by Melinda Hale
LIVING WITH TEMPTATION
Melinda Hale
Copyright 2012 by Melinda Hale.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book can be reproduced in any form by electronic of mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission from the author.
All rights reserved.
Visit the author at www.melinda-hale.com.
One
“Can you afford to keep living there?” the male voice insisted over the phone.
Chelsea Levin rolled her eyes. This was not a phone call to wake up to, especially from her husband. Ex-husband, she reminded herself, glancing down at her ringless finger. The exact reason for her broken heart. Even hearing his voice again brought tears to her eyes, the heat of them blurring her vision as she sank onto the chair facing the computer.
“I can’t,” she admitted tersely.
If only I had the guts to divorce him sooner, Chelsea thought, her grip on the handset tightening from anger. Without his dark blue eyes gazing coolly at her, her emotions were free to express. God knows how long she’d been repressing them. Her mother’s words returned to her: a man always knows what’s best.
How she hated to show weakness to Ryan, especially after what he did. But she wasn’t going to be submissive anymore. Chelsea cleared her throat. “Why do you want to move back?”
“I have money,” Ryan stated, no doubt pleased he finally had the upper hand. “And I want my independence, as I know you understand. I can’t stay at my parents forever. We both have to move forward.”
She knew how it looked. Ryan Grey was being considerate by helping her out. A chill went through her. Fuck him. She knew he had a second motive. Always did. Ryan was always the charmer, the dominant one. In light of the recent trend of having a ‘dom’ guy, she found him sexy. The token bad boy with intimidating sexual appeal. Everything had seemed perfect.
Looking back over the years they spent together and realizing how much it changed her, Chelsea saw nothing but bitterness. How could a single relationship skew her entire life?
“Well, I don’t have the money to move out,” she retorted. “I wasn’t prepared for this, you know that.”
Chelsea swiveled to face the computer, leaning forward onto the desk to keep herself stable. Money wasn’t everything, even though she once believed it was. Ryan hated her incessant drive to earn more than him, her need to have the perfect life. To her, their perfect life was during the early stages of their marriage, when they had everything. He never understood what changed, Chelsea recalled.
She swallowed heavily, overcome by the tumultuous feelings she’d tried to hold back for weeks on end. Of course the marriage meant something once, long ago she’d never been happier. But not anymore. She’d had two months to deal with those feelings. Two months to sort out her life and free herself from Ryan.
“I’ll cover the cost for you. Stay at a friend’s,” Ryan suggested. Chelsea rolled her eyes. She had one friend, Andrea, and he still didn’t remember her name.
“You don’t really have another choice,” he added. “I’m only calling to assist you. That place isn’t yours anymore, just like it isn’t ours.” His voice was hard, but then his tone softened. “You know I’m only trying to help you, Chel. I’ll never forget what we had.”
The last time she talked to Ryan was the moment he walked out of the door and their marriage. Not much earlier before, she learned of his multiple affairs, and it had been another sharp blow to her wavering confidence.
“She came onto me, baby,” he’d insisted. “It wasn’t my fault. Fucking her meant nothing to me. I always come back to you.”
He ended it out of guilt. And even though it tormented her, Chelsea never wanted to know his reasons. It was in the past now.
“I’m not going to inconvenience Andrea,” she said boldly. “If I have to move out, then I’m moving into my own place.”
She slid off the chair and strode over to the dining room, dimly lit by streams of sunlight beaming through from the open bay window. The floor tiles gleamed as she trailed her gaze across the dark mahogany table, with a single seat left from the furniture Ryan took for himself.
“Damn it, stop being so stubborn,” Ryan muttered.
His statement sent a stab of guilt and pain through her. There was no humor in his voice. Many times he’d jokingly said that to her, and she teased him back. Looking back on it, she thought it made her happy. But now all the cracks were beginning to show, as they did from hindsight.
“I’m not changing who I am,” she retorted.
Chelsea raised her head to stare wistfully at the kitchen, the dull white counters and two red bar stools where she once sat and drank cocktails with him. All of the memories were there, difficult reminders that she failed to keep their marriage together. Now that it was over, there were no boundaries. Life was there, but she didn’t know how to approach it.
A new house, she reminded herself.
“And I’ll be taking Mittens back,” Chelsea added. “I chose her. She answers to me more than you anyway.”
Ryan took her after the separation. She’d fought tooth and nail to keep her precious cat, but Ryan made all the decisions. Out of shock, she didn’t argue.
“I’ll be happy to hand it back to you…once I know you have money to take care of the cat. And yourself.”
Chelsea gritted her teeth in an attempt to hold back her sudden anger. That was him, always talking down to her as if he knew what was best.
“I can borrow money from my mom,” she lied.
There was silence on the other end. “Fine. Contact me when you’re out.”
Chelsea lowered the phone away from her, shoving it into her pocket. She ran a hand through her dark blonde hair and sighed in frustration. This wasn’t what she needed, not now. To hear Ryan’s voice again after weeks of silence was like an old wound opening up and bringing all the pain with it.
