The Secret Mistress Arrangement

by Kimberly Lang

  When did it get so warm in here?

  They made small talk over the music, with Matt having to practically bend himself in half to get close enough to hear her. Each time he did, though, her pulse spiked.

  For such a big man, he moved with grace and ease. Ella’s experience with men who could actually dance was very limited, but here was one who could not only dance, but knew how to lead properly as well.

  “You keep surprising me, Matt.”

  “In good ways, I hope.”

  “Oh, definitely.” All day long he’d been Johnny-on-the-spot, graciously assisting Mrs. Chryston to a chair off the aisle when her enormous bulk wouldn’t squeeze into the antique pews of the church, or listening politely to Great-aunt Elaine’s long-winded story of Melanie’s first communion without correcting her when she called him by the wrong name. He even adeptly solved a minor crisis with the limo service before she could even get to the scene.

  He’d certainly done his duty as best man—and then some. She owed him big-time. She also owed him an apology. She cringed as she remembered the horrible way she’d talked to him the night before.

  She tried to keep her voice light. “I want to apologize for the way I acted last night…and today. I’ve been kind of stressed the past few days, and I’ve been a bit, um, snappish with people.”

  Matt cocked that eyebrow at her again and teased, “Is that what you call it? Snappish?”

  “In polite society that’s what I’m calling it.” Grateful he wasn’t going to hold a grudge, she relaxed into the conversation. “I know what the groomsmen are calling it when they think I’m out of earshot.”

  “You heard that?”

  “Uh-huh. Feel free to let them know that I don’t consider ‘control freak’ to be an insult.”

  “What about your ‘hair-trigger temper’?”

  “If they’d act like adults, they wouldn’t have to worry about my temper.”

  He laughed, and the deep rumble moved through her veins like strong coffee—warm and comfortable with enough of a kick to make her blood pump. “You certainly have them running in fear.”

  “Well, for the most part, they deserve it. Particularly that Jason.” Her mouth twisted before she could stop it. “I know he’s a good friend of yours, but I swear that boy is completely useless.” She looked over to the bar where Jason had permanently stationed himself for the night and was currently chatting up one of the other bridesmaids.

  Matt’s gaze followed hers and he shrugged. “That much I’ll give you. He’s a nice guy, though. Worthless, but basically harmless.”

  “If you say so. I really expected Brian to have a more mature group of friends—present company excepted, of course.” He nodded at the backhanded compliment, and she continued with a smile. “But I am sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it.” For some reason she couldn’t explain, it was important he realize she wasn’t normally a shrew.

  “Apology accepted, but it’s not really needed. Brian’s raved about how you really went above and beyond.” He paused before looking at her questioningly. “Why?”

  That caught her off guard. “Why what?”

  “Why were you running the wedding? It seems strange that Melanie would put all the work on you when she could have easily hired a professional to do it.”

  “Best-friend duty, you know.” At his skeptical look, she searched for the right words. “I want Mel to be happy. Whatever she wants, I want her to have. She wanted this wedding to be perfect, so I was determined to do whatever I had to in order to make it perfect for her. And she’s having a good time, so I’m happy.”

  “And you? Are you having a good time?” Matt’s thumb stroked lightly over the skin of her back exposed by the deep halter cut of the dress, and Ella couldn’t concentrate on the conversation. Every nerve in her skin seemed alive and attuned to him. God, he even smells good. Not in an I-bathed-in-my-aftershave kind of way, but a clean, slightly spicy and very masculine way. Each time she inhaled, the scent of him coiled through her and set her pulse to pounding.

  She swallowed hard, trying to pull her concentration back to the conversation and away from the totally inappropriate thoughts whirling through her. “Of course. It’s really been a beautiful wedding. I’ll tell you though, as soon as Mel and Brian leave, I’m headed home to crash. I haven’t had much sleep lately.”

  “I understand. I was out late last night myself. You know, strippers and hookers and such.” He winked at her.

