"I was thinking." Luz took the cup and saucer her mother pa.s.sed to her.

"Thinking or sulking?" Audra filled the second cup.

"Thinking," she repeated firmly, and stirred a spoonful of crystallized brown sugar into her tea.

"About what? Are you and Drew having problems?" Shrewd dark eyes studied her with a wondering look.

"We're getting along fine. Why would you ask that?" It was a subject that made Luz defensive.

"All couples have problems at one time or another. It's part of marriage. And I know his law practice has been taking a great deal of his time lately. It's natural that you might feel slighted."

"Well, I don't," she insisted. "That isn't the problem. Not directly, anyway." She was reluctant to confide in her mother, but Audra had a way of ferreting out information.

"Why don't you tell me what it is? I may not be able to help, but sometimes it's enough just to talk a problem out." She settled deeper into her chair, her shoulders squared and her back straight, one hand holding the teacup and the other the saucer.

"It isn't anything earth-shattering." Luz attempted to diminish its importance. "Now that Trisha and Rob are grown, it's only a matter of a year or two before they'll be living away from home permanently. So I need to decide what I'm going to do with my time. I can't continue to do nothing all day while Drew works."

"It seems to me that you have plenty to do." Audra frowned. "You're involved in so many activities now-"

"I'm not talking about social clubs or local charity organizations," she interrupted impatiently. "I want to do something that matters. Sheila Cosgrove has that smart little dress shop and Billi Rae Townsend has opened an art gallery."

"What nonsense is this?" her mother demanded.

"I should have known you wouldn't understand." Luz pushed out of the chair and stiffly crossed to the gla.s.s-paned wall looking out to the ocean.

"Perhaps you would care to explain exactly what it is that I don't understand." The command was calmly issued, but a command all the same.

"That I want to do something with my life."

"Something that matters," Audra said, repeating the phrase Luz had used earlier. "And you believe that expensive boutiques and art galleries matter?"

"Yes." She thrust her hands into the deep pockets of her gored skirt, doubling them into fists, and hunched her shoulders, fully expecting to hear a lecture on manners. Sometimes it seemed they never talked as one adult to another, always mother to daughter instead. "Although I'm certain you don't believe I'm intelligent enough to operate a business of my own."

"Now that is not true." The teacup rattled in its saucer as the pair were firmly placed on the table. "You are a very capable woman, a good manager and excellent organizer. Your household is smoothly and efficiently run. No small credit goes to your a.s.sistant, Mrs. Sanderson, but I'm also aware that you closely supervise everything yourself." Luz slowly turned to face her mother, stunned to hear such praise coming from her lips. "And how many social functions and benefits have you successfully organized? I couldn't begin to count them myself. I may be old, Luz, but I'm not blind."

"You've always treated me-"

"-as a mother treats a child," she admitted freely. "Surely you have learned by now that in a mother's eyes, a child never grows up. You never see them as quite ready to leave home, or to marry, or to have children."

"I suppose not." But Luz was still slightly dazed by what she was hearing.

"And as for doing something that matters, what could possibly matter more than your family?" Audra demanded. "Simply because your children are grown does not mean that they will stop having problems-that they won't continue to need you. What about when your grandchildren are born? Don't you want to be there when they come into the world? How can you do that if you're running a business? Luz, you are the anchor pin that holds the family together. Without you, they'll drift apart. They'll lose the closeness that made them special. It's the family that matters, Luz. The family."

She shook her head slowly as she was drawn back to the table. "I wonder if I'll ever know you, Audra."

"I'm your mother. It isn't important for you to know me. And you'd do well to remember that. Now sit down and drink your tea before it gets cold," she admonished.

Smiling, Luz did as she was told.

Halfway home from her mother's, it stopped raining and a spray of sunlight glinted through a break in the clouds. The smile she'd been wearing for most of the drive was still on her face when she pulled in front of her Spanish-styled home. She left the car parked by the steps and glided up the two steps to the carved entrance door.

"Emma!" she called cheerfully as she swung into the foyer. "I'm home. Have there been any phone calls?"

The day's mail was stacked on the side table in the foyer. Luz stopped to sort through it, skipping the various bills and invoices in her search for a letter from Rob or Trisha. At the bottom of the stack was a slim brown package, addressed to her.

Curious, she picked it up and glanced at the return address, conscious of Emma's footsteps coming from the dining room. The package came from the hotel in New York where they always stayed. Wondering what it contained, Luz hooked a finger under a folded end of the brown paper and ripped it loose from the packing tape. Inside was a slim box.

"How was lunch?"

Luz half turned at the question, smiling absently at her plump gray-haired secretary, while she finished pulling the paper away from the box. "Actually, it was more enjoyable than I expected. Any calls?"

"Mrs. Randolph phoned to remind you of the luncheon meeting next Tuesday. I a.s.sured her that it was listed in your appointment book. She asked you to call her later so she could discuss the order of the meeting with you."

