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She laughed. “You did, then. Hmm. Interesting. Three people in one bed can get awfully crowded.”
Key turned his head and fixed a heavy-lidded, bloodshot stare on her. “From what I hear, you’ve been one of a trio more than a few times.”
Darcy’s temper flared, then instantly subsided. Her laugh was low, seductive. She leaned closer, mashing her breast against his arm. “Damn straight. Had quite a time for myself, too. You ought to try it sometime. Or have you?”
“Not on this continent.”
Again she laughed. “Sounds fascinating.” She trailed her finger up his arm. “I’m dying to hear all the slippery details.”
He didn’t dismiss the suggestion out of hand. Encouraged, Darcy reached for her handbag and took out a latchkey. She dangled it inches beyond his nose.
“There are distinct advantages to being a motel proprietor’s wife. Like having a skeleton key that’ll open the door to every room.” She ran her tongue along her lower lip. “What do you say?”
She leaned back a fraction so he’d be certain to see that contact with his biceps had aggravated her nipples to stiff points. “Come on, Key. It was good between us, wasn’t it? What else have you got going?”
He finished his drink in a single draft. After tossing enough money on the bar to cover his drinks and Darcy’s wine, he pushed her toward the door.
He said nothing until they were outside. “Your car or mine?”
“Mine. You can spot that yellow submarine of yours a mile away. Besides, if my car’s seen at the motel, nobody thinks twice about it.”
As soon as they were seated in the El Dorado, she leaned across the console and brushed a light kiss across his lips. It was an appetizer, a teaser for good things yet to come. “You’ve missed me. I know you have.”
He remained slumped in his seat, staring balefully through the windshield.
Darcy smiled with feline complacency. He was sulking, but she’d have him revved up in no time. If it was the last thing she did, she’d prove that Lara Mallory was forgettable.
The Cadillac sped in the direction of The Green Pine Motel.
Jody knew Janellen well. The girl wasn’t nearly as clever as she thought she was. Ordinarily, any alteration in her routine sent Janellen into a tailspin. She would cajole her to eat, beg her not to smoke, insist that she go to bed, implore her to get up. She hovered like a mother hen.
But tonight when she declined supper, Janellen’s nagging had lacked its customary fretfulness. Even before tonight, Jody had detected remarkable changes in Janellen. She fussed over her appearance like never before. She’d begun wearing makeup and had had her hair screwed into that curly, bobbed hairdo. She dressed differently. Her skirts were shorter and the colors brighter.
She laughed more. In fact her disposition was cheerful to the point of giddiness. She went out of her way to be friendly to people she had shied away from before.
Her eyes twinkled with something akin to mischief, which disconcertingly reminded Jody of Key. And of her late husband. Janellen was keeping a secret from her mother for the first time in her life.
Jody guessed it was a man.
She’d overheard Janellen tell Maydale that cock-and-bull story about a seminar in Longview, when it was obvious she was keeping a rendezvous with her fellow, probably at the same motel where her father had entertained some of his tarts. The sordidness of it left a bad taste in Jody’s mouth. Hadn’t the girl learned anything she’d tried to teach her? Before some fortune-hunting Casanova ruined Janellen’s life, she’d have to attend to it.
All the important family issues were her responsibility and had been since she said “I do” to Clark Junior. Where would the Tacketts be today if she hadn’t helped maneuver their destiny? Never content to let events evolve on their own capricious course, she handled all the crises herself.
Like the one she was scheduled to take care of tonight.
Of course, first she had to sneak past Maydale.
Fergus Winston’s mind was pleasantly drifting.
The school board treasurer was a soprano soloist in the Baptist church choir. She so enjoyed the sound of her own voice that she detailed each entry on the budget report instead of distributing copies and letting the other board members read it.
As she itemized the entries in her wavering falsetto, Fergus hid a private smile, reflecting on his own healthy financial report. Thanks to a relatively temperate summer that had attracted fishermen and campers to the lakes and forests of East Texas, the motel had enjoyed its best season yet.
He was seriously considering Darcy’s suggestion of using some of the profits to build a recreation room with workout equipment and video games. Darcy hadn’t steered him wrong yet, not since he’d hired her to coordinate his coffeeshop. She had a knack for money-making ideas.
She also had a knack for spending every cent he made. Like most folks, she didn’t think he was too astute. Because he loved her, he let her live under the illusion that he didn’t know about her extramarital affairs. It hurt that she sought the company of other men, but it wasn’t as painful as living without her would be.
He’d heard a radio psychologist spouting off about deep-seated psychological reasons for aberrant human behavior that had roots in childhood. No doubt Darcy was such a case. It made him sad for her, made him love her even more. As long as she continued to come home to him, he would continue to turn a blind eye to her infidelities and a deaf ear to the ridicule of his friends and associates.
