Every Move She Makes by Beverly Barton Page A

bedroom. She had decorated that room in a garish nineteen-twenties art deco style that made him feel nauseated every time he entered her private quarters.
    His wife might physically resemble her older sister, but that was where the similarities ended. Carolyn was a lady, through and through. Genteel, in the way Jeff Henry’s mother had been. A gentleman never used a curse word in her presence, because it would shock and offend her. Carolyn was a fragile flower to be cherished and protected from the harsh realities of the world. Ah, dear, sweet Carolyn. He had loved her madly when they’d been young, but she had thought of him only as a friend. She had wanted no one but Webb Porter. And what Carolyn wanted, Carolyn got. Who could deny such a woman anything?
    He supposed that, in a way, he was still in love with Carolyn. But it was a pure love, untainted by anything physical. His love for her was a noble thing, much like that of the knights of old for their fair damsels. Carolyn was a part of his heart. That would have to be enough. She was devoted to Webb and would never leave him.
    Jeff Henry sighed as he picked up one of Judy’s homemade oatmeal cookies. He knew he shouldn’t be nibbling, but he’d smelled the cookies baking when he passed the kitchen a half hour ago. In the past few years, he’d acquired a bit of a paunch, but a few extra pounds didn’t hurt a man’s appearance the way it did a woman’s. Some people might consider him vain, but he wasn’t. He simply prided himself on his appearance. Cybil told him that his factitiousness drove her crazy.
    Well, truth be told, everything about his wife drove him crazy. It hadn’t always been that way. Not in the beginning. When they had first married, she’d tried to please him. He’d been convinced that she actually cared for him.
    “I did my best to be like Carolyn,” she’d told him. “I knew I wasn’t your first choice. I tried, damn it. I tried so hard, but it was never enough. I’m not Carolyn and you’ve never let me forget it.”
    He’d made a serious mistake marrying Cybil, but he dealt with things the best he could. He turned a blind eye to her indiscretions. At least she had tried to be discreet about her numerous affairs; he was thankful for that much. The Carlisles didn’t believe in divorce. There had never been a divorce in the family, and he most certainly had no intention of breaking that tradition. Perhaps once he would have considered it, if Carolyn had been free. Poor Carolyn, married to a man who didn’t deserve her, a man who made a mockery of their marriage. But she was happy in her delusional state, and he would do anything—absolutely anything—to make sure nothing and no one ever ruined that happiness for her.
    “Mr. Carlisle?” A woman’s voice broke into his thoughts.
    He glanced at the open pocket doors leading into the hallway and saw Judy Conway standing there. An attractive woman, if you liked the sexual, earthy type. “Yes, what is it?”
    “I’m leaving for the day,” she said. “Dinner is prepared. The roast and vegetables are in the oven and the salad is in the refrigerator. Will you need anything else before I go?”
    “Has Mrs. Carlisle come home?”
    “No, sir, she hasn’t.”
    “Hmm…”
    “I’ll be going now—”
    “Yes. Certainly.” He waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “I’m sure you’re eager to go home and spend some time with your son.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I do hope you understand why I couldn’t recommend that any of my friends give Reed a job. I realize you were disappointed when I refused, but in all good conscience—”
    “I understand.” The tension in her voice said that although she might understand, she didn’t forgive. “Reed has a job with his cousin Briley Joe.”
    “At the garage?”
    “Yes. It’s honest work. Not quite what I’d hoped for, considering Reed has a college degree. But it was the only job he could find. No one would help him except