Authors: Georgia Beers
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Erotica
Thy Neighbor’s Wife
Yellow Rose Books
Copyright © 2003 by Georgia Beers
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and
retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
The characters, incidents and dialogue herein are fictional and any
resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely
First Printing 2003
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Cover design by Donna Pawlowski
Yellow Rose Books
PMB 210, 8691 9th Avenue
Port Arthur, Texas 77642-8025
Find us on the World Wide Web at
Printed in the United States of America
There are a handful of folks who have made this book better
because of their hard work and support...
Thank you to Stacy Harp for the sharp eyes, the patience, and the
ability to boost my ego right when it needs it the most.
Thank you to the staff of Yellow Rose and Regal Crest for making
both the editing process and the business end of my writing run
smoothly and painlessly. I'm a very lucky author to be associated
with such professionals.
Thank you to the small city of Canandaigua, New York, for being
such a beautiful and inspirational place. I did take a few liberties—
natives will recognize them—but all in all, I tried to keep it as true
to life on paper as I could. I hope I succeeded.
Lastly, thank you to Tonya Muir—wherever you are...
“What do you think, honey?”
The excitement in Eric Wainwright’s voice was unmistakable to
his wife, Jennifer. She smiled at the little-boy expression on his
face, the twinkling in his brown eyes. It wasn’t terribly often that he
asked for her opinion on something he was looking to purchase, but
for some reason, he really wanted her to be as enamored with the
lake house as he was. It was important to him. He waited, studying
Jennifer was completely taken with the house, but she didn’t
want to let him off the hook too soon, so she pretended to ponder,
wandering slowly around. She turned in a casual circle in the
expansive great room and then stopped to look out the floor-to-ceil-
ing windows that offered a stunning view of Canandaigua Lake.
The waves lapped gently at the shores of the yard, which was impec-
cably landscaped, the grass, a lush green nearly impossible to find
this early in the season.
Above her head were wood beams, accentuating the high ceil-
ing and drawing the eyes to the railing of the loft that overlooked
the great room. She’d been up there already and had been equally
impressed with the open design of the master and guest bedrooms,
accented in the same wood as the ceiling beams. Ideas for painting
and decorating were already bombarding her, colors and patterns
spinning in her mind.
She knew that, whether or not she liked the place, Eric did and
that they’d probably end up buying it anyway, but she was pleased
he seemed so anxious for her opinion. She smiled at him again.
“I think it’s beautiful,” she pronounced.
Eric let out an audible sigh of relief and hugged her, catching
her off guard. He turned to Jake, his cousin and their real estate
agent, and grinned. “She thinks it’s beautiful.”
“Of course she does,” Jake replied easily. “Let’s take care of
the paperwork, shall we?”
As the two men headed for the kitchen where they could use
2 Georgia Beers
the counter space to write on, Jennifer slid open the sliding glass
doors and stepped out onto the massive back deck. It was empty, so
she was sure that was why it seemed so huge. The house had been
empty for over a week, following the death of the elderly previous
owner. She rested her palms on the railing, closing her eyes and tak-
ing a lung full of fresh lake air, so different from that of the city.
So this is going to be our summer home. Not bad. Not bad at
Eric had wanted a house on the water for ages and grudgingly
admitted to knowing that it was more a status symbol than anything
else for him. It would be added to the list of material things he’d
acquired, all before the age of thirty: the Mercedes, the boat, the
membership at Oak Hill, the most exclusive golf club in the area, a
huge house in the heart of Pittsford, one of the wealthiest suburbs
of Rochester, New York.
She despised the whole money game. She’d spent all twenty-
nine of her years right in the middle of it, but she hated being
wealthy. She also knew how snobbish that sounded and she didn’t
run around telling people how much she abhorred being rich, but it
was the truth. The role of high society wife was not one that she
treasured, nor was she good at it. She was the first to say so. Her
mother, as well as Eric’s mother, would be in line right behind her.
Still, the house was gorgeous and she already felt a sense of
peace simply standing on the deck. She also reluctantly admitted to
herself that she happily anticipated being there alone quite often.
Eric’s offices were in the city—about forty-five minutes from
Canandaigua – and lately he’d been helping set up the new division
in Buffalo—a good two hours away. It would be very inconvenient
for him to make such a commute every day during the summer,
given the late hours he tended to work, and he would most likely
stay at the Pittsford house more often than not. The idea of spend-
ing time on the lakeshore alone was very appealing to Jennifer; she
could feel the calm and solitude calling to her on the breeze coming
off the shore.
She turned to look up at the house. The exterior was a faded
gray, a finish that made it appear more weathered than it actually
was. Looking back to the water, she sighed, let the sudden relax-
ation she felt seep into her very being, and admired the sunset over
the water. She heard children laughing in the distance; a dog
She’d never had a dog growing up, even though she’d always
wanted one. Her mother had had a million reasons why she
wouldn’t allow it. Dogs were messy. Dogs were smelly. Dogs were
silly, shedding creatures that didn’t belong in a house full of nice
things like theirs. Something was bound to get broken or stained
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 3
or…she’d go on and on and on until her daughter would stop her
begging simply to get the woman to shut up. Jennifer could hear her
mother’s voice ringing clearly in her head as if it had happened yes-
terday. She still got a headache any time she thought about Dina
Remington’s No Pets and Here’s Why speech.