  “I don’t care, and I really don’t want to know,” she reminded him with a laugh. The music ended, and the bandleader announced the garter and bouquet toss. As Matt led her off the dance floor, she remembered something.

  “Brian said that you’re staying at his place while you’re in town.” At his nod, she continued. “I have some wedding presents at our apartment that I need to drop off. Would tomorrow afternoon be okay? I have a key, but I don’t want to barge in on you, so I’ll call first.”

  “I’ll be at my mother’s most of the day tomorrow, so any time is fine.”

  Ella nodded because she knew through Melanie that he had plans for the day. But his next words floored her.

  “How about you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night? I’ll take the presents back to Brian’s after and save you a trip.”

  “Dinner?” Had she heard him correctly?

  “Dinner.”

  She was still confused and obviously looked it.

  “You know, that meal people eat late in the day? Come on,” he coaxed, “you did a fantastic job with this wedding. Let me take you out to celebrate.”

  Where had this come from? “Um, okay…” Realizing she sounded reluctant, she stopped and slapped a smile on her face. “I mean, that sounds great.”

  “All right, then. Seven o’clock?”

  She nodded, sensible words still escaping her.

  “Is Salvador’s okay with you? I haven’t been there in ages.”

  Salvador’s was a swanky place close to the South Pond, frequented by the young, beautiful and terminally hip crowd. Ella rarely went there, as she considered herself completely unhip. But the food was great, and if anyone would fit in with the crowd there, it would be Matt. Finally she managed another nod. Great, he’s going to think I’m a bobble-head doll.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “Okay.”

  With a smile and a small wave, Matt disappeared into the crowd. Without him to clear the path, Ella had to fight her way to Melanie. Her mind spun. Matt Jacobs wanted to take her out to dinner? Why? She could understand if he didn’t know anyone else in Chicago, but he’d grown up here. His friends and family were here—many of them in this very room. Surely there were plenty of people for him to go out with. So why her?

  Confusion, though, couldn’t outrun vanity. To go to Salvador’s with a piece of eye candy like Matt wasn’t an opportunity that came her way every day. Since she was leaving Chicago next week anyway, it wasn’t an opportunity likely to ever happen again.

  What on earth would she wear?

  She shook her head at her own silliness and continued to fight her way out of the mob.

  Melanie was looking for her and pulled her into a tight hug as soon as she made it to her side. “Thank you so much for everything.” Her voice caught, and her eyes misted.

  “Don’t you dare start crying,” Ella pleaded as her eyes began to burn. “Your mascara will run.”

  “Screw my mascara. Everything has been so perfect today, and I—” Her voice broke this time, and Melanie paused for a deep breath. “I can’t stand it that you won’t be here when I get back. I’m so worried about you being all the way down south without anyone at all.” Melanie managed a short laugh through her tears. “Heck, I’m worried about me—who will I talk to?”

  “There’s this wonderful invention called the telephone, you know.” A sniff escaped, and Ella fought to keep herself together. “Anyway, I’ll be back to see you at Thanksgiving. And Christmas. And ever
y other minor holiday, too.” Ella knew she was seconds from bawling her eyes out. “We’ve covered all this already.”

  “I know. I’m just going to miss you so much.” Mel drew in a deep shuddering breath. “I love you, El.”

  “I love you, too. Now, go. Everyone’s waiting for you to toss the bouquet.”

  “I want you to be the one who catches it. It’s time for you to settle down now. Enough of this messing around. Promise me you’ll catch it.”

  “I’ll try,” she lied.

  Melanie stood on the steps leading out of the hall and turned her back to the crowd. As soon as she did, Ella stepped out of the mosh pit of single women jockeying for position and tried to slip to the sidelines, out of the way.

  “One, two, three!” the crowd chanted, and Melanie heaved the bouquet over her shoulder.

