Chloe had the wonderful gift of being able to cut through the bullshit, no matter what. He’d always figured he’d hidden his Nell-lusting pretty well. He’d been faithful to Chloe no matter what he might have wanted to do. That was what real men did, but what did a man say in a situation like this? Denial was right there on his tongue. “Well…”
Chloe held up her hand. “You don’t have to spare my feelings. Honey, I’ve seen the way you stare at Nell sometimes. Half the time you could trip over your tongue like a lovesick boy. She’s a sweet, beautiful woman. You could do a lot worse. I don’t know how you’re going to let her go when she’s done with you.”
“She’s not really looking for forever. And neither am I. I’m not good at long-term anymore. If I was I’d still be your husband.”
Chloe suddenly looked sad as old memories filled her eyes. “I know if Benjy hadn’t died we’d still be together. I never deluded myself about our relationship. Neither did you. We made the best out of a confusing situation. When the unthinkable happened, we didn’t have enough love for each other to keep the bitterness away. Maybe if we’d had other children we could have kept going. I’m not good at living in the past, I like to keep moving forward.”
“You think your being so understanding makes me feel better? I can’t…I wish…” He floundered for words. Pain still raged through him. Pain that never seemed to leave him or lessen. He could go on with everyday life but, damn, the raw hurt never went away. “I should have been…I didn’t know how to be there for you. You were so—”
She shook her head. “I didn’t know how to be there for you either. No one is at fault. Passion is a great thing, and we had that to spare. But it wasn’t enough to keep us together. Stop letting his death eat you up. You’re still alive. He was killed by a drunk driver. We did everything right. We had him for four years. That’s more than a lot of people get.” Tears filled her eyes and she impatiently brushed them away with the back of her hand.
He knew she was right, but letting himself not feel beyond the surface seemed safer. He wasn’t like her. She had a lot in her heart. Every bit he had was taken up by his son. And when Benjy had died, he’d closed himself off to everything. “How come you’re the smart one?”
She dropped her fist on his knee. “I’m an ex-beauty queen. All that mascara stimulated my brain cells.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot.”
As she stood, she wiped a tear away from her cheek. “If you hurt Nell, I promise I’ll gut you.” Her chin went up. “And I won’t be quick about it.”
He had no doubt Chloe meant every word. He didn’t want to hurt Nell. As she’d said, damaging Nell would be worse than kicking a puppy—it would be stomping the poor thing in the head. “Nell is safe with me.”
“Be ready at nine on Saturday morning. You are going to the land of the enemy.”
A sharp, cold chill ran up his spine, and he could smell his own fear. He had never gone shopping with Chloe when they’d been married and he sure as shit wasn’t about to go now they were divorced. “What do I know about women’s clothes?” Okay, he was good at getting them off. And paying for them. That was the extent of his expertise and he planned to keep it that way.
“Trust me. You know plenty.” She hooked a thumb toward his bulging magazine rack in the corner next to Chester’s bed. “And don’t try and hoodwink me, I know you have your own subscription to the Victoria’s Secret catalog.”
I’m so busted. He hoped he looked a little bit ashamed, but he didn’t think so. “That may be so, but I’m still not going with you.”
“You damn well are coming. I’m not the one she’s hoping to impress. I’m not about to make over your sex puppet all by myself.” She smiled. “I’m not that good.”
What the hell did he know about dressing a woman. “I don’t know about that crap. Take Mario.” Mario, an old high-school friend of them both, owned a fashion boutique the next town over.
“You are a straight man. You know what other straight men like. Mario is wonderful, but given no firm direction, he’ll dress the poor thing like a drag queen. I want your help on the clothes.”
“Damn. I knew this was going to get way too complicated.”
Chloe leaned on the doorjamb and crossed her arms. “I should have figured out long ago why you liked me to dress up as a waitress, as opposed to a French maid or a candy striper.”
He was a guy, what did she expect? The heat of embarrassment crept up his face. The naughty waitress was his favorite fantasy. “I plead the fifth.”
She pursed her lips. “I didn’t make the connection until after our divorce when you started hanging around the diner every day for lunch and dinner. But there is one good thing about this.”
“What?”
Pushing away from the doorway she shrugged. “At least you never called me by her name.”
She had always been a woman who could be direct no matter if she hurt his feelings. But that statement was particularly low. “That’s cold, Chloe.”
“I call it like I see it.” She saluted him. “And we’re taking your Escalade. I’m driving. You’d better have it detailed.” She whirled around and tapped her way toward the back door.
Chloe was right, he did get to have one of his major sex fantasies fulfilled, although he didn’t want to think about making sweet virginal Nell into his personal sex puppet. Especially since she planned to take her act on the road. Somehow the thought of her leaving so soon was not sitting well with him.
Sitting back in his easy chair, he swallowed the acid in his throat.
Nell had been surprised when the phone rang and Riley had called to say he would be right over. When they had parted earlier in the day, she’d thought he would take some time to really think about her offer, but here he was on his way.
She’d taken a quick shower, put on her prettiest skirt and white cotton blouse, then rushed around the living room straightening pillows and pushing a feather duster over every little knickknack and her grandmother’s antique clock on the mantel over the fireplace. Her grandmother had loved the clock and for a second Nell felt a storm of tears brewing at the sides of her eyes. She wouldn’t cry, not anymore. She needed to move forward.
She heard Riley’s car pull up into the driveway. She gave herself one last look in the mirror as she tossed the feather duster into a drawer. From the drawer, she pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook and pen and set it where she could easily find it. She’d bought the notebook at Doolittle’s after she’d left Riley. If she was going to learn so many new things, she needed to take notes.
The doorbell rang and Nell checked her breath and then opened the door to find him leaning against the jamb looking so masculine he sent heat racing through her like a summer thunderstorm. Her heart pounded at the look in his face and she stood aside to let him in.
Riley walked in looking big and male and out of place among her grandmother’s dark wood furniture. His sheer masculinity just made everything smaller. Nell felt as if she were violating some sacred temple as she looked around her grandmother’s small tidy house and tried not to think about what she and Riley were about to do. But Riley had insisted that she would be more comfortable in her territory.
The black shirt and tight jeans fitted over every muscle of his body. Her heart fluttered. She wished she didn’t feel so anxious.
Sex was a biological function like breathing or eating, right? What was the great mystery? Wiping her damp palms on her yellow-and-black floral skirt, she took a deep calming breath. The less nervous she was the more likely she was going to be a better student.
She’d