The Secret Mistress Arrangement

by Kimberly Lang

  Matt’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A job and a house? That’s your argument?”

  “My job and my house are what I can count on. I can’t jeopardize my future on some slim possibility that something might work out between us someday.” What on earth did he expect?

  “There are other jobs, other houses.”

  Understanding crept in. “I see. Would those ‘other jobs’ or ‘other houses’ possibly be in Atlanta?”

  “Maybe. You never know.”

  “Let’s flip this around. I don’t see you blithely disregarding your place in your firm. There are other places to practice law, you know.”

  She could tell she’d made him very uncomfortable this time.

  “That’s different.”

  “How?” She took a deep breath in the hopes it would calm her enough to keep her from doing something she might regret. Like making him a permanent soprano. Instead it just seemed to fuel her anger more, and her temper broke loose. “You know, you’re right. I am pretty smart, and I can figure this out. Here’s how I see it. You see this whole possibility of an ‘us,’ but I’d lay money this ‘us’ is in Atlanta, with you still plugging away at making partner. Nothing would change for you—hell, you’d have it all.”

  “Ella—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Oh, no, I’m just getting started here. It’s all becoming so clear. Let’s just pretend this ‘us’ actually happened. Even if I could find a job half as good as the one at SoftWerx, I’d be mostly by myself as you’re at work twelve freaking hours a day. Until you decide it’s time to give your mom more grandkids, of course, and then I’d have to quit in order to raise them. Or—” Matt wasn’t quite meeting her eyes now; she was hitting close to the bone, it seemed “—better yet, maybe until then I could ‘live the dream’ and paint full-time. Maybe I’d even sell a few and make just enough to feed the cat.”

  “You’re jumping way ahead, Ella, and you know, there is a positive spin possible on your scenario.”

  Matt didn’t get it, and she’d go insane trying to explain it to him. “I don’t have the luxury of just jumping in and seeing what happens. I don’t have a family to fall back on if I go off chasing rainbows and it all goes to hell. All I have is me.”

  “With that attitude, you’ll never have anything more.”

  “Oh, shut up. I didn’t ask you for your opinion or your validation of how I want to live my life. I didn’t sign on to have you second-guess the choices I make. I just wanted to get laid.”

  Matt pulled back visibly and the harshness of what she’d said registered through the red haze.

  “Well, I’m glad I could oblige you on that, at least.”

  She couldn’t think of a response.

  Matt took a deep breath, and she held her own, hoping he’d come up with a way to bridge the moat she’d just dug with her temper.

  Instead, he shrugged. “It seems like I made a mistake coming here. Several, in fact. Now that everything’s clear, and you got the lay you wanted, I’m going to go.”

  As Matt disappeared into the bedroom, Ella couldn’t get her legs to move and words escaped her. Her tirade had shocked her; she certainly hadn’t meant for all that to come pouring out.

  Matt reappeared fully dressed and carrying his overnight bag. His shoes were untied, she noticed. Can I blame him for wanting to get the hell out of here as fast as possible?

  “It’s been fun, Ella. I’m sorry it worked out like this.”

  Say something! Don’t just let him leave like this.

  “Me, too.” That’s it. Quit while you’re ahead. It’s better to end it now.

  “Bye.”

  “Bye. Drive carefully.”

  And he was gone.

  Just like that.

  She took a deep breath and reminded herself it wasn’t the first time she’d watched a man beat a fast path for the door. Most of the time she was hurrying them along.

  But it had never felt like this.

  Instead of the weight lifting off her shoulders because her problem was solved, it seemed to be pressing her down with a force that nearly buckled her knees.

  Ella stepped back out on the porch and picked up the quilt from where it landed during her grand exit. Wrapping it around her shoulders, she stared at the empty hammock. It seemed like an eternity had passed since she’d been swinging gently in it, wrapped happily around Matt. Realistically, it hadn’t been long at all.

  It only takes a minute for everything to change. But she knew that already from past experience. That’s why she planned ahead, covered the possibilities. Too bad she hadn’t devised a contingency clause for dealing with Matt.

  It was better this way, even if it sucked at the moment. It never should have gone this far in the first place. In the long run, she’d be glad she ended it with Matt now instead of waiting until they were both more deeply involved. Not exactly the most graceful way to extricate herself from a confusing situation, but she wasn’t getting points for execution.

  It’s for the best. She’d been fooling herself, thinking she could dance around the edges with Matt and still come out on top. Her eyes burned and she turned her face into the breeze to cool them.

  Now she could get on with her life. She had contractors coming Monday and enough work to keep her busy for a good long while. She’d finally get settled in, and by the New Year, she’d be back on track.

  No harm, no foul, she reminded herself. No one’s feelings to get hurt.

  Funny, that’s not how it felt at the moment.

  Matt made it all the way to the highway before he realized he didn’t actually have anywhere to go. When he’d made plans last week, he’d worked on the assumption he’d be at Ella’s until tomorrow afternoon. He’d even booked his return flight out of Pensacola so as not to have to make the drive all the way back to New Orleans—plans made to maximize Ella time. It never occurred to him she wouldn’t want to see him or that he’d end up out the door at eight on a Saturday night.

