50 Harbor Street - Debbie Macomber [20]
The one area that still met with resistance was this diet she had him on. All right, he’d admit it; he could afford to lose a few pounds. Jack had a bit of a paunch, but it wasn’t that bad. Every once in a while, a man needed a double-bacon cheeseburger with all the fixings. He wasn’t opposed to a large order of fries with that, either. They both went well with a vanilla shake.
Just thinking about his favorite meal made Jack’s mouth water as he got into his car to drive home. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. Breakfast had been blueberry yogurt with something stirred into it—probably wheat germ. He hated the taste of wheat germ, so his beloved wife had taken to disguising it. He let her think he’d been fooled.
When the sign for his favorite fast-food restaurant came into view, his decision was made. The drive-through window was open and he rolled straight up to it. Sitting in the parking lot, he wolfed down his cheeseburger at record speed, hardly stopping to savor the sheer luxury of it. He washed it down with the vanilla shake and munched on salty fries. He’d be in trouble with Olivia if she found out about this, but that burger had been worth it.
Hell, he was already in trouble. He’d told her he’d be home by seven and it was nearly ten. Knowing she was probably trying to reach him, he’d turned off his cell. He felt guilty about that now. An emergency had developed when the computer system crashed and he’d had to stay until everything was up and running again. He had a newspaper to get out, and there was nothing he could do but see this crisis through.
The lights in the living room were on when Jack parked in front of the house. He’d come to appreciate Olivia’s home on Lighthouse Road, which had a wonderful view of the cove. Jack enjoyed sitting beside Olivia on her wide front porch, watching the sun set on a summer night.
He’d wondered, when they were first married, if he’d be comfortable in a house where Olivia had once lived with her ex-husband. His fears had come to nothing. Olivia and Stan had been divorced for more years than they’d been married, and almost every trace of Stan was gone. There was the odd family photograph here and there, but he didn’t begrudge Olivia that.
Hoping she was asleep, he sneaked into the kitchen as quietly as possible. But the instant the floor creaked, Olivia called his name.
“Hi, honey,” he said.
Olivia marched into the kitchen like the third brigade, dressed in her thick fleece housecoat and fuzzy slippers. Her arms were crossed and she glared at him. “You turned off your cell phone.”
“I know…I’m sorry.”
“Not sorry enough.”
“I left a message for you,” he said, pleading his case. “There wasn’t anything I could do.” He explained the computer situation, repeating the message he’d left on their answering machine, and hoped she understood that he just couldn’t answer questions at the time.
She hesitated, and he could see her weaken. “Sometimes I wonder why we ever got married. I see less of you now than I did while we were dating.”
Sometimes Jack felt the same way. “It seems like that, doesn’t it?” He brought her into the circle of his arms. He loved the smell of her hair and breathed in the scent that was distinctly hers. “There are other advantages to being married, though,” he whispered, slipping his hand inside the front of her housecoat. To his delight she wasn’t wearing her long flannel nightgown, but the silk one that offered him easy access to her breasts.
“Jack, honestly,” she protested, but not too loudly.
“Come on, honey, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” Her nipples were hard and he felt the stirrings of desire. Ten minutes ago he didn’t think he had enough energy to do more than undress and fall into bed. But now…Well, Olivia had that kind of effect on him.
“I can warm up