by Francis Ray
AND MISTRESS MAKES
Three
Also by Francis Ray
INVINCIBLE WOMEN SERIES
Like the First Time
Any Rich Man Will Do
In Another Man’s Bed
Not Even If You Begged
AGAINST THE ODDS SERIES
Trouble Don’t Last Always
Somebody’s Knocking at My Door
THE GRAYSONS OF NEW MEXICO SERIES
Until There Was You
You and No Other
Dreaming of You
Irresistible You
Only You
GRAYSON FRIENDS SERIES
The Way You Love Me
Nobody But You
SINGLE TITLES
Someone to Love Me
I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
Rockin’ Around That Christmas Tree
ANTHOLOGIES
Rosie’s Curl and Weave
Della’s House of Style
Welcome to Leo’s
Going to the Chapel
Gettin’ Merry
Let’s Get It On
AND MISTRESS MAKES
Three
Francis Ray
ST. MARTIN’S GRIFFIN
New York
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
AND MISTRESS MAKES THREE. Copyright © 2009 by Francis Ray. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ray, Francis.
And mistress makes three / Francis Ray.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-57368-3
ISBN-10: 0-312-57368-5
1. African American women—Fiction. 2. Divorced women—Fiction. 3. Women interior decorators—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3568.A9214A57 2009
813'.54—dc22
2008044072
First Edition: July 2009
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Once again to my daughter, Michelle.
I don’t know what I would have done without you.
May God continue to bless and keep you.
A LETTER TO MY READERS
Thank you so much for your support of the Invincible Women series. I truly enjoy writing about women who, when faced with adversity, find it within themselves to overcome the problems and succeed.
In the fifth book, And Mistress Makes Three, we meet Gina Rawlings on what she feels is the worst day of her life, the day her divorce is finalized. No one likes to admit they’ve failed, especially in a marriage with two children. Gina has to reach deep within and find the courage and the faith to stand on her own two feet. I hope you’ll enjoy her journey.
Those of you who have read my romance novels are aware that I write another series called Grayson Friends. I really didn’t want to leave the popular Graysons of New Mexico series, so I created Grayson Friends.
Because of your tremendous support the second book in the Grayson Friends series, Nobody But You, made the New York Times and USA Today bestselling lists. I can’t thank you enough. The third book, One Night with You, is scheduled for release November 3, 2009.
I wish you every happiness. Please remember to kiss those you love and tell them daily.
Warmest regards,
Francis Ray
ONE
Not even in Gina Rawlings’ worst nightmare had she ever envisioned this day would come. Last night, in the vain and foolish hope that she could somehow forestall what would take place at the stroke of midnight, she’d gone to bed before ten for the first time in years.
It hadn’t worked.
Curled in a fetal position in her king-sized bed, Gina finally faced the gut-wrenching reality of what this day meant to her, to her two children. Robert, her husband of fourteen years, no longer wanted her. Today, the State of South Carolina, the City of Charleston, had granted him his divorce request. Clamping her eyes shut, Gina curled tighter under the bedcovers.
Fourteen years tossed away as if they were nothing. Her husband didn’t love her anymore. The only thing that kept them remotely connected since he’d walked out eight months ago was their two children, Gabrielle and Ashton. Gina bit her lower lip.
Gabrielle, their thirteen-year-old daughter, blamed Gina for the divorce and wasn’t shy about showing her displeasure with her mother. To Gabrielle’s way of thinking, Robert was the best father in the world. It was easy to understand why their daughter thought that way. While Robert lived there he always let her have her way, overruling Gina’s decisions—unless it dealt with money, and then it was a different story. Gabrielle was too young to realize it was easier to give in than set parameters.
On the other hand, Gina couldn’t have asked for a sweeter, more loving child than six-year-old Ashton. Sadly, he seemed to have figured out that his father’s fitness gym, Bodies by Robert, came before any of them.
In the months since Robert left, he’d canceled numerous weekend visitations with the children. They’d spent only one night in his new apartment. He always gave the excuse that the gym was short of staff or extremely busy. He tried to placate all of them by saying it was for Gabrielle and Ashton’s benefit that he worked so hard.
Gina snorted, flinging the bedcovers from her body. Robert was habitually late with his child support payments. More galling was that when the money did come, it was never the correct amount. She’d stopped asking him about the discrepancies. When she did, he always made her feel small and like a failure.
Robert was always quick to point out that it was he, not she, who’d taken care of the family for fourteen years while she wasted money on one penny-ante home business venture after the other.
In the months since he’d left, he’d put a dent in her pride big enough to drive a semitruck through—because he was right, she had failed. What scared her and kept her awake most nights was that she was failing again.
She had countless failures in her life. Her attempts at home businesses so she could stay at home and be available if her children needed her were all disastrous. She’d spent more than she’d earned, and both she and Robert knew it.
