Message from a Mistress Read Free Page A

herself along. She loved her mother, but the woman could be so overpowering with her thoughts and opinions at times. Jaime had enough on her shoulders to bear without topping it off with her mother’s crap. “I’ll be cleaning all day and preparing a nice home-cooked meal for my husband.”
    “Well, you have time to go to breakfast with us,” Virginia said.
    Although Jaime didn’t want to, she acquiesced. “Excuse me while I finish getting dressed,” she told them, turning to climb the stairs and to be free.
    She figured she could eat with her parents and then head straight to the spa. She shouldn’t be too late. Her friends, unlike her parents, would understand.
     
    Renee felt completely overwhelmed. A major marketing proposal was due on her boss’s desk first thing Monday and she discovered she’d left important files at the office. Her seventeen-year-old son’s room smelled of corn chips and puffy cheese doodles. The hampers were overflowing with dirty clothes, which equaled doing laundry to the fullest. The entire house could use a good deep-down cleaning—including eradicating the dirty dishes in the sink. Her kids wanted to go to Jackson’s parents’ and needed a ride. Side dishes for the fish fry/card party still had to be made. And she was looking forward to the spa day with her friends—she refused to cancel, especially after the “we need to talk” bomb Jackson had dropped in her lap before he left. She absolutely refused. Shit.
    In the couple of hours since the men piled into Jackson’s dual-cab pickup, Renee had tried not to think or imagine the worst. But it was hard. “We need to talk” were not the words a woman wanted to hear…especially when her marriage had been teetering on the edge of ruin. Nevertheless, she forced herself to believe that the conversation was all about making things better…and not worse.
    Still, her original plans of focusing on her proposal until she left for the spa were out the window. The last thing she needed was for Jackson to come home to a dusty house reeking with dirty clothes.
    Prioritize, Renee. Prioritize. Get your shit together .
    She was a mother. A businesswoman. A multitasker. A problem solver.
    “I can handle this,” Renee told herself as she ignored the doubtful glance Kieran cast in her direction as she sat atop the island, now dressed in a cute T-shirt with a ruffled denim skirt.
    She picked up her BlackBerry and dialed. “Darren, this is Renee. I hate to bother you on a Saturday but I need a big favor.”
    “Ask away, boss.”
    “Good. I need you to go into the office and pick up the files I left. I think they’re in my chair, actually,” she told him as she started dish water in the deep double sink.
    “I know exactly the ones you’re talking about.”
    “Good. Call me when you get them because I might not be home and I’ll have to give you directions to where I am. Okay?”
    “No problem, boss.”
    Renee sat the BlackBerry by her briefcase as she pointed to Kieran. “You. Dishes. Go,” she ordered over her shoulder as she made her way out of the spacious white kitchen to the laundry room in the finished basement.
    This hustle and bustle of trying to juggle her career and her family was the major point of contention in her marriage. Renee always looked and felt like she was one step in front of the eight ball. Nothing came easy anymore, but she saw it as a challenge while Jackson saw it as a hindrance.
    “We need to talk….”
    She pushed that away, determined to find the balance and make everyone—including herself—happy. She planned to do everything on her recently revised to-do list—including blowing Jackson’s mind with a great “talk” on bettering their marriage and then blowing his dick to top it all off right.
    Renee hated to think back to the last time she’d sexed her husband. They had gone from sex at least once a day to barely once a week. And Jackson’s sexual appetite was voracious. She shivered at the