No easy way out (14 page)

Stretching a sleek leg, she let her toe readjust the jet action
of the whirlpool. The water in the sunken heart-shaped tub erupted
into a frothy, bubbly confection. Virginia eyed the serene,
satiated couple reflected in the Palace of Versailles mirrored
bathroom with smug satisfaction.

Life with Alex would be Utopia. Their love was a strong,
powerful bond enhanced by mutual respect. They complemented each
other, fed each other's needs. It was as if they had achieved a
sense of oneness. They truly had the framework for a strong, secure
married life.

The sybaritic pink bath, ringed with hypnotic flickering,
scented candles, and aromatic incense, proved to be a compelling
aphrodisiac. A soft smile played at the corners of Virginia's
mouth. She picked up another handful of creamy lather, spreading it
over the broad expanse of Alex's powerful torso, and moved to
massage his neck and shoulders. "I love you," she whispered into
his ear, her teeth lightly nipping the lobe.

Alex shifted position. His hands pushed aside the suds,
preferring to caress her skin. She felt like silk- glossy and sleek
and warm. He could feel his body reacting to the passion only
Virginia could so readily ignite.

He pulled her tightly against him. Her satiny stomach and full
breasts tantalized his flesh. "I love you so very much." His mouth
captured her lips, drinking deeply of their sweetness.

The pulsating, swirling heated bath water enhanced their
burgeoning passion. Virginia delighted in the discovery of her
inherent sensuality. She had never felt more alive, more womanly,
more content, more happy, than right now. With her arms locked
around her husband's waist she eagerly let her pliant feminine
curves consume her husband's compelling masculinity.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Is this coffee or mud?" Alex joked. His spoon seemed to be
having a great deal of difficulty stirring the thick black
liquid.

Virginia peered over the morning newspaper. "I must have used
one too many scoops." She smiled at him. "Sorry, darling. It seems
you need to use a different amount for every brand in order for it
to come out right."

"Why don't you just keep buying the same one?" he asked.

She shrugged and went back to the business news. "I guess I just
don't notice what I buy."

Alex pushed back the chair and went to pour the gruesome brew
down the sink. "Virginia," his voice called from the kitchen, "this
refrigerator is empty." He walked back into the dining room, his
hands pulling down the newspaper. "There're no eggs, no bread; the
milk has turned into cottage cheese- nothing is in there but a box
of baking soda."

"Alex," she chided. "I've been away for five days and never
expected to have to feed anyone breakfast when I got back."
Virginia stood up and slid her arms around his neck. "We can pick
up some groceries tonight." She rubbed her cheek against his
smoothly shaven jaw. The spicy scent of his aftershave sent a warm
rush of heat through her.

"I'm sorry, darling." Alex kissed the tip of her nose while his
hands patted her derriere beneath the batik caftan. "Listen, you
better get a move on. Traffic is murder in the mornings."

She sighed. "You're right." She managed to sneak one last kiss,
reluctantly leaving his embrace to finish dressing.

"I like being driven to work," Virginia announced an hour later
as they walked through the maze of hallways toward the lab. "I made
copius notes on the telemetric linkup problem."

"I battled traffic," Alex grumbled, shifting his brown attache
case to his left hand.

"Poor baby!" Virginia cast an amused glance at her husband.
Husband-the very word sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine. She
still found the events of the past few days difficult to believe.
Her eyes rechecked the wide gold band on her left hand, then
focused on Alex's rugged profile. He looked inordinately handsome
in a cranberry knit shirt and charcoal trousers.

"Alex." Her whisper halted their progress. He eyed her flushed
features with rueful suspicion. Virginia's fingers flowed along the
curve of his cheekbone, tantalized his lips, before caressing his
strong jaw. "Did I ever tell you all the erotic things I thought
about doing with you in the lab?"

Noting that the hallway was empty, Alex pushed her against the
concrete wall. "At times you can be a very naughty lady." His smoky
gaze darkened at the lambent passion glowing in her iridescent blue
eyes. "I have a hunch little work is going to get done today."

"I certainly hope not!" Virginia managed to look quite prim,
pulling down the sleeves of her dark blue dress and straightening
the matching belt. "I'd hate to think the honeymoon was over after
forty-eight hours."

