Entangled

by Carmen Green

  “Don’t you want to know?” Hunter asked.

  “At first I thought I didn’t. But, yeah. How in the hell did Marc think he could get away with this? I mean, he was a good-looking guy, but he was no model. Our father was a decent-looking dude, but why did he think he deserved three women?”

  “Three gorgeous women,” Hunter added.

  “That has nothing to do with a man’s mind that marries three women,” Tristan told them, leaning back, beer in hand.

  “What is it then?”

  “He was a confidence man. These women were insecure in an area of their lives, and Marc addressed a need they couldn’t fill on their own. He in turn took something from them. That’s what con men do.”

  “Alexandria flew out here believing he wasn’t really dead,” Hunter said and sipped his water.

  Both men winced.

  “So, what’s your relationship to Danielle?” Hunter asked Tristan.

  “We’re business partners. Her brother was my best friend. He was killed in the Iraq war.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hunter said.

  “Me, too,” Chris added.

  “Thank you,” Tristan said. “After Dani stopped modeling she was looking for an investment and we decided she’d buy out her brother’s portion of the business. We’ve been partners ever since.”

  “Nothing else?” Chris asked, looking at Tristan closely.

  “No,” he answered the question without pause. But there was something there. Hunter couldn’t say that the look in Tristan’s eyes was that of more than a friend. It was a hunch that he felt more for Danielle, but he felt more for Alex, and he’d only known her for two days.

  “Do you want to check on Alex?” Chris asked.

  Hunter looked at the closed connecting door. He’d done it at least ten times in the past half hour. “I figured she needed some time alone. I told her I’d stay a couple extra days, then head back to Atlanta.”

  Even as he said this, he and Tristan walked to the door.

  “Man, I think she’s crying.” Taller than Hunter’s six feet by two inches, Tristan nodded. “She is. Go see if you can help her. I’m going to check on Danielle and Renee. They all might be breaking down. Chris, I’ll check with you later.”

  Chris got up, too. “You take care of Danielle. I’ll see about Renee. Hit my cell if you need anything.” He gave the number to Tristan and they left together.

  Hunter knocked on the door and let himself in.

  The blinds had been closed, the sheer curtains drawn around the bed. Alex lay in the middle, the thick comforter pulled back, the sheet covering her legs and hips.

  “Hunter, is that you?” Her voice was full of tears.

  “Yeah. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t look at me. I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’ll be okay.”

  He pulled the white sheer panel back and stepped up on the platform to sit on the bed. “You don’t have to grieve alone.”

  She drew in a watery breath. “Yes, I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do. I’m, like, the biggest loser here.” She started crying again and fumbled for something.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Getting a fresh towel.”

  “You have a crying towel?”

  “More than one.”

  “I can’t see. I have to turn on the light.”

  “No! I look hideous when I cry. You can’t turn on the light. You can’t.” She started winding up, her body shaking and he rubbed her arm and back.

  “Okay. Okay,” he soothed. “Can I open the blinds just a little? There’s a half moon and it won’t allow too much light. I just want to make sure you’re okay, and then I’ll go.”

  “Okay.”

  Light from the moon reflected off the gold-trimmed accessories and austere finish of the room, and Hunter was glad the guys had convinced him to come over. He poured her a glass of water and sat close.

  “Come here, sweetheart. I want you to drink this.”

  “You don’t have to take care of me. I have to learn how to be independent.” Even as she said the words her chest shook. Her hair was all over her head and she wiped the curls to one side.

  She was wrapped around a pillow, her face pressed into a thick washcloth.

  He immediately knew what her problem was. “Come here,” he coaxed, tugging on her arm. “Did you know that part of being independent is knowing when to ask for help?”

  He stroked her back, noting that her pajamas were a silk camisole and shorts. “Come on.”

  Alex finally sat up, took the glass and drained it.

  “Now I’ll have more tears. I was taught to never cry in front of people.”

  “I see.” He brushed her tears away with his thumb. “Well, I’m not people. I’m your friend and you can cry in front of me anytime you want.”

  “Do you cry, Hunter?” She wiped her eyes with her cloth.

  “Sure.”

  “You do?” Her voice brushed at the darkness. “When was the last time?”

  “When my arm was paralyzed and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to use it again. All I could think about was all I hadn’t done.”

  “What hadn’t you done?”

  “Played the saxophone. Run with the bulls in Barcelona. Cheered at a Super Bowl. Built my house. Carried my bride across the threshold.”

  She sniffed and put her chin on her knees. “You could put her on your back.”

  Hunter laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Do you really want to do all those things?”

  “Yep, I do.”

  “You will.”

  “I know.” He pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Do you feel better?”

  “Some. Will you lie down with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “I can’t, Alexandria.” Two big tears rolled down her cheeks. “Come on. Why the tears?”

  “Why won’t you?”

  “Because you’re in a lot of pain and I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and question your judgment today.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have anyone else but you. Even my dog is hiding from me. I promise. No regrets. I need to feel your heartbeat to know that I’m alive, or I won’t make it. I’ve been alone too long. I feel invisible. I need to know that I’m here.” She pulled him, but Hunter resisted.

