The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse (17 page)

She looked down at Martin who looked as if he were halfway to heaven. He clutched a breast with each hand. A tight little smile formed across her voluptuous lips. Then she stopped pumping her body. It took a fraction of a second for him to notice.

“Whadya stop for?” Martin croaked.

“Do you love me?”

“What?”

“It’s a simple yes or no answer.”

Martin grabbed at her hips, but she swatted his hands away.

“Well?”

“Come on, Heather. You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with anger now.

“All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.”

“Of course, I love you. I’m here, aren’t I? Stop playing games.”

“A woman needs to hear it—often.”

“Heather, stop breaking my—”

She put her finger on his lips and then kissed placed it in her mouth and sucked on it. Martin’s eyes widened. Before he could say another thing, she bent down and kissed his lips. It was a greedy kiss and got the reaction she desired from him. Being far from a fool, Heather knew Martin would say just about anything to get her to continue their love-making at this point. She just wanted him to understand what was at stake here. He had to appreciate what she was giving him and not take it for granted. This time when he pulled down on her slender hips, she began to move.

* * *

After Martin left for the dealership, Carla busied herself around the house. Then she tried to work, but she couldn’t concentrate. She felt as if she were sitting on a seesaw. One moment she had control of her life and had her feet firmly rooted to the ground and then the next she found herself perched high in the air, feet swinging without a toehold. Her emotions were riding a runaway roller coaster and she felt drained. On the one hand, if she learned that Martin continued to cheat on her, she wanted to send him packing. However, now that he agreed to start a family maybe she could try to learn to live with his infidelity—or maybe not. The little voice in her head kept trying to be heard. No matter how small it was, it was still audible enough for her to hear. “You shouldn’t have to compromise. It’s okay to share clothes or your car. A woman doesn’t have to share her husband.” She had no idea what she would do.

No matter what, the weight loss had been a good thing. Personally, she liked the way she now looked and felt. Men held doors open for her and were genuinely more courteous. She’d never, ever let herself go again. Despite all that, she still needed some feedback on deciding what she should do. Lynne seemed preoccupied lately with work and her new love. What she really needed and wanted more than ever was to talk to Richard.

Since he’d come into her life and become her friend, she’d normally chat with him on the phone or when she saw him at the gym. She found herself always looking forward to seeing him and cherished their time together. Even doing mundane things with him, such as shopping for his niece’s birthday gift was fun. Now that he’d been off her radar, she wondered if she’d taken him for granted.

She hadn’t heard from him or seen him since he’d left a message on her cell telling her he’d be tied up with a difficult court case. Deep down she feared something else might be keeping him away. It was a nagging feeling, like a mosquito circling her head that she couldn’t get rid of. Could he have found a girl friend? Someone to love?

Her heart caught in her throat momentarily. She was keenly aware her reaction to this thought wasn’t one that a friend should have. A platonic friend would be thrilled for him. However, something inside of her prevented her from feeling thrilled. And just the thought of him with another woman made her sad—and very jealous. She definitely needed to speak to her other sounding block, Lynne—and fast.

Carla called Lynne to see if she were free to talk, but found her busy at an open house. Restless, and still unable to focus on her writing after they disconnected, Carla grabbed her MP3 and called to Blondie.

“Come on, girl. Let’s go for a walk.”

The yellow Lab heard the word “walk” and made a beeline to the door. Carla found her excitedly chasing her tail in front of it. Watching her made Carla dizzy.

“Stay still! I need to put your leash on, dopey,” she said half laughing.

Eventually, she was able to attach the leash to the dog’s collar and get her out the door.

Blondie practically wrenched Carla’s shoulder out of the socket as she bolted forward. That dog loved to go for walks. In fact, Carla believed she lived entirely for them.

Carla was listening to a downloaded novel as she headed toward the end of her winding block. It was a perfect January day for a walk, crisp cool air with plenty of sunshine. She loved Arizona because of its weather, but the summers were often too hot to take long walks. Her mind wasn’t on the story, though. When she realized she’d missed an entire section, she shut off her MP3. She was thinking of Martin. Though she thought she’d begun to reawaken Martin’s love for her and infused their marriage with a fresh start, now she wasn’t too sure if she’d taken one step forward and three steps back. After that phone call he’d received the night before, she wasn’t even certain what she’d gained.

Blondie was sniffing everything in the road and rechristening selected spots as they walked. It was if she pressed a button and a premeasured dose of doggie pee magically marked the territory. It wasn’t long before Carla realized she was no longer thinking about Martin. Instead, her mind had wandered back to Richard.

She truly missed him. Her internal world seemed chilly without the warmth of his smile. She loved how his green eyes glittered with delight whenever he laughed. With him, she could be herself, say or do anything. She’d often read her first drafts to him and knew he cared enough to listen. He’d always give her honest feedback. Often as she read, she’d watch the delight on his face as her words touched him. Martin, on the other hand, merely gave her lip-service and she ceased to concern him with her work early on in their marriage. Richard could make doing the most routine task fun. He was clever and spontaneous. She always enjoyed just being with him most of all. Then there was that something else.

Richard made her feel like a woman and like being a woman. When they touched—even innocently— that touch stirred up feelings and needs. She had wanted Martin to fill those needs, but she wasn’t sure of his love, any longer. Whatever feelings she had for Richard, their relationship should remain platonic. She was still Martin’s wife.

And yet, she never forgot how Richard’s kiss tasted or what it did to her. Nor did she want to. If Richard were to suddenly vanish from her life, he would take all the richness and color from her world.

