Chapter One

The war waged a world away, but in her quiet suburb, the biggest fear was her bread

not rising. She‟d never made bread before. Not from scratch, at least. Her mother had always

used a fancy bread-maker and bread mixes. Cara could do that with her eyes closed. So, why

did Tom insist she try her hand at it now? Of all the stupid ideas. And she couldn‟t mess this

up—not this time. He‟d be home in a little over an hour. Just enough time to finish letting

the bread rise in its little gluten cloak and then bake it through. Ugh. Her whole world was

riding on this loaf.

Cara shuffled across the kitchen in her bare feet, the ceramic tile cool against her

calloused skin. She wiped her hands on the plain white apron she‟d bought for this exact

purpose. Tom hated coming home to her waltzing around in a dirty apron. “The neighbors

will think you‟re a slob,” he‟d remind her again and again. But this way, no one would even

know, the flour would blend right in; they‟d just think she was prepping for a Donna Reed

look-a-like contest. Not that they had those in Nashville. Or in 2007. And if they did, she

certainly wasn‟t attending.

It was an interesting thought, though—her doing anything other than sitting at home

in their small two-story colonial, her image perfectly framed by dark blue shutters, the tiny

1
but beautifully landscaped yard spread out before her waiting for Tom to come home from

work. Her having a real life wasn‟t always such a shocking idea. She‟d double-majored in

business and art history, for god‟s sake—she was supposed to be running a gallery by now.

But things don‟t always go according to plan. It seems her calling also could have been as a

quintessential 1950s housewife.

Cara brushed off the thought and padded into the dining room, wedding china in

hand. She set the table almost methodically: dinner fork, salad fork, plate, serving knife,

spoon. She placed the water glass at a careful one o‟clock, wine glass at a nearby two. She

even folded the napkins into regal swans, sitting royally, but secretly anxious to become

something new and different. Like the swans in that Salvador Dali painting, she thought. They‟d

look down into the water and see an elephant instead, unsure of what they really were.

When the table was flawlessly set, Cara climbed up the stairs, making a checklist in

her head of all the things she still had to do. She walked into the master bedroom and

frowned. It was modestly decorated with its Grenada Green walls, deep brown furniture,

and hardwood floors. It was all Tom. She would‟ve painted the room a warm, honeyed

yellow. But the current color palette soothed Tom‟s nerves, and the last thing she wanted

was an irate politician in her bed.

Cara walked to her closet and pulled out her favorite tea-length black dress. Tossing

her apron aside, she slithered her lithe body into the smooth, satin fabric. She zipped herself

up, something she‟d learned how to do years before when Tom was first climbing the

political ladder. He was never home but always expected her to take care of the baby and

then meet him off somewhere for a business dinner looking perfectly pulled together. Sitting

down on their hard mattress, Cara first slid on her stockings and then slipped her feet into

black pumps. She walked the length of the room and stood in front of her dresser.

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 She looked in the mirror and admired the way the strapless bodice set off her

porcelain skin. Reaching into her jewelry box, she lifted out a delicate strand of pearls. Any

wife would‟ve been proud to wear them—if they were actually from her husband. Cara was

just glad her mother left them to her when she passed away. She never would‟ve heard the

end of it if she didn‟t already own a necklace appropriate for having the Congressman and

his wife over for dinner. She swept her dark chestnut curls up into a loose ponytail and

clasped the pearls around her neck. She slipped in the matching earrings and let her hair fall

to her shoulders. She put the finishing touches on her make-up, re-wrapped her apron

around her waist, and headed back downstairs to the kitchen.

It was time to put the loaf in the oven. The hopefully beautifully risen loaf.

Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she walked into the kitchen. The

dough looked just right—or how Cara imagined it should look at least. She checked the

oven‟s temperature—perfect—and gently placed the loaf on the top rack. She smiled to

herself, pleased that everything was going according to plan. It‟d be that much easier on

Tom when he got home. He was so on edge about this dinner; he‟d been working toward

this promotion to senior political advisor for ages. All he‟d need to do when he got home

would be freshen up, drink his scotch neat, and await Congressman Frankel‟s arrival.

Speaking of…

Cara carefully climbed onto the counter and twisted her body so she was on her

knees. Grabbing onto the cabinets, she pulled herself to her feet. She peered over the top of

the cabinet and reached out, her lips curving into a smile. The half-empty bottle of vodka lay

on its side, hidden from view. She grabbed hold of its inviting neck and brought it down

from its secret spot. She unscrewed the top and put the bottle to her lips. Standing there on

the counter, she closed her eyes and took a long, welcome swig. The warm liquid was

3
heavenly as it stung its way down her throat. The pain didn‟t bother her; it made her feel

alive. She tilted her head back for another taste. As she lifted the bottle from her lips again,

her eyes shot open with the hollow ding of the driveway alarm.

That can’t be Tom already, she thought. But the familiar headlights of his beloved Jaguar

told her otherwise. She quickly closed the bottle and rolled it back to its hiding place.

Getting down from the counter, Cara swept her thumb along her bottom lip, praying her

lipstick wasn‟t smudged. She smoothed her dress before reaching up into the glasses cabinet

where she snatched Tom‟s scotch glass. She scurried into the sitting room and over to the

sifter of scotch. With a full glass now in hand, she moved into the foyer and took a deep

breath.

Thank goodness for long driveways, she laughed to herself.

The car door slammed, slapping the smile right off her face.

“God dammit!” Tom‟s baritone voice made her want to cringe. He mumbled a string

of curses as he plodded to the front door. Cara opened the door for her husband.

“Bad day, love? Here, have your scotch,” she offered. He was barely over the

threshold but he took it and poured half of it down his throat. He shoved the glass back at

Cara and tossed his coat onto the antique hat rack her parents had left her. Only then did he

look at her.

“Why did you do that?” he snapped. His eyes were flaring red, but she couldn‟t for

the life of her understand what he could be so angry about in less than two minutes.

“Uh,” she began. “Do what? What‟s wrong?”

