Married To Her Ex (a standalone novel)

by Kat Cantrell

  “Don’t accept it, Jess. Fight for it. Go to court and testify. Show the interview clips to your distributors. If you don’t like any of those ideas, think of others. Ask the employees to help. Maybe they have ideas, other things you can try. They all have faith in you, and so do I.”

  Her conviction settled inside, warming him. Confusing him.

  “Why?” he asked, simply. “Why in the world would any of you put faith in me? I’m not worthy of—” He swirled a hand toward the ridiculous presentation which seemed like it was about someone else he’d never met. “That.”

  “Darling.” She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and scooted a little closer. “No one put your employees up to it. Danny had lines of people volunteering to talk about you. He had to draw lots and still ended up doing seventy-five interviews. The version you saw of Dolores was edited for time. She talked for an hour. You don’t have to do anything to be worthy, Jesse, you just have to be.” Alexia pointed at the floor. “I choose to stay with you, not because of the patent or because you were smart enough to get past my hard head, but because I love you, and all the wonderful complications that come with you. I want to try again.” Her voice broke on the last word. “Say something, please.”

  “What can we possibly do to make it work this time?” he asked, quietly.

  “Anytime I forget you’re the boss, feel free to order up a striptease.” She quirked her mouth, and he smiled, unable to resist. He didn’t want to resist.

  His pulse stuttered as every ounce of anger drained away, to be replaced by the tiniest tendril of hope. God above, was there a chance for them after all? A real chance?

  Then her hazel eyes bored into him. “The pregnancy really was an accident, but I can see how you’d question it because I like being in control too. If we both give a little, we can make it work. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll pay better attention to when you’ve got something weighing on you. I’ll always be available if and when you need to talk. I’ll stop blaming Outlaw for our problems and tell you every day how proud I am of what you’re doing there. I’d like it if you don’t work ninety hours a week all the time, but I’ll understand if you do, and I won’t use your work ethic against you. In return, you agree to discuss having a family some day when it seems right. How’s that for a deal?”

  Perfect. His heart thumped once and eased back into its proper rhythm. With Alexia by his side, he could conquer any obstacle.

  “Counteroffer. I promise not to use Outlaw as a shield to shut you out. It’s hard for me to deal with my emotions, but I’m trying. So as proof, I’ll come home from the office one day a week before six. Then we can spend an hour in bed before dinner.”

  He stroked a thumb over her smooth cheek, marveling at the feel of it under his rough hands. Would a day come when he didn’t ache to touch her?

  Arms crossed, she jerked her chin skyward. “Three days a week, not one less.”

  “Two, final offer.”

  “Done. I’ll throw in my soul for free.” She gave him a watery smile and stuck a hand out for a perfunctory shake.

  He took her outstretched hand and yanked her into his lap. “I liked your presentation. Especially the part where you were naked. Very inspiring. I have a whole list of things in mind to help you use your newly discovered presentation skills.”

  Demurely, she smiled up at him and slipped clever fingers under his shirt. Sparks ignited along the trails she traced across his back. “I’m glad you approve of my presentation skills. I’ll put it on my resume in the morning. I might have to start job hunting.”

  “Patent’s yours. I won’t go back on my word,” he said and sucked in a breath as she dipped into his jeans.

  “I believe you. But it never hurts to have a backup plan.” She lifted one shoulder. “I sneaked a glance at some of Layla’s work on the Thigh Thing while she was otherwise occupied. Girl really knows her stuff, I reluctantly admit. She might be better than me.”

  He gave her a mock glare and made short work of removing her shirt and bra. “You think I would hire someone incompetent?” As he nuzzled the tender flesh of her earlobe, he muttered, “I’m wounded.”

  Just when he palmed her magnificent breasts—at last—the couch squeaked as she shifted off his lap. “Jess, I’m trying to be realistic, and I suck at it. It’s time to get better.” She circled a finger between the two of them. “So realistically, are we at a place where we can start over again?”

