Your Bed or Mine?

by Candy Halliday

  “Jen didn’t help,” Charlie was quick to say. “Jen was there, but she tried to talk Zada and Tish out of trashing the living room.”

  Joe looked at Rick in shock. “Tish really helped Zada trash your living room?”

  Rick shrugged. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. No real damage was done.”

  Joe frowned. “I’ll do more than worry about it,” he said. “If Tish helped trash the place, I’ll make sure Tish helps clean up the mess.”

  Charlie said, “Why clean it up?”

  Rick and Joe both looked at him.

  “Forget I said that,” Charlie said quickly, glancing over his shoulder for a second. He looked back at Rick. “Jen has already given me strict instructions we’re not taking sides in this game you and Zada are playing.”

  “But?” Joe asked.

  Charlie sent another nervous look behind him.

  “But,” he said, after he was sure the coast was clear, “if I were you, Rick, I’d beat Zada at her own game. If you clean up the mess, she’ll only make another one. I say, leave the mess. Show her you’re not playing into her hands.”

  Rick said, “Good point.”

  “Or,” Joe said, grinning, “fight fire with fire and do a little trashing of your own. Zada isn’t the only one capable of making a mess. She wants messy, I say give the lady what the lady wants.”

  Rick cringed at the thought.

  Charlie burst out laughing.

  “What?” Rick demanded.

  “Sorry,” Charlie said. “I was just trying to imagine you neatly organizing the mess you were trying to make.”

  “I’m not that anal,” Rick grumbled.

  “Yes you are,” Charlie and Joe said at the same time.

  “Okay, dammit, maybe I am,” Rick admitted, “but I didn’t move home to lose this bet to Zada. I came home to win.”

  “Damn right,” said Joe.

  “That’s the spirit, soldier,” Charlie said.

  “After we play eighteen holes,” Joe threw in. “We have a tee-time in an hour. Zada told us where you were. That’s when we came to find you.”

  “You saw Zada?”

  “Briefly,” Charlie said. “She was coming back across the street from Alicia’s house.”

  Rick laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Joe asked.

  Tongue in cheek, Rick said, “Alicia dropped by to welcome me back home this morning, and to offer me—Well, let’s just say she made it a point to let me know she was available for anything I needed. Day or night. Zada slammed the door in her face. I hope she went over to apologize.”

  Joe let out a low whistle. “Wow. I don’t even want to think about what Tish would have done. But apologizing isn’t one of them.”

  “Even Jen wouldn’t have taken a welcome home visit from Alicia in stride,” Charlie admitted.

  “Women,” Rick said, shaking his head. “One hundred percent comprehendable-proof.”

  “Which is why we should stick to playing golf instead of trying to figure them out,” Joe said.

  “I bet Simon agrees with that statement,” Charlie said, bending down to ruffle the dog’s fur. “Don’t you, boy?”

  Simon’s bark was affirmative.

  “Good boy,” Rick said. “Let’s go home and get my golf clubs.”

  As they started back toward the house, Charlie said, “Tell us the truth, Rick. What is your real strategy for coming up with the Survivor game? Do you really want Zada to move out? Or is the game just a tactic to convince Zada she should call off the divorce and let you move back in permanently?”

  Good question.

  But Rick said, “Zada’s too stubborn to call off the divorce.”

  “Be fair,” Charlie said. “Zada isn’t the only stubborn one.”

  “True,” Rick admitted. “We’re both too stubborn for our own good. Which is exactly why we can’t live together.”

  Joe spoke up. “You and Zada could live together if you joined leagues with the rest of us husbands and used the magic phrase all us married men rely on to keep the little woman happy.”

  Rick laughed. “What magic phrase?”

  “‘Whatever you say, dear,’” Joe told him.

  Rick shook his head. “Sorry. I’m not a whatever-you-say-dear kind of guy.”

  “Like your dad, you mean?” Charlie asked.

  Rick said, “What does my dad have to do with this?”

