Lady Be Bad by Elaine Raco Chase

spangled her
velvety breasts with a hundred kisses. His coarse tongue reverently
bathed a painfully taut nipple before his aggressive mouth gently
suckled.
    Sweet sensations moved along her nerves to
her heart—a heart that was pounding against her husband's, her
lover's. His caressing hand ventured lower, drifting like a gentle
breeze across her belly, the tip of his finger making a tender
intrusion into the moist core of her femininity.
    "Relax, darling, relax. I won't hurt
you."
    Her hands cradled either side of his face.
Love-filled eyes worshiped his every feature. "I trust you, Noah,
my husband. Trust you and love you and—"
    A mind-jarring crash jerked Marlayna to a
sitting position as Sylvia's voice caroled, "Don't worry, it was
just an odd glass. I'm making two cheese omelets instead of
sandwiches. They'll be done in ten minutes."
    Marlayna swallowed convulsively and tried to
reorient herself to this room, this place, this year. The six-foot
mirror reflected her flushed features and the limp form that she
resolutely dragged off the bed. A shaky hand further tangled damp
curls. "How can he keep doing this to me? How can one person hold
on so tight, so long, and so thoroughly to another? Am I mentally
ill? Or am I a woman still in love with her husband?"
    There didn't seem to be an answer to any of
the questions that she was asking. "Questions!" Her nose wrinkled
in disgust. "Why is my damn life filling up with more questions?" A
tremulous laugh bubbled over yet another question.
    "Mind over matter. Mind over matter." She
kept up the chant, neatening her twisted shirt and straightening
her jeans. Marlayna moved to the white tufted boudoir chair and
snapped on the lights that rimmed the makeup mirror. A natural
bristle brush restored order to her hair, and the contents of
various pots and bottles concealed the dark circles under her eyes
and toned down the blush that seemed to have indelibly stained her
cheeks.
    In a matter of minutes, she was her old,
composed self. At least on the outside. "This face lies so easily."
A worried sigh escaped her. Maybe the Fates had chosen the perfect
occupation for her. How easily she was able to compose and
calculate and pretend both in front of the camera and off. No
matter how shattered she was on the inside, everyone always raved
about how wonderful she looked.
    Just maybe … she gazed at herself for a long
moment. Maybe that bit of talent would enable her to get through
the weekend and the week ahead. She'd have to be a woman of many
faces: one for Arthur Kingman, one for his daughter Gwen and
another for Noah Drake.
    Noah. How could the sound of a name
make her feel so many things? Her clenched fist hit the top of the
marble table, making assorted cosmetics jump and topple. "Damn you,
Noah! Why can't you let me live in peace? What is it you have that
spoiled me for any other man?"
    Marlayna looked herself straight in the eye.
"This has got to stop. No more fantasy lover. No more dreams of
yesterday. No more scripting the perfect scene." She reached out
and patted the cheek of her image. "Let's not start playing the
game until all the cards have been dealt. Win, lose or draw, you
certainly can't become any worse than you already are." She stood
up and headed for the door, pausing to add over her shoulder, "And
just maybe you might come out ahead."
    "Perfect timing." Sylvia looked up from
pouring the coffee when Marlayna entered the kitchen. "You look a
little better. Are you?"
    She favored her friend with a genuine smile.
"I've decided to approach this little outing on another level.
After dinner, I'll let you help me pack clothes suitable for a
castle warming and a mini-vacation on an island in the St.
Lawrence."
    Sylvia's responding smile was smug. "Now
that's a much more mature, sensible attitude."
    Marlayna reached for a slice of buttered
diet wheat toast. "Thank you, I'm trying." Even white teeth snapped
a healthy bite of bread.

Chapter 4
     
    "To be exact, there are one