Read the book: «My House Or Yours?»

One

That late-January day, the Dallas-Fort Worth airport was jammed. The weather there was TEXAS weather and marvelous, as usual. But north of TEXAS just about all the airports clear across most of the United States were closed because of The Storm.

In the complex, where one pack of delayed passengers stood, there was the under-sound of people moving and talking and complaining. It was like a muted roar. Here and there a single voice surfaced and like a fish leaping from turbulent waters can be seen, the sound of restless people could be heard.

The question was asked by one of the ski people, “Did you hear anything about Colorado?”

Across heads, the replying voice was sour with the reply. “Snowed under.”

Another voice then inquired, “Well, what do you expect this time of year?”

There’s always someone logical who is exceptionally distasteful to be around at a time like that.

From a relentless optimist, there was the comment, “When you get to the slopes, there’ll be just that much more snow!”

A good attitude.

Then a male voice called over the packed heads, “How’s Chicago? I can’t see the board from here.”

A female who was closer to the board complained crossly, “Socked in.”

Some clown commented in surprise, “They ski in Chicago?”

And from farther back in the crowd, a voice said crossly, “I didn’t take time off work in order to sleep on a chair or on the floor in an airport.”

Since Jo Morris was a seasoned air traveler, she was not perturbed. With her brown eyes, she was a cool, collected, twenty-eight-year-old. She was a flexible woman who could handle any unexpected situation. Well, most.

She was a program problem-solver for one of the awesome computer greats. She really knew computers. She’d been on the first wave at fourteen with an Apple II Plus.

“Attention, please.” The voice was wonderfully male. It was the Do Not Fear. I Am In Control-type voice. He was at one of the flight counters. He had all their attentions.

He was a marvelous-looking, well-made man in a perfect uniform who was asking the muttering crowd to listen to him. He’d had all the female attention right away.

No one in the trapped pack believed there was any solution. They were mostly restless and disappointed, and some were sulky, but they all quieted down.

It was unarguable that the airport had no control over the weather that was lousing up other airports someplace else. Or even if by some miracle bad weather sneaked into TEXAS, who could control weather? So why would anyone be angry with the airport personnel?

The person addressing them was a captain of one of the stranded planes. He stood on a movable step-up and scanned the crowd. As always happened when men scanned crowds, and Jo was in the crowd, the man’s eyes landed on her. He smiled in the way men smile at a woman who interests them.

And it was mostly to Jo that he said, “I have some hotel rooms available. Because of the locations in the hotels, they are not choice rooms, but you can shower and rest. It would be better if you could double up.” He smiled at Jo. “It would be rude to use a double room as a single. Who’s double? Raise your hands.”

A man’s voice next to Jo said, “We are.”

While she was recovering from the sound of him, a slip of paper was passed from the pilot to the hand that reached past Jo’s shoulder.

In the crush, a body pressed slightly against Jo’s side. And her own body reacted strongly. That was weird. She hadn’t reacted to any touches since”Well, Jo,” a nicely rumbling voice said in her ear. “Want to share. again?”

All the bedlam around faded away as she turned like a particle in a slowly melting glacier. She didn’t have to turn far, but it took a long time and her lips parted during the same millennium.

Since a millennium takes a while to pass, she had the time to notice, in all that while, no one around aged. Interesting. They were all locked in by her shock, but they appeared unaware of what had happened.

Eventually her slight, slow turn did take her stare to the speaker at her shoulder. And it was, indeed, he. Her ex-husband.

He looked the same. His brown hair was thick. His brown eyes were lazy and amused. He was thirty-eight and old enough not to accost an ex-wife.

She spoke. She said, “Chad.” With him, she’d always been a similarly brilliant conversationalist. She hadn’t actually needed to talk, but her inability to communicate was why she had her master’s degree. It was one of the reasons.

He smiled at her as if they’d amicably parted just last week. “So you do remember.”

“How amazing to run into you here.” Not having seen him in so long, she could evaluate him more critically.

He looked fantastic. No wonder all the female students in his seminars stared and shifted in their chairs. Just seeing him, her own body was being crass. At twenty-eight, she was old enough to have better control.

He lifted the paper slip to call her attention to it. “I have a room. You’re my first choice. Want to share?”

How could her body carry on that way? Did it expect—Of course not. Then why—Her mouth said, “Why, how amazing to run into you in an airport!” And she was immediately aware she’d already said something similar. In turn, he would immediately know he’d boggled her.