Carla made a resolution to herself. If she didn’t see or hear from Richard soon, she’d make it her business to at least give him a call. After all, she thought wryly, what would she do if she locked her keys in the car again?

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Heather rolled off Martin and left him gasping for breath.

“That was un…be…live…able,” he croaked.

“Yes, it was, wasn’t?” Heather said in a faraway voice. A beat later, she let out a sob and covered her face with her hands.

“What’s wrong, babe?” Martin asked as he drew her into his arms.

“Nothing—everything! I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry about? You didn’t tell Orson about us,” he said as he brushed her blonde hair away from her face and tenderly kissed her forehead.

“No, it’s not about that.”

“What is it then?”

“Don’t you see?”

“Heather, what are you talking about? Stop with the riddles and just come out with it.”

“
This
is not what I want,” she said, making a sweeping arc with her hand around her.

Martin cocked his head to one side as if getting a better angle would help him understand.

“Seeing you for these moments are wonderful—don’t get me wrong—but…”

Martin’s heart plummeted. Was Heather dumping him? Even though he’d toyed with the idea of ending his relationship with her, the fact that she might be taking the upper hand and pulling the plug on them upset him. No woman has ever dumped Martin Millhouse. Anger began to rise within him when she fiercely threw her arms about his neck.

“Can’t you see it just isn’t enough? I want more—no I need more!”

Martin realized he’d jumped to conclusions and had gotten bent out of shape for nothing.

He blew out his breath along with those erroneous crazy thoughts. So where was Heather heading with such talk?

“Your beautiful, ocean blue eyes are the last thing I’d like to see at night and I want to wake up every morning next to your lean, hard body. Instead, I see dreary, watery blue eyes that belong to a colorless, sagging, overweight, balding man who turns my stomach when he reaches for me. Hell, his man-boobs are nearly as large as mine.”

She sounded pitiful. Yet, what could he say? They both had entered into this relationship freely, knowing he had no intention of ever divorcing his wife. He didn’t see that ever happening and wondered why she was suddenly acting this way. He was content with their arrangement and saw no reason to change it. Then he reminded himself why they’d met today. Orson knew of their trysts.
So she
thought
, he added. There was a chance she was wrong. That would explain why Orson hadn’t come at him with an axe—both literally and figuratively.

“I’d love for that to happen, too,” Martin said without thinking and cowardly leaving off the
but
.

“Really? Do you honestly mean that, Martin?” she asked stroking his face with her fingertips.

“You know I do,” he said, reaching for one of her breasts. He was never one to let an opportunity pass him by. “Divorce the man if you’re so unhappy.”

Martin half-expected her to ask if he’d be willing to divorce Carla, but Heather wasn’t on that page yet.

“Are you crazy?” her entire demeanor changed rapidly.

He saw her brow furrow. She was angry. To lighten the moment he replied, “No one has ever called me
that
.”

Through clenched teeth, she reminded him, “Have you forgotten the prenup I signed? If I leave Orson, I get next to zip. What would we live on?”

“Whoa, who said we’d be moving in together?” He had to nip this in the bud.

“Well, how else is it done?”

“I don’t think I can divorce Carla.”

“If you don’t love me enough, we could end it all here,” Heather challenged him.

“You know I don’t want that, but aren’t you overreacting?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look,” Martin said, raking his hand through his hair, “you’re not even certain Orson knows—”

She started to interrupt, but he said, “Let me finish.”

Heather slipped from his grasp and leaned against the headrest, crossing her arms over her magnificent chest, her blue eyes as hot and focused as lasers.

“Whether or not he knows, we should lie low to throw him off our scent. You did great when the PI was following you. When it’s safe we can meet like before,” Martin continued.

“That’s my point,” Heather remarked.

“Point? What point?” Martin was confused. Had she made a point?

“We’d have to wait to be together.”

“But, it’s not possible now—especially if divorce isn’t an option.” He hoped she didn’t press him further on divorcing Carla.

Her lips curled. “There’s another option, baby,” she purred as she slowly ran a perfectly manicured finger down the side of his body creating goose bumps in its wake.

“What are you hinting at, Heather?” he asked, not really wanting to know.

“We can separate the fool from his money and me—permanently.”

“As in
dead
permanent?” he asked.

She nodded.

“You’re kidding, right?’ Martin said with a nervous giggle.

“I’m
dead
serious.”

Martin’s face blanched. “You can’t possibly be contemplating taking Orson’s life. It’s…it’s murder!”

“No, shit, Sherlock. Nothing gets past you.”

Martin began to stutter. “An affair is one thing, b-but to m-murder your husband, who also happens to be my boss, is something I didn’t sign on for.”

“Instead, of having all this,” she said, puffing out her chest and running her hands suggestively down the sides of her tight body as if to make a comparison, “you’d rather remain with that wimpy sow you’re married to.”

“First of all, Carla is looking rather good, lately, and secondly, I’m not going to pay such an exorbitant price in order to have you.”

Heather’s face darkened like a storm cloud. She began to strike at Martin with her fists, but he caught both her wrists. Struggling against him, she shouted, “You candy-ass wuss!”

“Calm down, before you get hurt.”

“Like you might hit me, or something,” she taunted him.

His mouth crushed hers. Seeing Heather like that turned Martin on and he pushed her down under him. Being the sensual woman that she was, a moment later Heather stopped struggling and began to move rhythmically with him.