The Perfect Affair (9 page)

T
here wasn’t anything like April in Washington, D.C.—air fresh from recent rains, leaves green from the same, sun shining brightly, and cherry blossoms everywhere. Randall inhaled deeply as he neared the corner of Sixteenth and P Streets to enter the administration building for the Carnegie Institution for Science. He was relaxed and ready to begin this new week. It was going to be great for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Randall would not be traveling. He’d be in town all week. He’d already planned an individual playdate with each of his children (which for Albany would take place in a shopping mall), and then on Friday looked forward to a date with his wife. The conference had been amazing, his company had received great exposure, he’d returned home to a family he loved more than life itself, and after talking to the doctors tending Mom Elaine, even felt that situation becoming more promising. Yes, life was good. He entered the building, remembering a time when being alive wasn’t so great. Like when he lost his father. Then he thought of Sherri and his children and was brought back around to the blessings.

Life was good, and getting better.

He walked down the halls of a place that over the past ten years had been like a second home. The Carnegie Institute for Science, an organization founded in 1902 and dedicated to scientific research, was where one of Randall’s mentors had worked for years. After college and before founding his own company, Randall spent a couple years at this institute both interning with and shadowing his mentor, and working part-time for CASE, the Carnegie Academy for Science Education, specifically their First Light program, designed to encourage interest in science among D.C.’s schoolchildren. He learned a great deal from this patient teacher. Their discipline of choice differed—his mentor’s focus was global ecology while Randall focused on plant molecular biology—but the basic facets of research remained the same. And while the biology arm of the institute was actually operated out of Stanford University in California, Randall came here often, as he had today, for phone- and video conferences, to take advantage of their well-stocked library and to tap the learned minds of the scientists who occupied its rooms.

Randall looked at his watch.
Fifteen minutes until my meeting. Cool.
Instead of turning right, he kept straight and headed for the library. Over the weekend, he’d remembered a book he once read here on interactive biology. As he recalled, there was a chapter that included a more in-depth study of plant cell anatomy, which broke down in a simple way how the knowledge of the similarities among plant cells and human cells, both being eukaryotes and having the same organelles, could be effective in finding better ways to use plants as medical cures. He specifically thought there might be something within the pages to jolt his mind into an awareness of how what he’d developed with plant stem cells could be used to affect the anomalies occurring in his mother-in-law’s brain.

He entered the library, turned the corner . . . and there she was.

“Jacqueline?”

She smiled before lifting her head from the large volume she was perusing. “Hello, Randall.”

It’s a crying shame for a woman to look that good and still be single.
Her conservative black pantsuit with a plain, cream-colored shell that reached her neckline and showed nothing, should not have been a turn-on. But Randall had worked out with Jacqueline and knew what lay beyond the suit jacket. Putting her hair in a ponytail accented her almond eyes, sleek nose, and pouty mouth, and made her look all of nineteen..
And gorgeous.
Yes, he was married, but he was still a man
.
Thinking of his wife made him think of her brother. Jacqueline was just the type of eye candy he’d go for. Randall made a note to ask Sherri about his current relationship status. Randall agreed with Sherri that at thirty-two it was time for Nathan to seriously think about settling down.

Shaking off his initial surprise, he walked toward her with hand outstretched. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. You did say you’d be in this area for, what, a couple months or so?”

“At least,” she answered, playfully slapping away his hand in favor of a nice, warm hug, one that lasted longer than some would find socially acceptable when said hug involved a beautiful single woman and a happily married man. Randall pulled back. “It’s good to see you,” she continued, nonplussed. “Though I’m surprised.”

Randall walked over to the towering bookshelf. “Why’s that?”

“It seems you’re always traveling. I just assumed you’d be out of town.”

“No. I have the good fortune of not having to leave again until next Tuesday.”

“Headed to New York and the science symposium?”

“You’re going to be there too?”

“Yes. For the next few months, if there’s a conference between here and Timbuktu that deals with science or medical technology, I’ll more than likely be there.”

“What are you here to research?”

“I’ve got an appointment with one of the teachers at First Light. I’m doing the prep work for an article I’ll be submitting for the fall issue, on how programs like this impact the futures of those living in urban neighborhoods.”

“That’s excellent. I worked with that program for a few years and still contribute when I can. In grade school I had an excellent science teacher, who helped me a lot, but it is exactly the type of program that would have saved me as a child. I know the history, and am still in touch with some of the students who passed through here. So if you need additional material for your article, let me know if I can help you.”

“That’s a generous offer, Randall. I fully plan to take you up on it.”

“You do that.” Randall ignored her sexy smile, feeling that he was probably mistaking friendly for flirtation. They’d spent time together in LA. But there’s no way a woman like Jacqueline would seriously be interested in a man like him. Sure, he was successful and financially secure. And when he put his mind to it, he cleaned up pretty well. Still, a woman like her could get anyone she wanted: professional sports player, influential politician, crooner topping the adult contemporary music charts. He turned away from her to peruse the aisles. “When we meet to talk about that, I’d also like to tell you about the Atwater Achievement Module, a science and math program for inner city kids.”

“I can’t wait to see you again and . . . hear all about it.”

“Good to see you again, Jacqueline. Take care.”

