The doorbell chimed and she checked her appearance once more. White cotton blouse with a red silk camisole underneath, skinny black leather jeans, and her two-inch-heel black ankle boots. Rarely in their seventeen-year marriage had Kevin complimented her on her looks or style. But she knew she looked good, so fuck him.
She rushed to open the front door.
‘Hello,’ the young man said. ‘Mrs O’Keeffe?’
Navy suit with brown shoes. Her pet hate, but she supposed it was the fashion.
‘Call me Marianne. Come in.’
His name tag swung from a lanyard around his neck. Aaron Frost. She had to admit he looked anything but frosty. Steaming hot, if she was honest.
‘The kitchen is the most comfortable place to have a chat,’ she said, leading him down the narrow hallway into the vast bright room with integrated appliances. In truth, she suspected Kevin had bugged the room where she worked. Paranoid? Maybe. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
‘A glass of cold water would be good. Caffeine makes me hyper.’ Aaron laughed. Marianne thought he sounded a bit nervous.
‘Tap water okay?’
‘Sure.’
She filled a glass. Kevin didn’t allow bottled water. Too much plastic ruins the environment, he’d said over and over again. As if he knew all about it. Kevin knew fuck all about anything but liked to give the impression he was an expert on everything.
‘Here, have a seat.’ She guided Aaron over to the centre island, and he pulled out a stool for her. So sweet.
‘Your house is beautiful. The extra-large bay windows at the front are very classy,’ he said. ‘New-build?’
‘It’s about eighteen or nineteen years old. I designed most of it with my father’s help.’ She didn’t need to tell him it was her father’s money too. ‘I had it painted and redecorated last year.’
He looked up at the wall. ‘Wow. Is that a sixty-two-inch?’
Marianne glanced at the flat-screen television. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she laughed.
He ran his hand over the counter top. ‘Granite?’
‘Quartz,’ she said, knowing he was impressed.
‘I can start straight away,’ he said, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his white shirt. Was she making him uncomfortable? She hoped not.
‘Have you worked with the company long?’ Small talk.
‘Er … I joined after I left college, years ago, when I was twenty-four.’
He didn’t look old enough to have finished school, let alone college, but she supposed he must be in his thirties.
‘Do you like your job?’
‘It’s okay.’ He gulped at his water. ‘Decent wage. But my degree is history and English. I want to teach at some stage.’
‘Why don’t you?’
He shifted uncomfortably on the stool. ‘Applied to a few schools, but when I didn’t even get called for interview, I knew I had to earn a living somehow. So here I am, doing house valuations for my father’s estate agency.’
‘Why could you not get an interview for teaching?’
‘You can’t get a teaching position without experience and you can’t get experience without a job.’
‘Catch twenty-two.’
‘I suppose.’
Gosh, but he was too sweet for words. Marianne leaned over and gave his hand a squeeze. His eyes flashed with something akin to horror. Was she really that old and horrible-looking? She was only thirty-eight, for feck’s sake. She pulled back and pointed to the folder on the table.
Aaron stood and slid a business card across the quartz counter. ‘I’ll leave this for you. Now, where do you want to start?’
Where indeed? Marianne smiled to herself. This was going to be fun.
She watched Aaron work for twenty minutes, measuring from wall to wall in every room, with an app on his phone and a beeping gadget in his hand. She saved her own room for last.
Leading the way across the plush carpet, she said, ‘And this is the master bedroom. Don’t mind the mess.’
There was no mess. There never was any mess in her luxurious home. And yes, it was her home, though Kevin liked to give the impression to anyone who cared to listen that he owned it. The title deeds were in her name. It was her one victory over him. He might think he controlled everything in her life, and she had to admit that he scared the shit out of her at times, but it came in handy to let him think she was a doormat.
‘Nice room. It’s so big,’ Aaron said, and his little machine beeped again. ‘Your house is amazing. It’s worth quite a lot of money. You’ll see once I have the valuation calculated. But there’ll be no problem selling it if that’s what you want.’
He’d taken off his suit jacket downstairs and rolled up his shirtsleeves. They’d settled into a friendly routine as they’d gone from room to room. She had offered to help, and he’d said he could manage. She could see his hands shaking as he held the two devices and spoke into the recorder on his phone. He checked and double-checked that he had everything correct. His steel-rimmed designer spectacles had slid down a little on his nose and patches of sweat had spread under his arms, but all she could smell was a woody cologne.
‘I like to think of the house as a work of art,’ she said. ‘As I said, I designed it myself, though my husband likes to think he had some input. See that hideous mahogany wardrobe?’ Aaron nodded. ‘He insisted it had to be in our room. It was his mother’s. Can you imagine waking up every morning to see your mother-in-law’s old wardrobe?’
‘I suppose it is a bit weird,’ he said.
She eyed him and noticed a smile at the corner of his lips.
‘More than a bit,’ she laughed.
‘Why keep it if you hate it?’
‘Don’t know.’ But she did. She kept it to let Kevin think he’d won a victory over her.
‘It’s very big.’
‘It’s handy for spare sheets and pillows.’ She was sorry now that she’d mentioned it. ‘There’s an en suite, with gold-plated taps. Do you need to measure in there?’
‘Er, I’ll have a look.’
When he went inside, Marianne smoothed out the creases in her blouse. A glance in the mirror told her the outline of her red lacy camisole was visible. Good.
She sat on the bed, crossed her legs and waited.
When he came out of the bathroom, she patted the bed. ‘Sit for a moment, Aaron. I’m tired from all this traipsing around the house.’
‘I’d better get going, Mrs O’Keeffe. I have to go back to the office. It’s—’
‘Shh. Sit.’
She was surprised when he did as she asked. The cologne was more pungent now that he was closer. She reached out and took his hand in hers. He jumped up.
‘I really have to go. I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression. This is my job and—’
She rose and pulled him by the hand towards her, then kissed him on the lips, blocking his words.
He tugged his hand free. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
She stifled his words with another kiss, crushing his mouth with her own and pushing him back on the bed. Heat convulsed her body and she cast off all her inhibitions. This was what she wanted. A hot man writhing beneath her.