Breath of Scandal(70)

She bent down to give him a hug. "Where's Cathy?" "Store - "

"So you're here with Poppy?" she asked as she slipped off her coat.

"Poppy's 'sleep.

"Asleep?" She headed toward his study, calling his name with increasing alarm when he didn't answer. "Mitch?" Jade drew up short on the threshold of the bookshelf-

lined room. Even though she knew he couldn't hear her, she softly repeated, "Mitch?" He was sitting behind his desk with an open book in his lap, his head slumped to one side, obviously dead.

That evening, Jade and Cathy quietly grieved together in the room in which he had died, surrounded by the books he had loved. Cathy was so immersed in shock and bereavement that it fell to Jade to handle the business of the burial.

She notified the chancellor of the college, wrote and issued a press release to the local media, and drove Cathy to the funeral home to pick out a casket. Later, when Cathy retreated to her bedroom, Jade received friends who came by to offer condolences and leave food.

The wife of a young history professor volunteered to keep Graham until after the funeral. Jade gladly accepted her offer, knowing that he would be constantly underfoot and confused by the comings and goings of so many strangers in the house. Besides, every time he asked where Poppy was, it was like a knife wound to Cathy and her.

Hank remained close at hand. He ran errands when needed and did all the tasks that no one else could manage. The morning of the funeral, he arrived early. Jade, wearing a black turtleneck sweater-dress and a single strand of faux pearls, greeted him at the door, Her hair was sleekly pulled



into a ponytail at her nape and tied with a black velvet bow. The faint shadows of sadness and fatigue beneath her eyes only heightened their deep blue color.

She led Hank into the kitchen, where she had already brewed a pot of coffee. Handing him a cup, she said, "Cathy's still upstairs dressing. I suppose I'd better go hurry her along. She can't find anything. She's absentminded. They'd been married for thirty-three years, so she feels adrift. They had such a perfect marriage. He was always so . . . "

Her voice cracked, her shoulders sagged, and she permitted Hank to pull her into his arms. It felt good to be held. His hands,,smoothed up and down her back as he whispered words of comfort and solace into her ear. He was warm. The fragrance he wore was alluring and familiar. She liked the scratchy feel of his wool jacket beneath her cheek.

And before either realized it was happening, the embrace changed personality. As the psychologist had counseled her to do, Jade concentrated on everything that was sensually pleasing, giving no thought to anything except what was favorable and good. To her dismay, she found it all to be.

Raising her head, she gazed up at him with perplexity. He smiled at her gently, seemingly reading her thoughts. One of his hands slowly moved up to her cheek, and he stroked it with the back of his knuckle. His thumb made two light passes across her lips before he softly kissed her.

Jade's heart was tripping madly, but it wasn't from fear. She didn't freeze up, nor did she turn away or flinch. Hank raised his head and paused, giving her time to object. When she didn't, he released a long sigh that spread across her lips before he caressed them again.

"Hank?" :'Don't tell me to stop," he pleaded.

'I wasn't going to." She took a step closer.

Moaning, Hank placed his arms around her and drew her closer. His lips nudged hers apart. He raked her teeth with the tip of his tongue. "Jade?" he murmured. "Jade?"

The doorbell rang. Jade stiffed. Hank released her and stepped back. "Goddammit."



196



Sandra Brown



Breath of Scandal



197



She gave him a nervous, breathless smile. "Excuse me." On her way through the house, she reflexively moistened her lips and tasted his kiss. It hadn't been bad at all. In fact, it had been quite delicious. It was wicked to think such a thing on the day she was burying Mitch, but she couldn't wait until she and Hank were alone again.

But when she pulled open the front door, her smile congealed. She stood face to face with one of her rapists.

CHAPTER



Foutfeen



Myrajane Cowan Griffith couldn't have looked more affronted if she had been hit in the face with a bucket of cold water. "You're that Sperry girl," she said, making it sound like an accusation. "What in the world are you doing here?"

Jade reflexively gripped the brass doorknob, her eyes fixed on Lamar. The changes in him over the last four years were negligible. He was wearing his hair longer. His body had filled out so that he now looked more man than boy. But his dark eyes were still wary, still nervous, and, as he gazed with astonishment at Jade, still apologetic.

"May we come in?" Myrajane asked snidely.

Jade tore her eyes away from Lamar and looked at his mother. Myrajane hadn't aged gracefully. The nastier aspects of her personality were evident in her face, which was lined and drawn. With an amateur hand, she had tried to camouflage the erosion with cosmetics. The results were pathetic. Her garish blue eyeshadow had collected in the creases of her eyelids, and her lipstick had bled into the cracks radiating from her mouth.

Jade stepped aside and nodded them into the foyer. With