by Candy Caine
* * *
As Carla drove home, she thought about the conversation she’d had with Richard. How could any woman do such a horrible thing to a guy like him? He was wonderful in so many ways. If she were free, she would want a man just like him. Oh, boy, what the hell am I thinking?
Chapter Twelve
Richard paced back and forth in his condo in Phoenix. Normally, he’d enjoy the view from his living room window of the golf course and majestic mountains in the background, but not today. He was too distracted. His sister, Ellen, had called the night before to invite him to a birthday party she was having for her five-year-old daughter, Sarah the following Sunday. The entire family would be there and he’d be reminded of how alone he really was being unattached and without children. He’d feel left out somehow. Suddenly, he knew he didn’t want to be by himself this afternoon, either and immediately thought of Carla. Of course he did. He thought of Carla a lot. He knew that her husband usually worked on Saturdays so it would be safe to call. Safe to call? It sounded as if they were doing something illicit. They were just friends, for goodness sake. He chose to ignore the fact that he was going to use a shopping expedition as an excuse for spending time with Carla.
She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Richard!” she said cheerfully.
“What are you doing?” Richard asked tapping a pen on the kitchen table.
“Don’t you want to ask what I’m wearing first?” Carla teased.
“It’s not that kind of phone call,” he said, smiling.
“Aha! Now he tells me. What’s up?”
“Are you busy?”
“Why? What do you have in mind?”
He went for it. “I need to get a present for my niece and thought you might like to go shopping with me today.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
She chuckled. “Where did you intend to go?”
“Oh, I dunno. Any suggestions?”
“Are you looking for clothing or toys?” Carla asked.
“Clothes sound like something her parents should get her. Not much fun,” Richard chuckled, remembering how he hated getting socks for his birthday.
“Good. I love toy stores.”
“I thought you just might. Have any in mind?”
“How’s about the big Toys R Us on W. Dunlop Avenue in Phoenix?” Carla suggested.
“That sounds like an excellent idea. When can you get there?”
“Give me about forty-five minutes.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Okay, see ya, then,” she said and hung up smiling as she raced to get ready.
Richard was thrilled and did a happy dance into his bedroom before putting on a pair of jeans and a sweater.
Carla was already there by the time Richard arrived at the store. He gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. She smelled good, wearing the same scent she always wore—one that reminded him of fields of flowers. He’d asked her what it was and she’d said Night Musk, nothing special. It was to him, though, and he associated the scent with her. He’d once heard that colognes and perfumes reacted differently on each person. As far as he was concerned, it would never smell as provocative on any other woman. He held the door for her and they went inside.
“I love toy stores. Next to bookstores and office supply places, toy stores are right up there,” Carla gushed, excitedly. “How old is your niece?”
“Five, going on twenty-five.”
She chuckled. “Aren’t all kids, today?”
“Where’ll we start?”
“What does she like? Is she into dolls, drawing or games?”
Richard shrugged.
“Okay, then. What does she watch on TV? Most little girls her age love Dora the Explorer.”
“Is that the little Hispanic kid?” he asked.
Carla nodded. “Does she like her?”
“Yes. She did talk about her—a lot.”
Carla laughed. “Yeah, kids can chatter away incessantly. I listen to them all the time when I go to the malls. It helps with my writing.”
Richard was especially glad that Carla was into kids and knew all about Dora. He paid little attention to kiddie shows and was clueless.
“Any thoughts on how much you want to spend?” Carla asked looking at how busy the place was.
Richard shrugged. “I’m flexible. Let’s see what’s available.”
“Great idea,” she agreed, as they followed signs indicating specific age groups.
Richard watched Carla’s face light up when she saw something she liked. It was refreshing to see how such simple things seemed to please her. He’d wager she also loved the circus, amusement parks and zoos.
They found lots of Dora toys and decided to get an activity box filled with crayons, paint, paper and coloring books to stimulate Sarah’s creativity.
At the register Carla turned to Richard and admitted, “You know, I’d have a ball with this kit.”
“I bet you would. Shall I buy another?” he teased.
“No—but, thanks, anyway.” Carla smiled, and Richard’s eyes fell to her lips. They were plump and pink and soft-looking. He had to restrain himself from reaching out and running his fingertip over them.
They exited the store.
“I really appreciate your help,” Richard said.
“My pleasure.”
“Got time for coffee?” he asked, not wanting her to go home.
Carla glanced at her watch. “Sure, but I can’t stay too long just in case Martin comes home early for dinner.”
“Oh, yeah.” Suddenly all the euphoria he’d been feeling seemed to slip away. “Starbucks, it is.”
As they walked to Starbucks, which was nearby, Richard indulged in his favorite fantasy. If he kept seeing Carla at the gym whenever he could, which was better than not seeing her at all, he’d eventually grow on her. Then, one day, she’d wake up and realize that her husband wasn’t worth losing any sleep over. She’d send Martin packing, get a divorce and see that she and Richard were perfect for one another. The only problem with this fantasy was that it was just that. A daydream he doubted he could sustain much longer. It was becoming harder and harder to resist his urge to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
He wanted to slowly run his fingertips down her body as he explored every inch of her beautiful body. And those breasts. God. How he wished to taste them. Only it was pure fantasy and couldn’t happen while she remained with her poor excuse of a husband.