  “I’d like to if you would.” He rested his head against the back cushions of the couch. “I want to be with you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But I have little to offer you with Outlaw about to collapse. It would be self-serving to ask you to stay, so I won’t. You decide this time.”

  “I want to be with you too. Will you commit to supporting each other when things get rough instead of bailing? Communicating? No more hiding notes in a filing cabinet. We keep inventing our relationship as we go.”

  “I can do that.” It was easy to cede control when he’d never really had it in the first place. As long as he had Alexia to ride shotgun, it didn’t matter how bumpy the road got.

  She burrowed under his arm and clung to him. “Then I choose to stay.”

  He tightened his arms around her. Everything was in place, exactly as it should be. He had his wife back again. All the way back. Forever this time.

  “Now for my next challenge.” She winced. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be an easy one. I might not survive. I realized I do need help with the Thigh Thing, but I’d like for you and me to focus on each other instead of business. So I asked Layla to be my business partner instead.”

  He bit back a laugh and stifled the request for front row seats. That would be a battle worth good money, and he was more than happy to let Layla take his spot as the chief combatant in Alexia’s life. “I’ll stand by with a hose to douse the fireworks.”

  Epilogue

  Alexia hung the last silver ball on the tree and stepped back to evaluate. Finally, she was done. The fresh, woodsy scent of evergreen wafted around her with the movement, and she inhaled it deeply—it was the best part of Christmas. Jesse had kept all the Christmas decorations when they separated and she’d assumed they’d never be seen again. So she had used every last one, including the lumpy, misshapen plaster angels Jesse’s mom had given her from his elementary school days.

  “Too much?” she asked Moki and hummed a few bars of Jingle Bells along with the music piping through the surround sound system.

  The housekeeper uncrossed his arms and contemplated the tree from his vantage point near the edge of the massive living room. An electric Santa Claus shirt stretched across his enormous girth, blinking red, then green, and back again. “Nah, Mrs. Jesse. It’s just right. I’ll put away the boxes and clean up for you later.” He lumbered off to the kitchen, where the scent of fresh-baked gingerbread emanated.

  Her gaze strayed to the tree and unfocused. The ornaments and lights smeared together in a colored haze, and the ghost of an unborn child flitted amongst the boughs closest to the ground. Maybe someday the child would be real, but she’d stopped trying to put a date on it.

  The rich aroma of Jesse’s coffee tickled her nose and swirled with the burnt-metal scent which always signaled the arrival of her husband. Then he appeared, all six two of his gorgeous Irish grace, dressed in an optimistic U2 T-shirt and bearing a steaming mug. It still thrilled her to wake up next to him every day. She took the mug and sipped gratefully, rolling the smoothness around on her tongue—he’d spiked it with Bailey’s, and the liquor mixed with the coffee to spread warmth to the tips of her toes.

  Correction. He was the best part of Christmas, and her heart tripped as he smiled. A Christmas miracle all her own. What a difference a year had made.

  “It’s time,” he announced and pointed at the clock.

  She jumped. “Already? I lost track after I restrained myself from watching the numbers tick by. This giant tree took way longer to decorate than I expected, and Mo
ki wouldn’t climb the ladder. The ornaments were uneven and one of the glass balls broke… I’m so nervous, I can’t think.”

  “You don’t say. I’ll hold your hand.” Fingers intertwined, he led her up the stairs to the media room, where they could view it in full technological glory.

  Useless followed them and flopped at Alexia’s feet, his favored spot. Jesse activated all the components with a single button on a universal remote and keyed up the right channel in seconds. Alexia wiped sweaty hands on her wool pants.

  The theme song blasted through the speakers and the commercial for the Thigh Thing began in its first scheduled time slot. Step one in a multitiered marketing plan courtesy of Hennessy & Montoya, a brand-new exercise equipment company helmed by Alexia and her partner. Layla had revised Alexia’s business plan and then lined up investors in short order.

