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Sweet Anger(40)

By:Sandra Brown


He looked at her as though she was a woman he knew something about, a woman he had shared a secret with, a woman he had been intimate with.

And rightly so. Because there was no other word to describe the way he had kissed her that night at her house. It had been intimate. She detested him for forcing that kiss on her, but detested herself more for remembering it in such explicit detail. Since that night, there had been idle moments when she had dwelled on thoughts of that kiss.

Even now, as she lifted her wineglass, her hand was trembling. All the color had drained from her face, but her eyes glowed feverishly. She could still feel the hard pressure of his lips. His tongue had possessed her mouth in a thoroughly masculine way. The taut lines of his body seemed engraved on hers. Much as she wanted to forget, she couldn’t. The memories wouldn’t be banished.

“Gee, Kari,” Mike said, noticing her distress. “If his being here is going to upset you that much, let’s leave.” Regretfully he glanced down at his half-eaten steak.

She shook her head and smiled at him with affected buoyancy. “Don’t be silly. This is your birthday party. Would you like more wine?”

“I may not be able to get you in focus this afternoon,” he warned, grinning as he raised his glass.

“That’s all right.” Unintentionally she spoke aloud her afterthought. “I haven’t been in focus for a long time.” She wasn’t referring to Mike’s camera work.

They finished their meal. Kari signed the check and they made their way toward the door. As they drew close to Hunter’s table, he laid his napkin beside his plate and stood.

“Hello, Kari.”

Behind his eyeglasses he was looking at her with that intensity that never failed to unnerve her. It automatically made her feel threatened. She reacted defensively. “Mr. District Attorney, I haven’t seen you since the election. I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You earned it the hard way. But then, you don’t have any qualms about murdering children, do you?”

Those within hearing distance lapsed into one of those awkward silences that occur when someone disgraces themselves in public. No one but Hunter knew about her miscarriage. Everyone assumed she was referring strictly to the recent trial that had ended with a sixteen-year-old being given a death sentence, a sentence she had editorially protested in her television news reports.

Even so, her stinging comment exceeded the bounds of every code of professional conduct. Had she been a man, Hunter would have been justified in slugging her. As it was, his eyes went as hard as flint, his body tensed, and his lips compressed.

Unperturbed by his anger, she gave him a terse nod, spoke a polite “Gentlemen” to the others, and moved toward the exit. Mike, flabbergasted and embarrassed, stumbled along behind her. He knew they would catch hell when Pinkie heard about the incident.

That was putting it mildly. Unfortunately the station manager heard of it first. One of Hunter’s colleagues telephoned him that afternoon. He immediately sent word to the newsroom that he wanted to see Pinkie and Kari.

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Pinkie asked her as he huffed down the carpeted hallway on the second floor, far removed from the gritty, noisy news-room.

She had come away from the restaurant feeling worse than she had ever felt in her life. She didn’t know herself anymore. The Kari Stewart she used to be could never have behaved that badly, never been that malicious and rude to anyone, no matter how bitter an enemy.

What was happening to her? Each day she felt little pieces of herself falling away. She didn’t seem able to get them back. Soon there wouldn’t be enough of her left to recognize. The thought frightened her.

Why hadn’t she listened to Pinkie? He had been right. She had set out to destroy, and was destroying herself in the process.

“Yes, I think I know why he wants to see us,” she said softly.

Pinkie stopped dead in his tracks and faced her. “Lay it on me. I’d rather hear it from you first.”

He taught her a whole new vocabulary of obscenities when she finished with her account of the incident. “What the hell were you thinking about?” he shouted.

She shrank from his anger. “I wasn’t thinking, I just—”

“Save the explanations. You’re gonna need them,” he snarled as he dragged her the rest of the way to the manager’s office.

The secretary showed them in to the inner sanctum and discreetly closed the door behind them. Not only the station manager, but the sales manager, and the president of the company were there. No one was smiling.