“I thought you were going to plant red and white tulips like we discussed?”

Like we discussed, she thought.

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 “Oh, that. Well, the nursery didn‟t have any in bloom, so I thought I‟d go with

azaleas.”

“The Congressman‟s wife likes tulips. Red and white tulips.” His voice was getting

lower and lower as he spat out the words. “Did you go to the other nursery? The big one?”

“The one in Springfield?” Cara‟s voice began to rise. “I didn‟t have time to drive all

the way to Springfield and clean the house and cook dinner!”

“God dammit, Cara. All I asked you to do was to buy some simple tulips, and you

can‟t even do that!”

Cara closed her eyes to fight back tears. Get it together, Cara, she told herself. Taking a

calming breath, her eyes fluttered open and she looked at her husband.

“I really I don‟t think she‟s going to care, Tom. She‟ll be out there for two seconds.

You‟ll see.”

He sighed heavily, but the grim line of his mouth relaxed.

“Can we please just drop this? Everything will be fine. Don‟t worry so much,” she

said, handing him back his scotch. She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Go

upstairs, take a nice hot shower, and rest for a little while. I already ironed your suit.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled. “I just want things to go well tonight.” His voice softened.

“You know how hard I‟ve worked for this, baby, how much we need it.”

“I know. And you deserve it. The Congressman will see that.”

Tom smiled and his blue eyes nearly sparkled. His smile always made her weak in the

knees. It reminded her of the way things used to be. He reached out and wrapped his free

arm around Cara‟s tiny waist, pulling her close. She felt a tingle between her thighs, a tingle

she hadn‟t felt since this dinner was planned over a month ago. She smiled at the thought of

actually making love to Tom tonight.

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 His hand slid down to her perfect ass and squeezed, gently at first. Then his

fingernails slowly dug into her pliant skin. Cara bit her lip to keep from crying out. He was a

strong man, a big man. When they met in college—she was an undergrad, and he was a

second-year law student—she‟d thought he was the most handsome man she‟d ever seen.

His height and his wide, sculpted shoulders made him seem indestructible and safe.

Now…well, now she didn‟t know what she thought.

Tom kept squeezing. “You better hope he sees it.” His voice was deep and rough.

“Or you‟ll have to make it up to me somehow.” He licked his lips and planted a hard, wet

kiss on her mouth. She tried to relax, to kiss him back, but the combined pressure was so

painful she couldn‟t do anything but hold in the tears.

After what felt like hours, Tom let go and left her alone on the first floor.

“And take off that ridiculous apron. You look like a maid, not a politician‟s wife,” he

bellowed from the top of the stairs.

She drew in a shaky breath and went to check on her bread.

“So, where‟s Hitler hiding?” Cara jumped when Kelsey spoke, throwing the bread

pan up in the air. It hit the floor with a clang.

“Jesus, Kels!” Cara put her now-empty right hand over her beating heart. “You

scared me! And please don‟t call him that.”

“Ah, right. Pardon me. Would you prefer Stalin?”

Cara rolled her eyes at Kelsey on the other side of the screen door.

“Give me break. I‟m stressed out enough already.”

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 “Okay, okay, I‟m sorry I didn‟t announce myself…properly,” Kelsey said loudly,

punctuating the last word with a faux British accent.

Cara laughed silently and put her finger up to her smiling mouth. “Shhhh...I only

have fifteen more minutes of peace before we have to get this show on the road.”

Kelsey pulled open door and walked inside. She sat down on one of the stools at the

center island and put her bag flat on her lap. Cara picked up the metal pan from the floor,

placed it in the sink, and shed her oven mitts before sitting down next to her frowning

neighbor.

“So? What‟s up? Is everything all right?” Cara asked, her face serious and eyes

probing.

“I should be the one asking you that.” Kelsey‟s ocean blue eyes latched on to Cara‟s,

who looked away and said nothing.

“I heard Tom cursing up a storm again,” she said softly.

“Oh, he just a long day at the office and the Congressman is—” Kelsey raised a

blond eyebrow at Cara, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Oh, come on. Kels, it‟s fine. Don‟t

worry about me. Or at least worry about me by handing over that peach pie you baked me

for dessert tonight.” Cara forced a smile and winked at her friend.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a sigh, producing a perfect pie from her bag.

Cara contained a squeal as she took the dessert. “You‟re my savior. I can‟t bake

worth a damn.”

Kelsey shrugged. “You‟re not a bad baker, Car. Tom just has a stick up his ass.”

Cara set the pie down on the island and ignored Kelsey‟s comment. “Thank you,

though. Really. I needed your help on this one big time.”

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 “No, what you need is to get away from this—” A loud thud interrupted Kelsey,

followed by a series of incoherent, and obviously angry, words. “What was that?”

Cara quickly stood up and reached around to untie her apron. “I don‟t know, but it

doesn‟t sound good. You should get goin‟.” Cara fumbled with the string. Kelsey stood up,

brushed her long hair from her face, and turned Cara around.

“Here, let me.”

“Just what I need,” she mumbled as her friend loosened the apron and unknotted

the tie. She turned back to face Kelsey. “Thanks.”

Cara‟s eyes widened at the pounding of Tom‟s footsteps on the stairs. She tilted her

head toward the door and pulled off her apron. Kelsey held out her hands and caught the

ball of fabric as Cara threw it her way. But she didn‟t sneak out the door on cat feet like she

usually did. Instead, she stood there gaping at Cara.

“What? What is it?”

Kelsey bit her lip and looked at Cara‟s dress. Cara‟s eyes followed.

“Oh shit,” she said breathlessly. “I must‟ve put it on backwards.” She hurried over to

the sink and grabbed a towel off the rack, trying to dab the flour from her black dress. Cara

met Kelsey‟s gaze. “What am I going to do?”

Kelsey opened her mouth to speak and then closed it quickly.

“About what?” Tom‟s voice sliced through the air, and Cara could feel the panic

rising in her chest. Her back was to Tom, but she knew she couldn‟t stay that way.

