Sex, Lies, & Family Vacations

by Leslie Langtry

  "Alan, I…" I began, but he silenced me with another kiss.

  After a few smoldering moments, he pulled back, "Do you doubt me or my intentions?"

  I shook my head. "No. I don't think I ever did." The realization hit me. I had trusted him since the first day I saw him. Holy shit.

  "Then why did we wait so long?" Alan closed the distance again, kissing me roughly as his hands explored my body. His need was evident from the hardness pressing against me. If I didn't do something, he would take me right there on the floor.

  "Alan…" I came up for air. "You left New York…for me?"

  He smiled, and it shook me to the core. "Baby, I left the day of the opening night of my new play." He frowned in mock concern. "Gee, I hope it all goes well without me."

  My heart exploded. I actually felt the kaglitch in my rib cage. This man had left his work, his passion, to be with me. And not just me, but my kids also came first. And it felt so fucking fantastic that I threw him to the floor to show him how much.

  Alan's hands ripped open my blouse, sending buttons scattering in all directions. I tore his sweater off, and tossing my bra aside, pressed my body against his. He moaned, and I melted, kissing his lips, neck, and chest.

  For two hours we rolled around on the floor, coming again and again until I realized the kids would be home from school soon. After I threw on a sweatshirt and Alan retrieved the missing buttons, we waited in the living room for Clara and Rory. I knew that things would change. Of course, there would be roadblocks. But I knew where I was going and what I was doing. For once in my life, I knew.

  EPILOGUE

  A warm, arid breeze stirred my robe as I sat on my new patio with a cup of coffee. Alan had taken the kids to school, and my first class wasn't for another week. Santa Fe was beyond gorgeous. The house was small but perfect. The girls happily shared a room decorated in Disney princess motif, and the boys had their Pirates of the Caribbean den. The new school was not so difficult of an adjustment as each kid had three siblings there.

  All of the pieces had fallen into place. I took another sip of my coffee. It was too hot for coffee—but I still felt like tormenting myself a little. I would have made such a good martyr.

  We didn't wait for the ink to dry on the divorce papers before moving. As predicted, our families thought we had lost our minds, and more than a few of my friends had stopped talking to me. Hello! Martyr!

  Both Susan and Mike gave up custody of the kids, but insisted on having them for holidays, spring break, and two weeks in the summer. Alan and I agreed to pay for the kids to fly out for a weekend every other month. Of course, both Mike and Susan included the vacation in their settlements. That proved to be expensive. I smiled, thinking of having a receipt for hot sex slipped under the door of the hotel room. Whatever it cost, it was worth it.

  Even my friend came through with a part-time teaching job. Everything seemed easy. For the past month, our lives had been simple. We had taken only our clothes and personal possessions with us. It had been fun to buy new furniture for the new house with the kids. In the distance I heard the front door close. Alan was home. Home. My home. Our home.

  His lips brushed my neck, and he sat beside me, picking up the coffee he had left behind. He pointed to my laptop. "Finally finishing your thesis?"

  I looked at him carefully. "Yes and no. I've changed the subject."

  His eyes widened with amusement, "Really?"

  "I've decided to focus on something else. The adultery in literature theme doesn't interest me anymore."

  Alan laughed. "Wow. And you had so much first-hand experience with that. Are you throwing it all away on something dull?"

  I arched my right eyebrow. "I've decided on sex in literature instead."

  Alan rose and held out his hand. "Come with me."

  "Why?"

  He didn't wait for me to give my hand as he took it into his. "Well, you have a lot of research to do, and we only have six and a half hours until the kids get out of school."

  Now, why didn't I think of that? I took his hand and followed him into the house.

  In the end, I guess my fairytale came true. Out of the corner of my mind, I thought I saw Anna back away from that train, and Hester tearing off her scarlet A. In my imagination, they became lesbian lovers and spent their honeymoon at Disney World.

