Husband Sit (Husband #1)

by Louise Cusack

  Then he leant down and retrieved my handbag and room key, and gave them to me. My fingers were nerveless and I told myself it was hunger.

  “Dinner tonight?” he said. “They’ve got a great restaurant here.”

  Walk away Jill. Don’t be lured. Nothing good can come from having sex with a man you’re in love with and can’t have. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop my hormones surging into overdrive, imagining all sorts of naughty scenarios.

  I turned and nodded to the bellboy. We set off for the elevator, ignoring Finn.

  Side of sight, I saw him following me. “The food is fabulous.”

  “I’m sure I’ll like it.” I turned to him politely. “I might see you there.”

  In fact, I was planning to hide out in my room.

  He nodded, and looked slightly defeated. “Okay.”

  “I need to lie down.”

  “Are you…well?” He glanced at the bellboy who’d stopped in front of the lift.

  I stood beside the boy, but Finn wasn’t going away so I hooked my handbag onto my shoulder and held out my hand. “So good to see you again, Finn. You look great.”

  He shook my hand, his expression cautious. “You look sexy as hell.”

  That warmed me up even more, and I had a traitorous urge to pull him into the lift and kiss him senseless, but all of the aforementioned problems would still be there, plus the bellboy might be scarred for life if he had to witness something like that.

  Knowing how hot I felt just looking at Finn, I doubted I’d be able to stop at kissing.

  Luckily, the elevator door pinged opened, but before I could escape, Finn said, “You’ve got my phone number. If you want to go for a swim, I’ll be at the tidal pool across the road.”

  I offered him a bland smile before following the bellboy in and starting a conversation about the room service menu, and what local restaurants might suit vegetarians. Five minutes later, I was installed in my room, with its royal blue carpet—a match for the ocean outside the window—sand colored walls and crisp white bed linen. It was clean and luxurious and I couldn’t wait to flop on the bed, but instead I rang room service and ordered some toasted cheese sandwiches with a fruit platter as a chaser. Then I hit the shower and gave my hair a serious scrub.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t get Finn out of my head so easily, remembering the way he’d kissed my cheek so tenderly, the hint of desperation in his eyes when he’d said, You look sexy as hell. I got so overheated—thinking about him at the pool with so much tanned skin on show—I ended up treating myself to a pussy spa with the portable shower-head. Seconds later I could feel the pleasure worming its way around my clit where the jet of water struck, and before I was ready I was hanging onto the soap dish with my free hand, and moaning through the fastest masturbation orgasm I’d ever had.

  When it was over, I turned off the shower and faced the mirror, with my wet hair plastered unflatteringly to my head and my eyes dark and haunted. It wasn’t a sexy look, and for a second I thanked whoever was in charge that Finn wasn’t here to see it. Not that it mattered. And in fact, if he saw me looking ugly, he might give up on me and…

  No, that didn’t work. I didn’t want him to see me ugly.

  “You’re such a hypocrite,” I told my reflection.

  I wanted him to desire me. I just didn’t want to desire him back, because for all I knew, he’d brought Katinka with him to Sydney. Bastard. The only strategy I could think of was avoidance. I’d booked and paid for three days, which wouldn’t be refundable…unless—wait—what had that receptionist said? Finn had covered my bill?

  Well, alright! If he was paying, I could clear out anytime, and he’d have no one to blame but himself. Only…damn him, I wanted a holiday. I wanted this holiday. I’d always wanted to stay at the beach outside Newcastle. I’d heard how beautiful it was here and the view from my window hadn’t disappointed. Why should I leave? I shouldn’t. I should just stay and ignore him, with his gorgeous cheekbones, his sexy green eyes and that tanned, hot body.

  I could show self-discipline.

  Inside my mind I heard Fritha snorting at the idea, but I ignored that to pull out my phone and call Brittany. Unfortunately, her Skype profile was offline, and neither had she responded to my two last texts. I rang, but only caught her messagebank, “You’re talking to a machine. Ha-ha! Don’t leave a message unless you’re rich or ripped.”

