Public Displays Of Affection

Chapter Fifteen

"I've been thinking about it and I believe you have to sleep with more than two men in your life before you can be considered a slut, Charlotte."

Joe watched her nod seriously, and he couldn't resist the urge to trace the outline of her jaw. Her chin ended in such a soft little rounded point. He marveled at how smooth her skin was. How pale she seemed beneath his darker hand.

She was kicking him to the curb tonight, but she was doing it sweetly, like she did most everything. There was no doubt about how much she wanted him-he felt it in her kiss, the way her hands gapped him, the feverish look in her eye-but she was right It wasn't the time or place.

Joe glanced over Charlotte's shoulder toward the tent. Most of the dueling flashlight beams were now off, and only an occasional flicker of light appeared, followed by a brief exchange of whispers. The campers were finally falling asleep.

"You going to be okay with the boys?" He rubbed her upper arms as she stood in front of him in the driveway.

She smiled. "Of course. I'll sleep on the family room couch in case they need anything."

"Want me to stay?"

He saw a flicker of interest in her eyes, followed by a polite shake of her head. "No, thanks. I can handle it."

"Obviously."

He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her small frame. He sighed in contentment when she returned the hug-a surprisingly tight grip coming from such a small woman.

"You've handled a lot, Charlotte. You are a very strong person."

Her entire body sagged against him. She weighed next to nothing. He wanted to pick her up, cradle her in his arms, kiss her face, and carry her right into his house and up the stairs and to his bed.

In his dreams.

He'd already thought this through. Now that he was staying, it would be too risky to let Charlotte or the kids wander around inside his house. The pool area would probably be okay, but he didn't want anyone getting anywhere near his office. It's not like he had his DEA shield mounted on the wall or his reports to the U.S. attorney scattered all over the floor, but it made him uncomfortable to think of anyone seeing anything that would put them at risk.

"I don't feel very strong sometimes, you know?" Charlotte's voice was muffled by the front of his shirt. He felt her snuggle close, and he pulled her even tighter.

"Nobody can feel strong all the time, sweetheart."

He felt her head bob up and down in agreement. He wanted her to hang on to him like this forever, but she was already extricating herself from his embrace.

"So. How many lovers does a woman have to have before she's a slut?"

Joe laughed-not only at her question but also at the earnest look on her face. Charlotte had somehow managed to keep an interesting combination of innocence and passion, even into her midthirties, and it intrigued him. "You really worried that you might be considered a slut?"

She pursed her lips in thought "At first, yes. I was sure I was going to go straight to hell."

"Seriously?"

"Yes " She broke into a wide smile. "As it turned out, I only went to Ohio."

Joe laughed again, taking her hands in his. He dragged his thumb over the delicate bones in her fingers and her small, smooth nails. He wanted to know every single inch of her, every nook and cranny of her body and her mind and her heart.

"I was sure that everybody could see a change in me, because I felt so different. I was afraid Kurt could see it, and my mother, and my roommates. I was completely paranoid." Charlotte quirked up her mouth. "The day before my wedding, my mother gave me this pamphlet called Duties of the Christian Wife. I nearly died."

"Any good pointers?"

Charlotte laughed softly. "Not that I remember. But I gave it to Kurt to read."

"Good move. A man can always do with a slightly different perspective than 'Penthouse Forum'."

"Oh, my God!" she blurted out. "Kurt never read anything like 'Penthouse Forum' in his life! He never even…"

Joe waited, then realized Charlotte had chosen not to finish her comment. She pulled her hands from his and crossed her arms over her chest, as if to close herself off.

"Kurt never even what?"

"Nothing."

'It was obviously something."

She shook her head. "I really need to get some sleep."

Joe bent close to get a better look at her downturned face. "Can I ask you a question, Charlotte?"

She looked up, suddenly scanning the darkness as if to check that no one was listening. It made Joe smile…

"I guess."

"Did you eventually have a satisfying sex life with your husband?"

"I really need to go to sleep," she said, walking away.

"Hey, wait! What are you doing tomorrow?" Joe hadn't meant to yell loud enough to wake up the boys, but a single flashlight beam sprang to life inside the tent.

Charlotte spun around. "It's Sunday. Nothing much. Why?"

"I want to see you tomorrow. That's why."

She briefly brought a hand to her mouth before she said, 'We'll see, Joe." Then she walked into the garage and lowered the automatic door.

LoriSue stopped brushing her hair in midstroke, pausing to check if she felt fully empowered yet. Maybe. She peered close to the vanity table mirror and studied her face. Yes, she was still beautiful, but she wouldn't stay that way for much longer, would she? Ten years, tops, and then what would she have?

LoriSue put the brush down and separated the darkening roots of her hair, trying to jog her memory, trying to recall her face in a brunette frame. She couldn't do it, sighed, and wandered out of the dressing room to her king-size bed. She flopped down on her stomach and kicked her feet in the air like a kid.

