“Why are you doing this?”
Doyle raised an eyebrow and spread his hands apart.
“Doing what?”
MJ took a controlled breath and tucked the towel around her.
“Pursuing me. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing will come of it. I know you know that.”
One side of his mouth slid up as he stood.
“It makes perfect sense to me, love.”
Doyle winked and left the cabana.
Chapter Nineteen
MJ sipped her blessedly pineapple-free cocktail and cuddled close to Lisa on a lounge chair with her phone between them. Doyle hadn’t returned yet, so they were getting in an important phone call with Ariana.
“He did what to you?” Lisa asked.
“Rolled a gold chip up and down my body,” MJ said.
“And you were only in your swimsuit?” Ariana said.
“Uh-huh.” MJ sipped her drink.
“Not just any suit, a bikini—and she’s rocking it,” Lisa said.
“But he never touched you himself. Only with the chip?” Ariana asked.
“Yep,” MJ said.
“That’s hot,” Lisa said.
MJ flushed at the memory.
“Sort of. It would have been hotter if it were Chris. I should feel guiltier than I do, right?”
“Maybe not. It was part of the bet. There’s a certain honor to upholding your end of the bargain, even if it’s pretty clear he timed it so you’d have privacy and minimal clothing,” Ariana said.
“Are you giving me a pass?” MJ asked.
“You’re having a midlife crisis right now . . .” Ariana said.
“Ouch,” MJ said.
“I’m calling it like I see it. And you are. Admit it and it will go a lot smoother,” Ariana said.
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Lisa said.
Through the phone, Ariana took a few moments to collect her thoughts.
“I’ve seen what denial can do to a marriage. Over and over. A couple shows up in my office, one of them clearly trying to turn back the clock with fancy cars, tight jeans, or a flirty new boyfriend. You’re going through a phase.”
“I’m not a toddler.”
“This would be a lot easier if we could put you in a time-out until you and Chris were ready to apologize to each other.” Ariana chuckled. “Toddlers aren’t the only ones who go through phases. You’re moving on to the next stage of your life. Kate’s about ready to go to school; Tommy doesn’t need you as much. It’s scary. If you can accept that that is what you’re going through, it’ll help you patch things up with Chris. Now, back to your Irish rogue.”
MJ put her head in her hands.
“That is exactly what he is—a rogue. Hell, add an eye patch and he’d be a sexy pirate.” MJ snorted.
“I almost forgot to tell you something,” Lisa said. “This morning at Starbucks when you went to the restroom, I may have told him he was wasting his time and you’d never leave your husband for him.” Lisa gave her a toothy grin.
MJ’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”
“Uh-huh. But that’s not the good part. He said he knew. I got the distinct impression that he has no intention of truly seducing you. He’s up to something. Attractive women keep hitting on him, and he ignores them to focus on you.”
“Are you implying I’m not better than all those other women?” MJ said.
“Of course not. I just thought it was an interesting tidbit,” Lisa said.
“Agreed. And I get that vibe, too. He’s also not Chris, who is apparently gadding around town with Tammie.” MJ let out a little growl.
“We don’t really know that. We’ve only seen them get coffee,” Ariana said.
“But he’s deliberately not telling me about their friendship.”
“Have you told him about your new friendship? Don’t you think he’d like to know?” Lisa said.
“Ugh. Yes, he’d like to know, and no, I haven’t told him. I need to get my head straight first.”
“What’s to straighten out? You love Chris,” Lisa said.
“I do, but how can I explain all this? How do I explain the poker? How do I explain coming here without him? How do I explain how much I like the attention I’m getting from Doyle? Every time we talk, he freezes up more.”
“Unthaw him with honesty. If it’s going to fail, it needs to fail because of the facts, not because you aren’t communicating. How many times do I have to tell you this before you listen to me?” Ariana said.
“When did you get all voice-of-reasony?” MJ asked.
“Look. You haven’t done anything irredeemable. We’ve all flirted with a handsome man. It’s all fine. But hurry up and figure this out so everything can go back to normal,” Lisa said.
“We’ll be home soon. Thanks, you two. My head’s clearer about the Doyle situation. Love you!”
MJ ended the call and set her head on Lisa’s shoulder. Lisa’s body tensed.
“I’m a situation now?” Doyle had entered the cabana.
Oh, shit.
“It’s not polite to listen to other people’s conversations. They might be talking about you,” MJ said.
“This is my cue to return to the sun.” Lisa scampered from the room.
Doyle dragged a chaise closer to hers so they were side by side, like on a large bed. He pulled off his shirt and lay down. He was close enough they could touch. She scooted over to add some distance. He grinned, letting her know he noticed, and pulled out a box of crackers, the plain white ones that came in fancy cheese baskets.
“I want to hear more about my situation. I like being a situation.” He rolled onto his side, propping his head in his lower hand and chomping crackers with the other.
“First—you’re getting cracker crumbs on my lounge chair. Please desist or I’ll need to ask you to leave.”
“It’s my cabana—I’ll eat crackers on all the lounge chairs if I want.” He chomped another one with gusto.
“Second—there is no Doyle situation you need to hear about.”