* * *
Carla shut down her computer. She couldn’t concentrate. When she got home after the shopping trip with Richard, she tried to pick up where she left off on the picture book, however, she couldn’t remain focused. Her mind kept wandering back to him and how much fun she had in his company. Martin hated to go shopping and would never be caught dead in a toy store of all places. Sometimes she wished she could rewrite Martin’s character and make it more like Richard’s.
She wondered if she and Martin had anything in common, anymore.
What worried her more was the fact that feelings she should have with Martin were coursing through her when she was with Richard. Whenever he hugged or kissed her hello on her cheek, the actions may have been platonic, but the electricity that arced through her wasn’t.
Nor was the fact that she enjoyed it and craved more.
As usual, when her musings strayed into dangerous waters, she forced herself to think of other things. Stuff that didn’t include wondering how Richard’s soft-looking lips would feel on her own or how it would feel to run her hands through his thick dark hair.
Chapter Thirteen
As Thanksgiving approached, there was a festive air in the streets, which was totally lost on Jessie as she made her way home. She’d fallen asleep the night before after having cried herself to the point of exhaustion. Nearly oversleeping the following morning, she’d rushed off to work leaving the place as trashed as it was the day before. Expecting a worse scene to greet her, she was shocke
d to the point of believing in miracles when she opened the front door.
The first thing that she noticed was the smell. Or rather, the lack of it. Gone was the hateful stale ashtray odor and in its place was an orange blossom fragrance as if she’d walked into an orchard. Entering the den, she didn’t have to watch her step, for there were no empty beer cans on the floor or on the cocktail table. Speaking of which, its glass top had been wiped clean of rings and salsa droppings. The area rug had been vacuumed and the TV wasn’t on mute, but shut off entirely. A smile broke out on her face as she wondered where Jake was. Then she heard noise coming from the kitchen.
She walked into the room to investigate and her heart caught in her throat. The table had been set and Jake was standing in front of the stove stirring a pot with a large wooden spoon. The smell wafting from the pot was a pleasant one and she heard an involuntary growl from her stomach. He’d made dinner. Had God finally returned from vacation to answer her prayers?
Jake turned to face her. He’d even shaved. In his warm brown eyes was the mischievous twinkle she’d fallen in love with so many years ago.
“Hello, stranger,” she said as they embraced.
Jake judiciously shut the heat off under the cooking pots as they kissed and slow-danced their way into the bedroom.
* * *
An hour-and-a-half later over dinner, Jake and Jessie had a heart-to-heart talk. She had to continuously feel her own pulse to make sure she hadn’t died and gone to heaven.
“Hon,” Jake broke the warm silence. “I know I’ve been a real burden lately. I’m deeply sorry.”
“Half the battle, Jake, is knowing and accepting the problem. It’s a good first step.”
“I wish I could change things,” he replied before tugging at a piece of loose cuticle from his finger.
“Now that you’ve accepted the fact you’re a compulsive gambler, we can build on that and move forward. No more gambling debt again. Promise?”
“No, babe. Sorry I…I can’t promise that.”
Jessie’s fork dropped from her hand and clattered against the plate. She felt as if a blade had just pierced her heart. “Jake, I don’t understand.”
“I…I—”
“What? Tell me!” she begged, her throat closing with a terrible premonition of what he was about to tell her.
“I’ve really done it this time,” he said burying his face in his hands.
“What have you done?” she asked just as the answer came to her. “You’ve not gambled again, have you?”
“Yes. I know I said I wouldn’t, but honey, this was a sure thing.”
“Just like the last time. Damnit, Jake! When will you learn there are no sure things except death and taxes?”
“I know you’re mad and disappointed with me.”
She gave out a rueful laugh. “Disappointed? The word doesn’t cover half of what I’m feeling. I should have known this lovey-dovey evening was too good to be true. What’s the bottom line?”
“Fifteen thou,” he whispered.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Where the hell am I going to get the money to cover that?”
“Aunt Louise—”
“Aunt Louise wants me to kick your sorry ass out. She’s already informed me that she’s not going to give me any more money.”
“They’re going to come after me. I’ve got to get the money.”
“Damn you, Jake!” Jessie cried as hot tears filled her eyes. You should have thought about that before you made the stupid bet,” she said, slamming her palm on the table. “Damn you for all the pain you’ve given me.”
“Jess, if you still have any feeling for me, you’ve gotta help me,” he said, falling on his knees and burying his head on her chest. “Please, darlin’, these guys are serious. They’re gonna kill me if I don’t come up with the money.”
Jessie bit her bottom lip. No, she couldn’t bear that. She still loved the big oaf and always would, no matter what. Her tears flowed as she stroked his face. What the hell was she going to do? And where was she going to find 15 thousand dollars? It could have been a million for all that mattered.
