Texas! Lucky

Her palms were slick with perspiration as she was led into the room where inmates were allowed to greet their visitors. It was a large, airy room, having unadorned windows that overlooked the flower and vegetable gardens tended by the inmates themselves.

The easy chairs and sofas were functional but comfortable. Current magazines were scattered around the various accent tables. There was a coffee maker with a freshly brewed carafe and, this morning, a box of doughnuts nearby.

"He'll be right here," she was told by the prison guard. "Help yourself to coffee and doughnuts while you wait."

"Thank you."

She wanted neither. Her stomach was roiling. Resting her purse on one of the chairs, she clasped her damp hands together and moved toward the windows.

What to say?

Greg, I've had an affair.

It hadn't been an affair. It had been a single night.

Greg, I had a one-night stand.

No, that sounded worse.

Greg, I was swept up in the passion of the moment.

Passion?

Passion.

Whatever else it had been, it had been passionate. How else could it have happened? Reason hadn't entered into it. Not even romance. Common sense had played no part. Morality hadn't been considered. She'd been governed strictly by her passions.

And it had been glorious.

Ever since her night with Lucky, that traitorous thought had been throwing itself against the doors of her consciousness like a deranged beast trying to break down the barriers and get out to celebrate the event. That's why she felt compelled to confess it to Greg. Whether he was likely to find out or not, she would have eventually told him. If her emotions hadn't got as tangled up as the sheets of the bed she had shared with Lucky Tyler, she might have kept the secret for the rest of her life, never divulging it to anyone. But her emotions had become involved.

Because they were, her conscience was. She felt guilty about it; therefore, she had to discuss it with Greg.

Her marriage to Greg was certainly unorthodox, but the legal document still decreed them husband and wife. She'd freely recited the vows to him, and just as freely she had broken those vows.

What Greg had done or hadn't done, whether or not he was innocent or guilty, whether or not he had used her and her newspaper column—none of that mattered. She was an adulterous wife.

Perhaps if he had given her a wedding night as she had wanted and expected him to…

Perhaps if her body hadn't been so starved for the loving attention he had withheld…

Perhaps if he hadn't declined his conjugal visits…

That had been the crushing blow. Only hours before s

he had met Lucky, she had discovered that Greg had been refusing conjugal visits with her. When asked why, he couldn't give her a satisfactory answer.

"Why, Greg, why?" He provided no answers, and only became angry when she persisted.

More than her father's self-absorption, more than her mother's neglect, more than anything in her life, that had been the ultimate rejection. Her self-confidence had been shattered, her self-esteem crushed. Was she so undesirable that even her prisoner husband wouldn't avail himself of her?

While she was in that frame of mind, fate maliciously matched her with Lucky Tyler. He had revived her dying spirit.

Still, no one had forced her at gunpoint to make love with him. Sure, she had needs; everyone had needs. But society would be plunged into chaos if people went around incontinently gratifying their needs.

Down the hallway she heard approaching footsteps and murmured conversation. Turning from the window, she lowered her hands to her sides, but reflexively clasped them together again. She moistened her lips, wondering if she should be smiling when he walked in. She wasn't sure she could even form a smile. Her features felt wooden.

Laurie Tyler had graciously pressed her suit for her. Devon always took special pains with her appearance when she came to see Greg, wanting her visits to be as pleasurable for him as possible. This morning, however, even the quality cosmetics Sage had loaned her didn't conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes, which hours of sleeplessness had left there.