Page 74 of Our Little Secret
Other cars began to appear, creating a line of idling vehicles as it neared time for the dance to be over.
“Jesus, how did this happen?” he asked, but it was a rhetorical question that didn’t require an answer. So Brooke remained silent, her eyes trained on the gym doors, her thoughts returning to the beginning with Neal. Maybe it was true what they say, that if you cheat with someone, you can never trust that person. Ever. Once a cheater, always a cheater. In their case the old saying cut both ways. But until Jennifer Adkins came along, neither Neal nor Brooke had crossed that invisible line of adultery in their marriage.
Well, as least as far as she knew.
She could only speak for herself.
There were times in the past when she’d suspected Neal was involved with someone else, though she’d never had concrete proof. In any case, though her suspicions had lingered nothing had ever come of it.
As for her?
She’d never looked at another man.
Until she found out about Jennifer Adkins.
And then all bets were off.
Brooke had heard rumors, a whisper at the company picnic when she’d first met the tall brunette with a retro shag haircut, her bangs fringing her huge brown eyes. She’d seemed shy and sultry, but Brooke had noticed how she’d lit up around Neal. While sitting at a picnic table drinking iced tea, Brooke had witnessed how he’d gone out of his way to be friendly to the newest member of the staff.
Then again, during the Christmas party at one of the partner’s homes on Lake Union. When Brooke had finally extricated herself from a knot of wives whose conversation had turned to some charity art function, she couldn’t find her husband. After a short search she’d discovered him alone with Jennifer on the deck facing the lake, smiling and laughing, standing a little too close, she thought. When the brunette caught sight of Brooke approaching, she’d taken a step back, her smile fading for a second before it widened again as she said, “Hi,” before making an excuse about refilling her wineglass.
“What’s the deal with her?” Brooke had asked.
“What?”
“Well, you’re out here and it’s what? Forty degrees?”
“Oh. She wanted to see where Troy Brent lives and you can see his home from here.” He pointed across the lake. “It’s the house all lit up, triple boathouse—there, to the left of those huge trees. See it? With the huge star on the roof?” He leaned close to her, adjusting her shoulders so she was facing the lake. “Jenny is working with Troy. Well, not directly with him, but on his account.” Troy Brent was one of the firm’s biggest clients. Neal wrapped one arm around her and extended his arm, pointing to the largest house on the other side of the lake, but Brooke spun away.
“I know where the Brent complex is,” she said. “You’ve shown it to me before.”
“Oh, right.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Neal?” she asked.
He had the audacity to look innocent. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, with the newbie. Jennifer.”
“Nothing.” He actually smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said. “And don’t patronize me. I’m not an idiot,” she’d said, then stormed into the house, plucked a drink from a waiter’s tray, and tossed back the wine. A moment later she spied Jennifer giving her the side-eye from a spot near the grand piano, where a pianist was taking requests and currently playing “Hallelujah.”
Brooke left her empty glass on an ornate table, then walked to the front closet, found her coat, and didn’t wait for Neal, who caught up with her in the circular drive. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, obviously upset.
“What does it look like? I’m leaving.”
“But you can’t. Not yet.”
“Watch me!”
She reached into her purse for her key ring, then swore under her breath as she remembered she didn’t have a key to his damned Range Rover.
“Brooke,” he said more softly, and she let out her breath to watch it fog in the cold night air. “Come back in. I’ve got clients here. It’s important.”
She didn’t want to but told herself that somehow she would get through the night. “Another hour.”
“Yes. Sure. That’ll do.”