“About me being so darn clumsy,” Kelsey crooned, her southern twang as smooth as

velvet. “Hi there, Tom. I came over to borrow some flour and it seems I spilled it all on

Cara‟s gorgeous dress here. Cara, honey, don‟t worry. I‟ll clean up this mess. You go

change.”

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 Kelsey snagged the towel from Cara‟s death grip and tossed it down on the floor.

“Go on,” she repeated cheerily. “The Congressman waits for no woman.”

Tom‟s mouth had already sunk into a hard line across his chiseled face. Even though

Cara couldn‟t see it, she could tell from the way Kelsey was playing it up. Tom thought she

was always like that, but Cara knew better. This was Kelsey‟s warning voice. Cara swallowed

and turned around, moving swiftly past her husband and across the sitting room.

She got halfway up the stairs when she heard Kelsey cleaning up the non-existent

mess, followed by Tom‟s low rumble. Cara stopped to listen.

“Shouldn‟t you be getting home to your husband?” His speech was slow and steady,

and Cara knew he was struggling to be polite. She held her breath.

“Oh, I‟ll just finish this up first, Tom. It‟s really no problem. Dave‟s actually next

door cookin‟ dinner right now. He‟ll just kick me out of the kitchen if I try to help anyway.”

Kelsey smiled at Tom, who nodded and backed out of the kitchen.

“Well, hurry up. We have company coming any minute.”

Cara quickly ran up the last few steps to stay out of sight.

“Can do. I‟ll be out of your hair in a jiffy.” Kelsey turned the water on and then off a

few seconds later. “Cara!” she shouted. “Sorry again about your dress, sugar! Clumsy is my

middle name today! Call me later and I‟ll tell ya all about it!”

Kelsey popped her head into the sitting room where Tom was staring out the front

window. “Bye, Tom,” she said sweetly. “Good luck kissing the Congressman‟s ass.”

Tom did a double take over his shoulder as Kelsey headed out the back door, surprise

etched across his face.

9
 Cara rifled through her closet looking for another dress. It was important that she

wear black; Tom had been very adamant about that for whatever reason. She plucked out

the dress that Tom had bought her in Paris. With its v-neck and just-above-the-knee length,

it was Tom‟s favorite. He said the pitch dark, Chantilly lace overlay was sexy—though not in

those words, of course. Cara shook her head and stifled a laugh at the thought of Tom even

knowing what Chantilly lace was. But she knew she had to do something to appease him

right now, to fend off the aftermath of Kelsey‟s supposed little spill.

She swapped dresses quickly, checked herself out in the mirror, and swiped on a

fresh coat of lipstick. She took a deep breath and headed to the top of the staircase. She had

taken four steps down when Tom yelled.

“Cara! Come on! They‟re—” He stopped talking when she took the fifth step, her

shapely legs coming into view, the lace sweeping against her thighs. When the rest of her

appeared and she reached the bottom of the stairs, the heat from Tom‟s gaze was palpable.

A car door slammed outside. She lightly rubbed Tom‟s arm, smiled, and walked to

the door.

Showtime.

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 Chapter Two

Congressman James Frankel wasn‟t exactly a handsome man. With his bulbous,

cherry nose, thinning grey hair, and seemingly distended belly, he looked more like Santa

Claus than a politician. But he‟d been in office for years and Tennessee‟s Fifth Congressional

District was loyal to their favorite Democrat. He‟d just grown comfortable in his role as

incumbent and it showed.

His wife Lisa, however, still looked every bit the former Miss Tennessee that she

was. Her platinum-grey hair was always perfectly coifed, her make-up pristine, and her

clothing the pinnacle of fashion. They were an unlikely pair, and Cara was still bewildered

every time she saw them together, even after three years of schmoozing on Tom‟s behalf.

But they were surprisingly down-to-earth and Cara enjoyed their company nonetheless.

“Good evening, Congressman, Mrs. Frankel. It‟s lovely to see you again.” Cara

stretched out her hand to greet the Congressman, a genuine smile on her face.

After shaking the Congressman‟s hand, Cara side-stepped to his wife, who leaned in

and kissed Cara on both cheeks while their husbands exchanged hellos.

“We‟re so glad you could make it,” Tom chimed in. “Cara and I couldn‟t believe it

when we realized we had never had you over for dinner.”

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 “Well, you know me.” The Congressman chuckled. “I‟m always up for some good

home cookin‟!”

Cara smiled wider. “You‟ve come to the right place, then,” she said. “May I take your

coats?”

The Congressman and his wife shrugged off their jackets and handed them to Cara,

who hung them on the coat rack.

“Your home is lovely, Cara,” Lisa drawled. “Those azaleas out front are stunning!

And you really must start calling me Lisa. We‟ve known each other far too long now for

such formalities!” Her laugh was high-pitched but contagious, and Cara found herself

giggling and nodding in agreement. She also shot a discreet look at Tom as he gestured their

guests into the sitting room and raised an eyebrow at him. See, I told you, it said.

Cara walked in front of Tom, sashaying her hips ever so slightly, and he gently patted

her rear end before following.

“Thank you for inviting us for this wonderful meal. It‟s no surprise to any of us,

Cara, but you‟ve outdone yourself.” The Congressman gestured toward the spread laid out

before them—pot roast au jus, roasted rosemary potatoes, creamed pearl onions, green bean

almandine, and, of course, a perfect loaf of bread—before lifting his crystal goblet. Cara

could feel her face flush pink.

“Yes, cheers!” Lisa chimed in.

12
 They clinked their glasses and Cara smiled shyly as she settled her napkin on her lap.

Tom lifted the platter of meat and held it for his boss. A few minutes later, all four of their

plates were loaded with food.

Lisa was the first to dig in, carving into her slice of roast beef and placing it daintily

in her mouth.

“Oh wow,” she almost moaned. “This is wonderful!”

The Congressman took a quick bite and nodded his agreement.

“I‟m glad you like it,” Cara said graciously. She glance over at Tom, who was

chewing his food slowly, his brow furrowed.

