Burning Down the Spouse

by Dakota Cassidy

  Jasmine turned the key in the ignition, her hand shaking from the frigid air that had moved in the night before and headed out of the village. She was silent for a few minutes before replying, “It’s working—for now.”

  Frankie burrowed deeper into her loaner jacket, hoping the heat worked in Jasmine’s clunker. “Wow, Jasmine. You think you could be any less enthusiastic about a guy like Simon wanting to date you? I know pretty girls like you are used to rich, fabulous men chasing after them all the time, but Simon’s different. I have a gut feeling.”

  “I don’t want to judge, Francis, but your gut is what led you to threaten to kill your ex-husband on national television.”

  “Hater. It wasn’t my gut. It was my crazy,” Frankie said with a laugh. What she adored most about Jasmine was her balls-to-the-wall ability to call it as she saw it.

  “Which makes you and your gut unreliable sources. Simon isn’t any different than any other man.”

  “Is what you keep telling yourself,” Frankie finished for her.

  Jasmine sighed, gnawing at her lower lip with a distressed frown. “Sort of.”

  “So why won’t you just let it happen?”

  “Because after it happens is usually when the magic mysteriously wears off and they’re off to the next younger, bigger-breasted babe.”

  Frankie clucked her tongue, chiding Jasmine. “You can’t hide the look in your eyes when Simon walks into a room.”

  “Sure I can,” she said, turning into the diner’s parking lot. “He’s blind.”

  Frankie covered her mouth to keep from snickering. “I meant from everyone else, you insensitive meanie-butt. And you know, I’ve been too caught up in my own crap to do any research, but if you don’t mind me asking, how did Simon lose his sight?”

  Jasmine ran her tongue over her lips and grimaced. “A car accident. The windshield smashed and he got glass in his eyes.”

  “I don’t know, but the way he handles it, joking about it all the time and without the kind of bitter sarcasm behind his words you’d expect, makes him that much cuter to me, don’t you think?” Frankie prodded.

  Jasmine pulled her car into the first available space, stopping it with a groan of her tired brakes. “I think we should focus on our mission, Wonder Girl, and forget about Simon and me. So far, he’s been a good boy about keeping this thing we have going, on my terms. We do a little dance, make a little love, and then he goes home. It’s all I can handle right now.”

  Frankie shook her head, the long curls of her hair sticking to her lip gloss. “No. It’s all you’ll allow. Big difference.”

  “Listen, Maxine junior, back off with the advice, and let’s go get your man. Now hand me my purse, hot stuff. We have a man to snare.”

  Frankie reached down to grab Jasmine’s purse while her stomach swelled with fear. Jasmine took it with a raised eyebrow. “Get out, Frankie.”

  “You know, I really don’t feel up to snaring a man tonight. I mean, it’s soooo much work. All the small talk, the ego stroking, the ridiculous twirling of your hair and wetting your lips—and for what? Some sex?” Ohhhhhh. Some sex. Sex, sex, sex.

  Jasmine popped her lips. “I get the impression sex with Nikos wouldn’t just be ‘some’ sex. Look. It’s cold. Simon’s waiting. I’m hungry. The food is free. I can’t afford to pass that up because it’s not often lately I can save five ninety-nine for an extra value meal because I’ve happened upon free food. So either you take your skinny ass in there, or I drag you in there, keeping in mind I eat at least two and a half meals more than you a day, Big Macs being my energy bar of choice. Do you have any idea the kind of punch I can pack after eating so many Big Macs? You do not want to go with me, sister. Now hit it.” She pointed a pink, home-manicured nail at the car door. Then, taking the matter into her own hands, Jasmine got out of the car, walked to the passenger side, and yanked the door open. “Out.”

  Frankie’s breathing accelerated when the frigid air hit her lungs. She reached for Jasmine’s arm to help her get onto the sidewalk in her spiky heels. “I can’t breathe.”

  “That’s because you have on a push-up bra. Breathing is a luxury meant for women with perky breasts. Stop stalling, Frankie. There are people in there who genuinely like you and respect your mad chopping-prep skills. Focus on them. Remember, the only thing you have to do is go inside. What happens after that, it’s up to you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she mocked, teetering across a patch of ice on the stairs leading to the door. “I’ll be all regret and remorse if I don’t go through with it. I’ll still want Nikos tomorrow if I chicken out tonight. Don’t you dare waste six-dollar false eyelashes, Frankie, blah, blah, blah.”

