Hot-Blooded. Karen Foley

in mock sadness. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

      Elena dabbed her mouth with her linen napkin before folding it neatly beside her plate, silently counting to ten. She refused to be baited.

      “I don’t feel as if I’m settling,” she finally said, hoping that she sounded convincing. “And not everyone wants that kind of excitement in their life, Carmen. I’ve watched what great passion has done to Mom and Dad, and even to you.” She fished in her pocketbook for some money and carefully placed several bills on the table. “I don’t want that kind of chaos in my life. Larry is kind and considerate and I always know exactly what to expect from him. I’m happy with what I have.” Seeing the disbelief on her sister’s face, she stood up. “Really, I am. Look, I have to go. Thanks for lunch. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

      As she walked to her car, Elena refused to feel guilty for prematurely ending their lunch. The whole thing was Carmen’s fault, anyway. It seemed every time they got together, the conversation turned to Elena’s love life. Neither of her two sisters could understand Larry’s appeal, but they didn’t know him the way Elena did. Admittedly, he wasn’t adventurous in bed, but so what? Not everyone was into that kinky stuff, as Larry put it. And any therapist worth his salt would tell you that a successful relationship should be based on trust and mutual respect. Not sex.

      Never sex.

      All she had to do was look at her family for proof. Given the choice between a life of calm predictability or the blood-pounding, roof-raising drama that seemed to accompany her parents and her siblings wherever they went, Elena preferred the former.

      She always would.

      Even so, her sister’s words rankled, partly because Elena knew that on some level, they were true. But she’d chosen her path with careful deliberation. Sure, there were times when she felt that she was meant for something bigger and more exciting, but she simply had to spend time with her parents and sisters to remember exactly why she’d opted for the conventional life she now led.

      Her family might boast about the hot, Spanish blood that flowed through their veins, claiming it was the reason for their unpredictable and often volatile behavior, but Elena wanted no part of it. She’d watched her parents divorce and remarry each other twice; she’d spent countless nights with each of her sisters, lending both an ear and a shoulder as they’d wept and wailed about the failure of yet another relationship. Her younger sister, Sarita, actually enjoyed dating two, even three men at a time and then watching the fireworks when they found out about each other. That kind of excitement she could do without.

      Granted, Nick Belcastro seemed like a decent guy, and he was both gorgeous and financially independent, but Elena wondered how long he’d tolerate Carmen’s mood swings before he decided he’d had enough.

      Elena glanced at her watch as she pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. Nearly one-thirty. Was Larry still at the office? They had plans to go out to dinner and a movie later on, but Elena suddenly had an urge to see him, if only to reassure herself that he wasn’t as mediocre as Carmen claimed. She could picture him in his office, surrounded by papers, with his hair sticking up from where he’d combed his fingers through it in frustration. Deciding he could use a break, she swung the car in the direction of the federal building where they both worked. Even if he’d already left, there was some paperwork she could collect from her own office and bring home with her.

      Twenty minutes later, Elena passed through the security checkpoint and walked through the darkened corridors toward Larry’s office. The Defense Procurement Agency oversaw the purchase and delivery of goods and services for the military. Elena and Larry worked in the agency’s headquarters, an impressive four-story structure of limestone and sleek marble, located on the outskirts of Washington, D.C.

      After obtaining her law degree, Elena had spent the first few years of her career negotiating and administering contracts for the military, everything from nuts and bolts to major weapons systems. She was good at what she did. So good that she’d been offered a promotion to the DPA’s legal department, writing policy and procedure manuals for the agency’s contracting center. There was very little that Elena didn’t know about contracting, both from an administrative and a legal perspective.

      Her parents might be disappointed that she hadn’t chosen to use her law degree in litigation, but striding up and down a courtroom while making impassioned speeches to a judge and jury held little appeal for Elena. Nope, she enjoyed researching regulations and statutes, and then applying them to how the agency did business. She didn’t mind sitting through oversight meetings and briefing senior leadership on changes in federal procurement policy. She told herself yet again that what she did mattered. She was making a difference.

      Elena stopped briefly at the mailroom and checked her box, flipping through the assorted envelopes and papers for anything that might require her immediate attention. Most of the mail was routine correspondence, including a letter from the Director’s office requesting civilian volunteers—especially those with contracts and legal experience—to work in Iraq for six months, negotiating and monitoring the defense contracts there. According to the memo, such volunteer deployments were the agency’s number-one mission.

      Elena snorted. As if that would ever happen. This was the third such call for volunteers in as many months, and while most folks who did volunteer had only positive things to say about their deployment experience, Elena couldn’t imagine working in Iraq or Afghanistan. While she had an extensive background negotiating military contracts, the agency couldn’t pay her enough money to go over there. She disliked being hot, and having mortars lobbed at her wasn’t a huge incentive, either.

      Carrying her mail in one hand, she walked toward Larry’s office. His door was closed and she had a moment’s regret that she’d missed him, when she saw a shadow pass beneath the crack at the bottom. Just then, a crash sounded from behind the closed door and Elena heard Larry give a pained groan.

      “Larry!” She thrust the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall, and then she stood there, speechless at the sight that greeted her.

      Larry stood at the side of his desk with his pants and underwear crumpled around his ankles, his shirt open and flapping loosely around his pale buttocks and thighs. Sprawled facedown across his desk was a woman, her black skirt pushed up around her waist. Her legs were splayed wide, the stiletto heels on her shoes lending them extra length. Larry gripped the woman’s hips as she bent forward over the desk, thrusting himself into her. His head was thrown back and the cords in his neck stood out in a way that Elena had never seen when he’d been with her.

      The crash she’d heard had been Larry’s alabaster paperweight falling to the floor as the woman swept it from the surface of the desk in her frenzy. The paperweight Elena had given to him on Valentine’s Day last year.

      In the instant before they both turned toward her, Elena recognized the other woman as one of the new interns they’d hired in the legal department. Her reddish hair fell forward over her face, and her eyes were hazy with pleasure. Her full lips were parted and moist as she gripped the edges of the desk and arched her back to give Larry better access. When she raised herself to look toward the door, Elena saw her pink blouse was open at the front and her bra was pulled down below her breasts, which had left a damp mark on the glossy veneer of the desk.

      For a moment, the three of them stared at each other. Larry’s harsh breathing was the only sound that broke the stunned silence, until he muttered an oath and snatched himself from the woman’s body.

      Elena didn’t wait to see more. She turned on her heel and walked blindly back the way she’d come, unable to dispel the erotic images she’d just witnessed. She tried to recall when the woman—Claire—had first begun working at the agency. Five months ago, maybe? Six? How long had she and Larry been having an affair? Was this what he did every Saturday when he told her he was going into the office?

      “Elena, wait.”

      Larry trotted down the corridor after her, shoving his shirt into his waistband. Elena stopped and watched him approach, noting his flushed features and disheveled hair. She’d always thought