“It‟s a little overcooked,” he added after an exaggerated swallow.

“Oh, hogwash, you silly man,” Lisa drawled with a playful tilt of her head. “Don‟t

you listen to him, Cara. It‟s delicious!”

A crooked half-smile was all Cara could manage.

“Why thank you, Lisa. It probably could‟ve done with a little less time in the oven

though.” Cara took a sip of water and discreetly flicked her gaze at Tom.

He stabbed an onion with his fork and shrugged. Popping it into his mouth, he gave

a tight-lipped smile.

“I sure do love these onions though. Good thing they still had some left in the

prepared foods section!” The Congressman chuckled as Cara pushed her own onions around

on her plate. When she looked up, his eyes met hers and she could see that the laugh he‟d

just emitted wasn‟t because he found anything there funny.

Damage control, Cara reminded herself.

“What a tease my darling husband is,” she said as she rolled her eyes and smiled. “I

hardly know what to do with him most of the time.”

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 Tom took ate another onion and winked at Cara from across the table. “A little laugh

never hurt anyone,” he began, “especially with the number of hours we worked this week, eh

Congressman?”

The round man smiled and nodded as he chewed a large mouthful of green beans.

Cara couldn‟t help but laugh at the image. Lisa joined in as she spread a pad of butter across

a slice of bread, pointed to it, and gave Cara a thumbs up.

“Really, Lisa, I don‟t have to do these now.”

“No, no, it‟s more than fine. Our men can have their shoptalk and scotch while us

ladies clean up.” She smiled at Cara, fine lines crinkling at the corners of her blue eyes. “I

never get to do things like this anymore. Dishes! I can‟t even remember the last time I did

dishes.”

“You aren‟t missing much,” Cara laughed. “I‟d kill never do dishes!”

“Jim hasn‟t let me lift a finger around the house since he‟s been Congressman,” Lisa

admitted. “But I didn‟t do much housework before that either, really. There‟s been a silver

spoon in my mouth before I was old enough to eat solid food. Not exactly normal, I

suppose.”

Cara smiled and slipped on her yellow rubber gloves. Lisa was unabashed. It was one

of Cara‟s favorite things about her: she spoke her mind and wasn‟t afraid of what others

would think. Her husband might be, but she sure wasn‟t.

“I‟m not sure there is such a thing as normal,” Cara replied. She squeezed some soap

onto a sponge and swiped it in concentric circles along the delicate serving plate.

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 “You‟ve got me there!” Lisa swirled the garnet liquid in her glass and took a dainty

sip. “Mmmmm.” She set her glass down on the center island and walked over to Cara.

“What can I do to help? Want me to dry?”

“You can sit down and relax and drink your port!”

Lisa laughed and acquiesced. “All right, fine. But then you‟ve got to keep me

company. Come on, sit with me.”

Cara worried her lower lip before turning off the faucet and hanging her gloves over

the side of the sink. She turned and sat down across the kitchen table from the gracefully

aging beauty queen.

“So, if you don‟t do dishes or housework,” Cara began, twirling her glass nervously

between her thumb and forefinger, “can I ask what you do all day?”

“Oh, this and that. Charity work mostly. I try to keep myself busy.” Cara forced a

smile and nodded for Lisa to go on. “Jim‟s not around very often. I‟m sure you know what I

mean. Those politicians of ours are quite the workaholics!”

Cara nodded again and took a drink from her glass.

“Just yesterday Jim was at the office until one a.m. Can you believe it? One a.m.!”

She shook her head. “I swear, if he wasn‟t working with that new adviser of his on this year‟s

campaign—” Cara jerked her head toward the living room. “I‟d‟ve stormed right over to that

office and dragged him home myself!”

“Uh,” Cara faltered. “New adviser?”

“Oh, yes, Jim just hired William Gregory from Massachusetts as his senior adviser.

That last man, Jeffrey? He embezzled money from the campaign fund! I figured Tom

would‟ve told ya.”

15
 “Of course, yes, he mentioned something like that. That‟s just terrible…” Cara‟s

voice faded and she took another tentative sip. Her gaze darted from Lisa to the living room

and back again. Cara could see the back of Tom‟s head as he sat in the armchair opposite

his superior, the muffled hum of their voices punctuated with the Congressman‟s hearty

chuckle.

Lisa reached across the table and lightly tapped Cara‟s hand. “Are you feeling okay,

dear? You look like a deer caught in headlights.”

Cara swallowed and then smiled. “I‟m fine, thanks. Just wondering if Connor‟s

tortured his grandmother to death yet. I still worry when he‟s not here with me.”

“Oh my, I‟m sure he‟s a handful! He‟s three now, if I‟m rememberin‟ correctly?”

“He‟ll be four in a couple months, yeah.” Cara smiled and shook her head. “I can‟t

believe he‟s going to be four already.”

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. When they‟re old enough to start really talkin‟ back,

you‟ll wish they were three again and you could just drop „em off at your parents‟ house for

the night and be done with it!”

Cara laughed. “I‟m sure you‟re right. Thank god Tom‟s parents are so happy to help.

Otherwise, we‟d never get any real adult socialization.”

“Speakin‟ of”—Lisa picked up her glass, winked, and stood up—“I think they‟ve

talked enough politics for one night. Let‟s go take their minds off the office.” She smiled and

took Cara‟s hand, leading her out of the kitchen.

If only it were that easy, Cara thought.

16
 Cara reached across the sink to the windowsill and turned the dial on the radio

before putting on her rubber gloves. Somehow the pile of dishes seemed to have grown. She

began rinsing the plates and placing them carefully in the dishwasher, softly singing along

with Faith Hill as she worked.

The front door clicked shut and Tom‟s footsteps approached. When he got to the

kitchen entrance, he stood and watched his wife gently sway to the music. When the chorus

swelled, his deep voice joined hers.

“Let‟s make love, all night long,” he sang. Cara glanced over her shoulder at him and

saw him sauntering toward her as he shrugged off his suit coat and loosed his tie. She

couldn‟t help but laugh.

