Mirror Image

Mandy revived the festive mood somewhat when she slid from her grandmother’s lap and shyly approached them. He knelt down. “Come give me a big hug.” Mandy placed her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

To his surprise, Carole crouched down beside them. “I’ll come kiss you when we get home. Okay?”

Mandy raised her head and nodded solemnly. “Okay, Mommy.”

“Be a good girl for Grandma and Grandpa.”

Mandy nodded again, then removed her arms from Tate’s neck and hugged Carole. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye. Give me good night sugars.”

“Do I have to go to bed now?”

“No, but I want my sugars ahead of time.”

Mandy kissed Carole’s mouth noisily, then scampered back to her grandmother. Ordinarily, Carole complained when Mandy ruined her makeup or mussed her clothing. All she did now was lightly dab at her lips with a Kleenex.

He couldn’t figure it, except that she was playing the good-mother role to the hilt. God only knew what her motive was. This newfound affection for Mandy was probably phony as hell. No doubt she had picked up pointers from talk shows and magazine articles during her convalescence.

He placed his hand beneath her elbow and guided her toward the front door. “It might be late before we’re back.”

“Drive carefully,” Zee called after them.

Nelson left his detective with gun drawn and followed them to the door. “If this was a beauty contest and ballots were handed out tonight, y’all would win. Can’t tell you how proud and pleased I am to see the two of you stepping out with each other all dressed up.”

Was his father suggesting that whatever had come between them should be forgiven and forgotten? Tate appreciated his concern; he just didn’t think he could oblige him. Forgive? He’d always found that hard to do. Forget? It just wasn’t in his nature.

But as he seated Carole in the silver leather interior of his car, he wished he could. If he cou

ld erase all the anger, pain, and contempt, and start over with this woman tonight, would he want to?

Tate had always been as scrupulously honest with himself as he was with everyone. Looking and behaving as Carole did tonight, yes, he told himself, he would want to make a new start.

Plainly, he wanted her. He liked her when she was like this, soft-spoken and even-tempered and sexy. He didn’t expect her to be a doormat. She had too much vivacity and intelligence to be a silent, submissive partner. He didn’t want her to be. He liked sparks—of anger, of humor. Without them, a relationship was as bland as unseasoned food.

She smiled at him as he slid behind the wheel. “Nelson’s right. You look very nice tonight, Tate.”

“Thanks.” And just because he was weary of being scornful all the time, he added, “So do you.”

She dazzled him with a smile. In the old days, he would have said, “Screw being late, I’m going to make love to my wife,” and taken her right there in the car.

A fantasy of doing that flashed into his mind: nuzzling her flushed breasts; sinking into her deep, wet heat; hearing her gasps of pleasure when she came.

He groaned, quickly covering it with a cough.

He missed the spontaneity, the fun of having hot sex with someone he loved.

To conceal the fierce light in his eyes, which she would instantly recognize as arousal, he slid on his sunglasses, even though the sun had already set.

Driving away from the house, he admitted that he missed what they had had, but he didn’t miss her. Because while the sex had been hot and good and frequent, there had been little real intimacy. That cerebral exchange and spiritual bonding had been lacking in their marriage from the very beginning, though he hadn’t put a name to the missing component until much later.

He couldn’t miss what he’d never had, but he still yearned for it. Winning the Senate seat was going to be sweet. It would mark the beginning of what he hoped would be a lifetime career in public service. But the victory would be tainted by his marital unhappiness.

It would be much sweeter, and his political future would look much brighter, if he could share it with a loving, supportive wife.

He might just as well wish for the moon, he thought. Even if Carole had that kind of love to give, which she didn’t, he wouldn’t take it. She had destroyed any possibility of that long ago.

The physical attraction was still there, inexplicably stronger than ever, but the emotional attachments were dead. And he’d be damned if he would accept one while being cheated of the other.