In Confidence. Karen Young

the woman to the crowded dining area. “I thought I’d surprise him.”

      “Of course,” the hostess murmured. Leaving Rachel to do just that, she turned her attention to the party of four waiting to be seated.

      Rachel moved just inside the dining room, scanned the crowd and was on the verge of leaving, thinking Ted must have changed his plans, when she spotted him at a table in the rear of the restaurant. His back was to the door, which explained why she’d almost missed him. Moving forward with a smile, she was almost upon him when she realized his lunch partner wasn’t the prospective internist for the practice, but a woman, one whom she recognized instantly. It was Francine, wife of Ted’s partner in the practice, Walter Dalton. What on earth…

      Neither had yet seen Rachel and her pace slowed, almost to a full stop. In a heartbeat, her pleasure in surprising Ted vanished. She watched in disbelief as he reached for Francine’s hand, closing his fingers around hers in a way that could only be described as intimate. Ted had not touched her that way for a long time. She saw Francine’s face go soft and flush with arousal when Ted brought her hand up for what Rachel could tell was a slow, sensual kiss on her palm.

      Rachel had stopped now, rooted in place with sheer surprise. She put her hand to her chest, felt her heart beating so hard that her head was filled with it, her ears rang with it. She could not see her husband’s face, but the look on Francine’s was unmistakable. Still, Rachel resisted what she was seeing. It could not be what it appeared.

      “Excuse me, ma’am.” A waiter burdened with a large tray paused, needing to thread the narrow space between the tables. With a murmured sound, Rachel shifted and let him pass. Then, drawing a deep, painful breath, she moved directly to Ted’s table and stopped. It was a beat or two before he became aware of her. His eyes went wide with shock and he flushed a ruddy crimson.

      “Surprise,” she said, and gripped the back of one of the unoccupied chairs before her knees gave way.

      “Rachel—” Dropping Francine’s hand, he made to rise clumsily, then had to grab at his wineglass to keep it from tipping over.

      “Is this a private party, or is there room for one more?” she said in a voice that wobbled a little.

      “It isn’t what you think,” Ted said.

      “Really.” She glanced from him to Francine and back again. “Then what is it, Ted?”

      Francine stood up, laid her napkin on the table and groped for a small Chanel handbag on the seat of the chair. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she said to Ted, and walked away without once looking at Rachel.

      “This is not the time or place, Rachel,” Ted said, with a warning look toward the other diners. A few nearby had picked up on the unfolding drama and were openly curious. Some watched with amusement, enjoying the show.

      “What is it if it isn’t what I think?” Rachel demanded in a low but fierce tone.

      Ted had his wallet in his hands now, pulling out cash. He dropped a number of twenties on the table and reached for her arm, intending to guide her out of the restaurant. “Rachel—”

      Rachel jerked away. “Don’t…touch me.” Lifting her chin, she turned on her heel and strode through the tables, mortified beyond anything that strangers had witnessed her humiliation. Her color high, she looked neither right nor left until she cleared the room. Now at the entrance, she pushed blindly at the double doors before Ted could assist her, desperate to breathe fresh air. She was aware that he said something to her before addressing the attendant who’d valet-parked his car, but she was intent only on escape. Almost running now, she sought the refuge of her car and dashed across the circular drive into the parking area. In her shocked state, however, she forgot where she had parked.

      She reversed direction suddenly and almost ran into Ted, who’d caught up with her. “What are you doing here?” he asked tersely.

      “Looking for my car.” Rooting through her handbag, she found her car keys and, in a panic, pushed the remote. Somewhere to her left, she heard the chirp of her vehicle.

      “I mean, what are you doing at this restaurant? How did you—”

      “Find you?” Heading for her car, she simply shook her head. “What does it matter, Ted?”

      “Were you following me?”

      She stopped then and looked at him. “I didn’t think until ten minutes ago that I had any reason to follow you, Ted.”

      He gave a sigh and, bending his head, began to rub a place between his eyes. Ted was prone to migraines and she suspected he’d be in real pain by nightfall. Come to think of it, his migraines had come more frequently in the past few months. She thought back rapidly—six months? Longer? “How long have you been seeing her?”

      “This is not the time, Rachel.”

      “How…long?” she repeated deliberately.

      “Awhile.”

      She felt a pain in her chest that was as sharp as if he’d actually struck her. He wasn’t denying it. Had she been thinking there was any other explanation for finding him in so compromising a situation?

      “We were planning to tell you soon,” he said, not meeting her eyes.

      “Tell me what? That you’re having an affair with the wife of your partner and friend in your practice? That you’ve decided to ignore the fact that you’re a married man? Were you going to tell me that you’ve broken the vows you took to be faithful?”

      It was midday and sunny. Overhead, the vast Texas sky was a surreal blue with stunning formations of soft white clouds. Ted’s brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he squinted upward. “I know it looks bad,” he said. “Francine and I—well, we didn’t plan for this to happen. We tried to fight it. We—”

      “You tried to fight it.” She gave him a look of disgust. “I didn’t see any sign of struggle when you swiped her palm with your tongue a few minutes ago. I haven’t noticed any battles with your conscience when you’ve made excuses to miss Nick’s ball games or Kendall’s recitals. And I’ll bet you haven’t fought the urge to hop into bed with her, either, right? So just what do you mean, you’ve tried to fight it, Ted?”

      “Would you keep your voice down, for God’s sake? We’re in a parking lot, Rachel. I know we’re going to have to talk about this, but not here, okay?” He drove his fingers through his expensively styled hair. She suddenly recalled finding the two-hundred-dollar charge on their American Express card at one of Dallas’s premier hair stylists. She’d teased him about it, as his hair was obviously thinning and she’d assumed it was simply male ego. Well, it was ego and a lot more, she knew now.

      She felt tears well up and she looked away quickly, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt. Through a haze, she saw Francine standing beneath the canopy at the entrance of the restaurant. She noted the trim black suit, the sleek, long legs made even more stunning by shoes with three-inch heels that had cost at least two hundred dollars. Rachel could afford to pay hundreds of dollars for a pair of shoes, too, but she felt there was something intrinsically…vulgar in such self-indulgence. Obviously, Francine felt no such reluctance.

      “Is there an internist from Baylor interested in joining the practice,” she asked quietly, “or was that a lie, too?”

      “He was interviewed last night.”

      She nodded, her gaze still fixed on Francine now being helped into Ted’s car by a valet. They were so comfortable in their illicit affair that they didn’t even bother coming in separate vehicles. Where did they meet in Rose Hill? she wondered. Had Ted found time when she was at school to screw Francine in their bed at home?

      She turned back and looked her husband in the eye. “Why, Ted?”

      “He’s qualified. He’s young. He’ll build up a nice patient base in no time flat.”

      “I’m not