“I mean this in the nicest possible way, honey” she began playfully, turning back to

the sink. “But you‟re no Tim McGraw. Why don‟t you just stick to the politics, okay?”

He slipped his arms around her waist and swept her hair to one side, placing a soft

kiss on the side of her neck. “Maybe not, but I sure can follow his lead,” he said before

nibbling at Cara‟s earlobe.

“Honey, let me just finish these dishes,” she giggled.

“But you look so damn sexy, all I want to do is…” His hands slid across up her

stomach and ran them along her breasts. She moaned as his fingertips brushed the lace

against her nipples.

“What‟s gotten into you?” she whispered happily as she leaned against his chest.

“Well,”—he kissed the base of her collarbone—“this dinner went so good”—he

drew a line up her neck with the tip of his tongue---“that we‟ve got some celebrating to do.”

He gently tugged at her ear with his teeth, sending a shiver through her body. “And we have

an empty house.”

17
 Cara‟s half-closed eyes shot open. He still doesn’t know. The realization hit Cara like a

Mac truck. She knew she should tell him, but couldn‟t remember the last time he seemed this

relaxed. She wanted to savor the moment, clearing politics, housework, and everything else

from her mind.

She let out a slow breath, turned off the faucet, and slipped off her gloves. As she

melted back into him, she lifted a hand behind her and tangled it in Tom‟s hair. He moved

his hands to her waist, spun her around, and pulled her lips to his. Cara couldn‟t think as she

kissed him with more passion than she‟d felt in ages.

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. Cupping her bottom, he

carried her to the kitchen table and set her down on the smooth maple. His unzipped her

dress and lifted it over her head.

“My God,” he panted as he backed up slightly to admire his wife. His hot gaze went

from her heels to her lace panties to her matching strapless bustier. She tossed her head

back, laughed, and reached for him, hooking her finger on his belt loop and pulling him

toward her. With the zip of his belt as she pulled it from his waist, her lips curled into a sexy

half smile. He stepped out his slacks as she lay back on the table. He removed her panties,

pulled her to the very edge of the table, and plunged himself inside her.

“Kelsey, you have no idea,” Cara swooned as she dipped a finger into the icing of her

cupcake. “He was Tommy again.” She smiled as she licked her finger clean.

“Remind me never to eat at your kitchen table.”

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 Cara rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Like you and Dave haven‟t done it on every

surface of this house.” She waved her cupcake around for emphasis. “At least you know what

furniture to avoid in mine.” She laughed, her eyes smiling with the rest of her face.

“Damn, it must‟ve been a really good night because you‟re seriously glowing right

now.” Kelsey studied her friend as she bit into her cupcake. “And you‟re eating sweets

before noon! That‟s sooo not you.”

“I did come three times, so there‟s that,” Cara admitted through a mouthful of cake.

Kelsey pushed a glass of milk toward her friend. She took a long slug before continuing.

“But I‟m not sure about the rest of the night. I‟m a little confused, to tell you the truth.”

“What else happened?”

“Well, Lisa Frankel kind of mentioned that the Congressman has a new adviser.”

Kelsey‟s jaw dropped slightly. “But isn‟t that the job Tom‟s up for?”

Nodding, Cara took another sugary bite. “Exactly.”

“How did he respond when you told him?”

“I didn‟t,” She chewed and swallowed. “He seemed totally fine. He even wanted to

celebrate. Maybe he‟s getting promoted to a different position instead.”

“I don‟t know, Car.” Kelsey bit her lip, her eyes furrowing skeptically. “It sounds a

little fishy to me. What if he doesn‟t know yet?”

Cara shrugged.

“How are you so relaxed about this? You know Tom will flip his shit when he finds

out, especially if he finds out you knew and didn‟t tell him. Did you even think about telling

him?”

19
 Clearing her throat, Cara leaned back in her chair and sat up straight. “Of course I

thought about it. But why ruin the first really good night we‟ve had alone in months?

Especially if I don‟t have all the facts, which I undoubtedly don‟t.”

“I guess,” Kelsey said, still looking skeptical.

“Trust me. It‟ll all be fine. I‟m sure there‟s more to it than I know.”

“Then why so defensive?” Kelsey pointed to Cara‟s now tightly crossed arms.

Cara laughed. “You and Tom. You both worry so damn much.”

“She sure does,” agreed a cheerful male voice. “Mornin‟, Cara.” Dave walked across

the kitchen and kissed Kelsey on the cheek. “Darlin‟.”

Cara pushed back from the table and stood up. “I guess I should be going.”

“Don‟t leave on my account. Please. You and my girl here can chat all you want. Less

for me to have to listen to later.” He winked playfully at Cara, and Kelsey rolled her eyes.

“Sorry, Dave,” Cara chuckled. “I really should get home. Tom should be back from

his parents‟ by now.”

“All right,” Kelsey began. “But call me if anything more happens, ok? And don‟t

forget about the barbeque tomorrow.”

“Yes, don‟t forget. Lucy will throw a fit if Connor isn‟t there to save her from having

to spend time with”—Dave let out a faux gasp—“her parents.”

Lucy was thirteen and at that stage where anything was better than being seen with

her parents, even babysitting. Cara couldn‟t say she minded the help.

“We‟ll be there.” Cara smiled and waved as she walked out the door.

20
 “Mommy!” Connor ran to Cara the moment she set foot in the house, hugging her

leg and laughing. “I got you a donut!”

Cara laughed and peeled her son off her leg, picking him up to hug him tightly.

“A donut!? What have you boys been up to?” she said teasingly as she put him down.

Connor grinned widely up at her, his lips covered with powdered sugar.

Tom walked into the living room, briefcase in hand.

“There‟s a glazed on the counter for you,” he said. “My mom sent ‟em back with us.

I‟m going in to the office for a few hours.”

Cara‟s upbeat expression faded, and Connor latched onto his father‟s leg.

“Connor,” he said sternly. “Let go.”