  Alex cried as she leaned over the side of the bed, trying to untie his shoes. “Take these off. Please.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and brought her back up on the bed. “Alex, stop.”

  Her startled expression crumpled. “Just leave me alone. Didn’t I say that from the beginning? I didn’t ask you to come in here. You’ve made me feel like a fool all over again. Just get out!” She struggled to get away from him.

  “Get out!”

  “No. Stop. Lie down.” He couldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t.

  “He didn’t love me. Don’t do this to me. Not you, too. Please, Hunter,” she cried, and something in him broke.

  “Okay.” He pulled her into his lap and rocked her.

  “I’m so stupid.”

  “You could never be stupid,” he said, wishing he could kill Marc all over again.

  “He took advantage of me.”

  “Yes, he did. He was a confidence man.”

  “What’s that?” She sat up for a second and he considered moving her off his lap for his own good.

  “A con man. A man who preys on vulnerable women.”

  “He could have tricked anyone?” She curled into him and pulled the blanket with her.

  “Yes, sweetheart,” he said, rocking her.

  “I still don’t feel better,” she said, her body shaking with tears and shame.

  “You have to stop crying or you’ll get sick. Come on, lie down. Shh,” he said, wishing her big sobs would stop. Hunter covered her completely with the sheet and comforter.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, hiccupping.

  �
��I need to have my cell phone on me. I’ll be right back.” He darted into his room for his blanket and phone.

  Before reaching the bed he turned up the air conditioner. He needed every reason for her to stay under the covers and for him to stay on top of them.

  Hunter removed his shoes and climbed on top of the bed fully dressed, lying down behind her.

  “I can’t feel you,” she complained, lying on her side.

  “You want it all, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  “Scoot back.” Alex moved back and Hunter wrapped his arms around her as much as he could with the comforter between them. “Better?”

  “Some,” she said.

  This was still too much for him given that she’d just lost her husband. But what could he do? Leave her to cry all night alone? Holding her a while ago had made him feel things he hadn’t in a long time.

  Alex was a woman he could want and he’d never had more inappropriate thoughts before in his life.

  “What brought all this crying on?” he asked, inhaling the aroma of strawberry shampoo.

  “I was thinking about why Marc would still be married to those two. We’re all so different. Maybe it was the sex. Maybe they’re better at it than me. I know I’m not that experienced, but they don’t look like they’re experts, either.”

  He didn’t think she had anything to worry about in that area, but he couldn’t reassure her without sounding like a pervert. “It might not be that.”

  “Maybe Marc was playing games with my head or maybe he was just using me. The more I think about our relationship, the more I want to cry. Marc is like all the other men in my life. He betrayed me.”

  “Don’t blame yourself for his failings. You can look for answers in a thousand places and never know why Marc did what he did.”

  “I feel incomplete. I have to know. I thought he loved me. These last few months, I felt like he didn’t.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He stopped making love to me.”

  Hunter leaned up. He’d known Alex for two days. The woman oozed sex appeal. He was spooning her right now, thinking about whales so he wouldn’t get a hard-on, and her husband wouldn’t make love to her? If it hadn’t been proven already, it was now. The man had been crazy. “How long had it been?”

  “Six months.”

  “Half your marriage?” he asked indignantly.

  “Yes,” she said, reaching for her towel.

  Hunter regretted making so much of her celibate marriage. “I’m sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t sound shocked. I’m not judging you.”

  “Don’t worry. Maybe if I’d been better, he’d have gotten rid of those extra wives.” She started crying again.

  “That’s not true.”

  “You don’t know, Hunter,” she choked.

  “You’re right, I don’t. But, Alex, it isn’t about sex.”

  “Then it doesn’t make sense. I try to stay attractive, but it’s obvious they’re smarter than me, and—”

  “Come on, don’t put yourself down.”

  “I’m not. I’m just facing facts. If he was going to marry me, he should have divorced them. I’m a fool,” she said and cried.

  “You’re a victim.” Hunter smoothed her hair and caressed the contour of her ear. Everything about her was just right. How could he express that there was more right with her than wrong? That if he were Marc, he wouldn’t have had to choose from three, she would have been the one. He was jaded, he knew.

  He didn’t know much of anything about her. It was dark, they were in an emotional situation, and he wasn’t going to start being logical until he was back in Atlanta under normal circumstances. “You’re going to be all right.”

  “Do you promise?” she asked.

  “Yes, I do. Now go to sleep.”

  “Good night, Hunter.”

  “Good night.”

  Hunter closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep. The bed shook and he heard Little Sweetie’s doggie tags.

  “Chicken,” he said, and felt the dog lie down behind his back.

  Quiet descended and Alex snuggled closer.

  She sniffed every so often and Hunter rubbed her back through the blanket. He was glad for the barrier because had it not been there, he’d have followed more primal instincts to make her feel better.

  Hunter fell asleep and dreamed he was whale watching. His dream shifted and Alex was next to him. When she turned over, they were body to body.