Luz lifted the lid of the box. Tissue paper rustled softly as she pushed it aside to reveal the contents. A folded letter lay atop a silky black garment trimmed in black lace. It looked like a teddy. With a bewildered frown, Luz flipped open the letter. Emma was still talking, but Luz was no longer listening as she quickly scanned the typed note, then read it again, more slowly.

Dear Mrs. Thomas, Enclosed is an item of lingerie one of our maids found when she cleaned your suite after your recent visit to New York. We took the liberty of having it laundered before returning it to you and hope this delay hasn't caused you any inconvenience.

We appreciate your patronage.

Respectfully yours, A signature was scribbled across the bottom. Luz glanced at the black undergarment again and lifted an edge of the black bodice. It didn't belong to her. She didn't own any black lingerie.

"Is something wrong, Luz?" Emma's question finally penetrated her consciousness.

Something stopped Luz from saying there had been some mistake. "No, of course not." She quickly put the lid back on the box. "Did you say Drew called?" She had a vague recollection of his name being mentioned.

"Yes." Emma eyed her uncertainly, not fully believing that nothing was bothering Luz. No matter how long and closely they had worked together there was still that fine line between employer and employee, and Emma didn't cross it. "He called to say he'd be a little late and suggested that you plan to serve dinner at eight."

"Thank you." She moved away from the foyer table, clutching the box in her hands. "See to the rest of the mail, will you, Emma?" She walked to the stairs.

"What about Mrs. Randolph?" Emma asked as Luz's hand gripped the banister. There was a pounding in her head. "She wanted you to call."

"Later," Luz replied without even turning her head, and climbed the long set of steps to the second floor.

Upon entering the master suite, she closed the door behind her. Quick, reaching strides carried her to the loveseat in front of the tiled fireplace. She removed the letter, put the box and its wrapping paper on the coffee table, then turned to the telephone sitting on the end table. She dialed the number listed on the hotel's letterhead. She had to find out whether there'd been some mistake before her imagination ran rampant.

"Yes, this is Mrs. Drew Thomas calling from Florida. I would like to speak to-" Luz paused to glance at the signature in the letter. "To Mrs. Nash."

"Would you hold one moment, please?"

"Yes." But it seemed much longer than that before a woman's voice identified herself as Mrs. Nash. "I'm Mrs. Thomas ... Mrs. Drew Thomas," Luz began.

"Yes, Mrs. Thomas. I've been expecting your call. We found the undergarment you left when you were here two weeks ago. It has been mailed. You should be receiving the package any day now."

"I ... I wasn't aware I had left anything. Are you certain it's mine?" Her fingers were gripping the receiver so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

"I'm quite sure. As a matter of fact, our maid called us from your suite when she found it to ask what she should do. We decided it would be best to have it cleaned and sent to you in Florida." The woman began to sound worried. "It was a black silk teddy with a lace bodice."

"Really." Luz glanced at the offensive garment in the box, aware of the brittle quality in her voice. "I hadn't even missed it." She shut her eyes, trying to block out the first splinters of pain. "Where did she find it?"

"I believe she said it was between the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed. Which is probably why you didn't see it when you packed."

"Yes... Thank you, Mrs. Nash." She pushed the receiver onto the cradle.

She felt sick inside and hugged her arms about her middle, her body rocking slightly in pain. Tears started running down her cheeks, their taste wet and salty on her lips. Her mind seemed numbed by the shattering discovery, but somehow she knew that wouldn't last.

CHAPTER VIII.

By the time Drew arrived home that evening, late as usual, her pain had given way to an anger that moved from raging hot to icy cold, and back again. Luz stood facing the French doors that opened off their private sitting room onto a sun deck. The darkness outside gave the gla.s.s panes a mirrorlike quality. She stared at her reflection, seeing the ravages the tears had wrought, and smoothed the straggly ends of her blond hair into place to repair some of the damage before Drew saw her. There was nothing she could do about the puffiness around her eyes that made the tiny age lines more noticeable. Luz stiffened when the door opened and Drew breezed into the sitting room. She didn't turn around, keeping her back to him.

"Emma said you were up here. Sorry I'm late." His reflection approached hers in the mirroring panes. "It'll only take me a minute to wash up, then we can go down to dinner. How was your day?"

The touch of his hands on her shoulders felt revolting, and the thought of his lips against her cheek was equally repugnant. Luz moved out of his hold before he could kiss her, conscious of his startled reaction.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he chided.

She swung around to face him, her arms crossed while her hands agitatedly rubbed the taut muscles of her upper arms. "That ... came in the mail today." With a nod of her head, she indicated the unwrapped package on the coffee table.

Puzzled, Drew glanced at the box, then back at her, but Luz knew her expression was too frozen to tell him anything. At the moment, she felt very cold and very hard. He hesitated, then walked over for a closer look. She watched him part the folds of the tissue paper and had the satisfaction of seeing him visibly blanch at the sight of the lace teddy. Something flickered in his eyes when he glanced at her, and Luz guessed that he was wondering where she got it and how much she knew.

