Burning Down The Spouse (Ex-Trophy Wives Book 2)

by Dakota Cassidy

  No man better ever give her a gift, thoughtful or otherwise, Simon thought.

  Climbing over him, Jasmine straddled him, leaning down, her long hair brushing against his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

  His chuckle was deep, and for the first time since his accident, he wished he could see, so his eyes could meet hers. So she’d know what he was sure she wasn’t ready to hear.

  “What, no beat down? No protests? No refusals? Who are you?” he joked softly against her mouth.

  Her response was almost inaudible. “I don’t know, but thank you.” She settled on top of him then, curling her hand under her chin, nestling her head against his shoulder.

  That tight feeling that never failed to constrict his gut sat deep in his belly. The feeling that told him all he needed to do was wait this out. It was happening whether Jasmine wanted it to or not, Simon thought with satisfaction. She would fall in love with him if it killed him. He wouldn’t accept less.

  Yet, Win was in his head in an instant, admonishing him for not telling Jasmine everything.

  Everything.

  Resting his head against the top of hers, Simon shoved away the eventual mess he was bound to make in favor of the woman he held in his arms. The woman who, after spending so much time with him, had managed to turn his childish grudge into something he’d never expected.

  The woman he’d originally set out to hurt because her ex-husband was a pig, and now only wanted to love.

  Chapter Fourteen

  From the journal of ex-trophy wife Frankie Bennett: Sorry it’s been a while, but props to Maxine. I gotta give it up to her. She was right about more than just the thrill of being self-sufficient and the boost to your self-esteem when you learn to stand on your own two feet. Sex, when your behind is less than perfect, and your thighs cramp at the mere mention of the position doggy style, can still be awesome. In fact, now that I’ve sort of adjusted to dim lighting—very dim—okay, really dim, it’s begun to rock my socks off. It almost beats getting my own place to live. Wait. No it doesn’t. Making love on Nikos’s bed, couch, sunken tub, shower, wherever, beats sex at my new place on a cold tiled floor where if we move an inch in the wrong direction, we’ll end up having to call the paramedics. But it’s a real close second.

  Nikos dumped a small box on Frankie’s kitchen counter, Kiki under his arm, gazing lovingly at him, while Gail arranged her cutlery drawer. A drawer that held nothing more than three forks and one large serving spoon, but they were hers and they were in her drawer, in her studio apartment.

  “You have no knives, sassafras. How will you cut those big pieces of steak you’re going to cook for you and the hunk here?” Gail asked, thumbing over her shoulder in Nikos’s direction.

  Frankie laughed, draping an arm around Gail’s shoulder. “I hate to cook, and you know it. And it’ll probably be a while before I can afford much, but at least I’m out of your hair, and you and Garner can...you know...in peace.” She winked with a conspiratorial smile.

  Gail gave her hand a squeeze. “You know I loved having you, and I’m sure gonna miss that coffee you make, but I’m real proud of ya for getting your own apartment.”

  Frankie smiled at the blank walls and empty space. Yeah. She was proud, too.

  “There goes the neighborhood,” Jasmine teased, dropping a large gift bag on the kitchen counter.

  Frankie laughed, giving her a quick hug. “You have no one to blame but yourself for the state of your neighborhood. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten away with not having to give that shark of a landlord of ours a deposit.”

  Jasmine had charmed the pants right off of Rocco, their landlord and an all-around ladies’ man. By the time she was done, Frankie had the corner apartment, lower level, two parking spaces, and was located right across the way from Jasmine.

  “Did my woman use those pesky feminine wiles she’s always complaining are the death of her to get you your own crib, Frankie?” Simon teased, close behind Jasmine, his hand on her waist.

  “She did,” Gail confirmed with a shake of her silvery head. “Hoo boy. I ain’t never seen anything like it ’cept in the movies either. She’s one smooth talker, this sexy cookie is. I think he’d have agreed to let Frankie have an elephant for a pet by the time Jasmine was done with him.”

  Jasmine threw up her hands with a grin. “I figure I may as well use all of this for something—even if it’s for evil.” She poked at the bag on the counter, shoving it in Frankie’s direction. “Open it.”

