. She wanted him.

“I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Your timing couldn’t be better, actually. I just got home from the office.” David shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

“It’s almost nine.”

“I know.” He loosened his tie a bit. “Late night.”

Her stomach knotted. David was in the middle of taking on—and to a lesser degree, delegating—Chris’s various responsibilities. Because Chris wouldn’t be there much longer. Because he was dying.

She cringed inwardly.
What am I doing?

David gave her another quick down-up, brow furrowing slightly. “You, um. You look great.” The slight upward flick of his eyebrow asked if there was a reason for the dress. A night out with Chris? Or…

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Listen, I…”

He tilted his head a little, the question still in his eyes.

Joanna gulped. “I came over here because…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then gazed up at him. “Because I want to finish what we started the other day.”

David’s eyes got huge. “What?”

“I want you, David.”

He blinked. “Are you insane?”

“Maybe.”

“Joanna, we…” His gaze drifted downward, as if he were not only avoiding her eyes but taking in her appearance. Maybe realizing why she was dressed like this. When their eyes met again, he shook his head. “I can’t do that. Neither can you.”

Her heart sank. “Why not?”

“He’s your husband. He’s…” Once more, he looked her up and down. Then he shook himself and stepped closer to her. “This isn’t you. You’re not a cheater.”

“You know what else isn’t me?” Tears suddenly stung her eyes, and she forced them back. “Playing the adoring wife to a husband who doesn’t give a damn about me.” She threw up her hands. “David, I’ve put up with the things he’s said, and the things he’s done. I’ve been faithful to him even while he was cheating on me, and I’m…I’m just done. And after the way he was talking to me tonight, I’m—”

“What?” David’s hackles went up, and his eyes were alive with fury. “What did he say to you?”

She patted the air. “It was nothing in particular. Just being his usual charming self. Grilling me about losing weight. That sort of thing.”

“That son of a bitch,” David snarled. “The last thing you’ve
ever
needed to do is lose weight.”

“Tell that to him.”

“I have.”

She straightened. “You have?”

He nodded, avoiding her eyes. “Many, many times. There’s probably nothing else we’ve ever argued harder about.”

“Really?” She knew they’d had some heated disputes over their business, not to mention the fights that were inevitable when two bullheaded men were as close as they were, but she’d never known about this. “I didn’t even think you liked me.”

He laughed softly, still keeping his gaze from hers. “I didn’t like you, and you didn’t like me. But that…” He met her eyes for a second, and his cheeks colored a little as he looked away again. “That’s changed. And even before it did, he was being unreasonable. He was pushing you to be unhealthy, and just being a fucking asshole. And I told him as much.” He paused, cheek rippling as he clenched his jaw. “And apparently he and my ex-wife split up over the same thing.”

Joanna raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”