“That’s just a bald-faced lie. I distinctly heard ‘Doyle situation.’ ” He set his snack down. “Really. Am I causing you problems?”
MJ shook her head, ignoring his toned torso. Sort of. She wasn’t dead.
“No. I’m causing my own problems.” MJ rolled onto her back. “It’s time for me to get home. If I’m lucky, they can get us on a flight tonight.”
Doyle frowned. “You can’t leave.”
“I don’t belong here. I’m avoiding the inevitable—my life is moving on, and ignoring that fact isn’t going to make it stop. I belong at home, where I can find out what’s going on with my daughter’s college applications, do the laundry so my son doesn’t need to wash his sister’s underwear, and thank my husband for keeping me pineapple-free for twenty years after I tell him how much I love him.”
“Ah, I called it. There are problems.” Doyle’s mouth turned up at one corner.
“Don’t look so happy about it. But, yes.”
“I know I’m a little biased in this matter, but it seems a husband who lets his stunning bride go to Vegas without him maybe doesn’t deserve her.”
“It isn’t that simple.” MJ stared at the tent’s ceiling, where the fan spun in a quiet circle.
Doyle grabbed her hand. MJ pulled it back.
“Don’t leave. Not yet. You’ve only been here a few days. There is so much more to experience.” His face softened and he inched his hand toward hers again. “You really are a natural poker player. Most people play a lifetime and would still fail at our tables. You will only get better, but you need to keep playing with players who are more skilled than you. You can’t do that back home. At least stay through the tournament like you planned.”
She was torn. She wanted to fix her marriage, but it was only one more day. She had already become a stronger player; she wanted to find out how she’d do in the tournament. She and Chris had puttered along in a holding patter
n for a few months now—their marriage could wait one more day. But maybe they could get started before she returned home. With a few quick taps, she sent him a siren-emoji text, their shorthand for “Call me ASAP.”
After glaring down two clearly drunk college guys who staggered toward her, then sidestepping out of their way, MJ was glad she opted for the more conservative shoes. Plus, the endless walk through the casino’s corridors tormented her feet. She had learned to skirt the edges of the floor rather than dodge the old ladies and hardened gamblers in the pits to reach the poker room, visible through the slot machines and across the table games that blocked a clear path.
MJ had left a message for Chris to call her back, then waited in her room for him to respond, yet still nothing. Even though she decided to finish the trip, she wanted to apologize to Chris for taking him for granted all these years. She hoped it would be the start of some real progress, but she couldn’t wait in the room any longer, so she had applied her armor and war paint and readied herself for a night of cards. She straightened her shoulders, smoothed her hair, and tightened the backs on her large rhinestone earrings.
Her phone buzzed.
Chris.
She hadn’t been this nervous since she’d asked him out for the first time. Going first in anything was always the most difficult, before you knew how receptive the audience would be.
“Finally,” she said. “I was starting to worry.”
“Sorry. I had the ringer off all day because of meetings, so I just saw your message. What’s on your mind?”
MJ’s body tensed.
She stepped into an alcove to get out of traffic and get a little privacy. She leaned one shoulder against the wall and tilted her head, leaving her hair to fall away from her neck.
“I’ve been thinking a lot.”
“Between poker hands?”
“Yes, between poker hands and by the pool with Lisa.” MJ swallowed. “We’re growing apart.” She spoke in a rush and her words slurred together.
“You are several states away.”
“That’s not what I meant. I miss you. I miss us.”
MJ waited for him to say it back. Say that he missed her, too. She ran a finger down the patterned wallpaper, tracing the curves. He wasn’t speaking. Her courage was fading. Perhaps if she had a better idea of how he felt.
“I want to be home,” she added.
“Then come home.”
“Before I do, I need to know something. Are you . . .”
From behind MJ, fingers traced a line from her earlobe down her neck and around to her collarbone. Startled, she squeaked “Doyle!” as she whipped around.
“Pretty sure I’m not Doyle,” Chris said.
Doyle stood in front of MJ, grinning, close enough for her to smell his smoky cologne and mints. He wore fitted jeans and a blue T-shirt with a twenty-sided die that said “Nerd Poker” under a fitted black blazer. It worked. His eyes raked over her body like they could peel away her clothes. She rolled her eyes.
“Nice dress,” Doyle said.
“MJ?” Chris said on the phone.
MJ cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on Doyle.
“Sorry, someone surprised me.”
“I gathered. Someone named Doyle.” Chris paused as it clicked. “Not Doyle Kane?”
Yes, Doyle Kane. And now he was standing close enough to hear Chris’s response. His eyes flashed with voyeuristic enjoyment. MJ pushed him away.
“Yes, that one.”
“You’ve been playing with him? Do you have any money left?”
“Actually, I’ve been playing with his money because I can’t afford to play at his table. And I lost quite a bit of it last night.” She smirked at Doyle, who stepped back toward her, until he was just a little too close.
“Really? You’re hanging with the big boys, then?”
“I guess.”
“That sounds amazing. Friends with Doyle Kane.” His voiced sounded awed. MJ’s mouth dried with disappointment. This was not the direction she wanted this conversation to go in.
“I wouldn’t consider him a friend.”