  Her cell phone rang, interrupting her excitement over Jasmine’s gift. She held up one finger in a gesture for Jasmine to wait and whispered into the phone, “I told you I’d have it for you, didn’t I, Mitch? I’m in the middle of something, but I’ll call you back later.” She flipped the phone shut and returned her attention to Jasmine, briefly wondering why Simon had such an odd expression.

  “Well, hurry up and open it!” Jasmine encouraged.

  Frankie stuck her hand inside the big lavender foil bag and pulled out several items wrapped in blue tissue paper. “It’s a shower curtain and towels. Oh my God, I forgot about towels! Oh, and a toothbrush and soap holder, and wait—Scrubbing Bubbles and a sponge.”

  “That’s because you’re now officially the maid, but don’t worry. I’ll teach you how to scrub the toilets so there’s no nasty ring,” Jasmine taunted good-naturedly.

  Nikos laughed, unfolding the lone plastic chair she’d gotten free from the bank when she’d opened up a savings account, and setting it in the middle of her small living room-slash-bedroom. He set Kiki on it, scratching her ears.

  “Look at you. The only thing you need to make the old homestead complete is a velvet Elvis portrait for the wall.”

  Frankie giggled, her heart skipping a beat when she caught Nikos’s gaze from across the room. “Hey, I had to start somewhere, right? And once I get my tax return, I’ll pick up some more essentials, funny man.”

  Thankfully, she’d remembered she was owed one of those due to her job at Bon Appetit last year, and she’d filed an early return. A definite bright spot when she and Nikos discovered her quest to get out of Gail’s hair wouldn’t have to be thwarted quite as long as Frankie had originally thought.

  And here she was. The walls were cracked, the crazy blue and green bathroom was uglier than a boil on your butt, the kitchen was the size of a shoebox, and the front door sagged, but it said “Frankie Bennett” on the rental agreement.

  There was no two ways about it, she’d have to stick to a strict budget, one she’d learned how to create with Jasmine and Maxine and the girls at Trophy, but if she was careful, and barring any unforeseen tragedies, she was going to do this.

  Her way.

  “Knock-knock!” Maxine called, milling her way through everyone to find Frankie. “I come bearing housewarming gifts for a woman of independent means,” she said on a wide smile. Pretty and always tastefully put together, Maxine gave her a hug.

  “I come, too,” Campbell called from behind her. “Because the gifts for the independent woman were too heavy for the other independent woman to carry alone.”

  Frankie’s eyes widened as she counted three boxes and two more gift bags. “Oh, no, Maxine. I can’t. It’s too much.”

  Maxine’s smile grew wider when Campbell placed his hand on her shoulder. “Well, you might want to wait on that until after you open them. There’s booty to be had, oh, and this.” She handed Frankie a small black tote. “It’s a survival guide for women striking out on their own. You know, coupons for local stores, emergency numbers, suggestions for energy saving, tips on how to get a stain out of your carpet because your maid’s gone the way of the dinosaur. All important stuff.”

  Frankie laughed again, giving Maxine a hug. “Thank you. I wish you hadn’t spent so much.”

  Maxine tweaked her cheek. “You won’t feel that way when you have coffee already made in the morning. It’s crucial to a single girl’s survival. Besides, you’ll need
it for those early morning demonstrations at the mall with the Slap Chop.”

  Nikos had given her later hours at the diner in order for her to take on a part-time position at the mall, ratcheting up his supportive factor to the nth degree. He’d offered to give her a raise, but they both knew he was overpaying her as it was, and as it stood, the diner needed another cashier to replace Adara when she’d gone back to college.

  Her refusal hadn’t made him angry at all. In fact, instead of trying to save her, Nikos was the one who found the ad for the demonstration hostess and showed it to her.

  Which made him crazy irresistible, which was always followed by more of the afraid thing.

  Nikos came up behind Frankie, throwing his arm around her shoulder. After almost a month and a half of dating, she was still getting used to her insides always feeling like a bowl of Jell-O whenever he was near.

  He leaned in, placing his lips against her ear to whisper, “How long before we can get everyone out of here and christen the new homestead in the style to which it’s due?”