  What a twit.

  I shook my head, and after the beeps I said, “This is your sister. Your only family. Your worried, only family sister. Text me so I know you’re alive.” And not in jail. After I’d hung up from her, I took another two minutes to call the hospital and check that they were fine with the payments I’d made. Everything was good in Bangkok. There was no reason to worry that Brittany was in trouble over her debts. So why the hell wasn’t she answering her phone? Even if I’d rung while she was in the shower, she’d see she had a missed call.

  I resolved to try her again before bedtime, then I got myself presentable for the arrival of room service by hair-drying and suitcase sorting until I was clean, mascara’d and freshly dressed in another sundress, this one blue with tiny white flowers on it. Not that I was hoping to see Finn any time soon.

  Or at all.

  There might be only one restaurant in the hotel, but that didn’t mean I had to dine there. I could check out the local cafes, or live off room service, although that might inhibit my holiday vibe. So I was contemplating how far I might go to avoid him when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Room Service.”

  Thank God. I was starving.

  “Coming!” I barefooted it to the door and swung it wide. A delightfully white-aproned pixie with oversized glasses and neat black pigtails said, “Your lunch, ma’am. Where would you like it? On the table by the window?”

  “Sure.” I stepped back to let her in, liking being called ma’am. The kid was almost half my age, so her old-fashioned manners rubbed me up the right way. “Thanks,” I said, when she’d set the tray down and straightened it on my tiny dining table.

  She looked out through the window. “Lovely day outside,” she said, and I nodded. Then some of her reserve faded as she grinned. “Great day for a swim.”

  “Have you been?” I asked, and waved a hand at the sparkling vista of Pacific Ocean spread out before us.

  “This morning, before I started,” she said. “The water is a delicious twenty-four degrees.”

  “Oh my.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d swum in such a warm ocean. “That sounds fabulous.”

  “It was fabulous,” she said. “You don’t want to miss the opportunity.”

  “I won’t,” I promised, telling myself I would swim, and Finn wasn’t going to stop me.

  I let the girl out and went back to my meal, determined to enjoy it and to stop feeling anxious about running into Finn. If he was at the tidal pool across the road, I’d simply drive to a nearby beach. Although, the last thing I wanted was for him to walk back from the pool while I was waiting out the front for the valet service to bring my car. So a late afternoon swim might be best, but what if he was watching the elevator by then, waiting for me to leave my room?

  I glanced at the door, wondering what to do, and in that moment I noticed something I hadn’t seen before in my rush to get clean. On the wall across from my bed was a second door, and I was just frowning at that when I remembered that the receptionist had put me in an adjoining room to Finn.

  “Shit!”

  I jumped up from the table and ran over to test the handle, gently, so it wouldn’t make a noise on the other side.

  Locked.

  Thank God!

  Better news, the lock button was on my side, so he couldn’t let himself in. Not that he would, actually. I knew him well enough to know that he’d never invade my privacy without an invitation. So there really hadn’t been any reason to race around like a frightened rabbit. He was probably just planning for some contingency he hoped would eventuate, and that
made me cranky and sad all over again. But as I turned away from the door with my eyes downcast, I saw something sticking out from under it.

  An envelope.

  Don’t touch it! Push it back to his side.

  As if I could.

  I reached down and grabbed the tiny corner and pulled it through. Sure enough, it had Jill written on the front. I ripped it open, my heart galloping with excitement and fear and stupidity as I read.

  Don’t go.

  I know you want to. But please give me a chance to talk. Just one dinner. If you hear me out and still want to walk away, I won’t chase you.

  I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know what else to do.

  7 pm in the restaurant, otherwise your friend Fritha will keep me updated on your whereabouts and you’ll never escape me.

  Finn

  My racing heart slowed to an ominous thudding.

  “Bitch.”

  I dropped the letter, stormed over to my handbag and grabbed my phone. Six rings later it answered.

  “J, don’t be cranky with me.”