An obscenely cheery whistle and the unmistakable sound of
footsteps had Alex and Virginia hastily returning to more proper
decorum. Jerome Quimby's stocky figure rounded the bend, his hazel
eyes brightening at the sight of them.

"I was just down at the lab looking for you." He rocked back on
his leather heels, thumbs hooked in his brown vest. "I have a
little surprise for you in my office."

Alex winked at Virginia. "Is this our first wedding
present?"

"I've got one of those too, but this . . . this is something
even more exciting." Jerome gave a gleeful chuckle, enjoying their
puzzled looks. "Come along." He scurried ahead of them, his
mysterious quips and comments leaving Virginia and Alex shaking
their heads in confusion.

"Surprise!" Jerome pushed open his office door. A burst of
flashbulbs blinded Virginia. She jumped backward, grateful for the
solid comfort of her husband's steadying grip.

"What is all this, Jerome?" Alex looked at the half-dozen
reporters who had lunged to their feet, pencils poised over
notebooks.

Jerome held up a stubby hand. "Ladies and gentlemen of the
press, may I present this year's National Medal of Science winner
in the field of cryogenics- Dr. Virginia Farrell."

Virginia let out a startled gasp. "What! When did this happen? .
. . Alex?" She turned, eyes wide with astonishment. Questions
erupted from the reporters; flashbulbs exploded. Jerome Quimby
pulled Virginia across the room so she could stand between the
American flag and the emblem of AVELCOMP Industries.

A reed-thin sandy-haired reporter sidled up to Alex. "What's
your connection with the doctor?" he inquired, hoping to scoop his
colleagues with an interesting side bar.

"Virginia is my wife."

"Oh? That's swell." He flipped open his notebook. "Listen, Mr.
Farrell, how does it feel to be married to-"

"It's Braddock," Alex corrected, his voice sharper than he'd
intended.

The reporter shifted a wad of gum around his mouth. "What's
Braddock?" He scribbled something on his pad, his eyes and ears
sharply tuned to the rest of the assemblage.

"My name. It's Alex Braddock."

The reporter squinted up at him, shook his head, then snapped
the page from his note pad. "I thought you said you were her
husband. Forget it, Mac." He moved off and pushed his way through
to the award winner.

Alex stabbed through the golden-brown crust on the chicken pot
pie, a fragrant blast of heat pushing into his face. "When you said
there was plenty of food in the freezer, I never expected this." He
tossed his fork aside and reached for his wineglass.

"It's delicious." Virginia's elbow nudged his arm. "All those
nutritionists at General Foods do a great job," she teased, holding
a forkful of bite-size pieces of chicken, carrots, and peas to his
lips. "Taste it."

He pushed her hand away. "I'm a meat-and-potatoes man."

"I've got a steak TV dinner in there." She started to slide off
her chair.

"Virginia." Alex grabbed her arm, halting any further movement.
"Real
food tastes so much better."

"This is real!" She laughed, giving him a quick kiss.

"Darling." His tone was one of patient forbearance. His hand
reached up to pat her blond topknot "I mean meat from a butcher and
french fries made from real potatoes."

Amusement was replaced by apprehension. Virginia blotted her
mouth on her napkin, her palms rubbing the panels on her silk
flower-strewn kimono.

"You know, Alex, I put in a full day at the lab. I really don't
feel like coming home and playing Julia Child." She looked at him,
her expression quite serious. "The truth is I can't comprehend even
the simplest recipes." She took a deep breath and finished her
confession. "Alex, I'm hopeless in the kitchen."

He smiled at her. "I'm not asking for gourmet, darling. What is
there to grilling a steak? Slicing a potato? Tossing a salad?" Alex
cradled her face between his hands. The pleasant expression that
curved his lips was not duplicated in his eyes. "I'm sure the
winner of the National Science Medal could manage that."

Virginia swallowed hard. Was she just imagining an underlying
bitterness in his voice, a strained, tense look around his mouth
and eyes. "Alex." She grasped his hand, her thumb stroking his
palm. "You've been awfully quiet all day. That award was a complete
surprise. I really think Jerome went overboard with all those
interviews. First the newspapers and then those TV cameras." She
licked her lips, her voice hesitant. "I hope you didn't feel ig . .
. ignored."