  Jasmine threw open the diner door with a sweep of her hand, her teeth chattering. “After you, Ms. Your Cup Runneth Over With Self-Esteem.”

  Her first step into the diner wobbled, her eyes focusing on her feet and a graceful entry. When a rush of warm air greeted her, she relaxed a little, letting her shoulders ease back. Until she looked up.

  At all the eyes zeroed in on her.

  There was a momentary hush in the room crowded with so many heads of dark hair, Frankie struggled to tell one from the other.

  Was there schmeg on her lipstick? More cat hair on her skirt?

  “I think you’ve officially made an entrance, Ms. Bennett. Don’t you ever tell me again that false eyelashes might be just a little too over-the-top,” Jasmine whisper-mocked from behind her, giving her ribs a jab with her elbow. “Go on. This is your moment.”

  “Frankie?” Voula, wide-eyed, arms opened, called. She pushed her way through the crowd, now recovered but still eyeing Frankie with gaping mouths. Voula caught her by the cheeks, cupping her face with warm, kitchen-rough hands. Hands Frankie had come to love for their straightforward, hardworking honesty. “Do you see what Mama’s meatloaf does?” She clapped her hands together in delight, her eyes twinkling. “You are so beautiful tonight. Like Snow White at the ball.”

  “Cinderella, Mama,” Cosmos chimed in. He was definitely a treat for the eyes in his dark gray trousers and red, tailored-to-fit shirt. The Santa hat he wore lay on his head in a crooked slant. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then stood back and whistled his approval. “Uh, wow. Somebody got nailed by the smokin’ hot fairy,” he joked his appreciation, but then his expression sobered. “You look terrific, Frankie. Really.”

  She couldn’t help but grin. Approval in any form from Cosmos was rare. “Well, thank you, sir. I clean up all right, eh?”

  Maxine’s head popped up in the crowd of people, her handsome husband not far behind. They held hands as they approached her, giving Frankie that familiar stab of envy. “Frankie?”

  “If I had a nickel for every time someone’s said my name with that ‘no way’ tone in their voice as of late, I’d have a shot at actually having a bank balance.”

  She grinned when Maxine reached out a finger to lightly touch one of her long curls, her mouth forming a small O. “You are stunning . I can’t believe it’s you! Campbell,” she called over her shoulder to her husband, “would you just look at how beautiful she is?”

  Campbell smiled, warm and kind, the hands he placed on Maxine’s shoulders a gesture of sweet possessiveness. “You look terrific,” he added.

  “And I don’t want to say I told you so, Frankie Bennett, but—”

  “You told me so. Yes, yes, you did, Maxine. I do feel better. A million times better, and I know I was selfish and ill-behaved the last time we saw each other, but I really owe you a big thank-you for dragging me out of bed. So thank you.” Frankie pulled her into a hug. “Jasmine’s responsible for reminding me what it is to care about what you look like again.”

  A tear welled in Maxine’s eye, one she brushed at with an impatient swipe of her finger. “Did you see the reaction you got when you walked in? Holy jaw-dropping. And Nikos? I thought for sure he’d fall over in the tray of lasagna.” Maxine gave her another tight squeeze. “I’m so happy, not just bec
ause you’re utterly gorgeous and have reinvested in you, but because it seems like you’ve found a place to fit—even if it’s only temporary and you move on to something different, you’ve adapted. You’ve grasped the beginnings of a new start. There’s nothing that makes me happier. It’s the best Christmas gift I could have ever hoped for. You had me really worried, but look at you now.”

  Yeah, yeah, yeah. New start. Fitting in. Christmas gifts. Could they go back to the Nikos falling in the lasagna part? No. That would be rude and ungrateful, something Frankie definitely was not. She owed Maxine a shining moment because she was the woman responsible for forcing her to recognize the mess she’d allowed her life to become. Frankie gave her an extra hug, her gratitude honest and heartfelt.

  “Jasmine!” Maxine squealed, hugging her and forgetting Frankie for the moment.

