The Secret Lives of Housewives by Joan Elizabeth Lloyd Page A

and hustled onto Metro North with a briefcase full of media rates she needed to look over.
    â€œRidiculous. Come on, Monica. Put on a bathing suit and join me. Actually, if you don’t want to join me that’s okay, too, but you really must take advantage of the pool once in a while and unwind.”
    He was right. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a swim in the pool she paid such exorbitant common charges to support? He sounded like her doctor had when he’d used the C word— coronary . This could be part of her new plan to relax more, not an effort to get to know Mr. Dan Gorgeous. What the hell. “You know, I hate to admit it, but you’re right,” she said. “Maybe I will do just that.”
    â€œGreat. I’ll be over in a few minutes. If you want to sit with me, great. If not, that’s fine, too, I’ll understand. I’ll feel I’ve done my job just getting you out of your house.”
    An early evening after a hot August day drew adults to the pool area. The children who usually monopolized the water and diving boards were already in bed and the teens were off doing their own thing, so the bulk of the people in the pool area were commuters trying to cool off after their trek home from the Big Apple. The area was well maintained, lounge chairs and tables kept scrupulously in tip-top condition, the oversized main pool clean and smelling lightly of chlorine. Steam rose from the hot tub and a small fountain played in the six-inch-deep kiddy pool. Several couples paddled around in the shallow end of the adult pool, while three men swam laps. Several lounge chairs were occupied with people pouring drinks from multicolored pitchers, the tables beside them covered with sandwiches and bags of chips. The smell of grilling burgers and steaks wafted over from the picnic area.
    All the way home with Sam she’d debated with herself, then finally allowed as how she wanted to see what Dan was really like and dispel any fantasies she might be building. She had several bathing suits, and after worrying about the message she might send, she finally selected a one-piece, wriggled into it, and slipped on a pair of sandals and a light, lace cover-up. She stuffed a towel, her passcard, and keys into a small tote and walked the two short blocks to the pool area. Dan lay several feet from the gate, eyes closed, stretched out on a lounge chair. He really was something to look at, although she was surprised that he wasn’t wearing a skimpy Speedo. Rather, his suit was dark brown and looked more like a pair of shorts. He did give the term six-pack abs new meaning, however, and she tried not to drool.
    Why was she so fixated on his looks? she wondered. She snorted as she walked toward him. She never judged people on their outward appearance. She was attracted to him, however, and had decided to find out things about him that would end this fixation. Beauty is as beauty does , she thought yet again.
    â€œHi,” he said, looking up from beneath his baseball cap. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”
    â€œI wasn’t either,” Monica said, putting down her canvas tote and settling into the seat beside him, “but you were right about my needing to relax so I decided to join you for a few minutes.”
    â€œI’m glad. I like that suit.”
    She felt uncharacteristically vain, proud that she’d picked a deep violet concoction that seemed to consist of two pieces laced together up the sides and cut high on the hips. “Thanks.” It better get that look, she thought. It had cost the earth. “So,” she said, “tell me a little about yourself.” Like, are you married? He wasn’t wearing a ring but you never could tell. She’d been hit on by more married men than she could shake a white picket fence at.
    â€œI’m not married, never was.”
    A bit miffed that he seemed to be reading her mind, she said,