  * * * * *

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  * * * * *

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Leslie Langtry is the author of the Greatest Hits Mysteries and several books she hasn't finished yet, because she's very lazy. Leslie loves puppies and cake (but she will not share her cake with puppies) and thinks praying mantids make everything better. She lives with her family and assorted animals in the Midwest, where she is currently working on her next book.

  To learn more about Leslie Langtry, visit her online at www. leslielangtry.com

  * * * * *

  BOOKS BY LESLIE LANGTRY

  Greatest Hits Mysteries:

  'Scuse Me While I Kill This Guy

  Guns Will Keep Us Together

  Stand By Your Hitman

  I Shot You Babe

  Paradise By The Rifle Sights

  Snuff the Magic Dragon

  My Heroes Have Always Been Hitmen

  Four Killing Birds (a holiday short story)

  Merry Wrath Mysteries

  Merit Badge Murder

  Other Works:

  Sex, Lies, & Family Vacations

  * * * * *

  SNEAK PEEK

  If you enjoyed this book, check out this sneak peek of another romantic comedy from Gemma Halliday Publishing:

  MY EX-BOYFRIEND'S WEDDING

  by

  T. SUE VERSTEEG

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jemma Keith let the heavy box she'd lugged up the stairs slam to the floor with a loud thump. Flopping onto her couch, she nestled into the overstuffed cushions and took what comfort she could from her familiar surroundings. Dust clung to the things she'd left behind in the tiny apartment after being closed up for a few months.

  She made the mistake of closing her eyes in the hopes of escaping to her happy place. You know, sprawled on a beach chair, palm trees rustling in the soft breeze, gentle ocean waves sweeping the sand, scantily clad Johnny Depp manning the margarita blender, Tom Hiddleston and Bradley Cooper, one on each side, fighting over who gets to put on her sunscreen.

  Instead, she ended up replaying the morning's events just as clearly as when they'd happened. Curiosity had nagged her to follow her boyfriend, Dalton Blackwell, after he cancelled their lunch plans at the last minute, yet again. Common sense attempted to side with her stomach, pleading to drive through for a burger instead.

  Curiosity won.

  She kept her car at a safe distance, following from his office along the familiar route to the home of his secretary, Stacy.

  Jemma parked a block away, feeling guilty as she walked toward the two-story Victorian she'd visited for many office parties. She brushed her finger along the silver striping of Dalton's car at the curb as she passed it. A beautiful afternoon, the late fall breeze briskly whipped the fallen leaves across the lawn as she walked up the front steps. The bright sun warmed the air of the Indian-Summer's day, making her tug at the collar of her heavy wool sweater.

  This is ridiculous; he's only visiting her since she called in sick, just like he said.

  But, curiosity prodded her across the porch to the front door. As she hovered a finger over the doorbell, fluttering curtains at an open window caught her attention. The garish, blood red fabric billowed inward, framing Stacy on her knees in the living room. Dalton stood in front of her, pants undone, his fingers tangled in her dirty blond hair, guiding her movement. Jemma sucked in a harsh gasp, fighting a myriad of emotions and one hell of a gag reflex.

  Curiosity: one. Common Sense: zero
.

  "Jemma Rae Keith!" Her father's booming voice snapped her from her self-induced nightmare and back to the present task at hand.

  "Yes, Daddy?"

  "Am I to assume that you plan to lie there while I cart the rest of these boxes up three flights of stairs?"

  Jemma flashed her dad a lopsided, half-hearted smile, as he walked through the door and joined her on the couch. Her father was a large man, with salt and pepper hair, brown eyes, an infamous bad temper, and a rumored connection with the Mob. Anyone with any sense would move heaven and earth to stay on the man's good side.

  "Sorry, Daddy, I'm…" Jemma paused, tossed a frantic look around her box-infested apartment for any excuse, and flipped her hands in the air. "I've got nothing. I guess I just needed a break."

  "Don't give that asshole one more second of your time. I tried to tell you from the beginning he was a waste of pretty much everything, including air." Michael Keith crossed his arms over his massive chest.