  “Just an observation,” Charlie said. “You told me once your dad always gave the orders and you and your mom always followed them to the letter. I hate to burst your bubble, Rick, but your mom came from a different generation. Today’s woman is better at giving orders than she is at taking them.”

  “And that’s when you appease her with the magic phrase,” Joe said. “Then you go about your business and basically do whatever you want.”

  Rick sent them both a puzzled look.

  “But that seems so… so dishonest,” he said.

  “I’m not saying honesty doesn’t play a major role in marriage,” Joe said. “It does. Just reserve honesty for the big stuff. Like your commitment to the marriage.”

  “And fidelity,” Charlie threw in.

  Joe nodded. “Use the magic phrase for those little day-to-day battles that really don’t matter one way or another.”

  “That’s just it,” Rick argued. “There are no little battles where Zada and I are concerned.”

  “That’s because you haven’t figured out you have to be man enough to use the magic phrase,” Joe said.

  Man enough?

  Or dishonest enough?

  Rick wasn’t sure.

  But as they continued walking back toward the house, Rick had already decided he would file Joe and Charlie’s out-mess suggestion in his strategy file for future reference. Unfortunately, even if he could force himself to ignore the mess in the living room, he would never be able to out-mess Zada. And whether his friends believed it or not, once Zada filed for the divorce, it had become way too late for the friggin’ magic phrase.

  Besides, he had his own idea for the type of challenge Zada wouldn’t be able to survive.

  Out-tease. Out-tempt. Out-tantalize.

  Zada could deny any chemistry still existed between them if she wanted, but he intended to prove she was lying.

  Turning up the sensuality meter a few notches was bound to send Zada running to safety. And in his way of thinking, the sooner she ran, the better. The madness over the last six months hadn’t been productive for either of them.

  It was time to settle the property dispute. Time for both of them to get on with their lives, even if it meant going their separate ways.

  “I give up. You win.”

  That was the only magic phrase Rick was interested in hearing at this stage of the game.

  Jen, Tish, and Zada stood at Tish’s kitchen window, watching as the guys placed their golf bags into the back of Joe’s four-seat golf cart that was sitting in Tish’s driveway. Within seconds, all three of them were scuffling over who was going to drive the cart.

  “Isn’t that cute?” Tish said. “They’re having a Larry, Moe, and Curly moment.”

  Joe finally won the scuffle and slid behind the wheel.

  Charlie jumped in beside him.

  Rick hopped onto the backseat.

  But as they drove off, Rick glanced up at the window for a second and looked directly at Zada. He had the nerve to send her a big smile and a friendly little wave.

  “Zada!” Jen scolded.

  “I waved back,” Zada said in her own defense.

  “Try using all of your fingers next time,” said Jen.

  “I can’t help it,” Zada said, turning away from the window. “I’m wicked pissed at Rick right now.”

  Tish looked at Jen.

  Jen looked at Tish.

  They both followed Zada across the room.

  When Zada sat down at Tish’s kitchen table, Tish said, “You’re wicked pissed at Rick as opposed to say—the last six months?�
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  Zada let out a long get-this-over-with sigh.

  Damn Rick and his hanging-out-at-her-place rotten hide!

  “I have something to tell you,” Zada said.

  Neither Jen or Tish said a word after Zada finished telling them about Alicia’s visit that morning.

  Ten seconds.

  Fifteen seconds.

  Zada couldn’t take the silence any longer.

  “Well, at least yell at me or something,” Zada wailed. She looked at Tish, then back at Jen. “You think I don’t already know that inviting Pubic Enemy Number One to go after Rick takes first place on the stupid human tricks top-ten list?”

  “You aren’t stupid, Zada,” Tish said, “you’re just hard of thinking sometimes.”

  Jen said, “See? I told both of you when the rumors started, we should tell everyone the truth. I can’t believe you talked me into letting everyone think we actually sit around and discuss our sexual fantasies on Saturday night.”

