Chapter 3
“Good morning, Dr. Wolf,” Gayle Abrams greeted Prissy when she arrived at work that morning.
Prissy smiled at her secretary, a pretty Jamaican sister with beautifully braided hair and a liltingly accented voice that always transported Prissy back to her romantic honeymoon in Ocho Rios.
“Good morning, Gayle,” Prissy greeted her warmly. “Got any messages for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Her efficient secretary passed her a small stack of phone messages. “Mrs. Cohen called to confirm that you’re still coming to speak to their group today about the upcoming bond election.”
Prissy nodded. “Absolutely.”
With $17.4 million of taxpayer dollars at stake, Prissy had made it a priority to meet with as many civic organizations as possible to address their questions and concerns about the school district’s proposed capital improvement plan. Since Rose Cohen’s auxiliary league had many members who were active in the community, Prissy knew that having the group’s support could be crucial to the passage of the bond proposal.
“Would you like some coffee?” Gayle offered.
“No, thanks,” Prissy declined, sifting through her phone messages. “I’m still wired from the brew Stan made this morning.”
Gayle grinned suggestively. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that that husband of yours makes potent coffee?”
Prissy laughed as she left the reception area to head toward her office. It was early, so the other members of her staff hadn’t arrived yet.
At the end of the corridor, her office was identified by a brass nameplate on the door that read DR. PRISCILLA WOLF, SUPERINTENDENT.
For the past two years, Prissy had served as chief officer of a small school district right outside of Denver. Although she had a Ph.D. in education administration and several years of experience as a high school principal, her status as an outsider was what had given her an edge over the other candidates vying for the job. In an unprecedented move, Coronado’s school board had hired Prissy to improve relations between the district’s administrators and the board of education, whose bitter stalemates had become notorious. Since Prissy had no baggage, no alliances and no axes to grind, she—unlike her predecessor—had been able to propose a $17.4 million bond to address the district’s educational and infrastructure needs.
Entering her office, Prissy strode across the large room to her desk and set down the monogrammed leather briefcase that Stan and the boys had given to her for Mother’s Day last year. She’d just sat in her chair when the intercom on her desk buzzed.
“Dr. Wolf, you have a call.”
“Who is it, Gayle?”
Her secretary paused for a long moment. “Celeste Wolf.”
Prissy tensed, her chest tightening with anger. She considered instructing her secretary to take a message, but she’d been doing that for the past two months. Sooner or later, she’d have to break her silence and talk to her ex sister-in-law.
“Dr. Wolf?” Gayle prompted tentatively. “Should I tell her you’re not available?”
“No,” Prissy murmured. “I’ll speak to her. Thanks, Gayle.”
When the call was transferred, Prissy drew a deep, calming breath before lifting the receiver. “Hello,” she said coolly.
“Hey, Pris.” Celeste sounded nervous. “Thank you for taking my call this time. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”
Prissy stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve got a full afternoon of meetings that I need to prepare for, so I don’t have a lot of time to talk.”
“I understand,” Celeste said meekly. “The reason I’m calling is to find out whether you’re still attending the educators’ leadership conference this weekend.”
“Of course I am. I told you before that I’m one of the workshop presenters.”
“I know.” Celeste paused for a moment. “Since the conference is in Minnesota this year, I was hoping I’d get an opportunity to see you.”
Prissy frowned. “What do you mean? Are you going to be in Rochester?”
“Um, actually, I’m already here. Have been for over a week.”
“Why?”
Another pause, this one longer. “I’m here with Grant. He’s working at the Mayo Clinic.”
“What? I thought he changed his mind about accepting the surgeon position because he wanted to stay in Atlanta with you.”
“He did. But then the clinic’s head of neurosurgery came back to him about working on a major research project. Grant’s participation in the groundbreaking study would bring so much publicity to Atlanta General that they agreed to loan him to the Mayo Clinic for four months. Grant asked me to join him here, and I agreed.”
Prissy was stunned. “What about your job at the hospital?”
“I resigned.”
“What?”
“I would have done that eventually anyway,” Celeste hastened to explain. “Since I’m starting my master’s in nursing program next fall, Grant wants me to be able to concentrate on my studies and not have to worry about working. Far be it from me to argue with the man who will be paying my tuition.”
Which Sterling was unable to, Prissy thought. “Congratulations,” she drawled sarcastically. “Looks like you found your Sugar Daddy.”
Celeste sighed. “Don’t be like that, Pris. You know how much—”
Prissy cut her off. “Does Sterling know you’re in Minnesota?”
Celeste’s prolonged silence gave Prissy her answer.