He always had.

Females acted so silly around Chad Wilkins that he’d accepted it as the normal behavior pattern in women. He simply assumed all women, at all times, acted the way she did around him. He used her conduct as a measuring stick for women. He had never assimilated his lure and he wasn’t at all egotistical about himself.

He’d never been very bright about women.

In the crush, the stranded pilot had come through the mob, and he touched Jo’s shoulder. “Are you alone? There’s one vacant room left. It’s mine.” His grin was just great.

Why couldn’t she just go along with the pilot? It was the perfect escape from Chad. She could make an excuse later with the pilot. But she should seize on this chance to avoid the temptation and escape Chad!

However, Chad smiled kindly at the discreetly salivating pilot and replied, “She’s with me.”

That had a familiar ring to it. And Jo remembered Chad saying that to friendly men. But then after he’d shooed off whomever, he would tilt his head down to listen to some foggy old man’s dissertation on something so obscure as to be beyond heeding.

The pilot, who wasn’t empty peanut shells, gave Chad a studying look, then returned his regard to Jo. “If it doesn’t pan out, I’m in 409.”

She looked at him in serious regret. There stood a normal man. And she heard as her mouth said, “Thank you. But don’t wait up.”

The pilot waited for more.

She again looked at him regretfully, but she slowly turned back to Chad, taking another millennium to do that simple thing.

Her ex-husband ignored the reluctant-to-give-up pilot who’d never before been turned down. Chad took hold of Jo’s elbow as if she was property. Come to think of it, he’d always been possessive.

Chad asked Jo, “Where are your things?”

“Here.” She indicated the across-her-body, shoulder-slung, light bag. “I travel light.”

He accepted that as logical and informed her with confidence, “I’ll find a cab.”

And he would. He always could. In all the time Jo had known Chad, he could solve anything. But not Jo. He had never been able to solve Jo.

As they plowed through the packed people, the divorced pair left the abandoned pilot watching after them.

Chad got the first cab that was available. Of course he would. He invited any of the waiting others who were going to that particular hotel to join them. Altogether, not counting the driver, they squeezed in six.

“This many’s illegal.” The woman driver mentioned her evaluation—to Chad. She would sort him out as their leader.

With authority, Chad gently instructed the cabdriver, “It’s an emergency.” With a pithy, deliberate pause, he added, “And we tip well.”

That was language the driver understood. Most people recognized Chad’s position as unheralded leader right away. The cabdriver was no exception. Males sometimes had trouble with the premise of Chad’s superiority, as had the pilot, but most people finally would accept the fact that Chad was the leader.

Leaders have very little spare time.

In the cab, Jo was squashed between Chad and the window. He had arranged it so that no other man was close to her. He’d been deft about it. He’d always done that. He could shift her quite discreetly from one side of him to the other depending on who was crowding her.

He was possessive.

Not anymore. They’d been divorced for almost four years. He’d allowed her to leave quite thoughtfully. He’d said, You’ll be back when you’ve had a taste of being on your own for a while. You like being married!

He’d been wrong.

It was probably the only time, in all the while she’d known Chad, that he’d ever been wrong. Well, any person was entitled to one mistake in his life.

She had been his.

Sitting forward in the cab on the edge of the back seat, with Chad pressed against her hip and the noisy shadows of other people packed in the small enclosure, Jo’s body was afire with ants of desire. How foolish of her sex to react again and so violently to Chad.

She was going to be circumspect and aloof. She was going to show Chad that she did not miss him. That she did not want to be married to him again. And that she was free.

So…he’d been good in bed. She remembered that. Her body remembered it, too. She acknowledged it. She was not really susceptible to Chad. She was not!

There were undoubtedly other men who could do sex as well as Chad Wilkins. All men had the same equipment, and it was traditionally done in various ways that were pleasurable to women. And—

He’d been really, really good at it.

But that was all. And it was only sex, after all. He had not been a companion or a friend or a helpmate.

He’d been good in bed…on the floor…against the wall. She could admit that, but otherwise he’d been gone.

There were all those meetings with students in his department, meetings with lagging students, meetings with those who were exceptional and those engrossed in projects. There were faculty meetings, the faculty senate and other occasions that were formal, which had included the wives.

Chad had never been around when she had needed him. Of course, her problem was that it had only been his companionship she had wanted. It hadn’t been as important to him. Just being together and talking, or not, hadn’t been urgent. It could be postponed. Forever.