  Zada said, “Well, I was certainly tempted to invite Alicia over to share sexual fantasies with the infamous Housewives’ Fantasy Club. Especially when she said we were nothing but boring housewives who were so clueless we wouldn’t know a fantasy if it walked up and pinched us on the ass.”

  Jen’s mouth dropped open. “Alicia said that?”

  “She didn’t have to say it,” Zada said. “The smug look on her face said it for her.”

  Jen said, “Well, thank God you didn’t invite her over to share any fantasies! I have no intention whatsoever of sharing sexual fantasies with the likes of Alicia Greene.”

  “Nor do I,” Zada said and sighed. “The only sexual fantasies I’m having right now are of the Lorena Bobbitt variety.”

  “I’ll swap sexual fantasies with Alicia,” Tish said.

  The room fell as silent as an old maid’s bedroom.

  Zada sent Tish a look that said, Now, you tell me!

  Jen sent Tish a look that said, Who are you?

  “I don’t know about the two of you,” Tish said, “but I intend to go to my grave without admitting all we do on Saturday night while the guys play poker, is sit around stuffing our faces with appetizers, drinking wine, and moaning about what the guys are or aren’t doing to piss us off. I vote for keeping our hot and spicy reputation. It sure beats bland and boring.”

  “This isn’t a freaking cook-off, Tish!” Jen yelled.

  Unruffled, Tish said, “Oh, please. I’m sure even you have at least one sexual fantasy, Jen.”

  Jen’s hands flew to her hips. “What do you mean even me? I’ll match my sexual fantasy against your sexual fantasy any day of the week, Tish Jones.”

  Zada said, “If I’d known how eager you two are to share sexual fantasies, I would have invited Alicia over tonight!”

  Jen said, “I was only trying to make a point. Whatever my sexual fantasies are, I am not interested in playing super-nympho for Alicia or for Tish.” She glared back at Tish. “Got it, Miss Suddenly-Turned-X-rated?”

  Tish grinned. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, Jen, but whips and chains excite me.”

  Jen paled.

  “I’m kidding,” Tish said, laughing.

  Zada looked at Tish and said, “For my sake, I hope you aren’t kidding. If Alicia does decide to go after Rick in a big way, I might be begging you to share your sexual fantasies with her.”

  “Sounds like fun to me,” Tish said.

  Not me, Zada thought.

  Sharing sexual fantasies would be torture for her.

  Rick, sleeping at the end of the hallway.

  Wearing nothing but naked—Rick always slept nude.

  His hard, lean body sprawled across the bed.

  The bedsheet kicked off as usual.

  His legs splayed just enough to be dangerous.

  What she didn’t need to think about in full view.

  Arousing her.

  Teasing her.

  Mocking her with heated memories.

  Warning her of cold regrets.

  “You know,” Tish said, “just in case we do have to invite Alicia over to save poor Rick from her greedy clutches, maybe we should practice sharing our fantasies tonight while the guys play poker.”

  “No!” Zada and Jen said at the same time.

  “Why not?” Tish argued. “This boring cul-de-sac of ours could use some spicing up, if you ask me.”

  “I like our boring cul-de-sac just the way it is,” Jen said, nose in the air.

  “I agree,” Zada said. “Boring is definitely the way I need to keep things as long as Rick and I are sleeping under the same roof.”

  “I’d rethink that, if I were you, Zada,” Tish said. “Boring isn’t exactly what you need to be with hot and spicy Alicia living right across the street.”

  Zada didn’t answer.

  But Tish’s point was well taken.

  Chapter 7

  Zada looked at herself in the mirror. She was way overdressed for a walk across the street. But Tish was right; now was not the time to turn into a frumpy hausfrau.

  Not with Alicia lurking in the shadows.

  She adjusted the thin straps of her lime-green satin camisole, then turned around to check out how her butt looked in the low-cut white capris she was wearing. They’d fit perfectly when she bought them, but now they felt a bit snug. Had she gained weight? Did her butt look too big?

  To hell with it.

  I’ll never be able to handle the truth!

