The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(103)

I subtly elbowed John in the side to warn him about flirting and overly sexual innuendos. "Yes," I said, attempting to cover his tracks. "It's such a nice day, we just couldn't resist."

Daniel looked around and took in the Saturday afternoon sunlight. His gaze circled back in our direction and seemed to linger on John, although it was hard to tell behind his dark sunglasses.

John watched him intently, as if trying to get a lifetime's worth of gossip on the man in only a short glance. The situation was beginning to feel awkward, and I knew I had to speed the process along.

"Hey, Wallace, weren't you talking about getting some coffee? I think I would really love a latté if you're still going to go."

John looked at me with begging eyes. Eyes that said "Please, Mommy, can't I stay and watch just a little bit longer?"

I shook my head discreetly at him, but the disappointment that filled his face was much less subtle. "Yes," he finally replied, sulking. "I was going to go get some coffee. Would you like any, Daniel?"

Daniel smiled kindly. "Yes, I would love an iced coffee, please. Thank you."

"You got it." He then turned to me and, with his back to Daniel, sneered mockingly. I smiled politely back.

John walked quickly toward the boathouse at the end of the dock and I turned my attention back to Daniel. It was time to get down to business and get this over with.

But as soon as I turned my head back, I noticed that Daniel's attention certainly was not back on me. As I followed his gaze this time, it was undisputable. Sunglasses or not, there was no doubt that his eyes were aimed directly at John, aka Wallace, as he merrily trotted down the wooden planks of the dock, his blue handkerchief blowing in the ocean breeze.

And like a gush of hot air, everything hit me at once. It suddenly all made sense. The reason that Daniel Miller seemingly wanted nothing to do with me. The reason Sarah Miller insisted that I try again – and try harder. Because cheating with another woman was better than the alternative, the one she had really been suspecting all along.

And just as quickly as it hit me, an idea came rushing to me as well.

"Can you hold on a minute?" I asked Daniel politely. "I forgot to tell Wallace that I wanted soy milk in my latté." And with that I spun on my heels and practically ran to catch up with John.

"Wait up!" I called after him.

He turned around with a confused look on his face. "What? Did he turn your sorry ass down already?"

I shook my head as I caught my breath. I patted John on the shoulder and smiled. "It's a good thing you came along after all."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Why's that?"

I smiled at him, knowing that what I was about to ask would surely make his day – and possibly his year. "Because I have a better idea."



I SIPPED my coffee and glanced at my watch for the third time in the past forty-five minutes. The wooden park bench I was sitting on was starting to get rather uncomfortable. And it didn't help that I had to perch on the very edge of the bench to avoid getting splinters in my bare legs. The white sailor-style miniskirt had been my last attempt to get Daniel Miller's attention. But as it would seem, no amount of female skin was going to cut it.

I immediately felt sorry for his wife. There she was, sitting in her empty Stepford house in the canyon, wanting so much to believe that maybe he was just bored with their sex life, not with sex with women in general. Because if that were the case, I'm sure she would blame herself, thinking that she had literally pushed him away from the female species altogether. What a terrible thing to have to live with. And why hadn't she seen it before? As in, fifteen years before, when they first met? Or thirteen years before, when they exchanged wedding vows? How can someone hide something like that for this long?

Just as I stood up to stretch my legs I saw John walking toward my bench.

I quickly hurried over to him, and the first thing I noticed was that his blue handkerchief was tied on the opposite side of his neck and his hair was slightly out of place. Or as out of place as John would ever allow it to get.

"So?" I asked eagerly.

His expression turned serious and he shot me a glance that said, This isn't the time nor the place. Then he grabbed hold of my elbow and roughly steered me back toward the parking lot. "Let's talk somewhere private," he said in his best 1940s detective voice.

"Oh, c'mon, John. Tell me what happened!"

He nudged his head warningly toward the entrance of the dock and I decided to just play along and let John bask in his artificial moment of glory.

He walked me up the stairs, through the parking lot of cars all valued at fifty thousand dollars and up, and then over to a large oak tree, rooted purposefully at the corner of the lot to create ambience.

John turned and faced me. He closed his eyes as if attempting to muster up the courage to break bad news. I let out an impatient sigh.

He took a deep breath. "Um, yeah...he's gay," he said matter-of-factly.

I let out a laugh. "That whole charade was just for that?"

"Hey, I'm a professional. I couldn't risk any of the elite dock crowd overhearing and possibly ruining his reputation. He's obviously not out of the closet yet." He paused for a moment and then added, "Although he should be. I mean, anyone who kisses like that shouldn't be locked up in no closet!"