“Of course you minded,” said Susan. “I was being childish last night. Teasing you, instead of being honest and direct. So now I’m trying to start all over again.”
“I don’t even know what you mean,” said Carey.
Her smile was beautiful, a little embarrassed. “Let’s just say that I didn’t really need your help undressing last night.”
Carey felt his collar tighten as the blood rushed up to his head. He nodded. “I see.” He had to find a way to end this. “Forget it,” he said. “I admire your sensitivity very much. And I’m in awe of your honesty. Now we’re more than even. And I really appreciate the wonderful dinner. I had almost forgotten how hungry I was until I was here. Thanks a lot.”
Susan stood up and stepped toward the door of the dining room, carrying her glass. She stopped and looked back at him. “Is it time for a new start?”
“Absolutely,” he answered. Anything to get past this. He picked up his glass and followed her into the living room.
She sat down on the couch by the fireplace. He hesitated, then chose the easy chair on the opposite side, ten feet from her. He took a sip of his drink and glanced back at the dining room.
“Don’t worry about the dishes,” she said. She stood up and slipped the sweatshirt over her head and off. “I’ll do them in the morning.” She was wearing a black lace bra that made her white skin look somehow more bare than it should have.
He suddenly realized that he was gaping. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “That isn’t what I meant.”
“We’re being honest now, Carey,” she said. “You wanted me last night. If you hadn’t, then nothing I did would have made the slightest difference.”
“I think you misunderstood,” he said. “Or maybe I did.”
She unbuttoned the jeans, slipped them down, and stepped out of them. More black lace, more smooth, milky skin. “I’m making up for teasing you last night. I’m not teasing now.”
“Hold it,” he said. “Could you please stop taking your clothes off for a minute and let me talk?” He took a deep breath. “I’m married.”
“So am I.” The full lips formed themselves into the reserved smile he had seen when he met her. “You’re looking, though, aren’t you?”
“It’s hard not to.”
She seemed to take this as permission to continue. She unhooked the black bra and slipped it off. Her breasts were round and full, whiter even than the rest of her, and the nipples were like rosebuds. She saw the alarm in his eyes and her voice went lower, almost a whisper. “It’s okay. It’s perfectly okay.”
“No,” said Carey. “It isn’t okay.” He resolutely kept his eyes on hers, but her eyes were teasing him now. “This isn’t what I want. This could wreck my life.”
She smirked, confidently aware that her nudity was power, and words were only a way of keeping him faced in her direction. “No, it couldn’t. I’m married too, and that’s what makes it perfect. You don’t have to remember my birthday, and I don’t have to entertain your poker buddies. My husband and your wife are thousands of miles away. Tonight, we can do anything, and it’s free. There are no possible consequences.”
“Your marriage may be ending, but mine’s just beginning. I love my wife.”
She smiled at him again. Her hands had moved to the waistband of the panties, and as she spoke, her thumbs hooked over it and began to slide slowly along the inner side of the elastic, toward her hips. “Good for you,” she said. “I’m sure she’ll be panting for you when she’s here—just as I am—but tonight she’s not. So this doesn’t take away anything of hers. This is just for fun. To be alone together in this house and not do it would be unnatural.” Her smile disappeared. Her eyes lowered, she bent toward him slightly to slip the panties down past her hips, then stepped out of them, naked.
Carey was gripped with self-loathing. He did not belong here, listening to this nonsense and watching this woman strip. He stood up abruptly, then moved to the couch. He saw her smile return and the lids of her eyes go down like the eyes of a purring cat. “You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said. “You’re funny, clever, and very persuasive. If I were ever going to cheat on my wife, this would have been the time.” He snatched the pile of clothes off the cushion of the couch and tossed them to her. “Now get dressed and go home.”
He walked to the dining room and began to carry dishes out to the kitchen and set them on the counter. On his third trip into the dining room, he heard some rustling sounds, then the front door closing. He closed his eyes, took five deep breaths, poured another glass of champagne, and drank it down. Then he went to the living room and looked: yes, she had left his key on the end table.
28
Jane found a shelf above the trail that was sheltered by big rocks on the north and west, where the cold mountain wind was coming from. “This is a good place,” she said. “Does it look homey to you?”
Pete stopped and looked up at it doubtfully. “I could keep going for a while,” he offered.
“We’ve come at least eight or nine miles in the dark,” she said. “We might run out of steam in the middle of an ice field or on a mountaintop, and then be worth nothing by the time we find another safe spot. That’s how you get hurt.”
“Sold,” he said. “Should I build a fire?”
“The rocks will protect us well enough from the wind.” She reached into his pack and handed him his knife. “Go collect boughs from the fir trees down there. Not branches, just the soft parts near the tips. I’ll get us unpacked.”
Pete carefully made his way down onto the trail, then disappeared into the trees. In a moment she heard the whispery sound of pine boughs tossed onto a pile.
She had wanted Pete to be gone while she used her flashlight and a forked stick to search the cracks and crannies along the rock shelf. It was the sort of place where a rattlesnake would curl up to get out of the cold, then sun itself in the daytime. When she was satisfied that they would be alone, she searched the packs for the items they would need and laid them out.
Pete labored up the little path carrying a pile of boughs the size of a hay bale, dropped them on the rock, and saw her sitting cross-legged in front of a group of small packages. “What’s that?”
“Canned beef, biscuits, dried fruit, and nuts,” she said. “The bad news is that it’s dinner. The good news is that if we eat it, we don’t have to carry it.”
“You should have been in marketing.” He sat down across from her and imitated her as she opened cans with her Swiss Army knife. He took a bite of meat and a bite of biscuit. “It’s kind of frightening. That stuff they’ve been saying about fresh air and exercise all these years could be true. This actually tastes good.”
When they had finished, Jane stood up, sealed the empty cans and packages into a plastic bag, and put it in her knapsack. “More bad news: the garbage truck isn’t due until a road is built—figure a thousand years or so. We have to pack the trash out with us.” She looked at the pile of pine boughs. “Time to go to bed. Watch carefully.”
She spread the boughs like a mat on the rocky shelf, then laid one of the waterproof ponchos on top of it and set the other one aside. “Unless it rains, most of the cold and damp comes from below.”
Jane took off her jacket and boots and propped the boots under the rock shelf. “Your boots need to dry out while you sleep or you’ll get blisters. You put them in a place where you can reach them and rain can’t. You wear as little as possible while you’re in your sleeping bag, and an insulated jacket makes a great pillow.” She pulled her watch cap on. “This helps. You lose most of your heat through your head, so it’ll keep you warm.”