Today had been just chock-full of surprises. First there'd been the sight of Joe and Charlotte nearly getting it on by the fruit bowl. Oh, hell-she couldn't exactly indict the woman. Charlotte had been married to the most strait-laced guy on the planet and then left a widow. Of course Joe Mills proved too much to resist The poor sex-starved thing never had a chance.

And that little soul-baring discussion she'd had with Jimmy that afternoon? Bring it on, that's what she had to say about it! The truth will set you free, and all that shit. So here she was, thirty-six years old getting a shot at freedom, no longer needing to give a rat's ass about what some man would prefer. It turned out she'd been wrong all along anyway, so from now on it would be all about what she wanted. What she preferred.

From now on it was going to be LoriSue, unchained.

She hopped off the bed and stood before the floor-length mirror of her closet door. After that talk with Jimmy, she'd soothed her soul with a search-and-destroy boutique shopping spree. Nothing like three thousand dollars in clothing and accessories to take away the sting. And she couldn't wait to unleash her new look on the world.

What else could she do now that she was free? She could live anywhere she chose, of course. Change her hair. Get her MBA or law degree. Run for Congress. Train for a marathon. Well, maybe that was stretching it…but the point was she could do anything at all and never again have to worry about it affecting Jimmy's wandering eye or fragile ego.

So maybe this was her first little sample of empowerment. LoriSue decided it suited her. And first thing tomorrow, she planned to get her ass out there and get herself some more.

Bonnie woke up in the middle of the night, her heart beating wildly in her chest

She reached over and shook Ned awake.

"Hmmph?"

"Ned. Wake up."

"What? What is it?" He was up in a flash and the lamp was on. He blinked back against the bright light.

"I just realized we can't go visit Raymond and his family next month. We can't leave Charlotte here alone with Joe Mills."

Ned moaned. "You woke me up to tell me that?"

"I had a bad dream." That was an understatement. The dream was more than bad. It was horrible-Charlotte was crying and Hank and Matt had vanished and there was blood all over the driveway.

"Don't worry about Joe." Ned clicked off the light and fell back against the pillows.

"What?"

"He's a good guy. I can tell. And I got his prints tonight."

"You did? How?"

"A drinking glass from dinner. I'll take it into the station Monday morning and see what we can find out."

Bonnie felt some relief. Maybe they'd get enough information that she'd feel comfortable going ahead with their planned visit to Arizona. She really wanted to go-she hadn't seen her oldest son and his wife and kids in months.

"You really think he's okay?"

"He's cool. Don't worry, babe." Ned patted Bonnie on her hip, let his hand linger there a moment, and gave her outer thigh a tight squeeze. Then he rolled over.

"How long will it take to get fingerprint results?"

"Couple days. Not more."

"I'm really worried, Ned."

Her husband rolled back toward her, insinuated a warm hand up the front of her nightgown, and gave her a playful caress. "Good thing I know a way to get your mind off your troubles."

Charlotte gave up trying to fall asleep. Part of her knew she should remain awake in case one of the boys needed something.

Another part of her couldn't sleep because of Joe. He was staying, and that changed everything. He was offering her more than one last taste. He was offering her another chance. And now that it looked like she'd get everything she'd always wanted, she wondered if she was ready for it.

And whether she deserved it

The first issue was the kids, of course. Should she try to keep her family and her love life separate? Was that even possible when the love life lived next door? He said he wanted to see her tomorrow-but that was Sunday, a family day. She couldn't pawn the kids off on Bonnie to frolic with Joe, and she couldn't seem to wrap her brain around the image of Joe heading to the park with them, joining them for popcorn and a matinee, or sitting down with them to a big Sunday breakfast She didn't even know if he'd be comfortable with those things.

Then Charlotte winced, wondering how many hours it would take before every living soul in Minton knew that the Widow Tasker had taken a lover. She imagined facing everyone, knowing that they knew. The Noonans. The Rickmans. Old Mrs. Watson. Everyone on the Little League Board. Everyone in Troop 492. Everyone at the William Howard Taft Elementary PTA meeting.

The Bettmyers. Bonnie and Ned.

Hank and Matt.

Kurt up in heaven.

"Ohmigod." She flopped over again on the couch, angry that the sun would be coming up in a couple hours, still feeling Joe's arms around her and his mouth on hers, aware that his presence was dragging to the surface everything she'd spent her whole adult life trying to ignore.

She'd brought her poetry journal downstairs earlier, just in case she felt the urge to write. She was sure feeling it how. She turned on the lamp and picked up her pen.

Slut

When did she appear, the slut in me?

At the spark of creation, when I was two cells,

The way we all start?

Sex from sex?

(Though my mother would never admit to this)

Does she have a name, this wanton?

I'll call her Charlotte-for she is me, one and the same

I've just always insisted she have an early curfew

Because she can't be trusted

And she would like to dress provocatively

That slut

So the answer may be zero-it took zero encounters

To make me all I am

Because she was always there

Just laying in wait

For Joe's touch

To set her free

The slut in me.

Charlotte closed the journal. Turned off the light And wondered how it would feel to go through life comfortable with who she was-everything she was.

Maybe she'd soon find out.