The Perfect Affair (14 page)

R
andall stood as Jacqueline walked into his office. He was growing more accustomed to her beauty, but seeing her still took a little bit of his breath away. “Hello,” he said, coming from behind his desk. “And welcome to my humble abode.”

“Thank you,” Jacqueline said, taking his outstretched hand.

“Have a seat.” He walked behind his desk and sat as well. “Can I get you something to drink? Tea, coffee, juice, water . . .”

“Nothing for now, thanks.” She looked briefly around the office and then back at him. “I have a confession,” she said with the slightest of smiles.

“What?”

“The PSI offices are quite impressive. I’m completely blown away. For some reason I assumed they’d be drab and plain; a bunch of cubicles, too much fluorescent lighting, metal file cabinets, messy desks. But what I’ve seen so far is exactly the opposite. Are those marble floors in the lobby?”

Randall shrugged. “I have no idea. Sherri is the reason my offices look the way they do. She picked out all of the colors and materials. My company just wrote the checks.”

“Oh. She’s an interior designer?”

“No. Her master’s degree is in education. But HGTV is her favorite TV network and she has a natural talent for color and fabrics and such. So she asked me what different types of rooms I needed and then worked with a decorator to give me that . . . in a tasteful way.”

“They did an excellent job.”

“Thank you.”

Randall handed Jacqueline a pocket folder made of fine, cream-colored linen. The company logo was embossed on the front in silver block letters. “You’ve probably done your research, but here is an overview of our company: history, staff bios, accomplishments, and goals.” He briefly paused as she rifled through the papers. “Feel free to take that with you. We have approximately an hour until my next meeting. I thought we’d start with a quick tour of the facility and then return here so that I can answer any questions that you have.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jacqueline said cheerfully as she placed the folder into her large Coach bag.

He stood. “Shall we?”

“By all means.”

From his corner office they walked down a short hall with two offices on each side. Randall explained the positions of those they passed, his voice respectfully low in the quiet environment. They passed a small yet functional break room before heading down another hall where all of the rooms had been turned into one type of lab or another. The last door they reached was not only closed but locked, housing biometric thumbprint technology. Randall placed his thumb against the keypad and waited until he heard the door unlock.

They stepped inside a room that was twice the size of the other laboratories. There were easily recognizable instruments, such as petri dishes and microscopes, along with machines that looked as though they could have been used on the Starship Enterprise.

Jacqueline stopped to look around. “I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

“That’s probably a good thing, as most of what’s going on in here right now cannot be reported.” At her questioning look, he continued. “This is where we’re doing the plant stem cell work.”

“I’m honored that you would bring me here.”

“I just wanted you to see the place where so much of what we discussed in LA happens.” He did a quick walk around the room, explaining the types of plants being used in the research and explaining the function of some of the machines. They were in the stem cell lab less than ten minutes, and after completing the basic tour of offices and rooms that made up PSI, ended up back at the door to Randall’s office.

He looked at his watch. “We have forty minutes left for your questions. Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Jacqueline smiled, looked at the nearby open office door, and replied, “That water looks refreshing. I’ll have a glass if you will.”

He walked over to where a pitcher of ice-cold lemon water sat on a silver tray, along with a set of glasses. After pouring them both a drink, he nodded his head toward the small conference table on the far side of the room. “Let’s sit there for the interview. A little less formal.” He closed the door to his office and then joined Jacqueline at the table. “Okay, Jacqueline,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Let’s begin.”

When she’d first arrived, Jacqueline had balked when Randall chose a handshake over a hug. But then she’d reminded herself that they were on his turf, with his partners and staff, a number or all of whom knew his wife. She understood why he’d be standoffish. Unless his divorce and remarriage were handled absolutely perfectly, he could lose a lot of credibility and social standing. They’d both better stay cognizant of what was at stake.

