ONE WIFE TOO MANY

by Susanne Marie Knight

  Setting his glass on the table, he stood. "Well, the sooner I approach Stella, the better it'll be for all of us. When you left, was she still at the hotel?"

  Randolph also stood. "Dancing the night away. Quite the life of the party, bless her."

  Will nodded. Stella enjoyed attention. With any luck she would still be dancing.

  Randolph took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the loveseat. "Guess I'll be heading for bed, then."

  They both walked through the entryway. Will stopped by the front door, then held out his hand. "Goodnight, Randy."

  The handshake was vigorous. Randolph clasped him on the upper arm. "I wish you good luck, son."

  Once outside in the cold, drizzling rain, Will smiled. He was thankful to be part of the Ernst family again.

  * * * *

  Andrea couldn't sleep. How could she? Wilson loved her, and wanted her, and proposed... goodness, her world was bursting with wonderful news.

  She couldn't wait to call Mama Kalala and tell her everything.

  Reaching over in bed, she turned on the night table lamp. She glanced at the time. It was midnight here, which meant only seven o'clock in Hawaii.

  As she reached for her cell phone, a knock sounded on the door.

  "Andrea? Are you up? May I come in?" her father called.

  "Of course, Dad." She adjusted the top of her flannel pajamas and leaned against the bed pillows.

  He ambled in, his dress shirt open at the neck. He held a half-filled glass of amber liquid in his hand. His blue eyes brightened when he saw her, but then he frowned as he glanced around the room.

  Was he looking for something?

  Oh, he wanted someplace to sit. She'd filled the chairs with her recent purchases.

  "Here." She patted a spot on the bed. "Sit by me."

  "Thanks." He settled on the mattress at the end of the bed. His smile was a little sheepish. "I saw your light on and hoped you'd be awake."

  "I couldn't sleep." She had such fantastic news, if she didn't share it, she would burst! "Dad, I've got something to tell you."

  He reached over and smoothed his fingers over her hand. "Does it have something to do with Will?"

  She blinked. "Why, yes. Yes it does." She hadn't realized he was so perceptive.

  Her father nodded. "I know all about it, pumpkin."

  Who could remember the last time her father had called her pumpkin?

  He took a drink. "Will and I talked downstairs. He asked me for your hand, again. Déjà vu, hey?"

  She grinned. Déjà vu was good...unless it involved being thrown overboard.

  Throughout her life, she'd rarely opened up to her father, but this was an occasion she'd always remember. "I love him, Dad. As soon as I met him, I knew he was the one for me."

  Her father finished his drink. "Precisely. So now there will be no more talk about you moving away. Your place will be here, with Will, and with me."

  Despite the warmth from the flannel P.J.s and the bedcovers, she felt a paralyzing chill overtake her. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. She just stared.

  He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Andrea, this makes me the happiest man alive." He walked to the door, then smiled. "I'll let you get your rest. See you in the morning."

  After the door shut, Andrea inhaled sharply. She released the breath, then jumped out of bed. Her father was exercising control over her again. Just as he had seven years ago.

  Her eyes filled with tears. She would not submit to him. She would not, she could not play dutiful daughter any longer.

  As much as she loved Wilson, she needed her own autonomy more.

  Swiping at her eyes, she began pacing. The movement helped her to think. Before either of these two men that she loved could stop her, she made her plans. As soon as her father fell asleep, she'd sneak outside, take her father's car, then hop a redeye out to Hawaii.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Even at midnight, the Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen party was going strong. The elegant dining tables had been unceremoniously pushed to the sides of the ballroom to accommodate more dancers. The orchestra, whittled down to a dedicated three, continued to belt out Christmas songs that now throbbed with a fevered rock and roll beat.

  And although the music was pulsatingly dynamic, a few of the couples danced slow. Cheek-to-cheek, pressed intimately against each other.

  One of these dancers was clad in violet. Stella.

  Will recognized the man so tightly holding her. He was the Texan, oil rich with time and money on his hands, the one who Will had introduced to Stella earlier in the evening. The man was definitely eligible, and definitely interested in the misunderstood Mrs. Struthers number two.

