Wife Is A 4-Letter Word Read Free Page B

as far as Jo is concerned,” Alan continued, “if she ever thought there was a remote possibility we’d be attracted to each other, she’d never have trusted me to escort you to your business functions.”
    Pam’s fuzzy brain told her an insult was imbedded in his rambling. “I suppose you’re right, but a few people might jump to conclusions.”
    Alan shrugged. “It’s not like the whole town of Savannah is going to know, Pam.”
    She glanced down at the horrid peach-colored dress. “But I don’t have any clothes.”
    â€œWe’ll go shopping when we get there,” he said simply. “Come on, will you go or won’t you?”
    She had accrued vacation time. And only one deal in progress that she could probably handle over the phone. And Jo had asked her to keep an eye on Alan. She pressed a finger to her aching temple. It hurt to think too deeply.
    Pamela emptied her glass and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then looked up at him and smiled. “Well, I could use some new sandals...why the heck not?”

2
    A LAN SALUTED the head flight attendant, then dropped into his seat, wincing when the jolt threatened to scramble his furry brain. He felt as if he was forgetting something, but the answer hovered on the fringe of his memory, eluding him. His neck suddenly felt rubbery. Laying his head back, he closed his eyes and slowly reached up to pat the wallet in his breast pocket. That wasn’t it. Hmm, what then?
    â€œEx-schuse me,” came a loud female voice. He opened his eyes a millimeter and Pamela Kaminski slowly came into focus, just as her purse whacked some poor businessman upside the head. “Sorry, sweetie.” She leaned over to place an apologetic kiss on the man’s receding hairline.
    Alan smiled and tried to snap his fingers, but missed. Pamela! He’d forgotten Pamela.
    â€œThere you are!” Pamela said, her eyes glassy. “When I came out of the ladies’ room, you’d disappeared. Thank God, my middle name is Jo. Then all I had to do was convince a woman at the gate that the last name on my license and the name on the ticket were different because I’d just gotten married.” She giggled. “Whew!” She swung into the seat next to Alan, then leaned against him and squealed. “I’ve never flown first-class before.”
    â€œUnlimited drinks,” he informed her; rolling his head.
    Her grin was lopsided. “No fooling? I’m up for another pitcher.”
    â€œYou’ll have to settle for one drink at a time—and they don’t serve margaritas.”
    She pouted, sighing at the inconvenience, then noisily fumbled with her seat belt until Alan lifted his head and offered to help. “It’s twisted,” he announced, reaching across her lap to straighten the strap. The chiffon ruffles at her plunging neckline tickled his jaw. He valiantly tried to concentrate on the silver buclde, but his eyes kept straying to her cleavage. The tiny embroidered rose front and center on her black bra made an appearance every time she inhaled. After three clumsy attempts, he finally clicked the belt together, then settled back into his seat heavily.
    The flight attendant eyed them warily when they ordered bourbon and water, but served them promptly enough. They finished the weak drinks before takeoff, and Alan found himself beginning to doze as they taxied down the runway. An iron grip on his arm startled him fully awake.
    Pamela’s left hand encircled his right wrist so tightly her knuckles were white. Her long peach-colored nails were biting into his flesh. And her face was turning as green as the many limes they’d sucked dry.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?”
    â€œRemember when I said I’d never flown first-class?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWell, I’ve never flown before, period.”
    â€œNo kidding? Why not?”
    â€œI just