  But she threw it too high. Instead of flying directly into the waiting crowd, it caught one of the ceiling fan blades and was thrown off course, slicing neatly to the right, away from the mob. Ella looked up in time to see the bouquet headed straight for her. Reflexively, she caught it before it hit her smack in the face. The crowd cheered, and Melanie applauded before she was whisked away into the waiting limo, leaving Ella to face the aftermath alone.

  Damn, she thought, as her taxi stood idling where the limo had recently been. So much for early exits. She spent the next hour receiving congratulations and predictions about the lucky groom-to-be. To add insult to injury, that worthless Jason caught the garter, and she was forced to pose with him for photo after humiliating photo. More than once she saw Matt watching her, an amused smile playing around his mouth.

  By the time she got home, she was too tired to do more than slide out of her bridesmaid’s dress, leaving it in a puddle of navy silk on the floor, and fall headfirst into bed. Her last thought before exhaustion claimed her was that she still had no idea what she would wear the following night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE doorbell rang promptly at seven, and Ella wasn’t ready. Between sleeping most of the day away and the fact her apartment was complete chaos, the simple act of getting dressed for dinner had taken on farcical properties.

  Forced to choose between leaving Matt standing on the front steps or answering the door half-dressed, she padded down the stairs to the door, cinching her robe tightly closed as she went.

  “Hi, Matt.”

  Whatever he was about to say in greeting died as his gaze swept her from head to toe, taking in her state of undress. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes seem to linger overly long on her legs, exposed by the thigh-length robe? He cleared his throat and looked at her quizzically. “Um, am I early?”

  “No,” she said, suddenly very aware of how little she was actually wearing. “I’m running late. Just give me a couple of minutes, though, and I’ll be ready to go. Would you like to come up?”

  It was a ridiculous question, as there was no place else for him to wait. While the entry was street level, her apartment was on the second floor of the brownstone. Short of having him sit on the steps, she had to invite him up.

  At his nod, she led him up the stairs, belatedly realizing that the shortness of her robe was most likely offering him an unobstructed view of her bottom. She could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks. Probably both sets were blushing. Inwardly she groaned. This evening was already off to a bad start.

  “Would you like a glass of wine or something?” He declined, so she continued. “Sorry the place is such a wreck. Between the wedding and the packing, everything is upside down. Try to make yourself comfortable, if you can, and I’ll be ready in a minute.” She offered him a half smile and disappeared through one of the doors leading off the living room, leaving it slightly ajar.

  Matt tried to compose himself. He’d been knocked off guard when she’d opened the door, and was still recovering from the sight of Ella in that robe. The thin fabric had outlined every curve, clinging to the swell of her breasts. The tightly cinched belt emphasized her tiny waist and the flare of her hips. His eyes had avidly traveled down to the hem that skimmed the top of the most amazing legs he’d ever seen. Firm thighs, muscular calves and ridiculously trim ankles had him thinking that perhaps he was a Leg Man after all. But he changed his mind when she led him up the stairs and he’d been treated to a view of a beautifully shaped derrière clothed only in a thong. He’d been very glad when she left the room, giving him a chance to regain a sense of composure before he made an complete fool of himself.

  He still wasn’t completely sure what he was even doing at Ella’s apartment. The invitation to take her to dinner had popped out of his mouth just seconds after it had popped into his head. It seemed perfectly natural at the time: dance with the pretty woman, flirt with the pretty woman, ask the pretty woman to dinner. He’d been as surprised by her answer as she’d been at his question. But he had to admit Ella intrigued him. From drill sergeant to blushing bridesmaid to half-naked temptress, she was quite the puzzle.

  A puzzle with one hell of a nice behind, though.

  Drawing a deep breath, he looked around the room, trying to pry his mind away from the image of a half-naked Ella in the next room. Empty boxes were piled in every corner, while full boxes marked with either an E or an M were neatly stacked against the far wall. Ella hadn’t been kidding when she called the place a wreck.

  “Are you both moving out?” he called into the next room.