  He even had the perfect last name: Stedman. As Will recalled, Stella had seemed overly enamored by the sound of her new married name at first. Stella Stedman just might have the same appeal to her as Stella Struthers.

  Will maneuvered his way through the crowded dance floor, then tapped Steve Stedman on the shoulder. "May I borrow the lady for a few minutes, Steve?"

  The Texan blushed, probably with embarrassment. Stella, on the other hand, also turned red, but her reaction most likely was from anger.

  "Of course, of course." Stedman darted his gaze to Stella. "I'll go get myself a drink."

  Compressing her lips, Stella followed Will to an empty dinner table as far away from the music as he could find. He held the chair for her, and sat across from her.

  She folded her manicured hands on the table. "Shoot, it's about time you showed up. I was wonderin' when you'd get around to rememberin' me."

  Will made a full appraisal of her appearance. Her high cheekbones were still flushed pink, her dark rosy lipstick was softly smudged, and her quickened breathing all signaled arousal...of a romantic nature.

  The diamond earrings he had given her, that she'd worn when they left the house, had been replaced with a more expensive version. Larger stones in an emerald cut sparkled from her ears.

  In the lobby, Will had passed a jewelry concession contained within the hotel. Perhaps it was also known as an "Emergency Diamond" store.

  "You're right, Stella. I've neglected you."

  She signaled a server for a drink. After taking a glass, she murmured, "Damn straight."

  He waited until she took a sip. "We need to talk."

  "I know what this is about. You want your first wife back, don't you? You want a divorce from Stella, hmmn?" Her eyes narrowed, and she drummed those polished fingernails on the tabletop.

  He spread out his hands. "I made a mistake. I take full blame for this."

  "Well, no shit!" she bellowed, then glanced around as if she was self-conscious about her outburst.

  He hadn't heard her favorite term for him--sugar--in quite a while. That was a good sign he was winning this case.

  Lowering her voice, she continued, "You sure as hell are to blame, and I'm gonna make you pay through the nose."

  "You deserve it," he said smoothly.

  "Damn straight," she repeated, but this time she didn't sound as hostile.

  He took her hand. "Stella, the sooner the paperwork is filed, the sooner you'll be officially free. An uncontested divorce moves the fastest." With his other hand, he crossed his fingers under the table. "Steve Stedman is a very fine man."

  "He certainly is." Her eyes flashed fire, then she gazed out at the dance floor. A shy smile lit her lips.

  Will turned to see who she was smiling at. The tall Texan was headed their way.

  He moved his chair back. "I won't keep you any longer, then. I'll prepare all the documents, have you sign a waiver of notice, then our depositions can be taken. With any luck, we can have the final decree in a few weeks. Perhaps even sooner."

  She no longer was paying attention to him, but to the approaching Mr. Stedman.

  "And let me know what you have in mind for a settlement, Stella. I'll take care of everything." Will stood.

  She nodded distractedly. Her gaze still fixed, s
he licked her lips.

  Will walked over to Steve Stedman, then shook his hand. After a few pleasantries, Will mentioned that Stella would soon be a free woman.

  Stedman gave him a Texas grin.

  Leaving the two would-be lovers to themselves, Will briskly strode through the hotel and out to his car.

  It was still raining. If he had any smarts, he should head straight for home. But tonight, his smarts seemed to have deserted him. He needed, desperately, to make a pit stop. He needed to drive by Randolph's house and say a silent goodnight to the house--to Andrea. Then he'd drive on.

  He got behind the steering wheel and smiled. Thank God he'd soon be able to say goodnight to her in person, every night. Every night, in their bed.

  * * * *

  Feeling a bit foolish, Will parked on the street in front of the Ernst address, idling the Mazda. The house was dark, all the lights were out, both its occupants asleep. Andrea, he hoped, lay dreaming about him.

  He certainly would be dreaming about her when he finally hit the bed--

  Wait. Something was moving.

  He peered into the shadows and spotted someone creeping about in the driveway, toward the unattached garage in back of the house.