“I don’t believe this,” she hissed. “The ink on your divorce papers is barely dry—you haven’t even changed your last name yet—and you’ve already relocated to another state with Grant?”
“I haven’t relocated—”
“What about Michael and Marcus?” Prissy demanded. “How the hell are you supposed to spend any time with them if you’re living in Minnesota for the next four months?”
“I’ll work out an arrangement with Sterling,” Celeste said defensively.
“The same man who doesn’t even know where you are?”
Celeste heaved a frustrated breath. “Look, I didn’t call to argue with you, Pris. I called to invite you to have dinner with me while you’re in town.”
“I don’t think so,” Prissy said flatly.
“Please, Pris,” Celeste entreated. “I really need to see you and explain some things to you—”
“It’s too late for explanations.”
“What do you mean?”
“You could have confided in me a long time ago that you and Sterling were having problems, but you didn’t. You could have told me this past summer, when I was pouring out my heart to you about my issues with Stan. But you didn’t say a damn word.”
“Because I was ashamed!” Celeste burst out desperately. “I was ashamed of my behavior, I was scared of losing my family and I was afraid that you wouldn’t understand what I was going through! And considering the way you’ve completely shunned me since the divorce, can you really blame me for not confiding in you?”
“Don’t you dare put this back on me!” Prissy spat furiously. “You’re the one who’s been keeping secrets for God only knows how long. You’re the one who cheated on your husband and got caught. You’re the one who walked out on your children—your children, for God’s sake!—to be with a man you barely know. So don’t you dare point any fingers at me, because the only one who’s to blame for our broken friendship is you!”
Celeste was silent for so long that Prissy wondered whether she’d hung up on her.
She waited tensely, the receiver gripped tightly in her hand.
After what seemed an eternity, Celeste spoke. “I really don’t want to have this conversation over the phone, Pris. Let me take you to dinner while you’re in town. Please.”
Prissy swiveled toward the office window, too angry to enjoy the scenic view of the Rocky Mountains in the distance.
“I miss you, Prissy,” Celeste said plaintively. “I miss being able to pick up the phone and talk to you anytime. I miss gossiping about our coworkers and our favorite celebrities. I miss swapping recipes and discussing our boys’ latest antics. I miss your friendship. And even though you’re upset with me right now, I know you feel the same way.”
Prissy swallowed tightly, wishing she could deny it. But she couldn’t, because the truth was that she did miss Celeste. Over the past sixteen years, Celeste had become the sister Prissy never had. She’d been her matron of honor, and had been present for the birth of all five of Prissy’s children. They’d shared everything with each other—or so Prissy had always believed.
But she’d been wrong. Celeste wasn’t half the woman she’d thought she was, and the way she’d betrayed her husband and children was unforgivable.
So Prissy had nothing to say to her other than, “I’m sorry, Celeste, but I won’t be able to meet you for dinner.”
“What about drinks? Surely you can make time for drinks?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So that’s it? Just because I made a decision you don’t agree with, we can’t be friends anymore?”
“I have to go, Celeste,” Prissy said with quiet finality. “Take care of yourself.”
Before Celeste could utter another word, Prissy hung up the phone.
Blinking back tears of anger and regret, she swiveled away from the window and exhaled a deep, shaky breath. She told herself that she’d done the right thing by severing ties with Celeste.
So why didn’t she feel better?
Shaking her head, she swiped at the corners of her eyes. At that moment her gaze landed on a framed portrait on her desk. In the old photograph, Prissy sat with three-year-old Mason on her lap. Stan stood behind them with one hand resting lovingly on Prissy’s shoulder. Manning, Montana, Magnum and Maddox flanked her, two on each side. All of them wore big smiles as they beamed into the camera, their eyes shining with happiness and laughter.
Prissy slowly reached across her desk and picked up the photo. A soft smile curved her lips as she tenderly traced her fingertips over the beloved faces of her husband and sons. She remembered how overjoyed she and Stan had been when they’d learned that she was pregnant—the first time, and every time after that. She remembered Stan kneeling before her with his arms wrapped around her expanding waist and his face pressed to her swollen belly as he marveled at the life growing inside her. She remembered his delighted shouts of laughter whenever the baby kicked him, and she remembered the lazy nights they’d lain in bed together reading from a pregnancy book while Stan gently rubbed her stomach and talked to their unborn son.
Prissy wasn’t like Celeste. No matter how bad things might become between her and Stan, she could never walk out on her family.
But what if Stan’s having an affair? challenged an inner voice. Would you stay with a man who’s unfaithful to you? What if the decision is taken out of your hands, and Stan leaves you and the kids for another woman?
Prissy’s smile faded.