They’d reached the hotel. She got out first, and it was familiar to wait as he settled up the fares and tips. With the tips given, the cabdriver probably quit for the day.

The January weather in Fort Worth was glorious. It was warm. The TEXAS sun was assuringly benevolent, showing the non-TEXANs that the world could indeed be perfect. The ski equipped, reluctant guests were beginning to perk up and look around for entertainment. They would have a stimulating time and probably end up swimming outside.

Among the stranded strangers, there was the couple who was meeting for the first time since their divorce. So. It was no big deal. They were as ships which pass on the ocean. They would pass with a courteous greeting and some pleasant conversation and…separate…to go their ways?

He probably had papers to read. He always had a student who needed extra help. Jo hadn’t needed anything. She’d never had any problems. So she’d needed no special attention from her husband.

Or so he had thought.

His meals had been on time…or held…or stored away. The house was always clean. His shirts were pristine and the buttons were all sewn on. His clothes came back from the cleaner on time.

She’d slept in his bed and had been available. Hungrily available. She’d sought him. His laugh had been so intimate. So pleased. His sounds were so basic.

He had been a superior lover. It was quite probable that he still was.

Jo wondered who…who all had been sharing his bed. He wouldn’t even have to ask. He’d probably have to post a list for day and time. It was a wonder he looked so well, so cared for. Who was taking care of him now? He looked so rested.

Of course, he’d been away from campus. He’d been to a seminar to read a paper. No, not a newspaper. One of his. On…what all. Some subject that was so dim and distant that few others would find it interesting. He was such a niggler. He was the type whose concentration was intense. He sorted and sought and paced as he thought.

In her ear, he said, “Let me carry that.”

She lifted her brows in question.

“Your bag.”

She replied in a dismissing manner, “It’s quite comfortable, and I’m used to it. No problem.”

He was serious and his lower lip was being obvious. “It seems crass for you to have to carry your things.”

She slid her eyes over to give him a narrow, sophisticated understanding of his wiles, but he was frowning at her bag. “When did you get so thin? Are you okay?”

“I’ve lost five pounds since our divorce almost four years ago.”

He flinched. “Don’t say the word. I’ve rejected it.”

Jo lowered her eyelids and looked at him with some snide understanding. “Just recently?”

He replied like a stubborn man who hasn’t adjusted to reality. “No. Ever since you walked out on me.”

They’d stopped at the hotel’s desk to register. He said to her, “Wait here.”

She told him firmly, “I need to pay half.”

“No.”

She replied in an adult manner, “I have a credit card for my expense account.”

“No.”

Come to think of it, he’d always been that way. His way. That’s what was wrong with him, everything had to be his way. Even when he was being darling, he wanted it his way.

Jo said with her being-patient-with-a-client voice, “I pay half or I walk.”

“You’ve become a prostitute?”

She gasped in indignation.

“You were always terrific and so body-hungry that it doesn’t surprise me at all. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering who you were savoring.”

Through her teeth she spaced the three words. “I have not!”

He frowned at her and appeared censoring. “Then I feel sorry for the men around you. What do they do?”

Somewhat prissily, she retorted, “Not all men are like you, thank goodness.”

He put on an instant lecturing facade. “Goodness has nothing—”

“Be quiet!”

He grinned from ear to ear and said, “There’s my Jo. I thought I’d lost her, you’ve been so polite.”

She’d been rude? She frowned and considered. “When haven’t I been polite?”

“I haven’t had tabs on you in much too long,” he informed her as if she hadn’t realized such a simple fact. “Do you know I dream about you? Hot dreams.” He scowled at her. “Are you living with somebody else?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’d hate for some irritated guy to come bursting into our room and act upset.”

Her “lover” would…act…upset if he found her with another man? “Is that how you would have been? If I’d had an affair, would you have been.upset?”

Mildly he replied, “I’d have ripped out his jugular vein, unkindly.”

“Is there a kind way?” She looked at him in shock.

“Not where you’re concerned.”

She was indignant. “We’re divorced!”

“I’ve missed you.”

Exasperated, she demanded, “When did you have the time to notice I was gone? How long was it before you realized I wasn’t around anymore? You ran out of dishes or shirts? What caught your attention?”

“Every damned empty day.” He looked up from the registry and added, “Every lousy, empty night.”

“It’s been almost four years.”

“It’s not yet four but it seems like twenty-five.”

“I don’t believe this.”

