Private affairs : a novel by Judith Michael Page A

Matt scowled at his coffee cup. "We're quarreling too much. This was supposed to be such a wonderful time . . . why do you suppose it isn't?"
    "Isn't it?"
    "Not all the time. Not often enough."
    We're together too muck "Maybe because we don't have any place to escape. Other people get away from the office by going home, or they get away from home by going to the office, but we can't do that. We just dump all our problems on each other."
    "I'm the one who does most of the dumping," Matt said, "You deserve better."
    "A better partner? But I love the one I've got."

    "Amazing. So do I." He stood, bringing her with him. "I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry I make your life harder—"
    "You make my life wonderful."
    "Not always, and I know it; things pile up and I lose sight of what's most important . . . but it's always you, my love, even if sometimes it doesn't seem that way." Their lips touched, lightly, then with growing intensity. "Bed," Matt murmured. "There isn't much of the night left."
    "A good idea. Would you turn out the lights?" And as he nodded, she slipped away.
    Her muscles ached with fatigue, but the warmth of their talk still flowed through her. In bed, she stretched out, eyes closed, listening to Matt move about the room, opening windows, winding his watch, undressing. He slid beneath the covers. "You're not asleep," he said. "Your mind is spinning."
    Eyes still closed, she asked, "How do you know?"
    "Eyelids flickering, beautiful mouth smiling, nose twitching."
    Her eyes flew open. "My nose does not twitch."
    He kissed the tip of it. "I know. I wanted to see if you were listening."
    "I always listen when my husband is about to make love to me."
    "How do you know he is?"
    "He kept the light on."
    Matt chuckled. "No mysteries anymore. You're not tired?"
    "I'm always tired these days. I'm ignoring it. What about you?"
    "Tired and ignoring it. I wish we could get away for a while, just the two of us."
    "We will. When things quiet down, and we find a managing editor, and my column is started, and we have money for vaca—"
    "Stop. I'm sorry I brought it up." Raising himself on his elbow, Matt pulled back the covers and looked at his wife's slender body, her delicate bones barely outlined in the muted light of the bed lamp. In the midst of the hectic days of buying the Chieftain, they'd both celebrated their fortieth birthdays, but Elizabeth was as slim as a girl, firm and lithe from tennis and skiing—though who had time for sports anymore? Matt thought wryly—her loveliness stronger, more individual than the softer beauty of the girl he married. Extraordinary woman, he said to himself, and leaned down to kiss her breasts, smiling as the nipples puckered beneath his tongue. "Not too tired at all," he murmured.
    "What do you think my mind was spinning about?" Elizabeth retorted, and then she closed her eyes again and let herself sink into the sensations of his mouth and hand tracing the curves of her body and the feel of him beneath her own hand as she slid it slowly down the length of his back

    and around his narrow hips. And as their bodies came together, so familiar but somehow so new, Matt kissed Elizabeth and said, as if for the first time, "I love you."
    At seven-thirty the next morning they were at the newspaper, waiting for the staff. In his office Matt plucked dead leaves off a sad ficus tree left by the previous publisher. "Do you remember what time the Nambes' lawyer said he'd call?"
    "About eleven. I'll talk to him if you want, and tell him about my column: he may suggest someone for me to interview."
    "I think we both should talk to him, but you can go first."
    "And you'll take care of firing Cal?"
    He chuckled. "Since we're learning how to be partners, we should do it together. There he is."
    Artner was talking nonstop to Barney Kell as he walked in, looking everywhere but at Matt and Elizabeth. Barney's face was heavy, and when Herb Kirkpatrick came in, Barney and Wally joined him at the coffeemaker,