Holding the family portrait close to her heart, she silently prayed, Please don’t let my worst fears come true, God. Please keep my precious family together.
Two hours later, Prissy was adding the finishing touches to a budget report she planned to present at tonight’s school board meeting. When a knock sounded at her door, she glanced up. She was surprised to find her husband standing in the doorway behind her secretary.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Gayle announced in a singsong voice that was far from apologetic, “but you have a visitor, and the gentleman insisted on seeing you right away.”
“Did he, now?” Amused, Prissy arched a brow at Stan. “Has the gentleman ever heard of calling first or making an appointment?”
Holding her gaze, Stan said dryly, “The gentleman is offended at the notion that he’d have to call or make an appointment to see his own damn wife.”
“Touché.” Lips quirking, Prissy glanced at Gayle. “Would you please hold my calls for ten minutes?”
“Make that twenty,” Stan corrected, sidestepping Gayle to enter the office.
“As you wish, Mr. Wolf.” Grinning wickedly at husband and wife, Gayle closed the door behind her.
Shaking her head in exasperation, Prissy watched as Stan sauntered toward her. He wore black boots and his department-issue uniform—the navy blue one with a gold badge and a patch bearing the CFD emblem sewn onto each sleeve. Prissy had never been the type to lose her mind over a man in uniform…until the first time she’d seen her husband in one. He’d looked so damn fine that her mouth had watered, and all she’d wanted to do was jump his bones.
Fourteen years later, nothing had changed.
He still looked mouthwateringly good, and she still wanted to devour him.
But this was not the time or the place.
She eyed him warily as he reached her desk. “What’re you doing here, Stan?”
“Since we got interrupted this morning,” he drawled, “I came to finish what we started.”
“What?” She shook her head quickly. “I don’t think so.”
“Then don’t think,” he suggested, rounding the desk. “Just go with the flow.”
“Are you crazy?” Prissy demanded, watching as he knelt beside her and swiveled her chair around to face him. “I’m at work, Stan. I can’t be fooling around—”
“Says who?” he challenged, kissing her bare knees. “Aren’t you the boss?”
“That’s not the point!” As he began reaching under her skirt, she shot a panicked glance toward the closed door. “I’m serious, baby. This isn’t a good time. Someone could walk in at any moment—”
“Gayle won’t let ’em.”
“—and I’ve got a million things to do—”
“Starting with me.”
Prissy groaned, even as her pulse went haywire. “Stan—”
He leaned forward and kissed her, silencing her protests. Though Prissy knew she should resist, she couldn’t find the willpower to do so. Because the truth was that she wanted him. Craved him. Needed him like her body needed water and oxygen. And it would always be this way.
Tasting her surrender, Stan dragged her silk panties off her legs and over her red stilettos, then set them on the desk. Without breaking their kiss, he lifted her effortlessly from the chair and sat down, leaving her no choice but to straddle his hard thighs. Their mouths opened and closed over each other’s, tongues dancing to the same slow, sensual rhythm.
Prissy shivered at the feel of Stan’s callused hands sliding underneath her skirt to cup her bare bottom. As he kneaded the plump flesh, she ground her hips against his thick, straining erection.
He reacted with a husky groan. “Baby…”
Sucking his bottom lip, Prissy admonished, “See what you started.”
“Umm-hmm,” he murmured, unzipping his pants. “And I intend to finish it.”
Pulse hammering, Prissy hitched her skirt up her thighs and lowered herself onto his long, hard shaft. They both groaned softly with pleasure.
As Stan began thrusting into her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered breathlessly, “This is crazy. I’m supposed to be working.”
Stan’s eyes glittered wickedly. “You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“Mmmm.” Prissy’s head fell back, eyes closing as she surrendered to the delicious sensations pounding through her body. She rocked her hips up and down as Stan drove into her, plunging deeper and harder with every stroke.
Their coupling felt so incredible that Prissy never wanted it to end. But all too soon she was coming apart, her back arching with the force of her sudden orgasm. Stan crushed his mouth to hers, smothering her helpless cry just in time.
Moments later he exploded, his hands tightly gripping her butt as he spent himself inside her.
Weak and trembling, Prissy dropped her head onto his shoulder and nibbled his jaw, savoring the subtle spice of his aftershave. As he kissed her forehead and gathered her closer, she sighed contentedly, wishing she could remain in his arms for the rest of the day.
“You know you are so wrong for this.”
Stan grinned, lazily stroking her back. “If loving you is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.”
Prissy laughed, lifting her head to give him an accusing look. “If I’m unprepared for my meetings this afternoon, I’m blaming you.”
