Slippery When Wet: A Novel (Zane Presents) Read Free Page B

up?”
    “I was hoping you’d say yes to coming up to my cabin in the Poconos this weekend. I haven’t been there in months and really need to get up there to check on things. I thought maybe we could have a girls’ weekend, just the two of us.”
    What the fuck? Is this chick serious? What the hell I look like going up to some winter cabin with another woman— alone? She’s cool and all, but not like that!
    “Look, before you say no,” she adds, sensing my reservation. “Think about it. I have some bottles of Moscato already on ice, and the liquor cabinet up there is fully stocked with any other liquid pleasures you might want. We haven’t talked in a while. We can sit around the fireplace, snacking and drinking and watching old reruns of Desperate Housewives .” I chuckle, surprised that she remembered how much I love that show. “And it’ll give us a chance to get caught up. Besides, judging by the way you answered the phone a few minutes ago, it sounds like you could use a little getaway.”
    Well, she’s right about that. Still …
    “I promise you, it’ll be a very relaxing, refreshing weekend; for the both of us. And who knows, maybe you’ll want to keep coming back.”
    I smile at the thought of having somewhere else to go instead of staking out the malls for clearance sales, or being cooped up in my house, staring at the walls, eating myself into another dress size. “Okay, I’m sold. When and where?”
    “Oh, great,” she says, sounding a bit too overly excited. But why? “Girl, you have no idea how you’ve made my day. I look forward to seeing you.” She gives me the address and directions. I tell her I will work a half-day on Friday, then head up. We talk a few minutes more, then disconnect.
    At six o’clock, I shut off my computer, slip into my coat and prepare to leave for the day. “Miss Wilson,” Erica—one of the administrative secretaries, stops me, carrying a huge floral arrangement in a crystal vase. “These just came for you.”
    I raise my eyebrow in surprise. “For me?” Erica hands me the vase. There’s a white envelope in the center of it. I open it. G IVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE ? I’ LL DO WHATEVER IT TAKES. I MISS YOU . M AURICE .
    I tear the card up, then hand the vase back to her. “No thanks. You can toss these.” I walk off, ignoring the young assistant’s curious look. “See you in the morning.”
    •  •  •
    The rest of the week flies by uneventful. I become immersed in briefings and reports at work, then spend an hour and a half each night at the gym right after work so that by the time I get home—around eight, I am too exhausted to do anything else besides shower and then hit the sheets. So Friday rolls around faster than I had hoped. For some reason, I feel nervous. And I’ve been tempted a few times to call Karalyn to cancel. But then I think about the alternatives, and decide against it. Hell, it’s the New Year and I promised I would spend it doing and experiencing new things. So I might as well get started now.
    At twelve P.M . sharp, I am pulling out of the employees’ parking garage. With my overnight bag already packed and in the trunk, I stop at the Exxon down the street from the job. Gas up, then head up Interstate 280 toward Interstate 80, heading westbound.

Four
    “So, do tell,” Karalyn says, moving around the L -shaped granite counter. We’ve eaten lobster and shrimp dishes she’s whipped up. And have spent the last several hours getting caught up with each other’s lives while listening to her vast collection of music. Surprisingly, Karalyn has been extremely chatty. She’s told me that she and her husband, Kenneth, have been divorced for the last six months, partly due to his infidelities and, mostly, to her not being happy in the marriage. She said it felt like she was suffocating. Now the conversation has shifted over to me. I sip my wine, eyeing her over the rim of my glass as she reaches for her glass of wine, then takes