Read Online Chain Lightning by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page A

and her husband. She wished that she had been able to call him, but that hadn’t been possible. She wished that she had flown over with him in their little plane a few days ago, but if she had, she wouldn’t have been able to get the lab report back until next week, and she had wanted the report in time for it to be a birthday and anniversary present in one. Besides, she really didn’t enjoy flying, especially in a small plane, which was another thing she and Andrew argued about. He took her unease as a slap at his abilities as a pilot, and nothing she had been able to say had convinced him otherwise.
    That’s all in the past, Mandy told herself firmly. Now that I’m pregnant, he won’t be so touchy about his age, his abilities, his career. Everything. We’ll be able to laugh together again.
    Mandy’s thoughts veered back to the coming baby. Mentally she began making lists of things to do, things to put on hold for a year, people to tell, papers to be rushed before she was too big to do the research. She was still making lists when she wheeled into the campsite where Andrew had been for three days. No one was in sight She bit her lip, then sighed. He was probably out diving with one of the locals.
    Deflated, Mandy parked her bike beneath a big bush at the back of the campsite and headed for the tent. The first thing she noticed was the compressed-air tanks propped against a nearby boulder. The second thing she noticed was the components of two wet suits strewn across the ground between the tanks and the tent, as though whoever had worn the suits had been in a terrible rush to get out of their neoprene prisons. The third thing she noticed was an oddly shaped scrap of fuchsia cloth dangling from a guy rope near the tent’s entrance. Puzzled, she pulled back the tent flap and stepped in.
    It took a moment for Mandy’s eyes to adjust from full sun to the tent’s dim interior light. Her ears had no such problem. She heard the feminine voice with awful clarity.
    “Oh…more…harder…harder…!“
    Mandy barely recognized Andrew as his hips slammed rhythmically into the girl who was squirming frantically beneath him, both of them panting, her nails raking down his naked back as her body bucked and then went rigid. Mandy’s horrified cry was lost beneath the noise of her husband’s climax and that of his partner. The difference in the light level inside the tent registered on the girl, however. After a few more cries, she opened her eyes lazily.
    “Oops,“ she said.
    “Huh?“ he said.
    “When did you say your wife was coming over?“
    “Tomorrow.“
    “I think she decided to come early.“
    “She never comes,“ Andrew said, laughing. “That’s why I like getting off with you. You like it the same way I do, hot and fast.“
    “Hon, I’m not fooling. We’ve got company.“
    Andrew followed the girl’s glance, shifting onto his elbows in response to his partner’s pushes. He squinted into the light streaming through the open tent flap.
    “Mandy?“ he asked.
    Her only answer was a choked sound of rage and hurt and disbelief.
    With a muttered obscenity, Andrew rolled off the girl. “What the hell are you doing here today?“
    Mandy could hardly believe what she was hearing. “I think a better question would be what she is doing here.“
    “What she’s doing here is fornicating, and she’s doing it a hell of a lot better than you ever do,“ he retorted, peeling off a condom and dumping it in an ashtray.
    The words slid past Mandy’s anger, slicing into her until she couldn’t speak for the pain.
    “Hey, hon,“ the girl said, stretching, “I think I’ll give this whole scene a pass, know what I mean? Righteous wives just aren’t my thing.“
    The girl grabbed a scrap of fuchsia cloth from the foot of the sleeping bag. The cloth turned out to be a bikini bottom, which she wriggled into before brushing past Mandy on the way out. The tent shivered as the girl snapped the other scrap of fuchsia