  Frankie mouthed to Jasmine her intent to hit the long buffet spread out on the diner’s counter, then made her way through the crowd, stopping when Voula or Cosmos wanted to introduce her to someone in their family.

  A tall, regal-looking man waved her down from his spot in the corner of the room where he and Simon mingled by a cluster of fake potted palms that had been lit with multicolored Christmas lights. “Miss Frankie, is it?”

  “It is,” she said on a smile. “How’d you know? Has Simon been talking out of turn?” she teased, patting Simon on the arm.

  Simon reached for her, pulling her to his lips for a peck on her cheek. “Me. I heard all the commotion when you walked in and the muttering of your name in vain from Chloe’s lips.”

  She blushed, giving a covert glance around the room for Chloe, whom she found buried in a sea of dark heads, her eyes avoiding Frankie’s. “It’s so good to see you.” She tucked her hands under the lapels of his suit jacket. “You look pretty hot, Simon.”

  “I hear you do, too,” he chuckled, waving his hand in the direction of his friend. “This is Win, by the way. My babysitter.” He winked with a grin.

  Win took her hand, lifting it to drop a light kiss on it. His chuckle of amusement was like a mug of hot chocolate, slipping into your belly to warm your insides. “Ah, Simon, I wouldn’t hold the title for oldest babysitter if you didn’t hold it for oldest man in history in need of a babysitter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss. You are truly a vision of everything lovely and heart-stopping. Glad tidings to you.”

  “So where’s my woman?” Simon asked, tucking his cane beneath his arm. “I swear if one of these Greek cavemen scoops her up, I’m not afraid to call disabled and at a disadvantage,” he cracked.

  Frankie laughed, loving that Simon was so well-adjusted to his blindness he was able to joke about it. Frankie squeezed his arm, tugging a piece of his blond hair. “She’s not far behind me, and I don’t think you have to worry, Simon. She only has eyes for you. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Hah! I told you, Win. She’s nuts about me.”

  “Who’s nuts about you?” Jasmine crooned.

  Simon reached a hand out toward her voice, pulling her to him to engage her in a swift kiss. “There she is. You look beautiful, baby.”

  “For all you know I have on sweats and a dirty T-shirt,” she said dryly, though when her lips met Simon’s, a breathy sigh, almost inaudible, escaped her cherry-colored lips.

  Frankie laughed again. “I’m off in search of food. Anybody want anything?”

  Jasmine shooed her away. “I’ve got it from here. You go . . . you know . . .”

  Simon’s freakish ability to detect even a hint of Jasmine’s change in tone asked, “Go what?”

  Jasmine purposely steered both Simon and Win away, one on each of her arms. “Nothing. Now c’mon. This is your chance to ply me with booze and take advantage of me while I indulge in food that doesn’t have a number attached to it and can’t be supersized.”

  Frankie drifted off, her eyes scanning the diner with a low-key glance for Nikos. She scooted her way to the buffet table, bumping into the elusive Adara, who was manning the food.

  “Frankie?”

  The surprise in Adara’s voice had become familiar. She grinned at the third fabulous Antonakas family member. “In the flesh.”

  “You are all kinds of awesome. You look unbelievable!” Adara gave her a hard hug, brushing the long strands of Frankie’s hair from her shoulders.

  “Thank you! You, too, but then you always do. When I see you anyway. Where’ve you been?”

  “Oh, you know. Studying,” she said with a conspiratorial chuckle, reaching for an empty bowl from the counter.

  “Ahhh. Boyfriend?”

  Her finger flew to her lips. “Shhh. Yes. And you’re not getting anything else out of me.” She winked a long-fringed eyelash.

  Frankie winked back. “I know nothing. You need any help?”

  “Would you be an angel and go fill this back up with more pickles? These animals wiped me out.”

  Frankie grabbed the bowl. “You got it.” Holding the bowl over her head, she inched her way toward the kitchen, smiling and nodding at the unfamiliar faces with still no Nikos sightings. She pushed her way through the double doors with her shoulder, squinting in the dim lights of the kitchen usually so bright and full of activity.

  Someone’s feet shuffled as they approached her.