  He shut off the engine. As quietly as he could, he got out of his car, leaving the door slightly ajar so as to not make any noise. A pouring rain hid the sound of his footsteps as he drew closer.

  The automatic garage door opened, revealing the trunk of Randolph's navy Gran Turismo. The slight figure hurried inside and slid behind the steering wheel.

  The dome light divulged the identity of the intruder. Hell. It was Andrea.

  He quickened his pace, hoping she wouldn't turn around. Before she had a chance to start the car, he tapped on the driver's side window.

  "Going someplace?"

  She visibly jumped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Oh! Oh, Wilson."

  She patted at her heart. "What in the world are you doing here?" she shouted through the closed window.

  She was dressed in a dark hat and a raincoat. Her reddened eyes and slightly pink nose told him she'd been crying. But why? Was she having second thoughts?

  "Just a minute." He walked around the car and got in the passenger side.

  The bucket seats were comfortable, luxurious even, but they weren't conducive to cuddling. He adjusted the seat back as far as it could go, took the keys out of the ignition, then turned to her. "What's going on, Andrea?"

  She took off her hat, releasing her gloriously thick dark hair. "I-I'm going back to Hilo. My father intends for me to stay here, live here, and I can't. I just can't."

  Will smoothed his hand through his wet hair to shake off the rain. There was more going on here than Hilo versus Richmond. And it had to do with Randolph Ernst.

  "I'm your husband, Andrea. Where we live will be our decision, not your father's."

  Her lower lip trembled. "But your job is here. He wants me here."

  "Sweetheart." Will took her cold hands in his. "I'm not married to the job, I'm married to you. Or will be soon. Very soon." He kissed the backs of her hands. "You forget, the firm has an office in Honolulu. We could live there."

  He tried a little levity. "Or if you're really set on the Big Island, I could learn a new trade. Make nut necklaces, like you do."

  "You'd do that? You'd move?"

  "Lock, stock, and barrel." He nibbled on the edge of her fingertips. "I haven't been very effective here the past few weeks anyway."

  "Oh, Wilson!" She leaned over and hugged him, but the damn console interfered with complete body contact.

  He glared at the obstruction. Cars from the old days were better designed for seduction.

  She pulled away. "Wait." Removing her raincoat, she threw it into the backseat, then climbed over the console to straddle his lap. "Ever since I saw that woman, Dahlia, sitting on you this way, I've wanted to give it a try."

  Without waiting for him to reply, she snuggled against him, and softly brushed her lips over his forehead and down the side of his face to his lips. Hovering there, she teased him.

  "Mmm, how am I doing?" she asked.

  The feel of her, the fragrance of her, the taste of her kicked his long denied libido into high gear. He slipped his hands under her wool sweater and slid them up on her velvety smooth skin.

  "Mmm, you're doing wonderfully," he whispered in her ear. "But you don't have a bra on, you know."

  "I know," she whispered back.

  An urgency he'd never known before overtook him. He tasted her lips, so sweet like nectar, then crushed her to him, feeling her rounded breasts flatten against his chest. He kissed her, full and hard and long. He deepened the kiss until she was breathing in short, raspy pants.

  "Wilson," she gasped in between breaths. "I love you."

  It was time. Way past time to consummate this new, yet long-standing love. He kissed a path to her ear, then murmured, "I love you, Andrea."

  Removing his hand from the warmth of her skin, he fumbled with the seat controls. "Let's get this seat reclined all the way."

  Back they went. Andrea giggled. She placed the palms of her hands around his face, cupping his chin, then massaged his temples with her fingertips. "Now I've got you where I want you, Wilson Struthers." Bending her head, she danced her long hair across his cheeks.

  God, he loved this woman. He slipped his hand back under her sweater and pressed his palm over to caress the sensitive swells of her breasts.

  "Oh!" She gasped. Her hips arched against him at the same time.

  No doubt about it, he was ready, and so was she.

  Feeling her nipples peak, he grew impatient to see and taste them. He tugged up on her sweater to remove it.