Naturally, he held on tighter. Connor tilted his head up to look at his father. With the

boy‟s creamy complexion, wide blue eyes, and soft blond hair, he looked like a Pampers

commercial. But if anyone could keep from caving to Connor, it was his dad.

“What did I just tell you, son?” he said calmly.

Connor pouted and turned his head back down, swiping his mouth along Tom‟s

pant-leg and leaving a trail of white confection.

“God damnit,” Tom cursed. “Cara, can‟t you clean him up?” With a sigh, Tom set

his chestnut leather briefcase down and went upstairs to change.

Cara knelt down next to her son. “Come on, little man. Let‟s get that powder off

your face. And then we can go to the park before lunch, okay?”

“But I want Daaaa—” Conner began to whimper. Cara scooped him up, sat back

cross-legged, and plopped him into her lap.

“Daddy has to work today. But do you know what tomorrow is?”

He shook his head wiped the snot from his nose onto his cheeks.

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 “Tomorrow we‟re going to Lucy‟s house for a barbeque! Won‟t that be fun?”

Connor just sniffled. “And Daddy‟s coming with us!”

The boy‟s eyes lit up, and Cara walked her fingers along Connor‟s belly.

“Promise?” he asked as he began to wiggle, a big smile on his angelic face.

“I promise.” He wiggled some more, but before he could get away, Cara was tickling

his sides and he was laughing hysterically. She began to giggle herself when Tom bounded

down the stairs in fresh slacks.

“Cara!” he shouted over their laugher.

“What?” She smiled at Tom while still tickling their son.

“Keep that kid in line for a change, will ya?” Tom picked up his briefcase and gave

Cara a hard look.

Connor stopped laughing as Cara stopped tickling. “He just misses you, Tommy.”

“I‟ll be home later.” He turned to leave.

“You‟ll be back for dinner, right?”

Tom looked back over his shoulder and reached for the doorknob. “We‟ll see.”

“I was going to make your favorite fried chicken,” she crooned playfully.

“Your fried chicken‟s too greasy,” he said matter-of-factly. “See ya.”

The door closed behind him, and Cara closed her eyes for a moment, took a breath,

and then looked down at her son with a smile.

“Come on. Kitchen,” she said, letting him roll off her lap. “Time to clean you up.”

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 Chapter Three

Cara‟s hips ached, as she held on tight to Connor‟s hand. Kelsey was on his other

side and as the women walked, they swung the giggling boy on the count of three.

“Okay, okay. That‟s enough, Connor,” Cara directed. “We‟re here.”

“Nuh-uh,” Connor countered. “It‟s down there!” He pointed a pale finger down the

road.

Kelsey stifled a laugh. “The boy‟s got a point.”

Langley Park was still a few blocks away. It was a fairly small, well-manicured

playground with a looming red jungle gym that popped against the chemically enhanced,

bright-green grass. Connor would recognize that jungle gym anywhere, he was so used to

seeing it. It was an almost daily activity for them. They‟d stroll to the park followed be an

active and lengthy play session. Cara was thankful for the weekends that Kelsey and Lucy

could join them. There were never many other mothers there—just nannies and au pairs

who shied away from Cara and the fact that she actually took care of her own child. As a

result, Cara didn‟t get much adult interaction except on these rare Saturdays.

The foursome walked the last block to the park entrance. As soon as they stepped

through the gate, Lucy grabbed Connor‟s hand and the two ran off toward the perpetually

static-ridden slide. Cara breathed a sigh of relief and settled onto the bench of a nearby

picnic table. She rubbed her hip.

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 “What happened?” Kelsey asked.

“You already know what happened. Don‟t make me say it here!”

“Ohhhhh, a little sex-sore, are we?” Kelsey lifted a finger and waggled it back and

forth. “Naughty, naughty.”

“Shhhh! Kelsey!”

“What? There‟s no one arou—”

The deep timbre of a male laugh rolled through the air. Cara shut her eyes tightly and

bit her lip. Kelsey nudged her in the rib gently.

Prying open her eyes, embarrassment swelled inside of her, and Cara followed the

jerk of Kelsey‟s head over her right shoulder. A man stood behind their table, his hands in

the pockets of his faded blue jeans and a knowing smile on his scruffy face.

“That‟s why I wanted you to be quiet,” Cara groaned quietly, rolling her head back

toward Kelsey.

“What was that?” the man interjected.

Cara turned back to him. “Umm…nothing. I just was reminding my friend here why

she needs to kept her big mouth shut.” Cara smiled and shrugged. “Too late now, I guess.”

The man was still smiling, his eyes hidden beneath dark shades and the brim of a

cowboy hat. Anyone could see he was handsome in that rugged way of a fireman or a

construction worker, but the wrinkles at his temples as he grinned told Cara he was more

than just a pretty face.

“I‟m Mark,” he offered, walking around the table toward her, a hand outstretched.

“Cara.” She quickly shook his hand. Turning toward her friend, she added, “And this

is—” Cara stopped and looked around. Kelsey had bolted toward the kids. “Well, that was

Kelsey.”

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 Shrugging, Cara pushed her dark hair out of her face.

“May I?” Mark gestured toward Kelsey‟s vacant seat and walked toward the bench.

He sat down next to Cara, who sat quietly, with her jaw slightly open. Though he was at least

six inches away from her, she could feel the heat from his body flowing around her. She

couldn‟t help but let her gaze linger to the biceps straining against his shirt.

He tipped back his hat, slid off his sunglasses, and raised a dark blond eyebrow.

Shit. Cara hadn‟t even noticed she was staring. She also didn‟t notice when she lifted

her wrist up to wipe her mouth. Not that she was actually drooling.

Mark‟s lips quirked into a smile. “So,” he said.

Cara shifted uncomfortably and crossed her ankles.

“Who‟s yours?” He pointed toward Kelsey and the two small children.

“Umm…Connor, the little boy. He‟s almost four.”

“He sure has a lot of energy.” Their gazes both followed Connor as he outran Lucy

to the top of the slide.

“You‟re tellin‟ me,” she laughed. “How about you?”

“I just moved here from Austin. So, I‟m only checking things out today.”