And he had the gall to inquire, “Why haven’t you found another husband?”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“No ring.”

Along with supercilious eyebrows, she lifted her hand. “I always remove it when I travel. Don’t you?”

He went back to filling out the hotel information. But he said, “I’ve looked around, but nobody else is you.”

His eyes were on the page he was filling out. He had marvelous eyelashes. She couldn’t believe he’d actually said the words, that, instead, she’d heard what she wanted him to say.

He finished writing and handed the page to the person at the registration desk. “Two keys.”

“Yes, sir.” And she handed him the keys.

He picked up his bags and said, “I talk to your father and he has told me you are not married.”

“Mistakenly told you? I wonder why he lied. He probably felt you would be upset.”

“I’m never upset.” Chad was firm. “I can handle most things. You being away so long has bothered me.”

“It’s taken you almost four years to notice? You probably saw me in the air terminal and thought I looked familiar. Then you’d searched your mind as to which of your classes I’d been in. And finding I wasn’t a student, you sorted me out.”

“Come back to Indy with me.” He punched the button for the elevator. Then he stood and looked at her as the elevator doors opened. He followed her inside the cage and punched the button for the sixth floor. No one else was right there, so the doors closed. They were alone in the elevator.

“Why should I go home with you? You didn’t want me. Why should you care about someone else wanting me?”

“I love you.”

That ticked her off. “You really irritate me. No wonder I left you. How could you possibly—”

She stopped speaking as the elevator came to a quiet stop. The doors slid open silently. The hall’s carpet was discreet and elegant. It was nicely insulated and therefore silent.

On the wall opposite the elevator, they saw the numbers that indicated they were to go to the left. The room was right there. That’s why it was still available. It was next to the elevator shaft.

Guests would gather by the elevator and talk. Their voices would be heard in the room. Baggage carts were rolled from the elevator. They too would be heard, even though it was a discreet hotel. So the rooms closest to the elevator were used only in necessity.

Jo got out her key card and put it into the door’s lock. She was immediately aware her action startled Chad. He had always opened the doors. She’d usurped his move.

He kept her from entering by dropping his luggage in the hall. One bag clunked heavily. And he bent and picked her up!

“What—?”

He explained casually, “We’re going to sleep together. I always carry women into hotel rooms when I intend on sleeping with them.”

She gasped indignantly. “Just how many—”

But he kissed her quite skillfully and set the maulable mass that was Josephine Morris over out of the way. He then retrieved his abandoned luggage with perfect coordination.

How had he managed to be functional after that kiss?

How vulgar he was. He had to be very easy with the act of seduction—the preliminaries and the actual act. He planned to…sleep…with her. And he always kissed the women he slept with in hotel rooms.

She inquired with casual coolness, “What’s your score total so far?”

“I’ll check it out and let you know. The figures aren’t at my fingertips this minute. I’ll have to consult my computer files.”

That sobered her considerably. Chad hadn’t missed her at all. He’d been keeping statistics on other women, all of whom he’d carried through hotel room doors and seduced on the beds there.

Jo was crushed. No wonder he’d never contacted her. He hadn’t had the time to remember her. How had he even remembered who she was at the airport? He must have caught a glimpse of her and known he’d seen her…somewhere.

Think of having to sort through a wheatfield of women to discover which one she’d been!

He’d probably had to go to the airport’s computer base to contact his home computer bank and search out which one she was.

She said, “If you’ve been traveling much, you must be exhausted.”

Chad replied leisurely, “I’m rested up. The seminar was only men and they didn’t even mention sex.”

“So you’re ravenous, and you saw me and remembered me?”

“I assumed I’d had you somewhere along the way, and therefore I was cautious until I validated who you actually are.” He watched her with his eyes halfclosed. “How many men have you driven wild since you last did that with me?”

She gasped like a virgin accused of dropping a swimsuit shoulder strap.

She moved inside her body in various ways. She was indignant. She moved her lips and she finally said, “Baloney!” And with the word, she could have just died of embarrassment. She might just as well have said, Golly! or something else equally juvenile.

She grabbed up her bag and started for the door.

He caught her arm. “Don’t be such a chicken.” His voice was so soft, so husky and sweet. His eyes were earnest; his big hand was gentle. He looked soberly into her eyes. She saw as the depths warmed and his crinkles deepened. He had the best mouth.

Since her eyes went to his mouth, he needed to show her why people have mouths, and he kissed her a completely unfair, remarkably sweet, loving kiss. He was really, really good. He really kissed her.