Like Gabrielle, Gina blamed herself for the ruined marriage. The morning Robert told her he was filing for divorce he’d said she didn’t excite him anymore. Stunned, she hadn’t known what to say as he’d picked up his gym bag to leave. She’d recovered enough to ask him to stay so they could tell the children together. She’d never forget his response.
You tell them. At least you can do that much.
Gina shrank inside again as she had then. His carelessly tossed words had wounded her deeply and slapped her in the face. He didn’t value her, thought her worthless.
To her undying shame, Gina had gone to the gym later on that day, determined to get Robert to change his mind, determined to do whatever it took to save her marriage. The children needed a father, and she didn’t want to add another failure to a long list.
She’d dressed carefully in her prettiest yellow sweater and black pants, even worn makeup, only to find a slimmer, prettier woman wearing a midriff-baring top in her husband’s arms. Robert had been annoyed, the woman smug.
You don’t excite me anymore, and I can do better, he’d told Gina, not releasing the other woman.
Gina had quickly left, fighting tears and shame. Finally, she accepted what she had been trying to deny for months—Robert’s all-nighters at the twenty-four-hour gym weren’t all business. During their separation, so-called friends and acquaintances seemed h
appy to keep her informed about seeing her health-conscious husband around Charleston with slimmer, prettier women.
Gina did her best to act indifferent, but the gleeful or pitying looks on the persons’ faces always made her aware she was unsuccessful. Since Ashton’s birth, she’d gained more and more weight. Her weight last Christmas was 177 pounds. Forty-seven pounds more than what she weighed before her first pregnancy. Since then, she’d put the scale in the back of her closet.
On the other hand, Robert worked hard to maintain his muscular, toned body. In his eyes, it made up for the premature balding he hated with a passion. He’d let his sandy brown hair grow longer in a useless attempt to hide the hair loss at the top of his head.
While he lived his dream with the fitness gym he’d always wanted, Gina’s dreams of a husband and family were shattered.
Aware she couldn’t spend the entire day in bed, Gina sat up and slid her legs off the side just as the doorbell rang. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. Robert. Before the chime ended, she knew it wasn’t her husband. Her ex-husband. He wasn’t coming back.
The ringing phone on the night table startled her. She reached for the receiver. “Hello.”
“Morning, time to get up. You have a guest at the front door.”
Gina somehow felt worse at the cheerful voice of her best friend, Celeste de la Vega. Celeste never met a stranger and was perpetually happy.
“Celeste—”
“No excuses. Come on; we have an appointment.”
Before Gina could ask where, the line went dead. Sighing, Gina stood and shoved her arms into her robe. It was almost ten and past time for her to get up. The children would be up soon and want breakfast. She’d told them last night that they could sleep in instead of going to church. They didn’t know she was avoiding the inevitable.
Leaving the bedroom on the first floor of the two-story home, Gina opened the front door and almost sighed. As usual, Celeste was stunning in a magenta-colored sheath that stopped mid-thigh. As an interior designer Celeste wore pants at work, so when off-duty she always wore skirts to show off her great legs. Gina felt every ounce of the weight she’d gained in her butt and thighs.
“Good morning, and stop frowning,” Celeste said as she entered the house.
Gina closed the door. “If you weren’t my best friend and I loved you, I’d be irritated at how good you look.”
Dimples winked in Celeste’s olive-toned face. “I could say the same thing, since I’ve always wanted to be tall instead of a midget.”
It was an old argument. Celeste, at barely five feet, two inches, was perfectly proportioned, with sparkling black eyes, a generous mouth, and enough sex appeal for ten women. Her three engagements proved men found her attraction and elusive. “What’s that in your hand?”
Celeste lifted the mid-sized shopping bag with Serendipity, the name of her interior design firm, emblazed on it. “Color charts, samples of cloth, tile, and carpet in tones of yellow and green, your favorite colors. It’s a new beginning for you. You can redecorate the house the way you always wanted.” Celeste wrinkled her pretty nose as she glanced around the paneled den with black leather furnishings and ugly black-and-brown plaid curtains. “Since I can get you fabulous discounts and help, we can have this place redone in no time.”
Gina couldn’t afford to spend any money at the moment. The home travel agency business she’d started shortly before Robert left was barely keeping her afloat financially. It was a delicate balancing act. And as close as she and Celeste were, Gina didn’t want her to know how shaky she was financially.
Celeste succeeded at everything she tried and had no difficulty getting what she wanted out of life or men. Gina was the exact opposite. At thirty, two years younger than Gina, Celeste owned her own successful interior design firm, Serendipity. Men adored her. The men she had been engaged to were wealthy, successful, and wild about Celeste. Yet each time, Celeste had called it off. Any one of the men would take her back in a heartbeat.
“I’ll think about it,” Gina finally answered.
Celeste stared at Gina for a long moment, then said, “I’m not letting you out of this, so be warned.” She set the bag on the black leather sofa on her way to the kitchen. “Gabrielle and Ashton still asleep?”