  Now it was only a matter of time before the orders poured in. Eventually, they’d know if all the hard work had paid off. Her abdomen quivered and lunch threatened to make a repeat appearance.

  “It’s good,” Jesse told her, nodding. “No surprise. I hope you’ve already planned how you’ll thank me.”

  “What?” She flipped up a quizzical hand. “How did you contribute?”

  “I introduced you to Layla. The company wouldn’t be the same without her, would it?” He ducked as she smacked him playfully.

  “You get no credit. Only my ability to persevere in the face of adversity allowed me to see the potential and ignore her obvious flaws so we could work together.” She clicked a button to replay the DVR recording and drank in the commercial again. The dream, the Thigh Thing, was hers. Really hers. And Layla’s, but she had gotten the guy.

  Jesse’s phone rang and he pulled it out to glance at the caller ID. Since he immediately took the call, she guessed it was Ben, and his responses to the caller verified it. She stuck a companionable arm along his shoulder in support and waited for the call to end. Finally, he pushed a button and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Without a word, he took her hand and kissed it, turning the palm to his mouth, and thoroughly nibbling her into a molten, squishy mess.

  After a minute or twelve, she yanked it away. “Oh, no, you don’t. What did he say?” she demanded, arms crossed. His expression was so carefully composed. The news must be dreadful.

  Then a grin cracked his stony features, and her breath hitched. He was so beautiful, and he belonged to her.

  “All the charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. With Outlaw in the clear, Ben thinks I should call the distributors right away so we can mend fences.”

  He leaped off the couch and pulled her into his arms, swinging her around with undisguised glee. She loved it when he let go of his controlled facade.

  Useless barked and ran in a frenzied circle around them, then tried to worm in on the action, pulling chuckles from his humans.

  “Go find Moki,” Alexia ordered with a laugh. The dog streaked away, bent on locating his second favorite human.

  The tension of the last few months melted. Outlaw had been operating on reserve capital, which had fortuitously not gone toward the acquisition, and smaller contracts, including the new one from Hennessy & Montoya. By eliminating his own paycheck entirely, Jesse hadn’t had to lay off any of the employees or shut down production. The scale back had affected some of the worker’s hours but not one had left.

  A very merry Christmas indeed.

  She kissed her husband, content to stay in the circle of his embrace forever.

  “I’m sorry you’re not getting what you really wanted for Christmas,” Jesse said and tightened his hold.

  “A baby will happen one day. I have you and the Thigh Thing for now. I don’t have to have two pink lines to make my Christmas complete.” Her stomach stayed where it was supposed to when she said it.

  “Well, I hope you won’t mind if I keep trying to get you pregnant.”

  She smiled. He was doing everything in his power to eliminate his fear about being a father, and she loved him for it. “Maybe you should try a little harder.”

  With a growl, Jesse pulled her astride his lap and kissed her, his tongue sliding into her mouth easily to pull her under his spell in seconds.

  Easily, because there was nothing she liked more than when he took control.

  And anything else he wanted to take was okay as well. His hands snaked under her green and red sweater, palming one of her breasts and she arched into it with a moan.

  “No naughty bra today, Mrs. Hennessy?” Jesse murmured. “I’m very disappointed.”

  “Guess you’ll have to take it off then, if you want to get to the good stuff,” she informed him pertly, and then squealed as he yanked her sweater over her head, taking her non-descript bra with it.

  Cool air kissed her bare breasts a moment before the man did. Hungrily, he licked one nipple into his mouth, rolling it along his teeth until she gasped. The sizzling fork of heat through her midsection never got old, and he knew exactly how to heighten it with his wickedly talented tongue.

  Hands to the small of her back, he pressed her forward against his impossibly hard erection, grinding her already damp core against it. Shooting stars of pleasure blurred her vision, and she blinked rapidly because she didn’t want to miss a moment of watching her husband’s mouth on her breast.

