her from the lounge. “Then let’s get out of here before she changes her mind.”
Smiling conspiratorially at each other, they hurried out of the terminal and into a cab.
Before the end of their first twenty-four hours together, Brett was thoroughly besotted with Sondra. She was not only gorgeous; she was bright, vivacious, and witty,
By the end of their second twenty-four hours, Brett decided Sondra was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He was so besotted he was beyond realizing that Sondra made a career out of being everything every man ever wanted in a woman.
Sondra’s vacation never did end. The flight from Chicago to Atlanta was her last. After one particularly satisfying bedroom romp during their third twenty-four hours, Brett, positive he’d at last found a soul mate, proposed to her. They were married one week later at his mother’s horse farm in Florida.
Brett, though not a confirmed workaholic, ran a close second in the energy and diligence he afforded the company. Sondra was a lotus eater to the marrow of her bones. The moment his diamond-encrusted wedding ring firmly encircled her finger, she prevailed upon him to come and play with her.
In truth, Brett needed very little coaxing to abandon duty for the intoxicating delights to be explored on the playground of her luscious body. For almost two years he was little more than a figurehead in his Atlanta office. It was only later that Brett would give thanks for whatever guidance had prompted him to hire Richard Colby as his assistant. For Richard not only held down the fort competently, he covered Brett’s tracks completely.
The good life began to pall as their second anniversary crept over the horizon. Unnaturally tired, jaded, bored with it all, Brett announced his intention of going back to work one hungover midmorning.
At first, Sondra pouted prettily and coaxed beguilingly. When those tactics had no effect on Brett’s determination, she turned on the waterworks. It was when the tears failed to dissuade him that she revealed the first glimpse of her true colors.
“God damn you,” Sondra screamed at him. “What the hell do you expect me to do while you play at being the big corporate executive? Join a club of silly damned women who talk of nothing but their brats and redecorating the houses their husbands keep them chained to?”
Startled speechless, Brett had stared at her, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. Shock followed amazement as the tirade Sondra flung at him came straight from the gutter.
Though wealthy from birth, Brett had not led a sheltered existence. He had been all over the world. It would have been polite to say some of the places he’d been in were a mite unsavory. Yet he’d never encountered a female with Sondra’s command of filthy language.
His head pounding from the effects of months of too much Scotch, too many late nights, and total abandonment to the physical senses, Brett, calmly walking away from her in mid-spate, strode from the room.
From that point the marriage that never really was deteriorated rapidly. The twelve months that followed were sheer hell for Brett. Sondra, no longer concerned about his opinion of her, flaunted her true personality. She was just as bright, if bitingly so. She was still vivacious, if frantically so. She was still witty, if sarcastically so. She continually turned Brett’s stomach.
As one month dragged into another, Brett spent longer and yet longer hours in the office, more and more days on the road. He was fully cognizant of the audacious, unfettered life style Sondra was pursuing. At the dawn of their third anniversary he no longer cared; at least he thought he didn’t.
His own personal breaking point came less than a week before their third anniversary. Brett had been in Philadelphia the previous week supervising the final details of a twin hotel-condominium complex the company was planning to build there. Although he was tired, he felt good, for he had
Smiling conspiratorially at each other, they hurried out of the terminal and into a cab.
Before the end of their first twenty-four hours together, Brett was thoroughly besotted with Sondra. She was not only gorgeous; she was bright, vivacious, and witty,
By the end of their second twenty-four hours, Brett decided Sondra was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He was so besotted he was beyond realizing that Sondra made a career out of being everything every man ever wanted in a woman.
Sondra’s vacation never did end. The flight from Chicago to Atlanta was her last. After one particularly satisfying bedroom romp during their third twenty-four hours, Brett, positive he’d at last found a soul mate, proposed to her. They were married one week later at his mother’s horse farm in Florida.
Brett, though not a confirmed workaholic, ran a close second in the energy and diligence he afforded the company. Sondra was a lotus eater to the marrow of her bones. The moment his diamond-encrusted wedding ring firmly encircled her finger, she prevailed upon him to come and play with her.
In truth, Brett needed very little coaxing to abandon duty for the intoxicating delights to be explored on the playground of her luscious body. For almost two years he was little more than a figurehead in his Atlanta office. It was only later that Brett would give thanks for whatever guidance had prompted him to hire Richard Colby as his assistant. For Richard not only held down the fort competently, he covered Brett’s tracks completely.
The good life began to pall as their second anniversary crept over the horizon. Unnaturally tired, jaded, bored with it all, Brett announced his intention of going back to work one hungover midmorning.
At first, Sondra pouted prettily and coaxed beguilingly. When those tactics had no effect on Brett’s determination, she turned on the waterworks. It was when the tears failed to dissuade him that she revealed the first glimpse of her true colors.
“God damn you,” Sondra screamed at him. “What the hell do you expect me to do while you play at being the big corporate executive? Join a club of silly damned women who talk of nothing but their brats and redecorating the houses their husbands keep them chained to?”
Startled speechless, Brett had stared at her, unwilling to believe what he was hearing. Shock followed amazement as the tirade Sondra flung at him came straight from the gutter.
Though wealthy from birth, Brett had not led a sheltered existence. He had been all over the world. It would have been polite to say some of the places he’d been in were a mite unsavory. Yet he’d never encountered a female with Sondra’s command of filthy language.
His head pounding from the effects of months of too much Scotch, too many late nights, and total abandonment to the physical senses, Brett, calmly walking away from her in mid-spate, strode from the room.
From that point the marriage that never really was deteriorated rapidly. The twelve months that followed were sheer hell for Brett. Sondra, no longer concerned about his opinion of her, flaunted her true personality. She was just as bright, if bitingly so. She was still vivacious, if frantically so. She was still witty, if sarcastically so. She continually turned Brett’s stomach.
As one month dragged into another, Brett spent longer and yet longer hours in the office, more and more days on the road. He was fully cognizant of the audacious, unfettered life style Sondra was pursuing. At the dawn of their third anniversary he no longer cared; at least he thought he didn’t.
His own personal breaking point came less than a week before their third anniversary. Brett had been in Philadelphia the previous week supervising the final details of a twin hotel-condominium complex the company was planning to build there. Although he was tired, he felt good, for he had