Madeleine Wakes (A Wife-Watching Romance): Book One of the Madeleine Trilogy Read online

  Was it dangerous for her to continue flirting with him? Not only physically, but since he was her boss? She’d go too far one day, and then if she ever stopped him, told him no, he might decide he could tolerate her coquettish attitude in the store no longer.

  By that time, if that time came, Madeleine would have pulled clear of her depression, and established enough of a resurgent resumé to quickly find something else.

  Of course, the other question was whether time and familiarity, perhaps along with an after-work drink here, or a late-night shift there, would actually weaken Madeleine’s resolve to say no at all when the time came. That was the issue that really made Hugo’s heart flutter.

  When Madeleine came home, Hugo already knew he didn’t have the energy to start a Big Conversation about everything that was on his mind. No, far better to wait until their anniversary, when the usual dinner conversation might provide the one-on-one focus needed to get everything he was feeling out in the open.

  When Madeleine came home, she was also far too bubbly and cheerful for her husband to want to risk starting a We-Have-To-Talk heavy discussion.

  She came in for a hug, swamping him with that sexy cherry-vanilla scent of hers, something he recalled from their earliest dating days, but which hadn’t surfaced since. Strangely, he found himself edging his hips back, so she couldn’t feel his hardness pressing against her. Maybe that therapist was right, if that was what she’d said. Maybe he wasn’t ready.

  He’d be ready after their anniversary dinner.

  “What is it?” he laughed. “I mean, I know we haven’t seen each other since morning, but...”

  “The guys from head office said yes!” she exclaimed, as though he knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “That’s great, honey!”

  “They want us to try the first one a week next Thursday.”

  “First one?” he couldn’t conceal his ignorance much further.

  “You know, my book-signing event. Well, it’s not really just a book signing, really more like an author workshop.”

  “Fantastic. And you came up with that?”

  “I pitched it to Fabian, and he contacted head office,” she said, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s what they came down to talk to us about, you know?”

  “The big meeting. Well, it all sounds absolutely awesome, hon.”

  He was genuinely pleased that she was achieving things with her new job, that they were taking her ideas seriously at the store. Something about what she said triggered some small alarm inside his head... but he couldn’t quite figure out what... Ah.

  “You do realize next Thursday’s our five-year anniversary?”

  She paused, and he saw surprise passing through her face that she’d forgotten the importance of the date. Usually it was him that forgot these things.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said, her eyes widening at her marital faux pas. “Would you be heart-broken if we did something another time? Call that our anniversary? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  He’d shrugged and said of course, no problem. It would give him a little more time, perhaps, to prepare what he needed to say to her to get all this baggage out once and for all.

  “It’s kind of too late to move the event now,” she said. “The publicity’s gone out...”

  “Of course,” Hugo said, sounding a touch more dejected than he meant to, in order to try to emphasize the point that this year it was her forgetting their important date, not him.

  Madeleine took his response as straightforward disappointment for her forgetting the date. “I swear, we’ll do something really nice instead—weekend after, right?”

  “Sure,” he said. “It’ll be nice.”

  Now that he thought about it, he was quietly pleased they were missing their anniversary for another reason—because Madeleine was organizing an event, thinking outside the box, making the most of her first step back into the employment pool.

  He was seriously proud of her.

  “You want me to come on Thursday?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to,” she said. He couldn’t quite read whether she really wanted him to attend, but didn’t want to force him, or if she was subtly trying to encourage him not to attend because it was the first of these events and she would be nervous.

  “I’ll see what my schedule looks like,” he said, keeping his tone noncommittal.

  “It’ll be kind of like a trial one, this one, so probably a little rough ‘round the edges anyway.”

  Hugo nodded, smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it will be really good.”

  He’d be more than a little out of his depth at a book-signing event, anyway. Mixing with people who probably knew who the author was, and expected him to as well. He was fairly sure it would be one less element of stress for her during the event if her husband wasn’t there, and on deciding not to go to this one, he saw a note of relief in her understanding smile. Maybe it was best for both of them if he gave it a miss.

  “I’ll come to the next one,” he said, and she gave him the kind of expression that instantly told him he’d taken the right approach.

  That night, he stayed awake long into the small hours, reviewing and re-reviewing the sight of his pretty wife batting her eyelids at that tall man at the checkout desk. Was he Fabian, the man she had pitched her idea to, who had the hotline to head office to make these things happen just like that? No wonder she had eyes for him.

  He half wondered if she might feel so good from her success, not to mention her day’s brush with the tall Latino guy, she might get up in the middle of the night once again to relieve her pressure in that most beautiful of ways.

  He wanted to see Madeleine tearing off her clothes, he wanted to see her pleasuring herself in the way he wanted to with her, but for some reason could not. Did he also want to judge whether she might be thinking about Fabian while she did so?

  Whatever, she remained asleep that night, and the few nights after that.

  *

  Thursday, the night of her event. He didn’t mind staying home once he’d returned from work on that particular night. Putting his feet up, tucking into a Domino’s pizza in front of Mad Men—it turned out to be a very relaxing and enjoyable anniversary evening, with the notable exception that Madeleine wasn’t there.

