Mad River Road by Joy Fielding Read Free Book Online Page B

trailing its way between her naked breasts, her breathing labored and unsteady. “Damn,” she muttered, pushing her hair away from her forehead and trying to reconnect with both her surroundings and reality. Her surroundings were easy: she was in her apartment, in her tiny bedroom, in her king-size bed. Her reality was harder to accept: she was a twenty-nine-year-old woman in a dead-end job, with an ex-husband in Atlanta, a married lover in the hospital, and a virtual stranger in her bed.
    Except that Brad Fisher was no longer beside her, she realized, coming fully awake, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Had she dreamed the handsome stranger as well?
    The throbbing between her legs quickly convinced her he’d been real, as did the dent in the pillow where Brad’s head had been. “Damn,” she said again, straining to hear sounds of him coming from another room, then burying her face in her hands, knowing he was gone. On the one hand, she was relieved he wasn’t there. At least now she wouldn’t have to contend with the moments of awkward silence, the fake promises to get together again soon, the painful kiss on the forehead as he hurried out the door. He’d spared them that. She should be grateful. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel abandoned, used, and even a bit abused. Again. “Don’t be silly,” she told herself. You were using Brad Fisher every bit as much as he was using you. What’s the old saying? The best way to get over one man is by getting under a new one? Surely she hadn’t expected a one-night stand to turn into a lifetime of devotion.
    Except that, deep down, that was exactly what she’d been expecting.
    Jamie wondered at what precise moment Brad had crept out of her bed and out of her life. Had he left as soon as she was safely asleep, or had he allowed himself the luxury of a few hours slumber before making his escape? He got what he came for, after all. The dearly departed indeed, she thought with an audible sigh, her dream relegated to an unpleasant blur that hovered just out of her mind’s reach. Still, it would have been nice if he’d at least hung around long enough to wish her a nice day, she decided, glancing at the clock beside the bed. 8:15. “Oh, no!” she exclaimed as the bright red numbers on the digital clock registered on her brain. “It’s eight-fifteen,” she shouted to the empty room, knowing that no matter how quickly she showered and dressed, no matter how fast she drove, no matter how many excuses she prepared, she would be late for work, and Mrs. Starkey would be furious.
    “You are such an idiot,” she said, her sister’s wagging finger following her into the bathroom. “You couldn’t even remember to set the alarm clock.”
    I was a little busy, Jamie thought, suppressing a smile as she stepped into the shower and turned on the tap, positioning herself directly underneath the nozzle and opening her mouth to the sudden torrent of hot water. “You are such an idiot,” she repeated, the words riding the water out of her mouth as Brad’s invisible hands slid the soap across her body, his fingers lingering on her breasts and belly before disappearing into the folds between her legs. God, did he have to be so damn good? she wondered, emerging from the shower seconds later and rubbing herself almost raw with a large yellow towel, trying to erase the memory of his touch. Too good to betrue, she reminded herself as she brushed her teeth and hair, then threw on the first things she saw in her closet, which she realized too late were the same navy skirt and powder blue blouse she’d worn to work the day before.
    When something seems too good to be true, it usually is
, her sister recited as Jamie stuffed a piece of cold, leftover pizza into her mouth and rushed for the door.
    No makeup?
her mother asked.
    Jamie ran down the concrete steps to the parking lot behind the three-story building, surreptitiously checking the lot for Brad’s car, although she