"Really, Virginia." Alex pulled his hand free from her grasp.
His tone was clipped and brusque, his manner defensive. "I don't
know how you got that impression." He drained the rest of the white
wine. "I'm very proud of you." Alex picked up his fork and
viciously attacked the pot pie. "I told you before how much I
admire your work. I don't know what else you expect after all-"

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Diane burst into the
apartment. "Wait until you see this!" She was waving the evening
newspaper at them while she ran to the small color TV set on the
bookcase. "Look . . . look!" She pointed at the immediately visible
picture. "You're right there, over Dan Rather's shoulder." Diane
turned up the volume to a dangerously high decibel level.

Virginia sprinted to stand next to her. "Oh, God. Look at my
hair... and that dress." She groaned and hid her face in her
hands.

"Will you stop." Diane hushed her, listening to every word the
evening news reported. When the brief story was finished, she
switched off the set. "I called everyone I knew and told them to
watch the news tonight. I thought it would only be on the local
station and then, when National announced this- well!" Diane
grabbed her by the shoulders. "Aren't you thrilled?" She looked
back toward Alex, who was still sitting at the table. "Alex, didn't
she look marvelous? And did you see the photograph of that
award?"

"Marvelous," Alex agreed, lifting his refilled wineglass in a
toastlike gesture.

"I want you to autograph that newspaper," Diane continued,
jabbering away at a mile a minute. "Mom couldn't believe it. Of
course, she knew you when." She erupted in a burst of giggles. "You
know, you should really get a few copies of the paper.'' She pushed
a pen into Virginia's hand. "Alex, your folks will want to see
their famous daughter-in-law."

"Famous!" Virginia wrinkled her nose. "I'm hardly that."
Nonetheless she wrote her name with artistic flourish. "I do wish
I'd had some notice though. I would have worn something
different."

Diane gave Virginia's blond topknot a playful tug. "And you were
the one I couldn't get into a dress shop with a Mack truck." She
slanted a gaze toward the dining room. "Alex, you've just done
wonders for her. She's like a caterpillar turned into a
butterfly."

Sharp staccato blasts, as if from an air horn, splintered Alex's
eardrums. He turned off the shower, thrust his arms into a terry
robe, and threw open the bathroom door. Immediately he smelled
something burning. The hallway and living room were filled with
smoke. He waved his way through it. "Virginia!" he shouted. "Damn
it, where are you? Virginia! Are you all right?"

Coughing, tears streaming from smarting eyes, Alex collided with
his wife. The broiler pan slid from Virginia's pot-holdered hand
and noisily crashed against the white linoleum, sending what
appeared to be smoldering lumps of coal scooting across the
floor.

"What the hell happened?" Alex sputtered. He groped for the
switch on the gas range's exhaust fan, then turned his efforts
toward opening the small kitchen window.

Virginia threw the pot holders on the floor, rubbing her burnt
knuckles against her lips. "Grease fire," she gasped, trying to
suck clean air into her lungs and moisture into her throat. "The
steaks and the grill and the french fries." She was crying now: a
mixture of anger and frustration sent tears cascading down her
cheeks. "I just turned away for a second to make the salad and set
the table." She coughed and sneezed, her diaphragm jerking
spasmodically. She had hiccups! She kicked at the pan with her bare
foot, nearly slipping on the salt-covered floor.

"Take it easy." Alex put a comforting arm around her sobbing
shoulders. "Everything is under control, honey." He guided her
through the rapidly dispersing smoke cloud into the living room.
The alarm ceased its incessant clamoring as he settled her on his
lap on the living room sofa.

"Oh, Alex, it was awful." Virginia was still hiccuping and
crying. Her wet cheek snuggled into the curve of his neck while her
hand clutched his shoulder. "Flames were shooting; hot grease
splattered everywhere." The hiccups kept increasing. "Smoke ... oh,
the smoke, and then that alarm. I poured salt on everything." She
gave one last long hiccup and literally collapsed against him.

"Darling, relax. It's all over," his languid voice crooned. He
rocked her trembling body as if she were an injured child. "It
probably won't ever happen again," Alex announced in a positive
tone. "You're just going to have to be a little more careful." He
pulled her chin up and kissed her tear-ravaged cheeks. "I never
expected to have a 'flaming gourmet' on my hands."