  A few fluffs to her hair later, Zada took a deep breath and opened her bedroom door. As luck would have it, the bedroom door at the opposite end of the hallway opened at the same time. She and Rick stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Each of them waiting for the other one to make the first move.

  Zada kept staring at Rick.

  Rick kept staring at Zada.

  Rick, she noticed, wasn’t overdressed. It didn’t matter, Zada decided. Rick looked better in a T-shirt and jeans than most men looked in Armani—too damn good. So good, Zada’s mind flashed back to that image of him sprawled out naked on the bed.

  To hell with that!

  She started down the hall.

  So did Rick.

  They both reached the staircase at the same time.

  “Wow,” he said, taking in her appearance.

  And to hell with you!

  Zada ignored his comment and made a sweeping gesture with her hand for Rick to go down the stairs first.

  He didn’t.

  Instead, he said, “You look incredible.”

  “Don’t do this,” Zada told him.

  “Don’t pay you a compliment?”

  “Don’t act like everything’s back to normal because you moved back in.”

  “If everything were back to normal,” Rick said with a teasing grin, “we would have come out of the same bedroom.”

  Zada stamped her foot. “And don’t make comments like that one!”

  “Don’t say you haven’t thought about it, Zada.”

  “About what?”

  “About how hard it’s going to be,” he said. “The two of us sleeping under the same roof. In separate bedrooms.”

  Zada’s chin came up. “I thought that was the whole point of playing Survivor,” she said. “A game worthy of the settling the property dispute, didn’t you say? Winner takes all?”

  “True,” he said. “I just didn’t realize my first challenge would be waiting for me when I arrived this morning.”

  “Game on, Rick,” Zada reminded him happily.

  His eyes instantly changed to brooding-blue mode.

  “Game on,” he repeated. “But I’ll play fair and give you a choice. Do you want your first challenge now? Or do you want it later when we get back from Tish and Joe’s?”

  Zada laughed. “Later? As in after I’ve had a few glasses of wine later?” She laughed again. “You wish.”

  Rick shrugged. “It’s your call.”

  He took a step forward.

  Then another.


  Zada gulped.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He grinned a sexy grin.

  “Challenging your remark that you no longer find me irresistible.”

  Zada willed herself not to back up. When she didn’t, strong arms slid around her waist. He pulled her roughly against him.

  Mercy!

  He was already hard—willing to prove her a liar.

  She was already finding it hard not to let him.

  Outwit. Outplay. Outlast.

  Outwit. Outplay. Outlast.

  His head inched forward.

  Zada held her breath.

  She kept watching his lips. His teasing, slightly parted lips. Amazing lips that had kissed every inch of her body. Lips that were only inches away from her lips now.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Closer.

  Zada turned her head at the last minute. His hot mouth found the hollow of her neck, instead. She managed to stifle a moan, but a traitorous shiver of desire outran her. A tingle ransacked her entire body, yelling Rick’s name.

  “See how challenging I can make this game over the next ninety days?” Rick whispered against her ear. “Are you sure you can survive it?”

  “Are you sure you can survive it?” Zada eked out between ragged breaths. “You’re the one who has to walk across the street with that bulge in your pants.”

  He held her close for a few more seconds.

  Then he released her, and stepped back.

  Zada grabbed for the banister, steadying herself.

  “Congratulations,” Rick said. “Looks like we’ve both survived our first challenge.”

  “I intend to survive all of them,” Zada told him.

  “And I intend to see that you don’t,” he said.

  Without warning, Rick grabbed her shoulders.

  The kiss he delivered almost brought Zada to her knees.

  “Game on,” he said when their lips broke apart.

  Rick smiled again and walked down the stairs.

  He and his bulge walked right out the door.

  Zada walked right back to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on her just out-kissed face.

  When Zada blew into Tish’s kitchen, Tish said, “Hi.”

  Jen said, “What’s wrong with you? You look flushed.”

  Zada ignored the question and headed straight for the island in the middle of the kitchen and the bottle of pinot sitting on the bar. She poured herself a glass, downed it in one gulp, then poured another glass just as quickly.