  Sitting in front of the TV, he felt a contented buzz at the knowledge that his smart, beautiful wife was out there achieving things all evening. Handling authors, fans, and no doubt doing it brilliantly. Maybe she would discover a new niche, something she could really excel in, give herself a real sense of self worth.

  At 9 o’clock, he received a text message from her to let him know it had all gone well.

  > I’m going out for a few drinks with the guys once we’re all finished up here—is that okay?

  > Of course, sweetie—have fun!

  A few drinks with her co-workers—that was great. You didn’t go out for drinks after an event unless it really went well, surely. Did she want him to go along with her, though? She hadn’t mentioned it specifically. Hugo hadn’t met her co-workers yet. It seemed too late in the evening to start just now.

  He added another line to his text message:

  > I’ll probably leave you to it—I need some decent sleep before tomorrow.

  It wasn’t actually a lie that he needed sleep. Sure, he was lazy not going out and meeting her new friends, but it was still early days. Still more important for her to bond with them than for her husband to show up having missed her big event.

  > Sure, honey—we’re in the Irish pub on Waverly if you change your mind!

  Well, that made him feel a little more included. Nevertheless, he sent a final missive:

  > Have a great time, sweetie, even if I’m not there!

  Only as he was getting ready for bed did he start wondering what the chances were that Madeleine’s crush might have attended her book signing event. Well, she did see him in the bookstore, he knew that much. Maybe t
hey’d all gone on to the Irish bar where Madeleine could actively flirt with him.

  Each time his thoughts ran in that direction, Hugo felt mild jealousy tugging on his heart—but each time he told himself Madeleine would be too busy that evening to flirt with her mystery man, and if it did happen, there was no way she’d take it too far.

  *

  Actually, when it came down to it, his body slumped as soon as he hit the pillows, so he hadn’t been lying to her about his need for decent sleep. It didn’t last all night, however.

  At some point after midnight, he wasn’t sure when, he heard the scratches of a semi-drunken Madeleine trying to get the key into the lock of their front door. Then he heard her stumble into the apartment.

  He looked over at the alarm clock. Two o’clock. Impressive that she’d stayed out so late.

  Hugo felt the need to feign sleep, in case it was obvious that he had been simply too lazy to go down to the Irish pub to meet her new friends and celebrate the evening’s success.

  Through the open bedroom door, he could see her stumble a little as she went into the kitchen area to fetch herself a drink of water. The effects of the alcohol inside her. It warmed Hugo—she’d clearly had a good time.

  “God no. Not at all.”

  She appeared to be speaking to somebody on her cell phone again. He could hear her voice surprisingly clearly—but then the apartment really wasn’t that big. This bedroom and the living room together were probably the same size as a normal room for a normal apartment in a city in which it didn’t cost the earth to live.

  Her words slurred slightly, but her tone suggested to Hugo that she assumed her husband was both asleep and unlikely to wake from her conversation.

  “I might have done… no, it wasn’t like that,” she was saying to the person on the other end of the line.

  This late at night, Hugo was willing to gamble a major internal organ that she was talking to Lucy again.

  He played dead as Madeleine appeared at the bedroom door, peering into the gloom to check on him. She looked so wonderfully fuckable, even if he was a little sexually frustrated.

  “...Oh, you should have seen him, Luce...”

  Hugo’s ears pricked up at confirmation that she was talking to Lucy, and the words and tone that indicated that Madeleine was discussing things she did not want her husband to know.

  “...God, he made me feel all funny inside...”

  Hugo felt all funny inside to hear her say that.

  Madeleine stepped back from the bedroom door, apparently satisfied her husband was asleep, that as usual he was not going to be woken until the morning.

  “Don’t… I have to get some sleep tonight!”

  As she withdrew into the living room, Hugo found himself slipping silently out of bed, moving like a sniper to the edge of the doorway. Then, he was back out there in the little hallway, feeling vulnerable though the shadows concealed him. He had a perfect vantage point from which to watch his stunning wife as she stood in front of the living room windows, checking out the neighborhood while she spoke to her friend on the phone.

  She was still glowing from her evening’s triumph, and he already knew the whole thing had been a triumph from the cheery tone of her voice and the light in her eyes.

  Was it his imagination, or was her hair just a little blonder than it had been for years? Touching up the highlights for the benefit of flirting with other men.

  “You always did go for the tall dark strangers.”

  “Shut up.”

  Out there in the apparent privacy of the living room, Madeleine had put Lucy on speakerphone—Hugo could hear her, quietly, on the other end of the line.

  “Hey it’s not cheating if you’re just thinking about it, right?”

  Hugo felt his heart skip a beat. What was Lucy talking about?

  Madeleine’s pretty face crinkled as she hissed into the phone: “Seriously, I told you not to say that—I’d never cheat on him.”

  Hugo caught his breath. What was his wife talking about using words like that? Suddenly, he felt his heart pulsating in his chest, he almost wondered if Madeleine might hear it.

  “But you are thinking about it.”

  “Lucy!”