Cara nodded and tucked another windblown curl behind her ear.

“What brings you to Nash—”

“Mommy!” Connor shouted, waving wildly. “Come see what I can do!” He ran over

to the bottom of the slide and climbed up on the hot plastic, clearly ready to climb up it.

“I guess, I better…” she said with a tilt of her head. She smiled and stood up,

shading her eyes with her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Mark. Welcome to the

neighborhood.”

25
 “You too, Cara. Stay out of trouble now. And try some ice for that little injury of

yours,” he said with a wink, his eyes tracking down to the curve of her hip. He put his

sunglasses back in place before tipping his hat to her, inducing a girlish giggle she hadn‟t

emitted since high school. What am I doin’?

“Momma!!” Connor yelled, now standing at the top of the slide. She watched her

son jump up and down to get her attention and couldn‟t help but smile, forgetting any guilt

she may have felt at semi-flirting with a gorgeous stranger.

She turned to say a last goodbye, but the cowboy was nowhere in sight.

“I‟m comin‟!” she shouted back to Connor as she jogged onto the playground.

“Eat your peas,” Cara said casually as she cut up a piece of steak. Connor groaned

and banged his fork on the table.

“I don‟t liiiiike peas.”

“You do too.” Cara laughed and shook her head. “When you‟re done those you can

have your steak.”

“Daddy always let‟s me eat my steak first….with dip!”

Cara looked over at the bottle of A-1 on the counter. “You can have dip, sweets, but

you need to eat your peas first.” She shot an I-mean-it look at her son, and he popped a

single pea in his mouth. He held it between his teeth and smiled.

“Ok, smart guy,” she said walking over to the table with Connor‟s plate. “Eat your

steak so we can get you cleaned up before Daddy comes home.”

26
 His small jaw slowly chomped down on his vegetables. Cara set the meat front of

him and before she could stop it, his ravenous hands reached out and grabbed a juicy cube.

Connor lifted it towards his mouth when the front door slammed suddenly. Cara hadn‟t

even heard the driveway bell go off.

“Cara!” Tom‟s deep voice boomed. Connor froze mid-squeeze, and Cara closed her

eyes tightly. Taking a deep breath she opened them, nudged a fork closer to Conner, and

nodded at him to keep eating. He reluctantly placed the beef in his mouth and chewed as his

father threw his briefcase down on the floor with a thud.

“Get in here!” he commanded. Cara reached up and fluffed her hair before slowly

walking toward the living room. She stood in the doorway to the kitchen, positioning her

body so that she took up as much of the empty space as she could. She could feel Connor‟s

big eyes on her and the absence of sound from his direction meant he was sitting in rapt

attention, ignoring his dinner.

“What‟s wrong, honey?” she asked with a sympathetic tilt of her head. “Did you—”

“You know very well what‟s wrong.” Tom‟s glare burned into her and she had to

look away before meeting his eyes again. “Did you really think I wouldn‟t find out?”

Cara instantly pictured Mark‟s lopsided smile and smoldering gaze. There’s no way…

“Honey, it‟s not what you think; I was just—”

“Shut up,” he growled. “I don‟t want to hear your bullshit excuses. I don‟t give a

fuck why you did it.” Tom stepped closer to Cara and grabbed her wrist. He jerked her away

from the entryway, his grip tighter than ever. “Why do I even bother with you…” His voice

was quieter now but rougher. “I take care of you, keep you in designer clothes and this big

house we can‟t even afford, and all you do is disrespect me.”

27
 “Tom, I didn‟t do anything,” Cara said softly as she tried to twist free of his hold.

“Please let go; that hurts.”

“Good. You deserve it after letting me think I had that promotion in the bag and

then fucking me like a two-bit whore. You‟re still the same bitch you were when we met.”

Cara‟s surprised gaze flicked up at her husband. “What?”

Tom ignored her and continued his tirade, not even noticing her confusion. “How

do you think it looked when I walked into the office today and the Congressman was having

a private session with William Gregory?—William Gregory!—and introduced him to me as his

new chief advisor, for some godforsaken reason assuming I already knew.” Tom pulled her

closer, his face just inches from hers. “Now why would he assume that, I wonder.” His voice

dripped disdain.

Cara had already stopped struggling to escape his grip. She knew it wouldn‟t do any

good now. Thoughts rushed through her mind, trying to formulate some sort of response

that would calm her husband‟s temper. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn‟t get a

word out before Tom dropped her arm, put a hand on each of her shoulders, and shoved

her backwards. He back slammed into the wall, the force knocking her breath right from her

lungs. The loud thud against the wall made Connor shriek in the adjoining room.

Tom sidled up against her body, ignoring his son‟s calls for his mother, and pressed

hard against her chest as she took shallow gulps of air. She tried to turn her head to the side,

to move away from his burning eyes and his angry sneer, but his hand shot up and grabbed

the bottom her chin and the soft flesh of her throat. He pulled her gaze back to his with no

hesitation and held her there, not caring that it was getting harder and harder for her to

breathe.

28
 “You‟re fucking lucky our boy is in the kitchen right now. But I promise you,” he

spat, “you are going to regret what you‟ve done. You‟re nothing without me, Cara. Don‟t

you ever forget that.”

Tom let his hands fall and stepped back suddenly. He glared at Cara as she slid along

the wall down to the floor and put her head between her knees, trying to catch her breath.

He didn‟t say another word before turning on his heel, grabbing the sifter full of

scotch, and softly padding up the stairs. The bedroom door shut so quietly that Cara barely

heard its comforting click. She closed her eyes tightly and fought back the wetness the was

building behind her lids.

“Mommy?” Connor asked again, fear filling his sweet voice.

“I‟m coming, darling,” she managed.

With that, she forced her legs to stand and collected herself before she plastered on a

smile and went to make sure her son was eating his dinner.