  What was that saying? “The best-laid plans of mice and men go oft awry.” Awry was the understatement of the year.

  I shouldn’t have fought with her. Something about Ella, though, brought out extremes in his normally even keel. The mental replay had him groaning. Walking out in a huff had just been juvenile. He’d pay for those dramatics with a night alone in an airport hotel.

  He paused at the junction of the 292 and debated calling her. Maybe he should apologize. He’d come on a bit hard, pushed her too much. Maybe it wasn’t too late to work this out.

  “I just wanted to get laid.” In retrospect, she’d been clear about that from the start. She’d all but spelled it out to him. Only his ego thought the rules had changed, but he’d been set straight tonight.

  Yesterday he would have said he knew Ella pretty well. Obviously, he didn’t. He should have listened when she tried to end it before.

  A honk pulled him back to reality, and a glance in his rearview mirror showed a line of cars backing up behind him.

  With a sigh, he turned east toward Pensacola.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “ARE you ever going to tell me what’s eating you, or do I have to go on pretending I don’t notice anything wrong?” Melanie punctuated her question with a dramatic sigh.

  Ella balanced the phone on her shoulder and leaned back against the headboard. With a good portion of her living areas in various stages of construction, her bedroom was one of the few places in her house not currently in pieces. From her bed, she still had a view of the ocean out over the side porch—an unobstructed view, now that she’d taken down the hammock. The temperatures had dropped too low to sit outside after the sun went down, so she didn’t have much reason to be out there until spring arrived. Maybe she’d buy a new hammock then. Or maybe some kind of chaise instead.

  Definitely a chaise. Hammocks were nothing but trouble.

  “What makes you think there’s something wrong?”

  “Hel-lo this is me you’re talking to. Your
voice sounds funny, you’re less talkative than usual—even your e-mails are blue-tinged. Something’s been bugging you for a over a week now, and I’m driving myself crazy worrying about it.”

  Mel’s question put her in a bad position. She could lie or make excuses for her mood, but there was a ninety-eight-percent chance Mel would see it for what it was. Obviously, the pretend-everything-is-just-fine route wasn’t working, so continuing to plod along there would be a waste of time. Either of those options would also keep Mel on high worry alert, and everyone suffered when Mel worried.

  Too bad the truth wasn’t an option.

  “I think it’s just the settling-in blues. Work is taking more out of me than I planned, and the work on the house is slow going. You know what a control freak I am. All the upheaval is just getting to me. I’m a little homesick, as well.”

  “I can have a moving truck at your house tomorrow.”

  That brought a laugh. Even funnier was that Mel was dead serious. If she listened closely, she’d probably hear the yellow pages rustling as Mel looked up moving companies.

  “I’m not kidding, El. There’s the cutest vacant apartment just a block from here that would be perfect for you. Plus, I ran into Abe Morris the other day at the market. He said he’d kill to have you back. He mentioned a raise and a possible promotion.”

  “Which, technically, I should have gotten two years ago. He’s just sore he has to actually work these days instead of hiding in his office playing computer games. You know he keeps e-mailing me with questions, right? Thanks, but I think I’m good where I am.”

  “You could have fooled me. You sound miserable.”

  She tried for a light tone. “I’m fine, Mel. Seriously.”

  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  “I know. And if there was anything to tell, I would.” She salved her guilty conscience with the fact there wasn’t anything to tell now. Nothing Melanie could do to help, either. “Stop worrying. When I get there Wednesday, you’ll be able to see for yourself that I’m fine.”

  “I’ll meet you at the airport. And Mom is making sweet potatoes just for you.”

  “It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without them.”

  Slipping out from under Mel’s microscope, Ella breathed a sigh of relief. After a few more minutes, she was able to get off the phone and halt the line of questioning.

  She doubted Mel believed her story, but it would buy her a little more time. Not that she had much available. She had four days to pull it together before she flew to Chicago to spend Thanksgiving with Mel and her family. If Mel was picking up on her misery so easily now, she was in trouble the second she stepped off the plane.

  Thirteen days. Thirteen days since Matt left. No phone calls. No e-mails. Nothing. It was as if they’d never met.

  Oh, but they had. And the ache that set up camp in her chest was a constant reminder.

  She’d gotten used to him too quickly. She should’ve listened to the little voice in her head and not let herself get so close. She should have ended it completely and in no uncertain terms before she ever left Chicago. She should’ve turned down his offer of a fling. Hell, she never should’ve slept with him in the first place.

  Then she wouldn’t be in love with him now.

  It’d taken four days of misery and heartache for her to admit that to herself. How and when she’d fallen for him was a mystery, but she was inexplicably in love with the infuriating man. Which was exactly what she’d wanted to avoid.

  She didn’t do well in relationships. Never had. It was too difficult when they reached the end, so she learned to not start anything she wouldn’t be able to get out of easily. Matt wasn’t content with just crawling into her bed. Oh, no, he hadn’t stopped until he’d crawled into her head and heart as well.

  What she’d thought was just hormonal infatuation was proving to be something much more, and now it was eating her alive. If the pain was all she had to deal with, she’d be okay. She’d dealt with worse. But the sinking feeling of regret—of a loss she couldn’t quite put her finger on—was the worst part.