  "That's probably part of the reason I convinced myself I loved him."

  Jemma and her father exchanged accusatory glares before he scooped her into his embrace, a snort of derision punctuating his hug.

  "There is undoubtedly more truth in that statement than I care to admit. However, I will take great pride in asking if you're glad I insisted on keeping your apartment after you moved in with the waste of skin," he said, his words a statement more than a question.

  "Okay, you win on that one." Jemma dropped her head back against the couch, breaking from his grasp in an overstated act of defeat. The tears had stopped after the shock, but the longer she sat still, the closer they bubbled to the surface. Bounding to her feet, she added, "I'll try to listen, if there's ever a next time."

  Her father broke out in a long belly laugh, drawing out until he gasped for breath. "I highly doubt it," he sputtered between gulps of air.

  Jemma walked to the door, muttering, "I didn't say it would happen. I just said I'd try."

  They spent the remainder of the afternoon carting boxes up to her apartment, ignoring the melody coming from Jemma's cell phone. Dalton had tried calling all afternoon, like he always did, evidently oblivious to what Jemma had witnessed. Getting her stuff out of his place was the only thing that'd kept her from interrupting them. Dalton never did fight fair, and this instance would, more than likely, be no different.

  Jemma made the final trip down for the last of her clothes.

  Her mother pulled up, hastily parking with two wheels on the curb.

  "Sweetheart," her mother bellowed as she sprang from her vehicle and dashed toward her. Though small in stature, she was strong, in both body and spirit. She had to be to keep up with Jemma's father. The silver streaks in her mother's fire red hair glistened in the sun as she closed the gap between them. "I came as soon as I got out of my meeting." Her mom wrapped her in a warm bear hug, and Jemma returned it twofold. She breathed in the familiar, comforting combination of her mom's perfume and hairspray.

  "I thought Dad told you we had it covered?" Jemma mumbled into her shoulder, not wanting to let go of her happy place.

  Pushing her back to arms length, her mother tucked her hair behind her ear, and Jemma leaned into her palm. "He did. But, when have I ever listened to your father?"

  "True." Jemma nodded. "I'm actually glad you're here. Dad's good for the manual labor. Arranging things? Not so much."

  Alexis Keith grabbed her daughter's hand and exchanged a knowing glance with her, expressing much the same sentiments her father had earlier, only without words. Kind of an 'I-told-you-so-but-I-knew-you-had-to-learn-for-yourself-before-you-would-listen-to-me,' complete with pursed lips, cocked head, and high, crinkled brow.

  Jemma rolled her eyes. "Thanks for not saying it, at least."

  "I'd never do that." Sarcasm dripped from each word. "That's why I keep your father around." The girls giggled as they walked arm in arm, sharing the load of clothes on the trip back up.

  "I was beginning to think you'd left me to do all the unpacking," her dad grumbled as he dumped a box of framed pictures haphazardly onto the rug.

  Jemma's stomach clenched at the sight of her precious cargo scattered on the floor. She lunged to the pile, arranging them into neat stacks, while checking for cracks in the glass.

  Her father walked over and greeted his wife with a kiss that would make even newlyweds blush. To the best of her recollection, her parents had always enjoyed a marriage made in heaven. Sure, they fought, and yes, there were hard times, but it was always obvious they loved one another. They'd set the relationship bar so high, Jemma sometimes wondered if she'd ever even come close to pole vaulting high enough to clear it.

  Her parents' miniature love fest ended, and her mother walked over to her. She smoothed Jemma's bangs from her face. "You realize your brother is going to bust something when he finds out what happened. We can only pray the something he busts isn't attached to a person."

  "Unless it's attached to Dalton," her father seethed.

  The man was doomed if those two showed up on his doorstep, not that part of her wasn't on board with it. She grabbed her father's hand. "Please, let me handle this. I'm not a little girl anymore. You and Mikey don't need to fight my battles."

