than it needed to be and Jennifer grimaced. The waitress appeared
with their drinks, ready to take their orders. Eric was unnecessarily
brusque, which was obvious by the expression on her face. Jennifer
tried to compensate by placing her order in an extra sweet tone, not
sure if it worked.
Eric picked up his scotch, swirled it once, and then downed the
whole thing in one gulp. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep
up this schedule,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jennifer. “I
feel like a fucking zombie.” He held up the empty glass and wiggled
it in the direction of the bar, silently and rudely requesting a refill.
Jennifer watched helplessly, wanting to help if she could. “Can
you take a little time off ? Maybe a few days of rest would help.
Hang with me at the lake and relax for a bit? You’ve hardly been
there at all.”
He snorted. “Are you kidding me? Jen, you have no idea what’s
been going on at the firm. Accounts are shifting like sand, attorneys
are scrambling for them, Dad’s been heaping more and more shit on
me. Vacation time now is out of the question.”
The condescending and clipped tone of his voice made her bris-
tle. She hated that attitude, hated when he talked to her like she was
completely clueless about the working world. They’d argued about
it in the past, but she decided that doing so at that point would be
useless. She understood that he was stressed out, so she simply nod-
ded, let a few moments of silence pass, and attempted to change the
subject.
“I’ve got my first volleyball game this week. Maybe if you’re
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 57
around, you can come and watch? It’s not until seven and it’s just
over at the beach.”
Eric grunted noncommittally as the waitress set his drink
down.
Jennifer refused to be pulled down by his funk and plowed on.
“The team is really nice. I’m enjoying it a lot. It’s been a long time
since I played.”
He looked up from contemplating the contents of his glass and
met Jennifer’s eyes. She could almost see the train of thought chug-
ging across his handsome features. He looked back down at his
drink, then his face softened considerably. He inhaled deeply, then
exhaled very slowly.
“That’s great, honey.” He smiled at her as she tried not to reg-
ister the surprise she felt at his change in demeanor. “You used to
be pretty damn good, as I recall. I don’t know that I’ll be able to
make it, but I’ll try. What night?”
“Wednesday.”
He nodded, taking a much smaller sip of his drink this time.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a prick, Jen. I don’t mean it.”
“I know you don’t, Eric. I know. I’m just a little worried about
you, that’s all. You’re pushing so hard, I’m afraid you’re going to
crash and burn.”
“I’ve thought about the same thing. It won’t be much longer. I
just have to hang in there for a few more months.”
Jennifer nodded, feeling less reassured than she had hoped.
“Okay. I’ll try to be patient.”
“Thanks, honey.” He seemed relieved. “So, tell me about your
teammates.”
It had been so long since they’d had the time to just sit
together, have a nice dinner, and talk, that Jennifer was momen-
tarily stunned by the idea of having a simple, uninterrupted conver-
sation with her husband. He smiled at her and she suspected that he
knew exactly how she was feeling. Before anything else, they were
friends. Good friends. They cared about one another and, more
importantly, they actually liked each other.
“Well, you know Alex. She’s an incredible player, very consis-
tent. She’s a hitter and I think I’ve picked up the ability to set her
pretty well. We’re a good team. Her best friend Jackie is another big
hitter, a bit more powerful.”
“Have I met Jackie?”
“No, not yet, but I’m sure you will. She’s at Alex’s a lot.”
“Is she Alex’s girlfriend?”
Jennifer blinked at him. “What?”
“Jackie. Is Jackie Alex’s girlfriend?”
“Um, no.”
58 Georgia Beers
“You did know that Alex is gay, right?”
“Yes, but how did you know?”
“I have my sources,” he replied, grinning around his fork.
Jennifer absorbed that for a second, not sure why it made her
uneasy. She shook the feeling off and continued. “Jackie has a part-
ner, Rita, and an adorable little two-year-old daughter.”
“Huh. Is anybody on this team of yours straight?” He kept his
tone light, smiling in hopes of masking the apprehension he felt. He
saw a flash of something cross Jennifer’s face, but it was gone too
quickly for him to identify it.
“Yes, silly. Me, for one.” She grinned wryly at him. “And Steve.
He plays like you.” She chuckled as she recalled him throwing him-
self into the sand over and over.
“All over the court?”
“All over it.” They laughed, easing the slight tension that had
settled over their table. “He’s really sweet. And there’s David. He’s
new, but he’s constantly improving and I think he’ll be really good
in time.”
“A natural, huh?”
“Definitely.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “I’m forget-
ting somebody. Oh, yeah. Nikki. She doesn’t say much. I’m not sure
she likes me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. Just one of those things. She looks at me funny.”
“Don’t be silly, Jen. What’s not to like?” His eyes sparkled sin-
cerely. “You’re a very likable girl.”
She smiled at that, her heart warming. This was the Eric she
had married, not the stressed-out, snappish business executive from
earlier in the dinner. Despite the success of his parents and the
image his family projected to the community, Eric had always been
sweet and down-to-earth. That was the major reason Jennifer had
been so worried about the long hours he’d been keeping and the
sudden pressure put upon him by his father. Deep down, she didn’t
think Eric really wanted to take over the firm, but she knew he
would do what he had to in order to please his father. He and Jenni-
fer were very much alike that way. He would do what was expected
of him, but the stress he’d been under was actually altering his per-
sonality, often making him snippy, abrupt, and even insulting. She
was determined to grab onto this glimpse of the man she’d married
while she could, because she was sure it wouldn’t last long.