This was on her mind twenty minutes ago, but now, with Randall having closed his door, and knowing they had at least thirty minutes of alone time, her thoughts were on something else entirely. She sat down and watched his long, bold strides as he walked back over to join her at the conference table, took in his sporty attire and clean-shaven face, and imagined him naked, hovering over her, right on the table. He wasn’t a classically handsome man, one who would typically grace a magazine cover or walk a runway. But his skin was dark brown and smooth, his lips pleasingly plump, and the glasses he wore gave him a scholarly, sophisticated air. That, combined with the confidence that seemed to ooze from his pores, and he became the sexy scientist indeed. Her heartbeat quickened and the room grew as warm as her private parts. He sat down next to her. She asked several questions. He answered them succinctly. She asked for a refill of her glass of water. When he passed her to get it, she thought she’d swoon from the scent of his cologne.

It brought back memories.

“Jacqueline . . .”

She kissed him again.

“Not now,” he whispered, even as he kissed her back, giving her a little tongue for her troubles.

“I’ve missed you,” Jacqueline murmured as she got up from her seat, hiked up her skirt, and straddled him. “Is the door locked?”

“Mm-hmm.” His voice, deepened by desire, hummed against her chest as his face pressed against her knit top, her nipples straining to be touched, tasted.

She shimmied out of the jacket that blocked his progress, lifted her top and eased down the sheer thin mesh that held her girls in check. Randall immediately took advantage, sucking a hardened peak into his mouth and swirling it with his tongue. Jacqueline threw her head back as she gripped Randall’s shoulders and suggestively rotated her pelvis against his hardening manhood.

“My appointment,” Randall eked out between licks and nips on her tits. “I’ve got to—” Jacqueline reached between her legs and stroked his rigid shaft. “Ahh.”

Easing off of his lap, she dropped to her knees, made quick work of unbuckling his belt, pulling out his penis and getting down to business.
Um, this tastes so good, feels so good. I can’t get enough. I can’t wait to have it inside me to . . .

 

“Sorry for the interruption, Jacqueline, I had to take that call. Now, where were we?” Randall sat down at the table, closed his eyes and gave his head a shake.

“Randall, are you all right?”

“Felt a little light-headed just now. Guess the busy schedule is taking a toll on a body that is not as young as it . . . once was.”

“No worries. You’ve answered all my questions. My work here is done.” After one last piece of business, Jacqueline gathered her things, stood and looked around a room that was in perfect order. “Thanks for inviting me to your office, baby. I’ll see myself out.”

Jacqueline exited the office and closed the door behind her. She strode confidently to her silver sports car and hopped inside. Everything with Randall had gone better than expected. Knowledge was power, and the internet was her friend. She was a geek and technology a wonder. Amazing how creatively cameras and recording devices could be hidden these days. Almost anything could be caught on tape.

Smiling, she entered D.C.’s afternoon traffic. “Almost anything.”

D
ays had passed and Randall was still puzzled. One minute, he’d been talking to Jacqueline. The next minute he was being shaken awake by his assistant, thirty minutes late for an important conference call. Sure, his schedule had been hectic and sleep elusive, but he’d never passed out like that. Ever. After making a note to call the doctor first thing Monday morning, he turned to the other situation consuming his thoughts.

It had been a long time since Randall had kept anything from his wife; years since he’d had a secret. In doing so he felt nervous, uneasy, and a little bit sneaky. They’d been married almost fifteen years, enjoyed their share of triumphs, weathered their share of storms. Through it all, she’d been his constant companion, cheerleader, supporter, and friend. They shared almost everything. Which is why keeping what he was currently doing from his wife was so incredibly difficult. Would the end justify the means? He felt it absolutely would. But still, not telling her was hard.

He rocked the office chair he’d occupied for the past thirty minutes, having gone there at just after six a.m., even though it was the weekend. He hoped Sherri wouldn’t wake up until he’d finished the phone call and could slide back into bed with his absence unnoticed.

“Dr. Atwater?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line, Randall clicked over from the
Science Today
web page highlighting Jacqueline’s bio and back to that of Chase Bank.

“Thanks for waiting. Are you still online?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Okay. If you refresh your page, you’ll see that your new checking account has been successfully opened and is now operational. From here you may deposit, withdraw, and transfer monies, all online. As you’ll see from the web page, you can also pay bills, wire money—”

“I can wire money directly from the account, all online?”

“That is correct. In addition we offer QuickPay, which allows you to make or receive payments directly from and into your account as well as send an overnight check if a paper trail is desired.”