  He scowled, a huge vein popping at his temple. "I'm your father. That's what I do."

  "Daddy, we weren't married, there aren't any kids involved, he didn't beat me, and I'm leaving with everything I went in with." She paused, looking down, pretending to admire the old, wooden trim before turning her big doe eyes back toward him and continuing, "Minus my pride, of course."

  Her mother rubbed her dad's shoulders. "She's right, Michael. Let her at least try to handle it herself."

  Jemma rode the self-confidence roller-coaster up with her mother's first words, the last half flinging her back down. Flashing an evil eye at her mom, a wide-eyed stare of innocence was promptly returned.

  Focusing on the more pressing matter, she returned her attention to her father's pending meltdown. "If you want to go to Duke's Club at the corner, I'll call you if I have any problems. You'll be less than a block away. Deal?"

  Her father's jaw set, his face flushing red, deep in thought. Softening into a teddy bear demeanor, he said, "Anything for my little girl."

  Jemma raised a skeptical brow. "Promise?"

  Releasing a deep sigh, he conceded, "Promise."

  Mikey shoved the apartment door open. The door handle slammed into the wall, the resounding whomp echoing off her high ceilings. "What's the Jemma emergency?"

  Her mom quickly reached Jemma's side, grabbing her arm before she could protest or strangle someone. "I'd already called him, honey. I didn't tell him all the details on the phone, though. He has the same temper as your father, and I knew he would be dangerous without someone talking sense into him first."

  Jemma bobbed her head in agreement then switched to fervently shaking it. Mikey and sense weren't a likely combination no matter how much you talked to him.

  Collapsing onto the couch again, her apartment walls seemed to close in on her. Though, she could be standing in the Grand Canyon at that particular moment and still feel confined. Her family meant well, but they were making the whole situation worse. She wanted to fast forward through time, through the mess, to regain some semblance of a normal life. Starting over alone would be a challenge, but it was one she could handle. Her heart may have been broken, but seeing Dalton and Stacy firsthand had helped, leaving no room in her mind for lies or excuses. And then there was the intense anger, which always did assist the healing process.

  "That bastard! I'll kill him with my bare hands." Mikey's thunderous voice rattled her from her thoughts.

  Jemma turned to her parents. "I take it you told him the whole story, then?" Sighing in frustrated resignation, she slouched farther down within the cushions of her couch. "Did you also tell him what you promised me, Dad?"

  "Yes, dear, we're heading to Duke's now. I've called Guido, Freddy, and Axel, too. They're m
eeting us there."

  She groaned aloud, unafraid to share her increasing discontent with the growing situation.

  Leaning down, her dad kissed her forehead. "I promised to play nice." He paused, his gaze narrowing. "As long as Dumb Ass Dalton plays nice, too."

  Jemma rolled her eyes again, this time at the old nickname he'd given Dalton when they'd first started dating. "Thank you, Daddy."

  The soft tinkling of Dalton's assigned ringtone shot panic through her, culminating in her gut. She swallowed hard to keep from throwing up.

  Her mom plucked the phone from the coffee table and handed it to her. "It's time to face him, honey." She placed a gentle kiss on Jemma's forehead, followed the guys out of the door, and quietly closed it behind them.

  Jemma inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Hello." The single word was curt, coarse, and dry.

  "Hey, baby doll. I've been trying to call all afternoon. You okay?" Sugary sweet, his words held the same tone they always did, but they didn't sit well with her this time. No hint of remorse for the oral Stacy invasion. No regret from the bastard for breaking her heart.

  "No, not really. I went for a drive today and saw some very disturbing sights."

  "Okay." He drew out the word, confusion clouding his voice. "Should I bring home supper for my love-muffin?"

  Jemma's stomach lurched again, this time at his baby talk. "No thanks. I feel sick, now."

  "I'll come home and give you one of my world famous massages. I'm on my way."

  He really did expect her to be at home waiting for him. "I've moved back into my apartment, Dalton. I know about you and Stacy."