Unfaithful
DEVON SCOTT
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
Contents
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Part Two
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Part Three
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Part Four
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Olivia—
I’ve tried for days to tell you what, for me, is an absolute new feeling. I’ve been asking myself if what I dare to express is real and worth fighting for, given our circumstances and the fact that we’ve been friends for so long. But I’ve come to the point where I can no longer NOT let you know how I’m feeling.
I know a letter is not the best way to communicate affairs of the heart, but in the interest of so many things, I feel this is the only way to start.
So, here goes…
Something changed within me that night at the party. Two weeks ago, almost to this day, my life was indelibly altered. I can’t tell you exactly why it began, but all I know is I don’t look at things the way I did before. I find myself dreaming about new things—whole new realms of possibilities, and each one includes you.
Olivia, what happened between you and me that night cannot be ignored. It was profound. It was deep. And I pray that it happens again and again and again. Yes, Olivia, for me it was so much more than just physical…it affected me that much….
Ryan doesn’t hear the door open until the footfalls are inside his cage. He glances up to find his boss, the president of the company, standing before him. He swivels away from his laptop and quickly closes the clamshell, ensuring no one will witness this spilling of emotions.
“Ryan.”
“Rodney. Have a seat.”
“No, thanks. This won’t take but a second.” He glances back toward the door as if expecting company.
Ryan witnesses Olivia’s dark locs rise into view. Before he can breathe, she is moving through the door. Russet-colored skin and toned calf muscles, sculpted flesh that curves upward to the hemline of her short, yet fashionable, skirt. The crisp white buttondown top is fitting, following her curves the way a sports car does a winding road. Eyes drift upward to her full breasts pressed against cotton—no, that is not right. They are straining against the fabric—yes, straining.
“Ahhh, perfect timing, Olivia,” Rodney says.
She grins at Rodney before flashing her alluring smile in Ryan’s direction.
Rodney begins without preamble. “I need the two of you in New York, tonight. Sorry for the late notice, but, Olivia, your guy is having second thoughts—something he’s hearing on the street about a manufacturing defect with the optics. Pure bullshit, of course, but we need to squelch this thing before it gets out of hand.”
Olivia is nodding, as if she expected this. Ryan is turning a sour face, as if he has no idea what they are talking about. He opens his mouth to speak, but Olivia beats him to the punch.
“Rod, Ryan and I met earlier today regarding this issue, and I’ve already had my staff prepare a briefing just in case. So Ryan and I can finalize it on the shuttle going up. We’ll be ready, no problem. Just tell us when and where.”
Ryan remains silent. He is observing her, cool under fire. Her stare is unwavering, her smile captivating. He feels himself stirring, readying the switch that turns the windows opaque so fast it would make her head spin. He longs to push Rodney out of his office, then rush to her the way a cheetah attacks its prey.
“Outstanding. Jackie has all the details.” He turns to leave, swatting Ryan on the shoulder. He winks at Olivia as he says, “As usual, the two of you make quite a pair.” Then he is gone, leaving Olivia alone with Ryan, a smirk painted on her sensuously full lips.
Six hours later, he sits across from her, forty-seven floors up from Broadway, enjoying the tastiest broiled salmon of his life. She is dressed casually: tight jeans, dark boots, and off-white sweater showing off her curves. As she excuses herself to go to the restroom, he stares silently at her perfectly shaped ass, thanking God for answering his prayers.
When she returns, looking more refreshed than before, he focuses on the gap between her thighs, that sweet spot, attempting to make out the cleft that forms her core. He knows what it feels like. He has committed its form to memory…has touched it…even slipped a finger inside.
God, what a night that was.
He hopes tonight he will finish what they began.
The biz trip to New York was a godsend.
He is drinking rum and Coke. The buzz he is feeling helps his thinking along. He stares at her, pondering just how alluring she can be. They talk casually about stuff, already exhausting the technical problems that sent them there. Once again, he is barely listening. Instead, he remembers a scene very similar to this one.
Months ago, the two of them were out on a client call…another late night, one of many. For some reason, he was feeling depressed that night. Can’t recall why—but it was one of those times when self-esteem was at an all-time low. Perhaps he was just going through a midlife crisis—or reexamining his life from a different angle. We all need to do that from time to time. Right?
Regardless, he was feeling down, and needed to believe in something else for