A Compromising Affair. Gwynne Forster
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Denise finished breakfast, brushed her teeth and went to her home office, which was at the top of the stairs overlooking a small brook that fed downstream into the Monocacy River. The phone rang before she could begin recording notes that she made for her secretary, who came in twice a week.
She checked the caller ID. “Hi, Pamela.”
“Hi. Can you come over Friday for the weekend? We’re entertaining a client Friday evening. The brothers handed him the key to a new apartment complex a few days ago. Whenever they finish a building, they usually entertain the client. Please come. We want you to be here.”
“I suppose it’s a dressy affair.”
“Why, yes. We’ll start with cocktails at about five-thirty.”
“Is Scott Galloway going to be there, too?”
“Well, I don’t know whether he’ll be over here for the weekend. But if he is, he is certainly welcome.”
“It’s not important, Pamela. Things didn’t go so well with us. I thought our date was wonderful, and I think he did, too, until he remembered what I said to him at that reception.”
“Yes, I know about that. But honey, if he was angry with you for two long years, then he must have been attracted to you. No man stays mad that long with a woman who means nothing to him. Trust me.”
“If you say so, Pamela. But you know I don’t have a lot of patience. The problem is I like Scott a heck of a lot.”
“Not to worry. Drake made a date with me for the express purpose of telling me that he wanted to move on. We’ve been married going on two years.”
“I’m very attracted to Scott, but I’m not going to prostrate myself. No way!”
“And that’s a good thing, because it would probably turn him off. See you Friday afternoon. Bye”
“Right. I’ll be there around four. Bye.” She hung up and propped her elbow on her desk. She knew Pamela wouldn’t lie to her. But Denise also knew that the minute Pamela hung up, she’d called Heather and tell her that if Scott was spending the weekend with them, have him phone her. Just the move she needed. She wasn’t going to chase him, but she damn sure was not going to avoid him.
Denise knew her friend well. At that moment, Pamela was talking to Heather. “They’re not getting along so well, but I’ve known Denise practically all of my life, and she likes Scott. But her pride won’t allow her to concede to him. Will he be here this weekend?”
“He’s here every weekend for as long as he’s staying at the Willard. I’d better tell him about the reception and—”
“Let me call him,” Pamela said. “I want to invite him personally. That way, I’ll be sure he’s coming.” Heather gave her Scott’s office number, and she dialed it.
“Hello, Scott, this is Pamela Harrington. We’re having a reception for one of the Harringtons’ clients this Friday at five-thirty, and we’d love you to come.”
“Thanks. I’ll be out there anyway. What kind of client is he…or she?” She told him. “Is the party business casual or black tie?”
“Black tie, but it’s summer, so—”
“Not to worry, Pamela. I’ll put together a comfortable summer monkey suit. Will Denise be there?”
Of course she’d known that he’d ask, and she had her answer ready. “She’s our houseguest. Scott, Denise is like my sister. Our families are very close, so we’ve been friends for a long time.”
“Interesting. Thanks for the invitation. I’ll see you Friday. Give Drake my regards.”
“Will do. Bye.”
She called Heather. “Is it all right to have dancing at a party that ends at nine o’clock?”
“Why not? Play some classics, and everyone will be dancing. Uh, why do you want dancing?”
“If other couples are dancing, how is Scott going to avoid asking Denise to dance?”
“You don’t know Scott,” Heather said. “Still, it’s definitely worth a try. Is your guest married?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God for that. He won’t be in the picture. I’ll be over Thursday evening to help. I won’t be able to leave the office until around four, but I’ll be over there as soon as I can get home and change.”
Dressed in an off-white dinner jacket, white shirt, black tuxedo pants, black bow tie and black patent-leather shoes, Scott rang the doorbell on Drake Harrington’s door at exactly five-thirty that Friday afternoon. Alone. He could have done without such intense heat in early July, but the prospect of seeing Denise and of meeting her on neutral ground made being dressed up in unbearable heat bearable. Drake answered the bell almost as soon as he rang.
“I’m glad you could come, Scott. It’s good to have you here,” Drake said. “Come with me. I want you to meet our guests. Ambassador Galloway, this is Alfred Rimes. My brothers and I have just completed a housing complex consisting of four seventeen-story buildings for Mr. Rimes. We’re celebrating. Alfred, Ambassador Galloway has just finished a tour in Lithuania with the State Department.”
The two men greeted each other, and Scott did his best to concentrate on their conversation. “The Harringtons are exemplary in every respect,” Rimes said. “I’ve hired a lot of construction companies, but none with so much integrity and professionalism and so few delays as I had working with the Harrington brothers. They’re first class.”
“Yes,” Scott said, listening for the sound of Denise’s voice. “They have an enviable reputation.”
Alfred Rimes did a double take, and Scott turned his gaze in the direction of where Rimes was looking. It seemed as if she floated toward him, her body barely sheathed in a long, slightly loose, sleeveless dusty-rose silk dress with a slit that stopped above the knee. The neckline revealed enough of her bare breasts to make his mouth water.
Pamela steered her friend toward Alfred Rimes. “Denise Miller, this is Alfred Rimes, our guest. And of course, you know Ambassador Galloway.
“I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Rimes.” She turned to Scott. “Hi. I was so glad when Pamela told me you were coming.”
He glanced around, caught Drake’s eye and signaled him to join them, since they shouldn’t leave the guest of honor alone. “And I was certainly pleased when I learned that you would be here, too,” Scott said.
When Drake joined them, Scott said to Rimes, “I enjoyed talking with you, Mr. Rimes. Would you excuse us, please?”
Figuring that Drake would understand, he cradled Denise’s elbow and walked with her toward the dining room. “I’ve been here a few times, but I don’t remember which door leads to the sunporch.”
As if she’d done so every day for years, she took his hand and walked with him to the small