Free Where There's Smoke by Sandra Brown Page A

commit adultery while your husband was sleeping in the room down the hall?"
     
    Learning to conceal her emotions had become a matter of survival.
     
    At the height of the scandal, she had developed a means of stiffly setting the features of her face so they would reveal nothing of what she was thinking or feeling.   She resorted to the technique now.   To keep her voice from betraying her, she said nothing.
     
    "Some of the details are a little hazy," he said.   "Clear them up for me."
     
    "I don't choose to discuss it with you.   Besides, I've got patients."
     
    "I'm a patient, remember?"   He propped his crutches against the edge of her desk and, using it for support, hopped on his left foot toward her.
     
    "Give me your full treatment."
     
    The innuendo wasn't accidental.   His wicked grin reinforced it.
     
    Lara didn't respond, at least not visibly.
     
    "Come on, Doc.   Fill in the blanks.   Clark had hosted a dinner party the night before, right?"
     
    Lara remained stubbornly silent.
     
    "I've got all day," he warned softly.   "Not a damn thing to do but stay off my ankle.   I can do that someplace else, or I can do it right here.
     
    Makes no difference to me.
     
    Calling the sheriff and having him physically removed was a possibility, but he'd already told her that Sheriff Baxter was an old family friend.   involving him would only create more of an incident than this already was.   What was the point of prolonging the situation except to save face?   That had been sacrificed years ago.   Since, she'd become a pro at swallowing pride.
     
    "Clark had invited a group of people out from Washington to spend an evening in the country," she told him.   "Randall and I were among those guests."
     
    "It wasn't the first time you'd been to Clark's cottage in Virginia, was it?"
     
    "No."
     
    "You were familiar with the house."
     
    "Yes."
     
    "In fact, because Clark was a bachelor, you'd served as his official hostess lots of times."
     
    "I had helped him organize several dinner parties."
     
    "And that sort of put you two together."
     
    "Naturally, we had to plan menus "Oh, naturally."
     
    "Clark was a public official.   Even casual gatherings involved planning and preparation."
     
    "Have I disputed anything?"
     
    His condescension was as infuriating as his angry accusations.   Lara suddenly realized that her hands had clenched into tight fists.   She willed them to relax.
     
    "Arranging all these dinner parties," he continued, planning and preparing and such, must have taken up a lot of your time."
     
    "I enjoyed it.   It was a welcome break from my duties at the hospital."
     
    "Uh-huh.   So while you two-you and Clark had your heads together making all these plans, you became very, uh, close."
     
    "Yes," she answered softly.   "Your brother was a charismatic man.
     
    He had a magnetic personality.   I don't believe I've ever met anyone who could match his energy, his verve.   He appeared to be in motion even when standing still.   He got excited about things and had such high ideals, such ambitious goals not only for himself but for the nation.   It was no mystery to me why the voters of Texas elected him to Congress."
     
    "Fresh out of law school," he told her, although she already knew that.
     
    "He served only one term in the House of Representatives before deciding to try for the Senate.   Beat the incumbent by a landslide."
     
    "Your brother was a man of vision.   I could listen to him talk for hours on any subject.   His enthusiasm and conviction were contagious."
     
    "Sounds like love."
     
    "I've admitted that we were very close."
     
    "But you were married."
     
    "Actually, Clark and Randall were friends beftre I ever met him.
     
    Randall introduced us."
     
    "Ahh."   He held up his index finger.   "Enter the husband.   The poor cuckold.   What a cliche'.   Always the last to know that his wife is screwing around.   And with his best friend to boot.