  A chill of delicious anticipation swirled low in her belly. Nikos created a special kind of fire in her she’d never expected, and it involved more than just the fire he created in her loins. He made her want to succeed at getting on her feet. He made her want. End of.

  More importantly, and more and more frequently, he made her smile secretively, when she was alone and it was just she and Kiki.

  “Frankie! I brought you some stuff from Voula, who insisted every good girl should have a set of knives and a meatloaf pan.” Cosmos held up a box and several bags. “There’s more in the car, and Mama’s on her way with Papa.”

  She took them from him, plopping them in the middle of her living room with a beaming smile. Voula held a warm spot in her heart. She’d coddled and nurtured and encouraged Frankie day by day at the diner until she’d made her feel like she belonged—like she was an integral part of this crazy bunch of unruly clan members and the running of their diner. Even Barnabas had begun to come around with the occasional grunt of approval for her chopping methods.

  Each day that passed, each moment she spent with the Antonakases, each lunch shift when she worked side by side with Nikos, had become a soothing balm—a place of respite where she didn’t have to be anyone but Frankie.

  In increments, she was becoming more successful at tamping down the idea that something or someone was going to take what she’d found away from her. The notion never failed to make her heart skitter sideways.

  Which scared the living daylights out of her.

  These days, she wasn’t sure what was scarier—how easy it was to be nuts over Nikos, or how easily everything could fall apart. Yet, deeper and deeper she fell...

  “Oh, look at our Frankie,” Voula cooed, patting Gail’s arm as she arrived a few moments behind Cosmos. “She is leaving the tree, eh?”

  “Nest, Mama. She’s leaving the nest,” Nikos corrected, winking at Frankie and leaning in to give his mother a peck on her forehead, his strong, tanned hand cupping her chin.

  Voula pinched Frankie’s cheeks with a fond smile. “Yes. She leaves the nest like a big girl. I am so proud of our Frankie.”

  Barnabas followed Voula in, then knelt beside Kiki, scratching her under her chin with an indulgent smile and that little noise of pleasure he made whenever Frankie brought her to the diner to sit in the back office and watch TV with him. He’d even picked up a bed for her to sleep on the desk in. A princess bed with fluffy pink and white marabou fur.

  “How’s my Kooky today? She is a good girl for Uncle Barnabas? Look what I bring for my good girl.” He dug in his pocket with a grin, pulling out one of Kiki’s favorite new treats.

  Kiki preened, her typically solemn approach to almost any situation all but lost when Barnabas paid her even a little attention. Her tail wagged as she burrowed on the chair, giving Barnabas a coy, playful peek from beneath her tiny paws.

  His laughter, hearty and rich, made Kiki rise on her haunches to stretch against him and beg to be picked up.

  Frankie shook her head at how indulgent he was. “She’ll get fat, Barnabas,” she chided with a chuckle.

  He waved a chubby, wrinkled hand at her in dismissal, tucking Kiki into the top of his gray sweater vest. “Ack. My Kooky is a good girl. Good girls get treats.”

  Jasmine tapped her on the shoulder. “Okay, sweetie. Gotta run or I’m going to be late to work.”

  “Heaven forbid you should be late to Fifi’s,” Simon said with a roll of his eyes.

  “Fluffy’s, and that job pays for my playpen. So lay off, poor little rich boy, and let’s go.”

  Simon pecked Frankie on the cheek with a grin reserved especially for the kind of crazy Jasmine drove him. “This woman.”

  “Cosmos, we go,” Voula directed. “We don’t want to leave Hector alone for too long. Last time he almost burned the whole batch of lamb stew because he flirt with the girls. Frankie? Tomorrow we talk curtains. I make, okay?”

  She gave Voula a hard hug and chuckled. There was never any telling Voula no. Whether it was food or curtains. Everyone said yes to Voula. “Curtains. I’m in. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you, for everything. You’re too good to me.”

  Voula pinched her cheek again with nimble fingers. “You are family. Family needs curtains. Barnabas, come. Put Kooky back and we go see what Hector’s doing.”