* * *
She lay there, staring at the ceiling for a long time, wide awake,
mind spinning. Though Eric had relaxed considerably during their
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 59
dinner, a ripple of tension continued to flow through him. Trying to
ease his mind, Jennifer had focused on how good it was to finally
have him home for the night for the first time in weeks, rather than
staying in Buffalo or Pittsford. He seemed to appreciate her enthu-
siasm. They’d barely gotten in the door of the lake house before he
began undressing her. His hands were insistent, his mouth was
demanding and she knew this was something he needed. She barely
had time to register being at the bottom of the stairs before he
cupped her backside, picked her up off the floor and carried her
upstairs to their bedroom, his tongue buried deep in her mouth the
whole way.
Sex with Eric was usually pleasant enough for Jennifer, though
never earth-shattering. She considered it something she did for him,
almost going so far as to use the old-fashioned—and utterly politi-
cally incorrect—phrase “wifely duty.” It was true that she’d listened
to women like Dawn talk about how much they despised sleeping
with their husbands and how they had much better sex when they
were alone, but for every Dawn, there was another woman with the
opposite reaction. She was always envious of friends who had fabu-
lous sex lives with their husbands and she didn’t understand why
she wasn’t one of them.
She wasn’t like Dawn; she didn’t hate sleeping with Eric. He
was usually quite an attentive lover. He wasn’t perfect—she had
faked orgasm more than once in order to escape his dogged
attempts to make her come—but he was by no means selfish in bed.
She had started to think it must be her and that was a little scary.
She’d noticed a change in him recently as well. If she had to
pinpoint a time, she would have to say it began when his father had
started grooming him to take over the family business. The fre-
quency of their lovemaking had waned considerably after that,
which didn’t really concern her. She simply attributed it to the new
stress Eric was under and left it at that. However, the last few times
they’d made love, Eric had taken care of Eric and only Eric. It
seemed that on his part, it was all taking and no giving, which was
very, very unlike him. Jennifer had oscillated between relief at the
shortened amount of time it was taking to perform her “duty” and
worry that Eric no longer cared whether or not she enjoyed being in
bed with him.
That night, he’d entered her much sooner than she would have
liked and she’d tried not to tense every muscle in her body. She’d
closed her eyes and done her best to move with him. He had thrust
into her, pumping furiously, his eyes shut tightly, his brow furrowed
in concentration, though she was not sure on what he was concen-
trating. Their bodies were as close as they could possibly be, but
their minds were on completely different planets. Jennifer didn’t
60 Georgia Beers
know where her husband was, but she was certain that it wasn’t in
bed with her.
When he had finished, he’d eased out of her, panting and
sweaty. He’d rolled onto his back with a sigh and within minutes,
he’d begun to snore.
Jennifer continued to stare at the ceiling, trying to decide if she
should go on blaming this now-chronic problem on Eric’s long
hours and stressful job, or if it was time to look more closely at
things, to delve deeper and try to get to the real issue. She wasn’t
completely unaware that she had her own issues, that she brought
her own crap to the table. She knew deep down that blaming things
entirely on him was unfair, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to
look in the mirror and really see.
Eric snuffled and rolled onto his side, away from his wife. She
looked at his back, her eyes roving over his milky-white skin, her
mind thinking how he’d been shut up in his office too long and that
he could use some sunshine. She ran her fingertips lightly across his
broad shoulders with a heavy sigh. Then she slipped those same fin-
gers between her thighs, probing and stroking knowingly, searching
for release.
She came quietly next to him. He slept on.
* * *
At barely six thirty in the morning Eric Wainwright maneu-
vered his silver Mercedes through the tollbooth and onto the New
York State Thruway, heading west toward Buffalo. He hated this
time of the day; he hated being stuck in his car for nearly two hours.
It gave him way too much time to think, something he’d been trying
to avoid lately as he didn’t like the direction his thoughts were tak-
ing. That’s why he opted to stay in Buffalo so often. The alone time
in the car was just too daunting.
He thought back to the previous night and the morning. Dinner
with Jennifer had been pleasant once he’d kicked his nasty mood.
She’d been a big help in getting him out of it. She always was. She
knew how to change the subject or how to bite her lip to keep from
snapping back at him, which he usually deserved. She’d just kept
talking about her new volleyball team and how excited she was to
play. Once she’d pulled him away from the subject of work, he’d
been okay. And she’d seemed so happy to have him home…her
voice had been a little flirty and there was a sparkle in her eyes.
He’d incorrectly taken that as the signal he always longed to see,
one she seemed to give less and less since they’d been married.
They’d headed home and he’d immediately made the move,
doing away with her clothes and kissing her hungrily. He grimaced
Thy Neighbor’s Wife 61
as he remembered the rest of the night. It seemed to be a regular
occurrence now, any time they made love—which was hardly ever
at this point. She made no sound, she was barely able to contain her
desire to be anywhere else but with him, beneath him. A small part
of him was ashamed at his own behavior lately, his failure to do
anything at all to help make her more comfortable. God forbid they
actually talk about it. Instead, he simply took what he wanted,
released himself inside her, rolled away and fell asleep. He was dis-
gusted that he’d become such an uncaring lover, but so had Jennifer
and that made him resentful.
If she’s not willing to try, why should I?
Totally childish behavior and he knew it. He also couldn’t seem
to do anything about it. The more he thought about the state of his
marriage, the angrier and more bitter he became. He looked at the
cell phone mounted on the dash and hesitated. After only a slight
internal debate, he punched in the number he was embarrassed to