At this little tidbit, Randall remained silent. The last thing he wanted was a way that the upcoming transactions could be tracked. At least not easily, and not by someone who shouldn’t know what was happening. Namely, not by his clever, detail-oriented, and extremely astute wife.

“If you’d like, Dr. Atwater, I can look up the nearest branch in your area where you can visit and talk with a representative personally.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already researched that information. But I do have one question about transfers to accounts outside of this bank. Is it . . .”

The door opened. Randall looked up. Sherri entered the room.

“Okay, thanks for the help. I’ll keep you posted on what I find out about additional funding.”

While hanging up he closed the tabs on his computer until Outlook was the only thing on the screen.

“What are you doing up so early?” Sherri asked with a yawn as she plopped down in the chair facing his desk.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Sherri’s brow creased. “Really? So you now snore when awake?”

“I don’t snore,” Randall scoffed, knowing full well he did and also knowing that the sooner he got Sherri off the subject of why he was up early and on to another topic, the better.

“Who was that on the phone?”

Well, so much for changing the subject. “Just work, honey.”

“This early? And on a Saturday?”

“It’s a guy from Switzerland who I met in New York,” Randall explained, having seen an e-mail from the gentleman with whom he’d actually had a conversation about funding. Just not this morning. “He’d sent me an e-mail.” That it had nothing to do with money and everything to do with the best slopes in the Alps was something Randall felt Sherri didn’t need to know. “So I gave him a call.”

He deleted a few e-mails, moved those the bank had just sent him to the cytology file, and then closed his computer. “So, Mrs. Atwater,” he began, leaning back and crossing his arms. “What are you doing up at the crack of dawn?”

“I’m always up early. Oh, but you wouldn’t know that since you’re rarely seen on the weekend before ten a.m.”

Randall noted her teasing tone but perceptive eyes. “I think that’s an exaggeration.”

“Perhaps.”

“Hey, did you see that disc I put on your phone?”

“That silver thingy? You did that? I thought it was some designer mess from Albany. I meant to ask her about it but was asleep before Blair and the kids got back from the movies.”

“No, it’s supposed to divert cell phone radiation away from your brain. While in New York last week, somebody gave it to me.” He held up his phone. “I have one, too. See?”

“Hmm. We need to get one for Mom and the kids.”

“Okay.”

Sherri reached over for a magazine at the edge of Randall’s desk. He quickly picked up the envelope that had been hiding beneath it.

Sherri noticed. “What’s that?”

“Confidential information,” Randall quickly responded.

“Something from the science office.” At her confused expression, he continued. “Government, Department of Energy. My company may be close to a breakthrough that will have national and international implications.” Randall placed the envelope into his desk drawer, turned the lock, and discreetly deposited the key into his cargo shorts pocket. “As more of the details fall into place, I’ll be able to share.”

He stood. “Have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“Why? Have you?”

“Yes,” he said, coming around the desk to stand before her.

“And I don’t want mouthwash to meet morning breath, know what I’m saying?”

“Whatever.” Sherri stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. They enjoyed a brief kiss before she pulled her head back to look into his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know. But you’ve always been pretty easy to read, and I get the distinct impression that something is going on with you.”

“I just told you, Sherri.” Randall surprised himself with the ire in his voice. Keeping secrets was hard work! “It’s the stuff I’m working on with the Office of Science and Technical Information.”

“You just said it was the Department of Energy!”

Randall broke the embrace. “Really, Sherri? You’re going to question me as though I’m lying to you?”

Sherri’s temper quickly rose to match his. “Well, if you are, the least you can do is keep them straight!”

“The parent agency is the Department of Energy. The Office of Science and—Wait a minute, I’m not one of your children. Why in the heck am I trying to explain myself to you?”

“That’s a good question,” Sherri said, crossing her arms and glaring. “Is there anything else that you need to explain?”

Randall looked at Sherri a long moment. “You know what,” he said, his voice low and devoid of anger, “obviously one of us woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe someone got their period, I don’t know. But I do know I’m not going to begin my day by arguing with you. If you want to calm down and do something together, fine. If not, I’ll go to the course and get in eighteen holes.”

“You do that,” Sherri said, still on fire. “And while you’re at it, stick the nine-iron up your bald-faced lying ass.”