  She sounded breathless but I didn’t care. I could feel my hands shaking. “I’m fucking furious.”

  “He’s the one.”

  “That’s not your call. This is my life.”

  “You’re fucking it up! Jesus, Jill. He’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met—”

  “You’ve met him!”

  “Just once. He came for coffee, to find out what he had to do to win your heart. He’s so romantic.”

  I could feel a pulse throbbing beside my temple. Not only that, I was crazy jealous at the idea of Fritha across the table from him. I loved her. But I hated her in that moment too. “You’ve crossed the line, Frith.”

  I heard a sound then, a hiccupping breath before she said, “You know what, I don’t care anymore. I’m so damned sick of trying to do the right thing, of being good and nice and helpful, and what happens? Your partner cheats on you, your girlfriends shit on you—”

  My angst evaporated in the face of her rising hysteria. “Hey, hey, settle.” I’d never heard Fritha talk like that before. “I love you. I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a fuck up.”

  “Just…” There was silence on the line for the longest time, and I had to physically clamp my mouth shut so I wouldn’t jump into the gap. “Just once,” she said softly. “Just once I’d like to get something I want.”

  “I’ll get it for you, baby,” I promised, my chest aching at the sound of her angst. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to pick a guy, get married and settle down. Like Missy Lou and Ange. I want you to be happy. And I want to be a bridesmaid—”

  “In a rainbow colored dress.” I had to smile. A sad smile. “God, Frith, I wish it was that easy.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about Missy Lou’s marital problems, but I couldn’t. Apart from the fact that I’d promised I wouldn’t, poor Frith sounded demoralized enough already. She needed happy news, not sad news. So I gave her what she wanted.

  “I’m having dinner with him tonight.”

  “Doug?”

  What?

  “No, Finn. Why are you mentioning Doug?”

  Jesus, was there a conspiracy going on?

  “Sorry, I got confused. They’re both great guys. Finn. Right. Dinner is good. And you can fuck him afterwards. You’ll like that. He’s hot.”

  “I know I’ll like that,” I snapped, shoving down the jealousy that surged at the idea of Fritha checking him out that way. “So enough of my soap opera life. What’s happening at your end?”

  “Same old,” she said and I could almost hear her shrugging her thin shoulders. Then, “So did you tell him to cut off his dreads? I thought he had dreads.”

  Of course, Fritha would prefer a guy with dreads. It was her kind of sexy.

  “Yeah I did,” I lied. “I like that slicked-back corporate look.”

  In fact, I liked the shorter hair on Finn very much. I’d thought he was sexy before, now all I could think about was running my fingers through that butterscotch hair. Not to mention licking my way up those cheekbones. He’d had a restless boyish charm before. Now he looked like a man and that really turned me on.

  “So enjoy dinner,” she said. “And be nice to him. It’s not his fault he married the wrong person.”

  I frowned at that. “Then whose fault is it? I assume he married her without coercion.”

  Fritha sighed, and it was such a tired sound. “People mistake affection for love all the time. He owed her a debt of gratitude and…it’s complicated. Ask him to tell you about it.”

  “Sure,” I said coolly, and finished the call as quickly as I could, unreasonably angry that he’d been discussing his private life with Fritha instead of me. Granted, I was the one who’d made myself completely unavailable for confidence-sharing, but I still resented her knowing more about him. Which, again, was crazy when I was determined to wipe him from my memory banks.

  The worst of it was, that now I had to force myself through dinner with him, because driving to Fritha’s house and making her swear she’d never speak to him again wouldn’t work. The harsh reality was that I could trust Finn more to keep his word than I could my best friend. So I needed to front up to the restaurant and listen. But that was all I was doing, then the rest of the holiday was mine. I’d make damned sure of that.

  I was grumpy as I went back to the dining table and chewed my way through a lukewarm grilled cheese sandwich and a much nicer tropical fruit salad. The mango was particularly delicious, and juicy. For a couple of seconds my restless imagination pictured me bringing Finn back after dinner and letting him lick the juice off me.

