“I got an A on my math paper,” the older one told him proudly.
“The teacher called on me to read out loud today. I knew all the words,” the younger chimed in.
“That’s great! You both deserve a reward. How about this weekend? A movie? Or an arcade? Something special.”
“Mom too?”
George glanced at Amanda. “Sure, Mom too. If she wants to come along.”
“Do you, Mom?”
She smiled at her sons. “What I want right now is for you two to get into bed.”
Following another round of hugs and other delay tactics, she shooed them from the office and down the hallway to their bedroom.
Amanda was in the master bathroom when George caught up with her a half hour later. She was brushing her hair, which she still wore in the same sleek, chin-length bob she’d had when he met her. Like her eyes, her hair was the color of rich chocolate.
She was ready for bed, wearing only panties and a soft tank top. George stood in the doorway for a moment and watched her. He’d fallen into instant lust with her when they were introduced at a Fourth of July party. They began dating, but it took him six months to work up enough courage to ask her to sleep with him. She’d said yes, and wanted to know why he had waited so long. They were married before the next Fourth of July.
She had never resented the demands his profession placed upon them. She was accomplished in her own right and had her own interests. In addition to making a lovely home for their family, she taught art history at Georgetown University. She was a volunteer counselor at a battered women’s shelter. On the tennis court she was capable and competitive. She hosted great parties and had a fair command of several languages. She knew how to dress tastefully and how to comport herself in any situation.
He loved her. God, how he loved her.
He watched the graceful movements of her slender arms as she continued brushing her hair. One hundred strokes a night, as she’d been taught by her Virginian mother. It was an endearing habit. The rise and fall of her breasts entranced him. Her nipples made small impressions against the soft cotton of the tank.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he began in a quiet, contrite voice.
Amanda’s dark eyes swung up to meet his in the mirror. “I don’t want an apology, George.” She turned to face him. “I want my husband.”
He came to her, placed his arms around her, drew her close. “You have me.”
Even though she clung to him, she shook her head no. “David has you. He’s taken you away from me and from the boys.”
He set her away and slid his fingers up through her glossy hair. “That’s not true, Amanda.”
“Yes, it is. I’m afraid I’ll never get you back.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered against her lips. “You and the boys mean more than life to me. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
She peered intently into his eyes. “You are losing us, George. Every day you slip farther and farther away. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to reach you anymore. You keep secrets. You’re becoming a stranger.” Her voice cracked and tears formed in her eyes.
“Please, don’t cry. Don’t.” He kissed her prominent cheekbones, then her trembling lips. “Everything is all right.”
He was lying. Furthermore, he knew that she knew he was lying. He could tell by the way she clutched him to her. Her kiss was more than ardent, it was desperate.
She brought that desperation to their bed, responding to his lovemaking with unbridled passion, as though fierce sex might conquer David Merritt’s influence over him. By the time he entered her, each was delirious with need.
Then, sexually replete, naked and damp, they held each other close and whispered professions of eternal love and devotion.
But both knew that George’s devotion to the President was just as absolute… and far more demanding.
Chapter Ten
Barrie came awake to find the barrel of a rifle pressed against the underside of her left breast.
Curbing the impulse to jump and run, she moved nothing except her eyes. They followed the length of the rifle up to a pair of eyes that were colder, bluer, and more unyielding than the steel gun barrel.
“It had better be good.”