Stray Dogs

Chapter 7

The office phone rang and Gordon excused himself to answer. Jeannette took a stroll around the living room, admiring various knick-knacks and pictures and then she paused, doing another survey. No pictures of Deborah. There were photos of Gordon with presumably notable guests, a frame shot of an elderly couple signed, with love, mom and dad, but nothing of Deborah.

She wandered toward the kitchen and did a little snooping at the appliances, and the cozy dining area beside it. Four wicker-backed chairs and a round table sat amid more, interesting paintings and a lovely stand with an ornate vase of artificial flowers. More photos of Gordon and guests by the pool but still none of Deborah. She shook her head and enjoyed the silky feel of hair around her cheek and shoulder. Gordon came back and called her name.

"Sorry, I was being nosy."

"No problem. Want to see the rest?"

She looked at him, and other than the bathroom and the bedroom, she'd seen it all. "What else is there?"

The den, the laundry area, the bath . . . the bedroom. Upstairs."

"You have a den?"

"Sure, it was a small bedroom but we don't need two so--" He stepped past her and beckoned her to follow, missing the look at his remark about, we.

"Oh my," she remarked, leaning from the landing at the top of the stairs into the doorway of the tiny, book filled room. Gordon stood behind her holding his breath. A small desk with a computer and all the necessary peripherals stood in one corner and a very masculine leather easy chair with an ottoman flanked it. A side table, a portable phone and a large pottery tub that was a wastebasket completed the décor. Aside from more photos—still sans Deborah—the room was extremely cozy and private looking.

"This is your hideaway I presume."

"It is. I come here to contemplate strategies and devise my plans for going forward. This is where I came up with the proposals I made to the Chamber."

She laughed and turned to see that he wasn't. "Oops, did I make a social faux pas?'

"No, don't be silly." He started to move to the other door and then thought better of it. "It's a bit untidy, I think we can pass on the bedroom."

"Pity." The dim light in the hallway was enough to catch the glint from her moist lips and when she moved against him he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly and then hungrily as he felt her respond.

"Gordon," she panted, breaking away. "I don't think we can do this."

"I can."

"I mean, what about Deborah?" She stayed pressed against him and he blinked.

"Deborah doesn't own me." He pressed back, lips seeking her neck and fragrant hair.

"Then what about my husband?" The voice was calm and in control.

Gordon turned to stone as she disengaged from his embrace. His arms still curled as if holding her but his face set in shock and horror.

"Husband?" He rasped. A vision of Clifford Whyst loomed in his mind's eye. The wealthiest man in the desert, if not the country. How could he have forgotten?

Jeannette ran her hands over her hips and took a breath. "Clifford Whyst? I believe you've heard of him?"

"I knew . . . didn't think . . . oh, God, I am so sorry."

"I understand, Gordon. Deborah has upset you and you're feeling vulnerable; maybe even vengeful."

He frowned. Actually I'm feeling horny but this curiously sudden, husband bit, has taken away the fun. "Maybe we should just call it a night. I'll put a hold on those rooms. I uh, I'll need a deposit."