  "No fair," she pronounced. "You first." She started unbuttoning his oxford shirt.

  He helped her along by removing his suit jacket. That and the shirt now lay in a tumbled heap in the backseat.

  She seemed to be having a field day rubbing her hands over his hairy chest.

  His hands itched to reciprocate. Just as he edged his fingers at the bottom of her sweater, he had a sudden thought. "Let's close the garage door. We wouldn't want to give the neighbors a show, would we?"

  "Or my father." She giggled again, then twisted over to the driver's side to press the remote.

  Now they had complete privacy.

  As soon as the door hit the floor, Will helped her out of her sweater. For a moment, he feasted on the soft feminine curves of her bountiful breasts. Then with his tongue he traced the demarcation line between tanned and white skin.

  "You're beautiful, Andrea."

  She fell against him, pressing herself, rubbing herself, delighting every blessed cell in his body. Heated kisses, fevered touches, licking, suckling--he was a man possessed. Possessed by an overwhelming need to fully love this magical woman.

  The temperature in the confines of the car soared. As did his desire.

  Running his hands over her bare back, he then slid them into her jeans. The feel of her firm, tight ass wreaked havoc with his self-control.

  "I, ah, I need to get rid of your jeans ASAP," he whispered into the volume of her hair.

  She sat up, then brushed her hand across the bulge in his slacks.

  When he groaned, she gave him a shy smile. "Yes, I suspected you were feeling a little pent up." She unbuckled his belt, hesitated a moment, then unzipped him.

  "Pent up doesn't describe the half of it." He curved his arm around her, lifted up, then with some difficulty, turned so that he was now on top.

  "I never imagined our first time would be in a car, cramped like this." He captured her lips in a kiss.

  "Yes," she sighed. "It's my first time."

  Through the haze of heated passion, her words slowly penetrated his consciousness.

  He lifted up onto his elbows. "First time in a car?"

  With her fingertip, she smoothed circles on his cheek, down his jawline, and stopping on the indent in his chin. "First time ever, Wilson."r />
  He blinked. "How can that be?"

  She held his gaze. "If you remember, my wedding night was interrupted."

  "But you're...twenty-five."

  "True. So much wasted time." She smiled a little sadly. "Although I didn't remember the details, I knew by the ring on my finger that I was married. Because of that, I didn't think it was right for me to get involved with anyone. It wouldn't have been fair to them."

  He squeezed his eyes shut, in silent prayer, thankful that Andrea was his, and his alone. She was an amazing woman.

  As gently as he was able, he wrapped his arms around her, inhaling her sweet perfume and feeling her heart beat against him. "Sweetheart, we could postpone this--"

  "Now," she insisted. "I want you now, Wilson."

  Wiggling out of one's trousers while inclined on a bucket seat wasn't the easiest of tasks, but the reward was great. Will added his previously crisply tailored trousers to the stack in the back.

  Andrea, under him, struggled with her jeans, too. Finally, finally they were free from the encumbrance of clothing. Pressing himself against the tight brown curls of her mound, he slid his hands over her bare thighs, then around to the swell of her bottom.

  "You are beautiful, Andrea. More beautiful than anyone I have ever seen."

  He fused his mouth with hers. "I'll try to be gentle, sweetheart." He nudged her legs apart.

  "Yes, Wilson." She rubbed her hips against his. "Yes, love me."

  He carefully eased himself into her. Slowly, deliberately. Kissing her. Not wanting to hurt her.

  "Wilson," she moaned, raking her nails across his back.

  He stilled his movements. "Andrea?"

  "Please." She pressed against him. "Please..."

  Gradually he thrust, again, then again, until the barrier was broken.

  "Wilson," she gasped.

  She was ready. Desire took over. All control vanished. His thrusts grew longer, fiercer, demanding. Overlapping sensations of love, of desire begging for release throbbed throughout his body. He grew greedy with his need for this woman.

  She entwined her fingers in his hair and met him, thrust for thrust.

  "Oh, Wilson!" Her body trembled. She shuddered. She climaxed. Perspiration glistened on her face, her neck, her chest.