Her cell phone rang again and Chelsea hastily pulled it from the pocket of her dark jeans, glancing at the number. To her relief, it wasn’t Ryan again. She dreaded the moment he would call to request the divorce, as that meant seeing him. No doubt he was off sleeping with one of the women he cheated with.
“Andrea?” she answered, trying to keep her tone light.
Her call came as a surprise. During their last conversation Andrea promised to give her some time alone to sort out her feelings. In hindsight, she was grateful. She’d needed that push to realize how much Ryan was affecting her.
“Hi!” Andrea greeted her. “How’re you coping? You know I’ve offered for you to stay at mine if it gets too much for you.”
“It’s fine,” Chelsea assured her. “Ryan called earlier. He’s going to leave his parents and move in here once I leave. I still haven’t found a place but…”
She paused, knowing not to get her hopes up. Finding a rental was extremely tough in Newark, a two bedroom house would set her back nearly $1200 a month. On her part time job, it was something she couldn’t afford.
Her mother hadn’t offered for her to move back, and probably never would. Although Andrea’s offer was tempting, she didn’t want to inconvenience her. How long would she be living with her for? Months? A year?
Chelsea wasn’t one to lean on others for help, she wanted to deal with this herself. But as Andrea told her during their last discussion, she didn’t have the finances to continue this way.
“I’ve found something that’ll interest you!” Andrea announced.
“Where is it?”
“It’s in Jersey, don’t worry. Somewhere out in Monmouth County. From what I’ve heard, it
’s to die for. Two storied with a pool, four bedrooms, designer kitchen…”
“Slow down!” Chelsea said with a laugh. “I can’t afford a place like that.”
It was typical of Andrea to get carried away with the unnecessary details. But with only three days to go until the lease was up, Chelsea couldn’t waste time. As a last resort, she would move in with Andrea and her overly affectionate displays with her husband.
I need to deal with this myself, she affirmed. I will find a place.
“You wouldn’t have the whole house, just a separate room,” Andrea explained. “But I can’t say too much. I’ll leave it up to Dean.”
“Dean?” she enquired, mildly interested. The idea of living with another man turned her off completely, but that didn’t ease her curiosity.
“He owns the house. And possibly others too. I don’t know how much he wants but it’s not like he needs the money. You should give him a chance.”
Chelsea raised an eyebrow. She wandered into the living room and seated herself in front of the computer. “Sorry. I’m not interested. I want a place to myself. How did you meet this guy anyway?”
Andrea sighed. “He’s a regular customer at work. But Chel, you’re running out of time. How long do you have?”
She tapped at the keyboard absentmindedly. “Three days.”
“Then you can’t afford to be choosy.”
“Thanks for the lecture.”
“If you turn him down, I’m going to do more than lecture you!” Andrea joked. “Just agree to a meeting, see how it goes?”
Chelsea hesitated. He had to be pretty important for Andrea to be acting this way. “Who is he exactly?”
“Find out when you meet him, here’s his number.”
Chelsea quickly typed it onto the computer as she told it to her. Then she leaned back, letting out a frustrated sigh.
“You won’t get off my back until I say yes, will you?” Chelsea asked, a smile curving her lips. Her best friend was equally as stubborn as her. Knowing what Andrea would say, she hastened to add, “I’ll consider it.”
Andrea paused briefly. “I’m just here to help. It’s an offer you can’t refuse.”
Chelsea didn’t want to consider it. She understood her friend was trying to help, but she couldn’t stand the thought of living with another man so soon – it was everything she wanted to avoid. She would be intruding on Dean’s life, not to mention the lack of privacy. But why’s she being insistent about it?
Her brows furrowed. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Andrea giggled. “Well, I suppose I can’t keep it a secret! Points to me for trying.” She hesitated, lengthening the suspense for a few seconds. “It’s Dean Westley. You know, the millionaire?”
Chelsea’s frown deepened. A millionaire? It didn’t sound possible. She rubbed at her forehead, her heart racing as it dawned on her. A millionaire is interested in me.
She swallowed and quickly pushed the notion aside. “He’s probably pretending to be this Dean Westley.”
“Oh, you are so funny sometimes,” Andrea joked. “He’s definitely the real deal, and he wants to help you Chel. He said it would be like…a mutual friend helping one another.”
“You can tell him his offer isn’t welcome.”
Chelsea shook her head in disbelief. Knowing that a millionaire wanted to act on her vulnerability sent a sharp pain through her chest. She wasn’t a charity case, and didn’t want his pity, if that was even how he felt for her.
She drummed her fingers against the dining table. “Why would he do this?”
“Ask Dean when you meet him. He’s so secretive, always avoiding the media. I have to warn you, he’s sexy!”
Chelsea laughed. “You’re married!”
“You know I love a hot guy when I see one. Including my husband, of course. Get back to me tomorrow when you decide?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Hope you say yes!”
Andrea hung up. Chelsea lowered the phone away from her and glanced at it thoughtfully before sliding it back into her pocket. So Dean Westley, a millionaire, was interested in meeting her. She shook her head as one question rose to her mind: why?
Chelsea sighed and faced the computer. A meeting with Dean was harmless. If it was a joke, then she would be the one lecturing Andrea.