Despite the shrillness and insistence of her mother, Jennifer’s
desire for a dog had never gone away. She supposed that childhood
want was what made her smile at the little white pooch that she
noticed running through her new back yard. He was adorable, all
furry with pointy ears, short, stubby legs, and big expressive brown
eyes. He was clearly in his glory, running free in the spring grass.
Part of an unraveled rope flew unconstrained behind him, clasped
to his plaid collar but nothing else. He stopped to pee every few
feet, lifting a short back leg with relish, as if his mission in life was
to mark everything in sight. Jennifer chuckled at his antics.
The chuckling died swiftly as she had a sickening vision of a
car screeching to a halt to avoid him. She couldn’t bear the thought
of his broken little body, should he find his way up to the main
road, so she headed down into the large yard, squatted, and called
to him, clapping her hands and using a playful voice.
“Come here, buddy. Come on. Come here.”
He stopped his romping when he heard her and cocked his
head as if listening intently. His little black lips were visible on his
white-furred face and Jennifer was sure he was grinning at her.
“Yeah, you.” She giggled. “Come here.”
Much to her surprise, he trotted right over to her, his tail point-
ing straight up and wagging slightly as he sniffed the hand she held
out to him. After a minute or two, he decided she was safe and
allowed her to scratch his head. Soon, she was able to grasp his col-
lar, tug him a little closer, and picked him up in her arms to get a
closer look at him.
He immediately set to bathing her face with his pink tongue.
He was surprisingly gentle, like a mother with a pup, and it made
“Oh, I’m dirty, am I? Well, thanks so much for taking care of
She was relieved to see that he had an ID tag hanging from his
collar. She had picked up enough strays in her life and she was
always happy when she had a number to call to return the animal to
its owner. A pet without an ID tag was a sign of a glaringly irre-
sponsible owner in her book.
This tag said simply Kinsey and had a local phone number.
“Is Kinsey your name or is that your mommy? Hmm?” He
cocked his head as if seriously contemplating the question, but
offered her no answer. “Well, what do you say we find out?”
4 Georgia Beers
She carried him into the house. She could hear Eric and Jake
discussing the details of the purchase of the house, so she decided
not to interrupt. Instead, she fished her cell phone out of her shoul-
der bag and dialed the number on the tag. It was picked up after
“Hello?” The voice was female, deep and smooth.
“Um, hi. My name is Jennifer Wainwright and I was just won-
dering if you or somebody there had, by any chance, lost a dog.”
“Lost a—hang on a sec…” Jennifer heard a door slide open,
then a muffled curse. The woman came back on the line. “A little
white one?” she asked anxiously.
“Yep. His tag says Kinsey. Is that you or him?”
“That’s him, the little stinker. I can’t believe he broke that
rope. I swear he’s an escape artist!”
“He’s a sweetie.” She giggled as Kinsey licked her ear.
“Oh, he’s very smooth with the ladies, that’s for sure.” The
woman chuckled warmly. “Listen, I can’t thank you enough for
grabbing him. Where are you? I’ll come right over and get him out
of your hair.”
“Well, let’s see.” Jennifer stepped back out onto the deck to
scrutinize her surroundings, which were completely new to her.
“I’m on the lake. My house is new…I mean, I don’t even live here
yet, so I’m not exactly sure how to tell you where I am. Um, I know
we’re on East Lake Road. I think it might be number seventeen.”
She felt like a complete dolt, unable to give the voice on the phone
a solid address, and she rolled her eyes at herself.
“Number seventeen?” the voice said with surprise. Jennifer
could hear the door slide open again.
“I think so. Do you know where that is?”
The woman laughed. “I believe I do. Take a look to your
Jennifer furrowed her brows in confusion, then looked to her
right. Not fifty yards away, a dark-haired woman stood on the deck
next door, a cordless phone pressed to her ear. She waved.
Jennifer laughed as she snapped the cell phone shut, set it on
the railing of the deck, and walked toward her new neighbor, Kin-
sey still in her arms.
It was impossible not to notice how attractive the woman was.
God, I hope Eric can keep himself from drooling on her, she
thought with a smile. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose
ponytail, her bangs ruffling in the lake breeze. She had soft, dark
eyes framed by almost-black lashes and brows, and an easy smile
played at the corners of her mouth. She was dressed casually in
jeans and a black, v-neck t-shirt.
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 5
How come my jeans don’t fit me that well? Jennifer’s brain
whined enviously. It’s so unfair.
The woman was tall, several inches above Jennifer’s five foot
four inch frame. Her facial structure was near perfect, as though