She watched him walk away—slyly, surreptitiously—from beneath her long lashes. He’d tried to hide his attraction to her, but she’d felt it anyway. It wasn’t hard to detect since she’d been doing the very same thing. He’d turned the corner, but his scent lingered: that musky odor with a hint of spice and a touch of something citrusy. Memories of the last time she smelled that scent made her core clench: when he lay there, hot and sweaty, imprinting his name on her heart with his “equipment.”

The next time you’re with him, finding out whether or not he’s married should be the first question asked.
Jacqueline placed the book she’d been perusing on the table and headed for the aisle. Her happy mood faltered against the possibility that he might actually have a wife. Then, remembering the man who had wined and dined her in Los Angeles, she let go of every worry, every doubt. She’d been with a man who unequivocally showed her what real admiration looked like and how true passion felt. Before
meeting
him, she’d felt that someone
like
him was the perfect man for her. After their week together in the City of Angels, she was sure of it.

Looking left and right to make sure no one else had entered their area, she turned the corner. It was as though he’d been waiting for her.

“Randall.”

Her eyes met his and never wavered as she walked purposefully toward him. She reached him and, wearing four-inch Michael Kors pumps, looked him directly in the eyes. She stepped closer. Their bodies touched. Eyes still open, she leaned in for the kiss, that inevitable meeting of flesh that had plagued her thoughts and hopes and dreams since boarding the plane at LAX. He opened his mouth to concoct a lame objection, but Jacqueline wasn’t having it. She used the opportunity to plunge her tongue inside his warm cavity, slid her arms around his neck, and pressed herself against him.

“Jacqueline,” he said, panting after several moments of deep, wet kisses. “I can’t. People know me and . . . you might think this is a big city, but gossip travels like it’s a small town.”

“I can’t help it, Randall.” She allowed her hand to slide down the front of his shirt to the burgeoning bulge just below his belt. “I want you so badly.”

“I want you too.”

She felt his breath inside her ear and shivered, heard his words and became moist in hidden places. There had never been a moment in her life when she’d gotten this hot with a single kiss, a gentle touch. She was on fire, she wanted to tear off his clothes and mount him on the carpet. But the door opened and someone entered the library.

Sanity prevailed.

“Jacqueline?”

“Uh, yes?”

“You had a question?”

“Sorry, I got distracted.” She watched the culprit who’d ruined their moment walk down the opposite aisle. “When will you be arriving in New York?” She’d stepped back a respectable distance from Randall, but her voice remained low.

“Leaving on Tuesday,” he repeated.

“Do you like Broadway?”

“Every now and then, Sherri and I love to take in a show. But this trip is all business.”

“Sherri?”

“Yes. My wife.”

“So you are married.”

“I thought I told you that in LA, when we talked about my children.”

“You may have. I don’t remember.” Jacqueline worked hard to keep her voice light. Now was not the time for an ugly confrontation, and her emotions were running all over the place.

He looked at his watch. “It’s time for my meeting. I’ve got to go.” He reached out and squeezed her upper arm. “Enjoy your stay in D.C.”

She squelched her urge to kiss him again and let a simple nod suffice. Similarly, she forced herself not to stare after him like a love-struck puppy. Someone could be watching, and considering what she’d just learned it would not be beneficial for anything to get out about them.

Kris’s intuition had been accurate. Randall Atwater had a wife. She tamped down the urge to cry, or scream, or rant and rave. She forced away all emotion and forced herself to be calm as she returned to get the books she’d been perusing, checked them out, and left the library.
Randall is married. But he couldn’t love her. That’s not possible, considering the way he made love to me.
It hadn’t just been with his body, but with his soul.

As she drove the short distance to where she was staying, a myriad of thoughts fought for dominance. One direction said that she should curse him out, slap his face, end the madness and cut her losses. But just the thought of doing so put a hole in her heart. A different take would be to follow his lead, see what happened, and let the chips fall where they may.

By the time she’d reached Phillip’s row house, Jacqueline had made a decision. Right or wrong, there was something between her and Randall. She wanted to see where that something led. She wasn’t ready to run away because of what very well could be a marriage of convenience. No, she needed to know more about the status of their marriage, and what she could do to hasten its end. The more knowledge she had, the better. Fortunately for her, gathering information was something in which she excelled. It’s what made her such a great writer.

She’d just ended a call to Phillip’s friend, Marco, the computer whiz, when Kaitlyn called. Minutes into a much needed chick chat, where she learned that Rosie had dyed her red hair brunette, Nicole had met a guy from Match.com, and Molly was pregnant, Jacqueline felt better. With the minor marriage detail omitted, she told Kaitlyn about Randall. As expected, Kaitlyn was thrilled that she’d met someone, and encouraged her to pursue this new love possibility. Jacqueline assured her that she would. Now, even more than before, she couldn’t wait to see her lover, Randall, in New York.

So much blood. Everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, on her. She swallowed a scream, pushed it back down with the back of her hand, along with the evening meal that threatened an unwanted reappearance. Later, the scene would be described as ghastly, horrific. She would agree. Whoever did this had to be the most depraved of human beings, psychotic, narcissistic, mad.

Jacqueline stepped over puddles of blood and busted glass, stopping in front of a mirror. What she saw barely registered through the shock: clothes torn, hair matted, eyes glazed. Looking down, she saw long scratches along her arm, and blood oozing from jagged, broken skin.

Gasping, she looked down farther. How did a long pair of stainless steel scissors end up in her hand?