"Maybe you should read the letter," she said, drawing his attention to the folded sheet of printed stationery near the package.

He scanned it as quickly as she had, but he seemed better prepared for the contents than she had been and didn't have to reread it. "There must be some mistake," he insisted, but she wasn't about to be bluffed that easily.

"There is no mistake, Drew. I called them myself this afternoon. It seems that frothy piece of silk was found buried in the sheets at the foot of the bed. It obviously isn't mine. I wasn't there, and I don't own anything that even remotely resembles that. So whose is it, Drew?"

He wouldn't look at her. "It was a mistake, Luz."

"You're d.a.m.ned right it was a mistake!" Her anger turned hot. "Who was with you? As if I don't already know. A hooker off the street wouldn't wear something like that. And you can't convince me it was some high-priced call girl. A professional wouldn't leave something like that behind. So whose is it?"

"I don't see the point in answering that," he stated. "I'm the one in the wrong."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Her voice trembled close to a shout. "Acting so d.a.m.ned n.o.ble to protect that b.i.t.c.h! You don't want her dragged into all this, do you? Are you afraid it might hurt her reputation, ruin her good name? I'm your wife! But you don't give a d.a.m.n about that, do you?"

"Luz, stop it." Drew tried to quiet her. "You have a right to be angry and upset over this, but there is no need to inform the entire neighborhood."

"Then tell me. I want to know whom you were with," she demanded in a not much gentler tone.

"What good would it do to know?" he countered with his insufferable logic. "She's innocent of any blame in this."

"Innocent!" Luz exploded. "I can just bet how innocent she is. And if you won't say her name, I will. Claudia."

"There you go again with those jealous suspicions of her." His continued refusal to admit she was involved drove Luz to the telephone. "What are you doing?" Drew grabbed her arm as she picked up the receiver.

"I'm calling your precious Claudia to see what she has to say about all this." She dialed information. "Claudia Baines, residence number, please."

Drew depressed the switch hook within the cradle, breaking the connection. "Don't make a fool of yourself, Luz."

"You've already done that for me, so I have nothing to lose and everything to gain." Her gaze locked with his.

"But what would you gain?" he argued.

"The satisfaction of knowing I'm right." She stared him down. A second later, he swung away from her, his head bowing in mute defeat.

"All right."

"All right what?" Luz wouldn't let him off the hook with that mute admission. She wanted to hear him say it.

"All right. It was Claudia," he impatiently shot back, and she felt physically sick. "I never wanted it to happen."

"And Adam never wanted to take a bite from the apple Eve offered him," she mocked sarcastically. "Am I supposed to believe that?"

"I didn't take her to New York with the intention of going to bed with her. It just happened," Drew insisted. "I swear to you, Luz, I never meant to hurt you. I love you."

But they were just words, and he'd already shown her how little they meant to him. "How could you do it, Drew? Of all people, why did it have to be her?" Luz wasn't conscious of thinking out loud.

"I don't know if I can explain the attraction I feel." Drew sat down heavily on the loveseat and combed his fingers through his hair. "She makes me feel young. She's fun to be with-and a joy to talk to. And I suppose I'm flattered, too, that she finds me attractive."

"The quickest way to a man's heart is through his ego," Luz said snidely. "And you have enough ego for two men. Can't you see she's just using you? What better way to leap ahead than to become the senior partner's mistress?"

"She isn't like that. You don't know her the way I do."

It hurt to hear him defend her, and she lashed out in response. "No, I don't. But I'm sure what you didn't know about her before you found out when you were in bed. Tell me, Drew, did you enjoy it? Maybe I should take lessons from her. Would you like that?"

"Stop it, Luz," he muttered.

"Come, come, Drew," she mocked. "Don't tell me you wouldn't enjoy a menage trois?"

"Dammit, Luz, that's enough." He came to his feet and crossed the few steps to the fireplace, half turning his back to her. "You're making it all sound sordid and cheap."

"But that's the way I feel!" The pain was in her throat, making it raw. "I feel cheap and used-humiliated. When I think of that night at the restaurant-sitting at the table with her-with both of you ..." She couldn't finish the thought.

It was something that almost defied description. Drew and Claudia were lovers and they shared that secret. Drew had betrayed her and never let on. That night he had even made love to her. Looking back, she felt like such a fool. And now Claudia knew things about him, intimate things that only a wife should know. Somehow that knowledge debased Luz. She knew she would never be able to look that woman in the eye again without remembering Drew had lain naked in her arms. All in one blow, she seemed to lose her honor, her self-respect, and her pride.

"Luz, I'm sorry. How many times in how many ways do I have to say it?" The sincerity in his plea made an impression on her.

The anger drained back into its well, leaving her emotionally flattened when she looked at him. "What happens next, Drew?" she asked in a colorless voice.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Are you going to see her again?" Her glance absently took in the silver-tufted mane of his dark hair, the distinctive cleft in his chin, and the masculine contours of his features. Handsome, intelligent-he was all those things-but her trust in him was gone. Without it, he didn't seem to be much of a man.