  Despite her protest as she now walked further toward the windows, Hugo saw one of her hands slip delicately into the button-down opening of her white blouse, and then she appeared to be cupping one of her breasts.

  Hugo held his breath.

  She was quietly coaxing one of her breasts—he could see her fingers under the material of her shirt teasing her nipple. Was he going to witness another of her secret shows?

  Lucy said through the phone: “Well a girl has a right to a sex life—even if she’s married. Especially if she’s married.”

  “I have one,” Madeleine said, and Hugo wondered why his wife felt the need to lie to her friend. “We just hit a dry spell.”

  Hugo felt the sharp, cold fingers of despair clutching at his heart from the reminder that they hadn’t actually had sex for weeks. Months, even. God, when had the last time actually been? In Boston before they’d even moved?

  “And right there is why I am never getting married. So what is he like?”

  “Oh God—don’t!”

  “Could you see if he’s hung?”

  “Lucy, Jesus! Okay, I really have to go. We’ll end up waking Hugo up.”

  “You should show him what he’s been missing all night.”

  “I have to go, Luce…”

  “You can think of your new hottie as you’re showing him…”

  “Goodbye.”

  Madeleine smiled and shook her head at her best friend and Maid of Honor as she hung up.

  Hugo now found himself regretting not making it to Madeleine’s little post event celebration. His chest quivered, feeling as though someone had their fingers curled around his heart and was now squeezing. What had happened? Was his sexually unsatisfied wife pursuing another man?

  He breathed. Tried to remain calm. Madeleine had said clearly that she wouldn’t cheat. She’d never do that. But she’d never actually denied thinking about it.

  Seven

  Hugo felt his stomach burning. The idea of Madeleine having a crush on someone kept at a safe distance was one thing, but for her to actually meet him, get to know him, flirt with him at a real life event—at which her husband had been absent—that seemed like a whole different ball game.

  Or was he annoyed at himself for failing to attend an event at which Madeleine’s new crush had been present? Missing out on the spectacle of her interaction with someone she actively fantasized about?

  He knew Lucy was probably just toying with her friend, looking for idle but irresistible gossip that probably wasn’t there. He had to ignore it. But it was hard to ignore as he watched his wife standing in front of the windows, smiling wistfully, gazing off into the distance with a mysterious glint in her eyes.

  Could she see whichever college student had caught her fancy? Or was she dreaming about her boss, that tall Latino?

  Slowly, almost as though it was her subconscious controlling her, he watched as Madeleine’s thumbs slipped into the waistband of her smart suit skirt, and right in front of those wide open windows, she was sliding the garment down over her beautifully round behind, revealing the tiny pale fishtail of her white cotton thong panties, and the smooth flesh of her shapely rear.

  She closed the blinds almost completely, just enough so that she could see out. So she wasn’t actually an exhibitionist. But the way she was standing there in just her shirt and the kind of sexy little panties she hadn’t worn since their dating days, she seemed to be thinking about it. Was that a fantasy, too?

  In the same way that he’d never thought his wife would ever had eyes for another man, he sure as hell never thought she’d sit in a window fantasizing about showing off her naked body in public. What mysteries she’d kept from him all that time.

  Perched on the window seat, in what seemed to be her regular plac
e for this kind of thing, Madeleine hesitated a moment or two, as though deciding whether or not to proceed. Could she see anyone out there? Had anyone spotted her? Hugo could not see from where he lurked. He felt his manhood tingling between his legs. Was his wife really about to offer another little glimpse into her fantasy world?

  Hugo was nearly beside himself with excitement as she leaned back against the wall. He had to keep himself calm, stop himself from overreacting to the thrilling exposure of her sexuality.

  Madeleine looked over to the windows again as she began running her fingers lightly over her body, over the rise of her chest and across her bare midriff. He got the impression she was considering whether she truly was as bold as her fantasies, whether she was actually able to do this in front of a wide open window, so that anybody could see.

  Her hand flowed over her stomach and then down between her legs, and she turned her head away from the window, her eyes closing as her fingers began to stroke her mound through her thin white cotton panties. Her breathing was so deep, and he could hear it perfectly across the small apartment—the silky sounds were so sexy, more beautiful than the sweetest melody.

  While one hand slipped a breast out of her bra, her other hand nudged aside her panties to find contact with her bare pussy.

  As she touched herself, her hips stirred, her body undulating with the rhythm of her desire. Hugo was transfixed—her movements had such innate grace, such flowing elegance.

  Madeleine glanced up toward the windows again, and he saw a mischievous grin spread across her face, that devilish part of her that her husband barely knew existed, now delighting in the possibility that someone out there could see her.

  Hugo found himself wishing he could be over there across the street, even just for an evening, to see what someone in one of those apartments might see assuming the blinds were no barrier. The perspective from the true audience for his wife’s display.

  Hugo drew in a sudden breath as Madeleine twisted her hips, so that her pink flower was suddenly exposed to him, though hidden from the windows. There were perks to being here, rather than across the street, after all. Her fingers slid into her groove, tracing out the shape of her pussy.