Take It To The Grave Bundle 1: Take It to the Grave parts 1-3. Zoe Carter

long enough to shoot me a warning look. His blue eyes have deepened to a dangerous hue. “What is it, dear heart?” His words are friendly enough, but they’re forced from between clenched teeth.

      Out of the corner of my eye, I see a satisfied expression creep across my rival’s face.

      “Your mother took off with our son quite a while ago. I’m getting worried. Will you go find him, please?”

      “If Mother has him, I’m sure he’s fine. You could use a break, darling. Why don’t you relax and enjoy your few minutes of freedom?”

      Disentangling himself from Jessica, he slips behind the table to stand next to me. His fingers tighten on my hips as he pulls me into him, and I startle at the suddenness of it. His lips graze my ear.

      “Your panties,” he murmurs. “Take them off. Now.”

      I don’t believe what I’m hearing. We’re surrounded by people—surely he isn’t serious. “I can’t,” I whisper, praying the other women didn’t hear what he said. They still watch us with interest, but Jessica’s smirk has faded away.

      “You can. Give them to me.”

      He leaves me then, sauntering around to Jessica and crew like the prize rooster in a henhouse. “So, Tessie, where are those sweet buns of yours? I’ve had a craving.”

      Tessie giggles.

      “Haven’t you heard? Your wife is running the most successful bake stall in the history of the East Hamptons fair,” Jessica tells him. “Almost everything is sold out.”

      Bitch.

      “Really?” Warwick cocks an eyebrow at me as he runs a finger over Jessica’s bare arm. The hateful woman practically quivers with ecstasy. “That’s a shame—for me. I’m hungry. What did you bring, Jessica dear?”

      While he has her distracted, I duck under the table, using the gingham cloth that covers it to hide what I’m doing. “I might have some more of the buns under here,” I say, yanking at my sweat-soaked panties. I’m wearing a magenta lace thong—ridiculous underwear for a nursing mother, but Warwick detests what he calls “Grandma panties.” He refuses to let any in the house. At least the thong is tiny enough to hide in my hand, but getting it over my feet without the other women noticing is another story. Finally I tear the flimsy lace off my ankles. There’s no way I’ll want to put it back on, anyway.

      When I pop up from under the table, exhausted from my efforts, Tessie looks at me expectantly. “Well?”

      My husband has apparently said something humorous, since Jessica is laughing and leaning against him as if she can no longer support her own body weight. It takes every inch of self-control not to roll my eyes, and for a minute I’m so distracted I forget Tessie is waiting for an answer.

      “Sarah? Did you find any?”

      Right, the sweet buns.

      “All gone, sorry.” I tuck my hands behind me to hide the incriminating lace. “It was a long shot, anyway. You know they always sell out first.”

      Imagine her reaction if she ever found out most of her masterpieces were flushed down the toilet. I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning.

      “No luck, darling?” Warwick leaves Jessica long enough to lean over me. He uses his broad back to hide his hand, which plucks the underwear out of mine so deftly I barely feel it.

      “No, they’re sold out.” My voice catches in my throat, sounding garbled, but only Tessie appears to notice. She wrinkles her nose at me again, but before she can say anything, my husband seizes me by my wrist, pulling me out from behind the table.

      “Warwick, what are you—”

      “Jessica, can you do me a small favor?” he asks.

      “That depends.” She continues playing the part of the seductress, flipping her red hair over her shoulder, but her mouth tightens when she sees my husband holding me.

      “Can you watch the stall for a few minutes? I have something I need to show my wife.”

      My stomach flips. What on earth is he thinking? Is he really going to insist on having sex here, in front of all these people? I try to wrench my wrist away, but he holds it fast. “Really, Warwick, it can wait.”

      “No, really, it can’t. What do you say, Jessica? I’ll buy you a cookie.”

      Warwick thanks her before she can refuse and drags me along with him, clutching my arm close to his side. “What about Elliot?” I ask, scanning the crowds. For a minute, my heart quickens as I spot my son’s blond head, but it’s a false alarm, another baby. “If your mother comes back and I’m not there, she’ll go ballistic.”

      I don’t dare tell him about my first encounter with Eleanor that morning. Warwick is too smart. The long visit to the bathroom, the sold-out baked goods—no one will have to connect the dots for him.

      “Hey, Warwick!” It’s Tad, the now-detested golf buddy, long-suffering husband of Genine. I’m not up for making polite conversation with him, especially after the bombshell Genny dropped on me. Thankfully, my husband doesn’t slow his step, only waving in response.

      “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Warwick squeezes my arm when I don’t reply. “Smile, my love. We’re about to have some fun.”

      He walks so fast I stumble to keep up. “Where are we going? It’s too crowded here. Your mother—”

      “Forget Mother. I don’t want to talk about Mother. I want to talk about you, and how good you smell.” His voice deepens, growing husky, and I know he’s not referring to my perfume. “Maybe it’s your proximity to all that sugar, but you smell good enough to eat.”

      To my surprise, he stops in front of the washroom, the very same bathroom where I’d binged.

      “Do you have your phone?”

      Nodding, I pat my pocket. About the only positive thing about this dress is that it has pockets. I wish I’d thought to call Eleanor. Just then I see her over Warwick’s shoulder.

      “There they are!”

      Elliot shrieks with delight as a group of older women fuss over him. Every sign of his morning tantrum is gone, and my arms ache to hold him close, to bury my face in his neck. This horrible day will fade into the background once I have him next to me again.

      Warwick blocks my path.

      “What are you doing?” My voice sounds angrier than I’d meant, but I don’t have time for his games. Not now. Not after the way he cozied up to Jessica in front of me.

      “Go into the bathroom,” he says, and gives me a little shove.