  Barnabas gave Kiki one last kiss and an ear scratch, handing her to Nikos, then kissing both of Frankie’s cheeks with a wide smile. “Kalh Tuch, Frankie. You are a good girl. Not as good at the chopping as me, but a good girl.”

  Nikos clapped his father on the back and translated. “That’s ‘good luck’ in Greek.”

  “Okay, pussycat. I’m out, too,” said Aunt Gail, leaning in for a hug. “I have a hot date with Mona, Mary, and some bingo. You call me if you need anything. I’ll miss you, sassafras.”

  Frankie hugged her hard, forcing back the sting of tears. “What will you miss more, me wandering around in my pajamas with greasy hair, or the big lump in the bed of your guest room?”

  Gail gave her a pat on the cheek, buttoning her coat. “But look at you now, huh? That dirty bird didn’t get the best of you. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

  Frankie smiled in grateful satisfaction as Maxine and her husband Campbell left behind Gail. She was proud of her, too.

  Now that they were alone, Nikos began to organize boxes and gift bags against the wall. He whistled, putting his hands on his lean hips, clad in stonewashed jeans.

  “You know, Bennett, I’m thinking this divorced, poor gig is a real racket.”

  Her eyebrow rose. “Why’s that?”

  “Did you see some of this stuff everybody brought? When I got my first apartment, I had one pot and like a box of dry spaghetti. My own mother didn’t bring me even one set of sheets, but you get two. From Macy’s—and Egyptian cotton, no less. I don’t want to sound petty here, but I’m beginning to feel like my people love you more than they love me.” He pouted his bottom lip.

  She giggled. “I am pretty loveable.”

  Nikos gave her the look when he scooped her up, fitting her against him. The one that was a mixture of smoldering black eyes and playful sinfulness. The one that made her toes tingle and her heart thrash around in her chest with giggly, bubbly joy.

  “That you are, but loveable enough to buy you an entire kitchen aisle from Macy’s? I dunno…”

  Her glance at him was coy, but her body sought his in the arch of her back. “I am. I can prove it.”

  Nikos wiggled his eyebrows at her in a lewd response. “Do I have to take you to task, Bennett?”

  “Will it involve a cold, hard floor and the potential need for some Tiger Balm?”

  His hand slid under her sweater to cup her breast, caressing the underside of it, dragging his fingers along the sensitive tip of her nipple. “If I promise to rub it on all your sore spots, are we a go?”

  Like she had the kind of will of iron it took to de
ny him. The playful, flirtatious side of her, one she didn’t know existed until Nikos, twirled a strand of her hair as she leaned back in his arms.

  “Oh, I don’t know. You could just be trying to score, and when all’s said and done, I’ll be left to try and figure out how to reach the middle of my back while you brag about your coup over a football game and sliders.”

  He ran his tongue along her lower lip, eliciting a shiver of anticipation from her. “I would never brag. Not over sliders, anyway. Maybe peach pie. That always makes me give it up. “

  Frankie let her arms slip under his, wrapping them around his waist with more giggling. “Fine, then. Do what you will with me,” she said on a mock sigh, fighting to hide the shudder of need rippling through her.

  Nikos’s laughter was gruff when he pushed her back against the wall and popped open the button on her jeans. Jeans that now fit the way they used to thanks to some Antonakas love. He slid them over her hips with slow hands, caressing her skin as he went.

  Frankie’s head fell back against the wall when he kissed his way along the side of her hip and down along the inside of her thigh. Her heart almost stopped, much like it always did, when he reached the most intimate place on her body.

  Nikos relieved her of her panties and jeans, lifting her feet to pull her ballet slippers off. His hands were hot, untamed, running over her thighs, down along her ankles, and back up again to rest at her waist. His groan was unbidden, muted against the tender skin of her belly. He used a single digit to take a long draw of her swollen flesh, dragging a whimper of a plea from her lips.

  The world tilted when his tongue sunk deep into her, swirling the aching bud of her clit with the tip. Her hips bucked against his mouth, hot and all encompassing. The silken glide brought her fingers to knead at his shoulders as his hands pulled her flush to him, kneading her ass in a circular motion.