  Luckily, the alcohol overdose debacle at the hospital had shown me I was too emotionally involved to manage a one-night-stand. Anything physical between us now would only deepen the bond I was trying to break. I had to be absolutely certain I didn’t accidentally kiss him, or blow him, or any of the other things I’d been fantasizing about for weeks. No back door action. And definitely no cunnilingus!

  So…that meant everything was out of bounds. I would sit across the table from him, listen to whatever he said, thank him for dinner, and waltz out of his life. For good. He’d promised he wouldn’t stalk me, and I should would delete his contact details from my phone.

  Fritha would be disappointed, but in the long run, it would be for the best. One day I’d be able to think about romance again. But that day was not today. And a married man was definitely not on my To Woo list.

  Accordingly, I was ready at 6:45 pm, perched on the edge of my bed, sick in the stomach with nerves.

  “No touching,” I said to myself and nodded for good measure. Then I stood and brushed the creases out of my lucky blue cocktail dress. Unlike the slutty red one I’d worn to the airport to meet him, this one had some decorum about it. It was the only real designer item I owned, an old Colette Dinnigan electric blue silk, knee length with a sweetheart neckline and capped sleeves. It was a ‘classic’ that even Missy Lou approved of, and together with my silver sandals, was the classiest outfit I owned. I figured it was the right thing to wear for a last dinner with the love of my life.

  Yeah, I was up to that.

  Not that I was going to tell Finn. It would only make me look crazy to be pushing him away. It would also give him an incentive to keep pursuing me—which would be flattering, but unproductive. At the end of the day, I wanted to be happy. I felt like I deserved that. And yes, linking up with Finn would feel delirious to begin with. No doubt the sex would be spectacular, but I’d seen enough B Grade movies to know that the other woman never ended up happy.

  It would not work.

  So I needed to hold my resolve, despite manly cheekbones and sexy eyes, despite swoon-worthy lips that might utter compliments, or worse, a declaration of love. And most especially, despite my own desire not to hurt the people I love. Rejecting Finn would hurt him. I knew that in advance. And damn him, he wasn’t taking the sharp jerk-the-plaster-strip-
off variety of rejection I’d given him. He clearly wanted the lingering twist-the-knife goodbye, and that would cut deep.

  I hated the thought of seeing that in his eyes, and while I waited for seven pm, I grew more convinced that I wouldn’t be able to do it. Yet I had to. Habit saw me pull out my phone for back-up, but I couldn’t call Fritha. I’d just told her I was fine. That left Missy Lou and Angela. I hadn’t spoken to Ange in weeks, so it would be rude—even for me—to ring her for back up. Not only that, she’d want to be filled in on the whole background, and I wasn’t about to tell her I’d been fucking a married man. So she might side with Fritha, thinking I should give Finn a chance.

  I couldn’t risk that. It might tip me over the edge. No. I needed to nip this vulnerability in the bud. Disapproval and arbitrary judgment were my best weapons. There was only one person I could rely on for that.

  I dialed.

  “Are you drunk again?”

  “No. But I’m worried that I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life so far.”

  “I see. Is this about Finn?”

  Dear God she was perceptive.

  “Yes it is. I can’t be with him. I love him too much. But he’s blackmailed me into having dinner with him. Then he’s promised to leave me alone. If I just listen. Only, I’m scared I won’t be able to walk away.”

  “You listen to me, Jillian Wilson.”

  I held my breath and did just that.

  “Don’t you marry for love. Ever. Instead, I want you to write a checklist of what you want from a relationship, and you make damned sure you don’t settle for less. Love isn’t anywhere near as important as…other factors.”

  Was that a hitch in her breath? I hated myself then for pushing her through this. “Thanks, L,” I whispered. “I needed to hear that.”

  I also needed to remember that she was trapped—I didn’t know why—but she had clearly chosen for love and that had ended tragically.

  There was a long pause. Then she said. “Love is for girlfriends and children, if you have them. It’s not something you use to select a life partner.”