With their conversation still on her mind, she browsed through real estate sites in search of a house. Knowing that she needed to widen her search, she clicked the option to show all of New Jersey. Now there were far too many results to sort through.
A few hours passed. She checked the time, realizing it was early evening. There were three potential houses to check out tomorrow, once she took her weekly trip out to Jersey City to visit Andrea.
Chelsea stood up and left the computer, stretching slightly. The house was silent, apart from the whirring of the computer fan and a high pitched sound coming from the refrigerator.
She shuffled over to the pantry, dressed in nothing but a green fleece robe and fluffy slippers. This had been her life for the past month since her and Ryan parted on mutual terms. Keeping to herself in the apartment, occasionally visiting Andrea, and slaving away at her job at Walmart. She was currently on vacation, but spending it at home didn’t feel like one.
Without Ryan, her bed was empty at night. She missed his companionship while watching television and the way he held her after a long day.
“It’s over. I can’t ignore what he did,” she scolded herself, wiping at her eyes. There were no tears this time. She wasn’t oblivious to how many times Ryan made her cry.
Grabbing a pop tart from the shelf, Chelsea placed it in the toaster. Hunger wasn’t an issue, but she needed to eat. Losing weight wasn’t a healthy option. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Like my weight matters right now.
When the pop tart sprung up, she started eating it, wincing as the heat scalded her mouth. Ryan was gone, and recovering from their four year marriage would take time. The only comfort was that it would pass, everything did. Once she felt remotely happy again, her heart wouldn’t go to another.
Chelsea wandered back into the hallway then froze, startled by the photo above the doorway. It hung there, completely unnoticed until now. She stared at herself albeit two years younger, her blonde hair perfectly straightened, her smile relaxed and slightly crooked.
A cheesy smile, she remembered Ryan calling it. But extremely sexy.
Her gaze went to him. His tanned, dark haired face pressed against hers with an equally cheerful smile. In the background she could make out a sandy beach with crystal blue waters. The photo had been taken during their last vacation together in Hawaii, back when they could afford such luxuries.
Chelsea took another bite. Why hadn’t she considered taking the photo down?
I miss having him in my life. But after he…
She cut off that thought. Not even his affairs surprised her. Chelsea almost expected it to happen. There was nothing to be salvaged from their relationship, and friendship was out of the question.
Keeping the photo served as a reminder of Ryan, a way of dwelling on the memories without fully letting go. Because once she did, she would enter the unknown. A sudden fear caused her to shudder. Chelsea knew she was desperately looking back, trying to make sense of the four years wasted on their relationship.
She reached up, grabbed the photo frame and unclipped the photo. Chelsea took one final look at it; reminiscing on the happiness she once had. How can I trust any man again? If I find one. Maybe when I’m forty. She rolled her eyes, her heart sinking from the thought of searching for someone else.
“I have to move on,” she breathed, throwing the photo into the garbage.
The alarm clock blared loudly. Chelsea groaned, forcing herself to sit up as she slammed a hand in the direction of the noise. Banging her hand painfully against the dresser, she cursed and opened her eyes to shut the alarm off. Pressing the power switch gave her a small sense of relief,
but she still felt troubled.
Silence settled over her. The bedroom was cold and dimly lit. Chelsea shivered, irritated that she hadn’t kept the heater on at night. Winter was creeping close and she wasn’t looking forward to the inevitable snow and freezing nights. My first winter without Ryan.
The thought didn’t bother her as much as she expected. In fact, she felt a sense of freedom. Chelsea sat up, throwing the covers off herself and pulling on a pair of black pants and a brown sweater. She quickly brushed her hair, not bothering to straighten it, and went to the computer.
She hesitated, thinking of the house Andrea had mentioned, knowing she had a chance to live with a millionaire. A once in a lifetime opportunity. It was incredibly tempting. Chelsea could almost picture the type of mansion Dean lived in. The wide, open rooms and marble pillars, maybe even a splash of red carpet.
She smiled. Living with Dean would definitely make life interesting. And with it being completely turned around after her failed marriage, it was exactly what she needed. A temporary arrangement. A smile crossed her face as she realized she was starting to like the idea.
Yet Chelsea was hesitant to call. Dean hadn’t approached her, instead choosing to ask through Andrea. For a serious proposal about living together, she figured he would want to talk to her directly. It’s naïve to think like that. Dean’s just another cold hearted millionaire who couldn’t care less, she affirmed.
Chelsea reached for her cell phone sitting on the desk and quickly dialed Andrea’s number. At this hour of the morning, she wouldn’t have started work yet.
“Hello, this is Andrea Young speaking.”
“Andrea, its Chelsea. Don’t forget I’ll be coming in today.”
“I never do,” Andrea said cheerfully. Then her tone lowered. “But you’re calling about Dean, aren’t you?”
“No! No,” she said dismissively. But as her voice trailed off, she realized she wanted to know more about him. Just to satisfy her curiosity. “I don’t know who he is.”
“You don’t remember? About two years back, there was that scandal with the actress, Desiree Moffat.”