  “Hurry,” she told him and moaned as he switched to the other side, giving the left-out nipple the same erotic suction as the first, and her back arched involuntarily as she felt the little pulls all the way to her toes.

  But he couldn’t be rushed, not when it came to his favorite game—who could maintain their control the longest. She almost always let him win because she liked the reward too much to be bothered by losing. Though she did like to give him a run for his money.

  She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, fully intending to pull him away, but then somehow ended up holding him in place against her distended, aching nipple as he expertly lit her on fire. “I see how you are.”

  Wiggling off his lap, she slid off her pants, shivering a little at the chill. Jesse liked to keep the thermostat way too cold for her tastes, but the appreciation in his gaze for the way it perked up her breasts worked for her. His clothes hit the floor and within moments, he’d pulled her back into his lap.

  His groans vibrated against her lips and enflamed her. She loved how excited he got, and her own sex flooded with it. Her nipples ached as he started all over again, and she needed relief from the thick, rolling pressure building between her legs.

  Enough of this game. She wanted him inside her, and raised up on her haunches to notch him at her entrance, then eased down until he was fully sheathed. Oh, God. Without a condom, his hot flesh seared her from the inside out, driving her to the edge of bliss.

  Torso to torso, they moved in a measured rhythm, lost in the pleasure, until he captured her face in his palms piercing her with his clear blue eyes just as deeply as he was piercing her body.

  “I love you,” he murmured and that pushed her over the edge.

  With a cry, she convulsed in a cataclysmic climax that triggered his, and those sexy sounds she loved spilled from his throat. He wrapped her up in his arms, and she lay in his embrace, spent and so deliriously happy, there should be a national holiday dedicated to the wonders of her husband.

  Whether this was the time she finally got pregnant or not, she and Jesse would be together. Talking about it. Loving each other, instead of hiding behind pride, fear, and impossible bargains. A true reinvention of their marriage.

  Thank you for reading Alexia and Jesse's story! If you like a sexy, complicated man and a strong woman who isn't afraid to love him, check out my series ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights for some hot SEAL action. Keep reading for an exclusive excerpt of book one, Claiming Her SEAL.

  Walk away.

  Dex didn’t take one step away from Emma like he should. Couldn’t have moved one muscle if the entire ISIS army popped out of the ocean like an Iraqi version of the c
rew of the Flying Dutchmen.

  The late afternoon sun highlighted the outline of Emma’s very pointy and incredibly sexy nipples, taunting him from under the white triangles over her breasts. He was having a hell of a time keeping his eyes off them. You didn’t stare at a woman’s chest while talking to her, no matter what kind of come-on signals she was shooting in your direction.

  Of course, Emma’s were more of the flare-gun-at-night variety. Vivid, splashy and indicative of someone in a lot of trouble.

  In this case, it was Dex.

  Despite all the reasons he should be steering clear, Emma intrigued him. While she’d been making herself dizzy with all the direction changes, he’d sat by the remnants of the campfire Charlie had built to roast the grouper they ate for dinner and debated about announcing his presence. But in the end, he couldn’t resist finding out what she was doing.

  The fish tacos hadn’t been nearly enough fortification to face down the amount of Available Woman being paraded around in front of his weakening resolve. The guys had trooped back to their bungalows without a backward glance after Dex had volunteered to clean up, laughing and guzzling the last of the twelve pack that had naturally materialized courtesy of Jack. They called him Jack of All Trades for a reason; there was nothing the man wasn’t proficient at.

  Maybe Dex should call him back and ask him how to lie to a woman well enough so she believed him when he said he wasn’t interested. Because he needed someone to be the voice of reason here before he showed her how much trouble he was in with a very graphic and irreversible example.

  Yet… he couldn’t stand the idea of being responsible for more shadows in the depths of Emma’s clouded blue eyes. The black spot in his soul sniffed out darkness easily, hungrily circling in hopes of finding weaknesses. Because it wanted company.