Big Girls Don’t Cry (Dundee, Idaho #6)(7)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Isaac, what’s the matter with you?” she asked.

She didn’t suspect Keith’s deception, he realized. His baby sister, who’d already been through so much, probably had a nasty surprise in store for her, and he was going to have to be the one to break the news to her.

But not now. Not until he knew exactly what was going on. “Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong. You never act like this.”

He swallowed a sigh. “I’m fine. I’ve gotta go, okay? I don’t want to miss my plane,” he said, and hung up.

Fortunately, the line was now moving faster. Ahead of him, Keith went through the metal detector, then started putting on his expensive Italian loafers.

In a few seconds he’d be fully dressed, recover his belongings and head to his gate, Isaac realized. But which gate would that be? Isaac had to know.

Letting the stress he felt show in his face, he turned to the person in front of him. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m about to miss my plane. If you can afford the time, would you mind letting me go in front of you?”

It was a woman and her daughter. They politely stepped aside and let him through, and several more people did the same. He was nearly to the metal detector when Keith slung his carry-on over his shoulder and walked off.

Isaac cleared security and collected his things, hesitating briefly when he realized that Keith had moved in the opposite direction to the one Isaac needed to go. If he followed his brother-in-law, he’d miss his plane. Which meant he’d miss his interview.

Picturing his sister at the breakfast table this morning, so trusting and gullible and, along with her two kids, disappointed to see her husband go, he cursed softly. Then he gazed down the long corridor, managed to pick his brother-in-law’s tall figure out of the crowd far ahead and started to follow.

CHAPTER THREE

ALONE ON THE TENNIS COURT, Elizabeth lowered her racquet to glance at the new diamond-studded watch Keith had given her for their eighth wedding anniversary a few weeks ago. It was just after six. Renate, who helped them out for a couple of hours each afternoon, would’ve picked up Mica and Christopher from their various after-school activities by now. They were probably already on their way home.

Elizabeth wanted to be with them. Usually she enjoyed going to the country club, especially when Keith was home. They played doubles as often as possible. But she wasn’t in the mood to be here right now. It wasn’t easy having Keith and Isaac leave on the same day. Their departures allowed the loneliness that sometimes plagued her to move closer.

Holding her racquet between her legs, she adjusted the ribbon that gathered her thick blond hair into a ponytail and attempted to shrug off her melancholy mood by telling herself the exercise would be good for her. Keith had given her these lessons for her thirtieth birthday two months ago and expected her to take them. She could do that much. He loved that she could beat almost any woman she played, even most men, and didn’t want her to lose any of her ability.

He didn’t want her to lose her figure, either. Which was probably why he insisted that they were finished having children, even though Liz would have liked one more.

She winced at the memory of the comment he’d made when they were making love the other night. “Wow, babe, what are you eating when I’m gone? Feels like you’re putting on a few pounds.”

He was right, of course. She was comfort eating, trying to help pass the long evenings when he was away. But it wasn’t as though she’d turned into a blimp.

Throwing the ball into the air, she smacked it hard and watched it rocket to the other side of the court. It landed right in the corner, almost on the line. A perfect serve.

“Looking good.”

Dave Shapiro, the club pro, had finally deigned to show up for her lesson. But, from the way he was watching her, she couldn’t tell if he was referring to her serve or her legs.

“You’re late,” she said.

As usual, her attempt to redirect his interest did little good. “I’m worth the wait.”

She adjusted her visor as he swaggered over—and stiffened when he stood behind her, lifting her arm in the motion of her serve.

“You were holding your wrist like this, see?” He made a point of having her look up. “That’s exactly the way I want you to hold it. Every time.”

He was a little too close. Liz could feel his body’s heat, despite the cool November air, and remembered some of the suggestive things he’d said to her in the past. She knew, if she gave him any encouragement, he’d flirt even more.

But she’d never get seriously involved with him. No matter how handsome he was. No matter how badly she needed to feel desirable. After going through some of the most difficult years of her life without a mother, she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her own small family.

“You’re a beautiful woman, you know that?” he said.

“And you’re about seven years too young for me,” she replied, smiling because he was so obvious.

He shrugged. “That isn’t the reason you’re not interested.”

Maybe Dave was cocky, but she appreciated how honest and direct he could be. “Not exclusively, no.”

He hesitated for a moment, his attention roving over her short skirt. “Your husband’s a lucky man.”

“Commitment’s an important part of loving someone, don’t you think?” she said, and served again. Too long.

When his eyes finally met hers, his grin spread up one side, making him appear even more boyish than usual. “I think your husband’s gone too often. It isn’t wise to leave a wife alone so much.”

“He trusts me,” she said simply.

Dave cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do you trust him?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t think he’s ever visited a bar or a strip club and wound up in someone else’s bed?”

To be honest, she had considered that possibility. Her husband retrieved his voice mail and his e-mails when he was away, and responded if she needed him. But he never answered his cell phone during those long absences and rarely bothered to call her. She often wondered what he did when he had some spare time. Especially on holidays. At least once a year, he missed a major holiday because a network went down somewhere in the company. Did some of the other guys ever take him out for a drink? Or to a party?

She couldn’t picture it. He said most of the guys at work were jerks and he refused to socialize with them. He wouldn’t even attend the annual Christmas party. When she asked him how he spent his evening hours, he denied having any fun at all. “I try to get as much done as possible while I’m gone so I can be more available to you and the kids when I’m home,” he said. And he made it easy for her to believe him. Although he worked while he was home—quite a bit, actually—he was completely devoted to her and the kids. She’d never seen him so much as look at another woman.