  “Yeah, it’s crazy, isn’t it? With the wedding and everything, we’re a bit behind on the packing. It’s frustrating, but now that the wedding’s done, I should be able to get something accomplished.” She laughed. “I’d better, because the moving truck will be here on Friday.”

  “Where are you moving to?” He could hear her in her bedroom—shuffling noises mostly, with the occasional muttered curse as she either dropped or tripped over something.

  “Sweet home Alabama. Specifically, Fort Morgan, where I grew up. It’s down on the Gulf Coast, about three hours east of New Orleans.”

  “So you are a Southern girl. I knew I heard a drawl.”

  “I know. Even after ten years, people know I’m not from around here the second I open my mouth. It catches them off guard, and it’s kinda funny to see them react.”

  He heard a muffled thump, followed by another string of muttering. “Take your time. There’s no hurry. Why are you going back to Alabama?”

  “I’ve accepted a job with a company in Pensacola, actually, and it’s just across the state line. It’s an easy commute, and I can still live on the beach.”

  Unable to sit calmly, thanks to a raging erection, he wandered around the room, taking in the framed prints and canvases on the walls, hoping to distract himself. Ella, or maybe it was Melanie, had good taste in art. Nothing so mainstream as to be a cliché, but nothing too out there, either. Everything was edgy enough to be interesting, and the pieces made a tasteful and eye-catching collection.

  Leaning against the wall, obviously demoted from wall space, based on the dust on their glass, were Melanie’s and Ella’s college degrees. Curious, he pulled Ella’s out for a look.

  There was a BS from Northwestern, and a master’s from the University of Chicago, both in computer science and both awarded to Ella Augustine Mackenzie. Augustine? Heck of a name to be saddled with.

  Computer science. That seemed a bit odd, because Ella didn’t really strike him as a computer geek. He looked around for evidence to the contrary. A table in the corner held a laptop, but it looked like any other laptop—nothing fancy or complicated. People who spent that amount of time in college studying CS didn’t flip burgers, that’s for sure, but Ella just didn’t fit the usual mental picture.

  Drill sergeant, wedding planner and now computer geek. Ella was full of surprises.

  Chuckling as another loud thump—followed by a muffled curse this time—echoed from the next room, Matt wandered over to the bookshelf where Mel and Ella had a collection of framed pictures. There were snapshots of Brian and Mel on the beac
h somewhere, as well as a more formal pose he recognized as their engagement photo. There were many pictures of college-age Mel and Ella—group shots at parties, one of the two of them in front of a Christmas tree and another of them dressed to go to some kind of formal dance. He found family pictures of Mel and her brothers and parents. Ella was in most of the casual shots of Christmas and birthdays. He finally noticed a picture of a teenage Ella, braces and all, posed with an older couple to whom she bore a slight resemblance.

  “Those are my grandparents.”

  Matt jumped as she spoke from directly behind him. He turned and lost the ability to speak. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard at the sight. The robe was gone, replaced by a dark-blue dress that skimmed over the curves of her body. Her shoulders and neck were bare, but she carried a sparkly wrap in one hand. The short dress and high heels only accentuated the incredible legs he’d seen earlier. All those remarkably erotic thoughts he had worked to cast out of his head returned full force.

  Ella seemed completely unaware of his reaction to her as she leaned in to take the photo he still held in his hand. As she moved close to him, he caught a whiff of the perfume she wore—a light, but slightly musky, scent—and the erection he had only recently gotten under control began to stir to life again.

  “I was sixteen when that picture was taken. My really bad hair aside, it’s one of my favorite photos of us.”

  Matt struggled for something intelligent he could say as he tried to get the blood flowing back to his other head. He settled for, “Do they still live in Alabama?”

  “No.” Ella shook her head. “Gran died when I was in high school, and Gramps passed about five years ago.” She smiled at the people in the picture fondly.

  “And your parents? Are they still down there?”

  “My parents both died when I was very young. My grandparents raised me.” She didn’t sound sad, only resigned, like someone who’d come to terms with the loss long ago.