Part 4 (2/2)
”Yes?” Tara waited for an explanation.
”I'd like to talk about that,” he called back, and Tara could see he was grinning. He was still grinning when he shut the guest house door behind him.
”I wondered when you'd be back,” Donna said.
Alert, Bill stood quietly in the dark. Without moving, he surveyed the scene, his demeanor snake-like, slow-moving as he positioned himself for a strike.
There she was. In this dark room she almost vanished in the big bed.
She was talkin' like she deserved to have an att.i.tude.
”I thought you'd be in there awhile,” he said, taking a step toward her, turning his head, indicating the bathroom door.
”Cold porcelain holds no allure on a night like this. It's freezing in there. Freezing outside, too.”
She smiled, a little sourly.
”Were you stargazing?”
Bill chuckled, low and deep and a little mean.
”Ah-ah-ah.” He waggled a finger, keeping time with it as he walked her way.
”You're jealous. You think I'm chasin' tail, don't you?”
”Don't be ridiculous,” she snapped, but her voice was a whisper, almost as lost in the dark as she was in her need to keep him.
”Naw, naw, naw.” Bill was prancing now, having fun. His right hand pulled at one side of his s.h.i.+rt, his left the other. He bared himself while he danced, just that little bit of skin, a little teasing song. He was a lean machine, a man on the move. He was the Marlboro man. Oh, if she only knew.
”You can't fool me, you little bit of nothin'. You can't. You can't.”
The man's fingers were on his fly. Down went the zipper. An inch. He was close enough now and Donna could see his tongue snake out and roll around his lips. Not for the first time she understood there were some things she didn't like about him. Some small and base things that bothered her to no end. Down that zipper went another inch, then two, the metallic grate background music for his striptease. His tongue disappeared and he was right by the bed now looking down on Donna. She saw him in his best light, shadowed and softened.
The fine set of his lips, the thick las.h.i.+ng of those sharkskin eyes. She could have died for looking at such a beautiful face, or turned to stone, or lay down at his feet and let him step right on her.
Now she was looking at his bared chest. Somehow he'd managed to unb.u.t.ton that cowboy s.h.i.+rt of his. Her hand shook. She reached out and touched the precious line of fine hair that ran down from his navel, disappearing into the denim that hung on his slim hips. The dp of her nail touched that s.p.a.ce, the flat of her hand was itching for the feel of flesh, when her wrist was wrenched back, her arm angled sharply away so that her body followed suit. Donna grunted, surprised by the sudden attack. Not really afraid. Not really an attack because now he lay her hand back where she had wanted it in the first place.
He just wanted to be the person to put it there.
He spoke to her sweet.
”You're not thinkin' I'm after Tara out there, are you?”
”I saw you,” Donna said, her voice shaking, tentative in her reproach, unsure of him when he should be the one worried about being ditched.
She had the money. She had the house. She had the prestige. But he had the power and he used it now, pouring it over her like honey, licking it off with every word he spoke.
”Aw, baby, baby. Shh, you sweet thing,” he purred, his fingers still tight on her wrist.
”You just saw me and Ms. Limey doin' some business. Remember what I told you? I got some old business and she'll clear it up for me.” Bill pushed her hand closer to his crotch, but not close enough for her to find out if he thought her interesting in the least.
”What kind of help? I could do it for you,” Donna breathed, her fingers jerking as he held her tight.
”Nothin' but my business, man's business.” Bill pushed farther and Donna moved closer, the covers falling off her naked body. Bill's eyes flicked over her. She had no idea whether she pleased him or appalled him. He was such a hard man to read. She had to hear words, she had to know.
”That's all?” She shook him off, no longer willing to be directed, and put her hands on his hips.
Quickly, Donna pushed away the denim and the cotton beneath until there was nothing left to push away and she found what she wanted.
”Do you care?” Bill asked, gently, softly, like a man talking to a child, a lover talking to a beloved.
She didn't hear all those things in his voice, nor did she answer his question, which was just as well.
Just as G.o.dd.a.m.n well as far as he was concerned.
”Hey, I'm not going to stand up here and spout all that stuff about honesty and integrity. You've seen my track record. You know me. My wife's family has lived in New Mexico since before it was a state. I don't like rhetoric. I'm just going to tell you straight. I want to be your governor because I want to make sure New Mexico doesn't become California. I don't want our schools at the bottom of the educational barrel and I don't want us living on top of each other. We shouldn't wonder if our neighbor will lend a helping hand or cut ours off when we reach out. I'm ready to be your governor.
I'm ready to follow through on my promises now!”
Woodrow held up his hands as if the crowd in the high school auditorium had raised their voices in a collective roar of approval, instead of putting their hands together in a polite acknowledgment that he had finished speaking. Harriet Klinger got up from her seat, shook Woodrow's hand, and gave him back to Charlotte, who looked at him adoringly as he took his seat beside her.
”Well?” he whispered through clenched teeth.
”You did fine. So well.” Charlotte's a.s.surance came through a brilliant, unmoving smile.
Their attention was fixed on Harriet.
”Thank you, District Attorney Weber. We appreciate you coming here tonight to talk to us about your views.” Harriet was addressing the crowd.
Woodrow grasped Charlotte's hand while he nodded to their hostess, who had looked back at them briefly.
”Are there any questions for the district attorney?”
Harriet waited an excruciating ninety seconds before announcing, ”Fine. There are cookies and coffee in the back of the room. You'll have a chance to mingle with Mr. Weber and his lovely wife in a more relaxed atmosphere.”
Cla.s.s was dismissed and Woodrow mingled with Charlotte in tow. He munched on cookies and drank red punch and made polite conversation.
Charlotte pa.s.sed him twice, giving him a minimal roll of the eyes. One of those signals. Things were a little better, but on the whole the evening hadn't gone well. They'd been off by a beat all night for some reason and the crowd sensed it. But then this audience was older and few cared about education when their children had been out on their own for twenty years. They might worry about overdevelopment, but that was a toss-up. They probably worried about crime, but the cops did a decent job. Woodrow needed a s.e.xy position on something and he needed it soon, though the campaign was young. In the meantime he'd smile and munch and shake hands.
Then he saw something he didn't like at all. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a younger face, a woman's face and a familiar one at that. He couldn't remember her name, only that he had felt uncomfortable in her presence. But another voice called to him. His smile was back and he leaned into the greeting, giving the caller his full attention. Still, the little niggle of worry stayed with him for a good long while.
”Hi, sorry I'm late.”
The woman had the kind of style that doomed her to anonymity. Her hair was dirty blond and hung to her shoulders. She never cut it, though it never seemed to grow any longer. Despite her comely features, without makeup she was undefinable. Her clothing was clean and old enough to show some wear, her shoes were low, her skirt too long. In short, she was ordinary. She had chosen her outfit deliberately. She hadn't wanted to come to this place, but the man had insisted he had no time to make other arrangements. Besides, Weber wouldn't remember her. It had been too long; she had been too minor a player. Perhaps the man was right, but she'd caught Woodrow's eye and now wasn't sure. She wanted this over with as quickly as possible.
The man she came to see was easy to identify.
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