Doyle opened his mouth to say something and MJ put her finger over his lips to keep him quiet. She wanted to talk about their marriage, not Doyle.
“. . . ask him about the tournament?”
“What?” MJ refocused, blocking out the feel of Doyle’s lips under her finger.
“I said, can you ask him about the last GPF? I’m dying to know what went through his head during those last few hands.”
“He was probably deciding which blonde to bring back to his room.”
“Lucky guy.”
MJ curled her fingers and pulled them back from Doyle’s oddly soft lips.
“He’s been unabashedly flirting with me. He knows I’m married, but he’s relentless.” Doyle raised his eyebrow, clearly impressed she decided to play that card.
“Really.” Chris clicked his tongue. “Doyle Kane thinks my wife is hot. Outstanding.”
“Outstanding?” MJ could feel her anger rising and Doyle’s amusement growing. She looked around as people walked past. A few pointed and slowed down, recognizing Doyle. She turned away from them.
“You have to be enjoying that a little bit.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Should it?
“It would bother me if a woman was pursuing you.” There, now they were getting to where she wanted to go. Honesty.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t trust me?”
MJ swallowed. Yes, she supposed that’s what she was saying.
“Of course not,” she lied, hating herself for it. Every time she did, it was another brick in the wall keeping them apart.
“Exactly. You wouldn’t do anything that I’m worried about.”
MJ’s heart broke a little. He didn’t care, wasn’t worried at all. Add in the guilt about the chip stunt and she felt incapacitated. The crease on her forehead found new depths as she traced it with a finger. She turned to the wall to avoid Doyle and ignore the people who had stopped on the other side of the hall. They were probably working up the courage to approach Doyle for an autograph. He decided to put them out of their misery and approached them, giving her some blessed privacy.
“I understand now.” She shuddered a silent breath, struggling to keep control in her voice. She was just going to ask, get it over with. “So, Chris, you and Tammie hanging out at Starbucks. What’s up with that?”
“What? Why would you say that?” He spat out the words after a weighty pause. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“I’m just wondering, since you haven’t mentioned seeing her again. Ariana saw you.”
“I don’t know what Ariana saw, but it wasn’t what you’re suggesting.”
“So you weren’t at Starbucks with Tammie?”
“Really, MJ?” His voice rose in pitch. He never did that unless he was hiding something. “You think I’m hanging out with other women, especially Tammie?”
She would not cry. Her face strained to keep the gathered tears at bay, a headache blossoming behind her eyes. She knew the truth, and he wasn’t telling her.
“Sorry I brought it up. I should have known better,” MJ whispered.
“Yeah.”
“Of course. I better go.”
The distance between them widened into more than states.
“Have fun.”
She clicked the phone off and slumped against the wall. At least she hadn’t cried, though her head was screaming from the effort of holding it back. She hadn’t really thought this would all be solved with a call, but she didn’t expect the juxtaposition between Doyle’s playful attention and Chris’s disinterest to be so stark. There’d been a time when Chris spoke to her with warmth, honesty, fun. Had she lost that forever? Could she go on without it?
Doyle still spoke to the fans, but MJ knew he had seen everything. With his back still turned to her, she slipped away to find some pain pills, hoping to take the edge off her bl
ossoming headache but knowing they would do nothing to dull her disappointment.
Chapter Twenty
MJ popped three overpriced-gift-shop ibuprofen into her mouth—swallowing them without water made her throat feel even tighter. She slipped her octopus ring onto her right hand, then twirled her wedding band. It spun with little resistance, almost ready to pop off on its own. Almost.
Even if she hadn’t cried, humiliation wormed into her brain, like a corkscrew, embedding itself deeper and deeper. She shouldn’t have taken the phone call in a public place; it twisted the corkscrew tighter to know Doyle had heard—she didn’t want him privy to her personal life.
MJ made her way to the poker room, looking through the crowd for the tournament check-in. Instead, she spotted Doyle surrounded by fans. He looked up and detached himself from the small circle and greeted her with a lined forehead, leading her into the area where the other players waited.
“You okay?” His eyes searched her face for the answer. Before she could respond, he took her hand and slipped a small black velvet bag into it.
“What’s this?” MJ asked.
“Something I thought might cheer you up,” Doyle said, his eyes watching her every movement. MJ smiled at him.
“You shouldn’t be getting me things.” But her smile said otherwise. MJ loved unexpected presents. Not the obligatory gift for a holiday or birthday, but a little something just because. She felt a hard, heavy object inside the soft bag, about the size of a golf ball. She opened the drawstrings and let the object fall into her palm.
It was a pineapple—a beautiful, golden pineapple studded with topaz and yellow and light green stones. The leaves were a vibrant enameled green. She fought to hide how much his thoughtfulness meant to her—how badly she needed it right now. She couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
“My mentee needs a proper card protector. And look.” He pushed a button hidden among the sparkles, and the pineapple split in two. “It’s a trinket box, too. You can put in money or mints or whatever.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked up at her through his eyelashes like a child asking for permission, his face inches from hers. He looked vulnerable. MJ was confused.
Luck, Love & Lemon Pie Page 17