He did.

As he lifted his mouth with all those marvelous little sounds in that silent room, she raised weighty eyelids to look up at him. With some effort she coordinated her vocal cords as her kiss-swollen lips said, “Let’s go swim.”

He regarded her soberly for some time, then his smile started and his eyes twinkled. He replied, “Right.”

He went down to the hotel necessity shop, which sold all sorts of important things like condoms and swimsuits and candy and flowers. They didn’t miss a trick.

Jo was in the pool when Chad came out in his swim trunks. He looked like an American Greek god. He was actually Dutch and Welsh with a touch of Irish thrown in.

He dived into the pool effortlessly and his strokes were lazy and strong. He came to her and said, “Take a breath.”

She remembered that, and she vigorously backpedaled away from him. He laughed and swam, following her so easily. He was so at home in the water.

A surprising number of people don’t believe in swimming in the winter. Pools are generally closed. Yankees are unpredictable. The weather in TEXAS was so nice that it seemed like a Yankee summer day. The two paying guests played together like otters. They lifted themselves from the pool and went down the slide and they used the pool.

Underwater, he touched her here and there. He lifted her and threw her and made her laugh. Men’s muscles are just different. Their strength is awesome. He had no trouble following her in the water, turning her, lifting her. It was easy for him.

He laughed as she splashed him and wiggled and slid away. He could have held her, but if he had, he might have hurt her. He was stronger and had to be careful.

He finally captured her and took her under the water to kiss her.

In all that while, he gave her his entire attention.

How unkind of him.

It was like the time of their courtship, all those years ago, when she was new on campus and he was an assistant professor. But she became his wife. She was a woman of principles and would not go to bed with him without being married to him.

Since she had been married to one of the teaching staff, her schooling was free. She graduated with a degree in business and had taken her masters in business.

When she left him, he had asked if she didn’t want to stay on a little longer and earn her doctorate also. He hadn’t felt she’d used him. He was practical.

She hadn’t used Chad to get her education. It had been boredom that had urged her to take classes. She hadn’t gotten pregnant, although they’d used no barriers. Each month had been a disappointment, another failure, before she’d sadly accepted that she was barren.

While she had had his sexual attention, she hadn’t had his companionship. She’d been so lonely. She’d wanted his attention. He wasn’t around. He would never be around. Eventually, she had understood that and she had left.

So almost four years after their divorce, Jo played as she’d dreamed of playing with Chad all those years ago. At eighteen, at twenty, but at twenty-two the hope had dimmed. During the time she’d been working on her masters, she knew their marriage was doomed.

No miracle happened.

By then, she had faced reality. Her time with Chad would never be any different than it was then.

Looking at Chad soberly, she decided that she might just as well have one last fling with him. Their marriage was water lost over the dam. Why not enjoy the last of the trickle of her time with him? So she laughed, and flung herself into the water and allowed him to chase her.

Their time then was as she’d always thought their marriage could be.

And he took her back to their room. She was breathless from swimming, or something, and she was shy.

“How many men have you had by now?” Chad teased Jo as he dried his hair with a big towel. His eyes were confident. He asked, “Do you have notches on your bedposts?” He paused. “Add notches for these days with me.” Then his voice was smokily gruff as he told her, “Put my marks on top of the others.”

There were no notches. There had been no other man. She still hadn’t gotten over her love for Chad. She hadn’t even been tempted to try another man.

But she was ready for Chad.

She met him halfway and she loved him.

He had the newly purchased condoms and he was careful of her as he’d always been. He was gentle and kind with his ravening hunger for her. He controlled himself, but his breaths were harsh and his low moans were exquisitely thrilling. He loved her as he always had.

And it was not enough.

They had a night of love. Her hair was like driedout, raveled rope. So was his. Her body was well used. So was his.

She was limp and contented. She had forgotten the pleasure, the ecstasy, the thrill of being with him, of being part of him, of making love with him.

And he groaned, “Why did you leave me?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You were never there.”

Agonized, he protested earnestly, “I slept with you every night.”

“But the days were long and empty.”

“People live all their lives with other people and see them seldom. Why did you need to be with me all the time?”

“I loved you.”

He frowned at her. “To need constant attention like that isn’t healthy.”

“Probably not.” She looked down at the sheet as she drew it up over her. She felt isolated. Just thinking of it all chilled her. It was past. How could she still be affected by those sad, empty times?