  “You asleep?” she asked in the fog of his dream.

  “Mmm-hmm,” he said as her hair caressed his arm.

  Hunter heard himself snore, and realized he was somewhere between dreaming and awake. “Do you think he loved me?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

  Whales arched out of the water, their large bodies crashing back into the sea.

  “I’m being punished.”

  “Why?” he asked her, feeling her skin beneath his palm.

  “Because I wasn’t in love with him anymore.”

  Hunter’s eyes flew open.

  Dawn had broken through the blinds, showing off gray and overcast skies. He lifted his head from her chest, his mouth a breath away from the caramel tip of her nipple.

  Alex was flat on her back against him, her heart beating against his palm.

  Hunter stole from her bed, knowing if he didn’t leave then, he’d claim her, the unmarried woman that she was, and help her erase every memory she had of the husband who hadn’t deserved her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Alex stared at the contents of Marc’s steel briefcase, the one she’d seen him carry dozens of times. Only now she wasn’t watching it crash to the foyer floor as she had when she’d seduced him when he’d walked into their home on the eve of his thirty-fourth birthday.

  Or the time she used it as a pedestal and invited him to investigate the finer details of her Brazilian wax, with his tongue, from behind.

  Or the last time she’d seen him when she’d stared at the case with disdain, wondering what was so interesting at his job that could keep him gone from his bride for weeks at a time.

  Now she knew.

  Her earlier thoughts of lovemaking caused her body to throb, and the feelings pulsed all the way to her head.

  Alex tried to banish the thoughts with the heel of her hand on her forehead.

  Renee sat beside her in the chair, dressed in beige no-wrinkle pants, a white shirt and a red vest. Alex didn’t want to tell her she was a fashion emergency, because her makeup was pretty and her earrings were stylish.

  “What are you doing?” Renee asked.

  “Thinking,” Alex explained.

  “It takes all that?” Danielle asked.

  Sitting across the table from them, Danielle posed in the latest jeans and designer top. Yet, she seemed even more unhappy today than yesterday. The woman was practically a commercial for antidepressants.

  “I see Cruella Danielle is back, and I was hoping for Mary Poppins Danielle. I hope the guys get back with breakfast soon. Maybe coffee will put you in a better mood.”

  “This isn’t a game.” Danielle stalked around the table as if it were a runway.

  “Who thinks it is?” Alex felt the need to confront her. Danielle acted as if she was the only one with feelings. “Do you think just because you were married to Marc the longest that gives you the right to be the angriest?”

  “As a matter of fact I do.”

  A tension headache from too much crying pulled at her eyes, and she stared at Danielle, who looked as if she hadn’t slept well either. But that didn’t give her the automatic right to be nasty.

  “That’s irrational,” Renee chimed in. “I couldn’t sleep for thinking about this debacle. The ramifications are far-reaching, ladies. I’m not sure what I’ll say to my friends.”

  “I could care less about them. I care about what this will do to my image professionally.”

  “Please,” Alex scoffed.
“You’re in the package-delivery business. Nobody even sees you. Image might have been everything when you were modeling, but not now. This is a blow to your little ego,” she said, drawing a circle in the air around Danielle.

  “You need to watch your mouth, little girl.” Danielle took a step back.

  “Yeah, be quiet, Alex,” Renee warned.

  “No. She’s not the queen bee.” Alex faced Danielle, her hand on her hip. “I know it’s hard facing your competition, but at least now you know what you can do better the next time.”

  Before she finished the word, Danielle slapped her.

  Alex screamed and Renee got between them, pointing Danielle into a seat and guiding Alex to the other end of the table.

  “What is wrong with you people? Violence?” Renee yelled. “Are you from the streets? I can’t believe this.”

  “I’ve never been hit before,” Alex cried, holding her cheek.

  Renee moved Alex’s hand gingerly and examined her cheek. “You’re okay.” She walked away, holding her forehead. “I can’t believe you hit her.”

  “Maybe she’ll should stop running her mouth,” Danielle retorted.

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” Renee said, “but you had it coming. That was mean.”

  “What? Why?” Alex’s eyes stung with unshed tears.

  “You’re young and you’ve got a nice body. You’ve got money, and well, you walked into your husband’s funeral wearing a white polka-dot dress with toile, and come-do-me pumps. You brought your dog like it was a pet store. You have pretty hair,” Renee said with a sad shake of her head. “You make people want to hit you. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

  Renee slid onto the table and swung her legs, folding her hands. She looked over her shoulder. “Danielle, people want to hit you, too. At least I do.”

  Alex looked past Renee to Danielle. Despite having been the aggressor, she looked shaken as well. She walked over and sat on the other side of Renee. She stuck out her hand to Alex, who leaned away.

  “What’s that for?” Alex asked.

  “So you can hit me back.”

  “I’m like Dr. King. A passive resister. Hunter told me that. I’m a lover not a fighter.”

  “I don’t think you should drag Dr. King’s name through all of this,” Renee advised.