“Yes.” Gina followed. Each woman knew the other’s house as well as her own and felt comfortable in it.
Taking a tall glass from the cabinet, Celeste filled it with orange juice she took from the refrigerator. “You’d better wake them up if we’re going to arrive on time.”
Gina frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Celeste shook her head, causing her thick black unbound hair that stopped in the middle of her slim back to sway. “The pre–grand opening of Journey’s End is today.”
Gina held up her hand before Celeste finished. She didn’t want to go anyplace . . . unless it was back to bed to pull the covers over her head. “No, I don’t feel like going.”
The glass in Celeste’s hand hit the counter. Her eyes glared. “And that is exactly why you are going.”
“The children—”
“Will enjoy themselves.” Celeste came to stand in front of Gina. “It’s over. You hurt now, but you know it was for the best.”
“Best that my husband divorced me?” she asked incredulously.
Celeste kept her gaze level. “You were roommates more than husband and wife. You didn’t sleep together and the last time you made love was more than a year before he left. You said neither of you enjoyed it.”
Gina looked back over her shoulder to ensure the children hadn’t wakened and wandered into the kitchen. “The children might hear you.”
“I notice you didn’t correct me.” Picking up her glass, Celeste took a sip of juice, her gaze direct once again.
Gina glanced away. Another failure. “Perhaps that was why—”
“Stop it!” Celeste snapped. Setting the glass down, she went to Gina. “It isn’t your fault, so stop beating yourself over the head about Robert’s inability to stick. He hadn’t been here for you or Gabrielle or Ashton long before he took his sorry behind off.”
“But I’m supposed to keep the marriage together!” Gina came back.
“And what book did you read that in?” Celeste asked impatiently. “Marriage takes two people for it to work. Stop laying the blame at your feet; heap some on Robert’s thick neck he’s so proud of.”
Gina finally looked at her best friend. Celeste looked ready to fight, and it was for her. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”
“Same here.” Celeste threw her arm around Gina’s shoulder. “We deserve men who will cherish us, make us feel safe and naughty at the same time.”
Gina had to admit that Robert never had. She’d been crazy about him in college. He was BMOC and co-captain of the football team. She’d thought she was the luckiest woman in the world when they started going together. Five months later she was pregnant with Gabrielle. “Is that why you broke each of your engagements?”
Celeste’s face grew serious. “It wasn’t fair to them or me. Thank goodness I realized it before it was too late. I was just trying to get Mama off my back.”
Gina had met Ramona de la Vega on several occasions. The petite and elegant woman exuded charm and graciousness. Second-generation Puerto Rican, she had definite ideas about marriage and family. “She loves you and wants you happily married.”
“I know, and that’s why I haven’t moved to Greenland or gotten an unlisted phone number. It helps that I can vent to you and Yolanda.”
Yolanda, Celeste’s older sister, had been a nun for twelve years, until five years ago when she renounced her vows to work with troubled teens as a high school counselor in Houston, where their parents lived. Yolanda was one of the calmest persons Gina knew and, if possible, more outgoing than her little sister. However, Yolanda hadn’t the faintest interest in a relationship with a man, which left Celeste the sole target of her mother’s matrimonial quest.
“Since I vent to you, that sort of makes us even,” Gina finally replied. “You’ll find the man you’re looking for.”
“And you’ll find one who’ll appreciate you.”
Shock widened Gina’s eyes. “My divorce was just finalized.”
Celeste placed her hand gently on Gina’s arm. “I love you. We both know this was only a formality. The marriage was over long ago.”
Gina’s hands clenched. “It’s hard. I never saw it coming.”
“I told you, I’m ready when you say the word to do a number on that convertible he’s so proud of,” Celeste said, dead serious. “We’ll have an airtight alibi and two lawyers ready to defend us.” Two of Gina’s ex-fiancés were lawyers.
“It sounds tempting, but with my bad luck we’d get caught,” Gina said. “Besides, I’m trying to listen to Pastor Carter’s message and not do evil for evil.”
Celeste made a face. They belonged to the same church. “The man does have a tendency to make you want to do better. So how about we just spray paint those fancy car rims?”
Gina almost smiled. Robert would have a conniption fit and come straight to her door. Her smile faded. “He’s moved on. I have to do the same.”
“And that’s what you’re going to do, starting now.” Celeste gently pushed Gina toward her bedroom. “Get dressed while I get the kids up. We’re going to kick your independent travel agency into high gear.”
Gina let herself be pushed, hoping, praying, Celeste was right, that this time she wouldn’t fall flat on her face. Again.
. . .
Today was a new beginning, Max Broussard thought as he stood on the wraparound front porch of Journey’s End, the newest bed-and-breakfast in Charleston. And he was the proud proprietor. His once soft hands, now lined with calluses, clasped the top railing. With joy came a deep sadness because Sharon wasn’t standing beside him, her beautiful face shining with love and happiness.