She left Jake in the kitchen searching the want ads and went to bed. No matter what, she still had work the following day.
When she walked into the kitchen the following morning, she found him sleeping on the newspaper. He woke up when the coffee began to drip through the machine.
Jessie turned to look at him. A mixture of amusement and despair brought tears to her eyes. He had half of the employment section imprinted on the right side of his face.
Chapter Fourteen
Carla had weighed herself and discovered she’d only lost a pound in the past week. One stinkin’ pound. Ugh! She knew there’d come a time when the weight stopped coming off easily, but she didn’t expect it to be this hard—especially when birds ate more than her. She’d finally lost 30 pounds but losing the last 10 was killing her.
She’d been practically starving herself for months now and Martin hardly noticed—except for that one night last week when he’d come home unexpectedly early and expected dinner to be ready. Carla was so surprised to see him that it took the edge off her anger at him being so egotistical to think he could just walk in when it suited him and demand dinner.
Luckily, she hadn’t thrown all of her fast food menus out and went rummaging through her junk drawer for the Chinese take-out. While Martin washed up, she placed the order and set the table.
When the food arrived, Carla dug into her tofu and vegetable dish. Martin took a bite out of his barbecued spare rib as he speculatively gazed at her from across the table. “Are you on a diet, Carla?”
She looked up from her plate of steamed vegetables and tofu. Duh! What gave it away? That I’m eating this unappetizing meal while you’re stuffing your face with all the good stuff or that I’ve lost four dress sizes? “Yes.”
He nodded. Then after he swallowed his last bite of General Tso’s Chicken, he patted his flat gut and said, “Maybe I should watch my weight.”
She figured he was fishing for a compliment, but refused to take his bait. Instead, she replied, “Maintaining one’s weight is a healthy thing to do.”
After that night, Martin never alluded to her weight loss again. Now, even though she was in striking distance of her goal, Carla wondered if it was worth it. For all she knew, he was already preparing to divorce her for the bimbo he was seeing. Perhaps she should forget the entire damn thing. However, when she passed the long mirror on her dressing room door and saw how much better she looked, she smiled and slowly ran her hands along her newly chiseled curves. Uh-uh, no way.
* * *
Martin may not have said anything to Carla about her weight-loss, however it did concern him and he discussed it in great detail with Heather.
He’d just made love to Heather and was holding her, casually stroking one of her nipples, as they mellowed in the afterglow of great sex. “Heather…?”
“Hmm.”
“Why would a woman suddenly decide to lose weight?”
Heather turned her face up to look at him. “Are you referring to your wife?”
“Yeah. She’s been on a strict diet and belongs to a gym.”
“She’s obviously having an affair.”
Martin tensed. “How can you assume that?” he asked.
“A woman doesn’t just put herself through hell, exercising and dieting, for nothing.”
“Maybe it’s because she knows about us,” he said.
“Maybe. But then, why hasn’t she confronted you?” Heather asked.
Martin shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe she has no backbone.”
“Or perhaps, she just doesn’t care. If she hasn’t replaced you yet, she’s on the prowl.”
Martin’s jaw dropped.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Heather continued. “Women have sexual urges, too. A periodic grease and oil isn’t just for cars.”
Martin’s eyes took on the glint of hard steel. Heather knew he wa
s beginning to comprehend where she was heading with this and plunged the knife in further. “When was the last time you two had sex?”
Martin thought a moment and then sighed. “I can’t remember.”
“She’s going to look elsewhere if you’re not giving it to her. It’s a fact of life.”
“You really think she’s cheating on me?”
“Hey, you’re fooling around.” Snapping her fingers, Heather said, “What’s that saying? ‘What’s good for the goose, is good for the gander.’”
“It’s different with men,” Martin grumbled.
“That double-standard is crap and you know it.”
“Maybe I should hire a PI to follow Carla.” Martin sat up.
“I hear Haywood is free,” Heather joked as she playfully poked Martin in the ribs.
Martin guffawed.
Pulling Martin back down, Heather straddled him. “No more talk about Carla.”
* * *
By the following day, the notion that Carla might be engaged in some torrid love affair had moved into Martin’s mind and had taken over, preventing the germination of any other thoughts.
It had all but consumed him to the point of wanting to strangle the truth out of his sleeping wife.
The entire night, he’d lain awake thinking how easily it would have been for Carla to cheat. She was her own boss and worked at home which gave her flexible hours. Great at multitasking, she could have been writing the books in her head as she was being screwed. How dare she be unfaithful to him? He seriously had the mind to hire a private investigator and have her tailed to see what she was up to.
* * *
Jessie Thompson had thought of little else but how she was going to get the money to give to Jake’s bookie. The man had called, giving Jake a “friendly” warning, which was anything but friendly. She’d watched her husband’s face drain of all color and his hands shake as he listened. The poor man looked as if his blood had frozen in his veins and he was being given his last rites. The situation was critical enough to warrant her to go to Aunt Louise and beg for help one last time.