His eyes glinted wickedly. “In that case,” he drawled, “we might as well go for round two—”
“Don’t even think about it,” Prissy warned, hurriedly scrambling off his lap before she could succumb to temptation. God knows she wanted nothing more than to blow off her meetings and spend the rest of the day making love to Stan. But duty called, and she’d never been one to shirk her responsibilities.
Watching as she plucked her panties off the desk and slipped them on, Stan said huskily, “We’ll finish this later.”
It wasn’t a request, and Prissy knew it. As her body heated with anticipation, she smiled demurely. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Stan laughed. As he tucked himself back into his pants and zipped up, his pager went off. He hesitated for a moment, then reached down and removed the device clipped to his waistband. As he checked the display screen, Prissy felt rather than saw him tense.
Smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt, she teased, “Don’t tell me they’re calling you from the station. Don’t those people know you’re off for the rest of the week?”
Stan smiled absently, returning the pager to his waistband.
“Do you want to use my phone to call them back?” Prissy offered.
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
Prissy frowned as a whisper of unease ran through her.
She watched as Stan rose from the chair and began straightening his uniform. A change had come over him, so subtle she might have missed it if she didn’t know him as well as she did.
Struck by a sudden realization, she glanced at her wristwatch. “You don’t have to be at Mason’s school until one-thirty. Are you going somewhere before then?”
“No.” He paused, seeming to reconsider his answer before he amended, “I’m just dropping by the station to pick up some prep materials for the exam. The test date will be here before I know it.”
After fourteen years of distinguished service as a firefighter—climbing his way up the ranks to lieutenant—Stan was now up for a promotion to captain pending the results of written and oral exams he was scheduled to take in January.
“You know,” Prissy remarked, folding her arms across her busty chest, “you’re supposed to stay away from the station on your days off. If the alarm sounds while you’re there—”
“I’ll let the fellas who are on duty handle the emergency. That’s what shifts are for.”
Before Prissy could argue, Stan pressed a quick, hard kiss to her mouth. “I’ll see you this evening.”
She nodded, walking him to the door. “Are you still taking the boys to the movies after school?”
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be a surprise. You didn’t tell them, did you?”
“Of course not. Besides,” Prissy added wryly, “I didn’t have the heart to tell Manny that he’s going to miss out on seeing a movie just because he gets out of school much later than his brothers.”
Stan grinned ruefully. “I’ll make it up to him.”
“You’d better.”
Stan kissed her again, then winked. “I’ll pick up dinner on the way home.”
“Okay.” She smiled softly. “Good luck on the presentation.”
“Thanks, honey. Hope your meetings go well.”
“Me, too.”
After Stan left, Prissy closed the door and headed to her private bathroom to freshen up and change her underwear. She kept an extra pair at the office in case of emergencies, which now, apparently, included midday quickies.
Blushing at the thought, Prissy surveyed her reflection in the mirror. She’d been called pretty, even beautiful on a good day. Her skin was the color of mocha and she had dark, almond-shaped eyes. Her forehead was round, her lips were full and her dimpled chin made her look younger than thirty-three. Before interviewing for the superintendent job two years ago, she’d exchanged her big afro for feathered tresses that framed her face. As much as she may have wanted to believe that her qualifications would matter more than her appearance, she’d known better than to take any chances.
After washing her hands at the sink, Prissy emerged from the bathroom and returned to her desk.
Five minutes later, she found herself unable to concentrate on the report she’d been working on before Stan arrived. Because try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been hiding something from her. Something to do with the page he’d supposedly received from someone at work.
Supposedly?
Prissy frowned, her mind churning with speculation. After another moment, she picked up the phone and called the fire station.
After exchanging pleasantries with Dora—Engine Company 8’s only female firefighter who was on watch desk duty—Prissy said very casually, “Someone just paged Stan, but he couldn’t get to the phone right away to return the call. Do you know if anyone there might have been looking for him?”
“Not that I know of. But I can check with the other guys on duty, if you don’t mind holding?”
“I don’t mind. Thanks, Dora.” Prissy waited tensely, drumming her manicured fingernails on the desk.
After a few minutes, Dora came back on the line. “I was right. No one here paged Stan—”
Prissy’s heart sank.
“—but the fellas said he’s more than welcome to come to work if he’s bored.”
Prissy forced out a laugh. “Thanks for checking for me, Dora.”
“Anytime, hon.”
Prissy’s hand trembled as she hung up the phone.
Stan’s pager had been issued to him and other senior firefighters who had paramedic training so that they could be reached in case of an emergency that required additional personnel. Stan had never used his pager for personal reasons; his colleagues were the only ones who even had the number.
Prissy frowned, leaning back in her chair.
If someone from work didn’t page my husband, she wondered suspiciously, who the hell did?