  Her stomach jumped in fear at the black silhouette outlined by the fridge. Wouldn’t it be just like her luck to get herself whacked on Christmas Eve, of all things, and before she ever had the chance to hunt Nikos down and make him want her?

  And when she looked so flippin’ good, too.

  Oh, irony.

  But she reminded herself, she did have a weapon in the bowl she carried. It wasn’t like she was afraid to use a kitchen item to take someone out.

  A hand, lightning fast, arced upward, plucking the bowl from her hand in one swift motion.

  Damn. Where was a wooden spoon when you needed one?

  Nikos heard Frankie’s gasp of surprise when his arm snaked around her slender waist and hauled her to him. He even heard the grunt she made when the force of their bodies connected.

  He chose to ignore her whimper of protest when he finally, Jesus Christ, finally planted his lips on hers. Hard and fast, Nikos drew her mouth to his, fighting the swell of the deepest groan he’d ever experienced, driving its way with force to lodge in his throat.

  When she’d walked through the diner’s doors tonight, like some slinky, auburn Tabby, his head had nearly exploded. The trouble all along with Frankie was how hard it was to stay away from her.

  No way could he do it now, when her skirt clung to her hips like a second skin and her shimmering top begged him to tear it over her head and bury his lips against her small, firm breasts. His cock throbbed with white-hot heat at the chance to drag his hands through her silky hair, feel her soft skin against his, touch every square inch of her, make her scream when he devoured the heat between her legs with his hungry mouth.

  Desire ratcheted up a notch when she realized it was him, and not only did she succumb to his lips on hers, but she willingly parted them to allow his tongue a taste of her own.

  He backed her up against the refrigerator, flattening her to the cold steel, driving her tight skirt upward to find the lacy tops of her thigh-high stockings attached to what he considered the sexiest piece of lingerie a woman could wear. A garter belt.

  Jesus, this woman was going to be his undoing.

  Fire screamed along every nerve he possessed when Frankie lifted her leg, wrapping her ankle around his waist to drive his body so flush against hers, he had to fight not to come.

  His breathing rasped when her fingers dug into his scalp, his heart nearly jolted out of his chest when Frankie didn’t stop him from pushing the edge of her shirt up over her breasts to finally, after many a sleepless night, cup them in his hands.

  Fuck, Nikos thought with a vague warning to his overheated body. He had to slow down. He wanted to lavish Frankie with the kind of attention she deserved, in the right setting,
one befitting her first encounter outside her marriage.

  God damn his conscience when she was so willing—so fucking hot.

  He dragged his lips from hers with a grunt. “Frankie, honey. We have to stop,” he murmured against her luscious lips, totally aware his voice was deep with need.

  Her head fell back against the fridge, her eyes, amber and sultry, were glazed. “Stop . . .”

  Nikos pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, forcing himself to find calm and the reason that went with it. “Not here, honey. There are too many people who could intrude, and if you knew my family, most of whom are out there now, you wouldn’t want that, but if you trust me enough, come with me.”

  He backed off, using his hands to push off and away from her, searching her eyes to look for a reaction.

  This was her chance to bail. If she had any doubts, he had to give her the opportunity to say no.

  It would suck beyond measure, wanting her the way he did, but he’d respect any hesitation on her part.

  But then Frankie, as beautiful to him when she was chopping parsley as she was dressed to make a man’s heart jump from his friggin’ chest, smiled. Easy, with a small hint of confidence. “You lead,” she said, husky and laced with matching desire.

  Nikos dragged her back to him, lifting her up to settle her at eye level.

  Frankie responded by wrapping her legs around his waist.

  “You’re sure?”

  Her eyes held his, fiery and alive. “Antonakas?”

  “Bennett?”

  “Make haste.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  From the journal of the “never less reluctant in her life than I am now” ex-trophy wife Frankie Bennett aka Da Vixen: Okay, so boom! All I have to say at this point is I wish someone had told me sooner. For sure, in the waning years of my marriage when my sugar cookies all but went stale in my goody jar, I’d have left Mitch in a nanosecond for just one night like last night with Nikos. I’d have gotten a divorce all right and proper first, but still—leave I would have. And I swear, by all that’s holy, if I ever see Mitch again, I’m going to give him a nuggie for telling me one orgasm was all any decent woman could hope for.