The crescent moon shone brightly outside as Cara sat silently on the teak bench in

the backyard. She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly, and gazed up the clear

night sky. The stars were out full force, and all Cara wanted to do was climb into the sky and

never return. But she knew she didn‟t have that luxury. A quick glance up at their bedroom

window confirmed that Tom was waiting for her upstairs. The dim glow from the bedside

table was unmistakable in the dark of the night. It was the last place she wanted to be, but

the one place she knew she couldn‟t escape.

29
 The wind whistled and danced in and out of the blackberry bushes, reminding her of

the day she gave in to Tom‟s charm. It was a cool Saturday afternoon in March. Spring break

was just around the corner and Tom was going off with his buddies for the week. He

surprised her that day, when he showed up at her dorm with a picnic basket and a smile.

“Come on,” he‟d said, taking her hand. “I have somewhere I want to show you.”

She had giggled and shook her head. “I‟m not even showered yet! Let me just---”

He‟d gently tugged on her arm. “You don‟t need to get ready. You‟re beautiful right

now.” Her already rosy cheeks had flushed slightly. “Please?”

“All right,” she‟d said, sensing something important was about to happen. She‟d

grabbed her purse and slung the thin strap over her shoulder. “I‟ll be back in a bit,” she‟d

called to her roommate before closing the door.

To this day, Cara still didn‟t know exactly where Tom had taken her. She just knew

that after forty-five minutes in his Mustang she was in an empty field full of Virginia

Bluebells and she was in love.

He‟d laid out a blanket among the wildflowers and fixed his bright eyes on her as the

wind whipped through her curls. He‟d lain down beside her and they‟d looked up at the

clouds before he‟d rolled toward her and slid his hand along her stomach up to her small

breasts and ending at the nape of her neck, where he pulled her into a soft kiss.

He‟d been in love too, she remembered. And that afternoon she‟d let him show her

how much as he slowly filled her, taking every piece of her soul and claiming it as his own.

Later, when they‟d walked back to the car, his arms loosely around her waist, they‟d

climbed through a patch of blackberry bushes just like the one in their backyard. A thorn

caught on Cara‟s bare leg and she‟d cried out in pain as it ran it‟s jagged tip along her skin,

30
leaving a trickle of blood in its wake. Tom had just pulled her along, not even stopping to

see if she was ok.

She should‟ve noticed it then, but she didn‟t. She was young, naïve, and happier than

she‟d ever remembered since her grandmother joined her parents in heaven, leaving her

utterly alone in the world.

Cara shook the memory from her mind and knew it was time to go inside. She slid

the glass door open and then closed, and she tiptoed up to the second floor.

Tom didn‟t say a word when she walked into their bedroom. He was sprawled on the

bed in only his boxers, a half-full glass of scotch in his hand and the nearly half-empty bottle

beside him. With his heavy-lidded eyes, Cara hoped he was asleep, but when she walked over

to the closet and unzipped her dress, she heard the rustling of the sheets behind her.

“There you are, baby,” he growled, his voice drenched in liquor. His feet thudded to

the floor, and she felt him heading toward her.

“Tom,” she whispered as lovingly as she could. “Come on, let‟s just go to bed. It‟s

been a long day for both of us.” He just grunted and kept approaching. His large hands

landed on her hips and he shoved her forward, slamming her front into the dresser.

“You don‟t get to tell me what to do, you cunt.”

Cara‟s breath caught—he‟d never stooped to throwing that insult at her before. She

braced her arms against the wooden drawers before her and tried to push herself back and

turn around, suddenly not too tired to fight back. But Tom‟s strength overpowered her own,

and he pushed her upper body flush against the furniture and kicked her legs apart with his

knees.

31
 His teeth clamped down on the pale flesh of her shoulder, and Cara winced, trying to

shake him off.

“You like that, don‟t you.”

He bit again, harder this time, before reaching his hands to her back and grabbing

both sides of her unzipped sundress. His erection pressed against her rear end, keeping her

in place as he effortlessly ripped the dress down its seam.

“Oops,” he said, clearly not sorry. “At least this one was cheap. Not like that thing,”

he pointed at the black lace dress hanging over her dressing chair. “You looked like such a

high-class hooker in that dress. No wonder I didn‟t get the job.” He left the her dress

hanging off her shoulders and pulled at her panties, tearing them even more effortlessly.

Cara knew that struggling would get her nowhere, that he‟d just leave more bruises if

she tried to get away. He‟d always had an uncontrollable temper. But he also had a good

heart, deep down—or at least he did once.

“Tom, please don‟t,” she begged him, hoping to appeal to his the sweet boy inside of

him. “Let‟s get some sleep and we can talk about this in the morning, darling. Please…”

His laugh was almost maniacal, a sound she‟d only heard from Jack Nicholson‟s

Joker in “Batman.” Deep, throaty, and heartless, that laugh didn‟t belong to her Tommy. But

it came out of him nonetheless and his grip on her never slackened. He yanked her hips

toward his groin, and pushed her back down. As her head hit the solid wood, the tears fell

freely down Cara‟s cheeks.

He thrust himself inside her and she tried to swallow her cry.

“Mmm...,” he moaned. “That‟s my girl—my cunt.” He plunged into her again and

again, ignoring her dryness and her painful murmers, pumping harder and deeper and faster.

32
 “Please,” she said, barely above a whisper. She reached a hand behind her back and

tried to swat his hand away. “Stop, Tommy.”

He twisted her wrist with one hand, holding it at an unnatural position and ignored

her request, jamming into her recklessly until his final release. When he was done, he sighed

and leaned flat against her back. He kissed her spine softly, as if they were back in that

meadow, and she could feel him smile against her skin.

“If you ever do anything like that again, my love,” he began. “You won‟t get off the

hook so easy.” He pulled out of her, tossed back the rest of his scotch, and climbed into

bed, reaching over to turn off the light before rolling onto his stomach.

Cara didn‟t move. She just stood there in their pitch black, grenada-green bedroom,

the raw spot between her legs stinging and her wrist throbbing. She swallowed hard, wiped

away the tears from her face, and waddled into the bathroom to take a long, hot shower and

try to forget what a mess her life had become.

Chapter Four

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