  She didn’t like the regrets.

  A niggling voice in the back of her mind whispered she’d really screwed up this time. That Matt was worth hanging on to, even if it would be difficult—in every way imaginable—to do so.

  She returned the phone to its cradle and pulled her paint-splattered shirt over her head, covering her to her knees. Although she tried not to, her eyes kept wandering to the chair across from the bed.

  A gray sweatshirt sporting PENN in big letters lay folded there. She’d found it the day after Matt left, turned inside out from a hasty removal and accidentally kicked halfway under the bed. Even now she could picture the look on Matt’s face as he’d pulled it over his head and let it fall.

  How to return it was a mystery. She couldn’t pass it off to Mel or Brian to return without garnering the third degree. She didn’t have his home address—and it wasn’t listed, she had checked—and sending forgotten clothing to his office screamed bad taste.

  The faint smell of Matt’s aftershave still clung to it. Simply folding the sweatshirt had brought tears to her eyes. She hadn’t touched it since then. Eventually she’d have to.

  Later, after the rawness eases a bit.

  She padded barefoot to the other room, where her brushes and palette were waiting, and perched on the battered stool. Squinting critically at the canvas, she decided it wasn’t that bad. Working with the oils was more difficult, but all and all, it was turning into a cathartic experience. Painting allowed the hours to pass without much thought on her part. It was all about focus, and it kept her mind from wandering away from the canvas to painful, regret-filled places.

  She took a deep breath, the pain in her chest expanding with her lungs. She focused on breathing out slowly, clearing her mind and reminding herself that this, too, would pass.

  It had to.

  “These need your signature, these are for your reviewing pleasure, and this is your travel itinerary.” Matt’s assistant tilted her head as she handed over the last item. “You’re going home for Thanksgiving? In five years, I’ve never known you to go away for the holidays.”

  Matt took the printout and laid it aside. “Yeah, well, normally I don’t. But I kind of promised to this year.”

  Debbie smiled. “I know your mother will be happy.” She headed for her desk in the outer office. “Don’t forget a coat,” she tossed over her shoulder. “The weather forecast for Chicago is pretty chilly.”

  With his luck, they’d get an early snow. If he hadn’t already told his mother he’d be there, he’d spend the long weekend on the golf course and save himself the hassle. But after promising Ella last month, he’d told his mother to save him a seat at the adults’ table. Now he was stuck.

  Ella. He had to stop thinking about her. She’d made herself and her feelings pretty clear, and the stunning silence from her left no room for misunderstanding.

  Ella’s silence—along with the massive workload awaiting his return—had actually helped. The distance helped increase his clarity, and he was able to see his infatuation for what it was. He’d been crazy to even consider it might be something more than that. Ella was funny, smart, beautiful and good in bed, and he’d just gotten carried away.

  There was a first time for everything. Thank God he’d gotten it under control. He should be thanking her for ending it before it went any further and someone got hurt.

  His eyes landed on his itinerary again. Most likely, Ella would be in for the holiday, as well. If so, she’d be staying with Melanie and Brian. It’s not as though Ella had other family to go see for the holiday. There was a very good chance he’d see her.

  His body reacted instantly, hardening at the thought of her. The rational part of his big brain might be clear on the realities of the situation, but his little brain wasn’t there yet. It was annoying as hell.

  But it wouldn’t be a problem. They were adults. They’d hooked up, but now it w
as over. The limited contact they might have to have wouldn’t be an issue.

  No problem at all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE nightmare of air travel the day before Thanksgiving wasn’t unexpected, but sharing a row for three hours with the woman who had marinated herself in a cloying gardenia scent brought on a full-fledged allergy attack. By the time she landed in Chicago, Ella’s nose was running, her eyes were streaming and a migraine was splitting her head apart. Simply getting to clean air hadn’t been enough; the scent clung to her clothes and hair, feeding the attack until she got to Melanie’s and headed straight for the shower.

  Liberal doses of antihistamines and what sleep she could manage with her head pounding had helped some, but she woke Thursday morning still sneezing and coughing and generally feeling like death warmed over.

  But there was a silver lining. Mel had something concrete to fuss over instead of only vague suspicions, and any quietness on Ella’s part could be chalked up to the allergy attack. Hacking and blowing her way though Thanksgiving lunch with Mel’s entire family seemed a small price to pay for the reprieve from Mel’s prying questions.

  Her misery also allowed her to decline Brian’s invitation to go to his family’s for dinner that night. She’d been considering going, just for Mel’s sake, until Matt called Brian’s cell and Brian extended the same invitation to him.

  So Matt had made good on his offhand promise to come home for Thanksgiving. He was here. The last thing she needed was to intentionally put herself in close proximity to him. Hell, being in the same town felt a little too close for comfort.

  Any progress she’d made in the past few days in the “getting over Matt” department receded at the thought of actually seeing him. No way she was ready for that. No, no, no.

  Thankfully, her next coughing fit had been enough to allow her to beg off, and instead she was dropped at Melanie’s apartment to rest.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to call the doctor?”