The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series

by Patrice Wilton

  “This is not like me. I’m rarely spontaneous; most people think I keep a broom up my ass.”

  He laughs, as if he thinks I’m really funny. The same people who accuse me of that broom think I don’t have a sense of humor. Ha! Shows what they know! I’m just a laugh a minute.

  His hand slipped below the comforter and lightly settled between my legs. Nuzzling my bottom lip, he muttered, “Maybe you’re not like that. But with a little practice you could learn to be.”

  * * *

  After we’d worked up another sweat, I hit the shower. The thick ivory towel covered me completely as I walked out of the bathroom, and there was Jed, being a typical well-hung male, parading down the hall, wearing nothing but a smile.

  Man-oh-man, he looked every bit as good out of bed as he did in it. Before I had a chance to slip past, he placed his hands on either side of the door-frame, trapping me, and dropped a kiss on my bare shoulder. It was so unexpected and sweet, it gave me goose bumps.

  Alone in his bedroom I dropped the towel, grabbed my bra off the twirling fan, and my underwear from beneath the bed, then slipped the tight little number I’d worn the night before, over my head. There is nothing sexy about putting on last night’s, ‘hot chick on the town clothes’, the morning after. It’s down right humiliating, knowing I had to slink downstairs to my own apartment, wearing a clingy black dress at seven in the morning. My sister, Shannon, insisted on buying me the dress from Neiman-Marcus as an early birthday present. She’d gone on and on about how I’d never get a man to look at me wearing my custom-tailored suits. But that was the point, wasn’t it?

  Without my big hairbrush, I knew I was fighting a losing battle trying to tame my wild, frizzy mane into an oversized clip. Sure enough, during one of my stabbing attempts, the clip snapped in two, leaving me no choice but to shake my hair free. Oh, by the way, I look a little like a middle aged Orphan Annie with crow’s feet and longer hair.

  Reaching for my watch on the night stand, I noticed a hard copy of the new Dan Brown book. Out of curiosity, I picked it up to read the back cover, and discovered something else instead. I got a funny feeling inside. My stomach clenched and soured, a little tugging sensation that happens when something doesn’t sit right.

  We know. Something deep inside tells us when we’re being lied to, when men say, sorry dear, I won’t be home for dinner, I’m working late, or I’ll call you. We know. Our basic instincts kick into survival mode, and help us recognize the true facts—they are really lying sons-of-bitches.

  “I’ll make us some coffee,” Jed yelled from the direction of the kitchen.

  “Don’t bother.” I shouted back. “I won’t be staying.”

  I was down on my knees, searching for one of my missing shoes, when he re-entered the bedroom.

  “Don’t run off,” he had the nerve to say. “I’ve got a special blend from Starbucks brewing.”

  Smelling it, my taste buds watered. A hint of hazelnuts and cinnamon, floated in the air. I’m a huge Starbucks junkie, but right now I was finding it hard to swallow.

  “Not to blow my own horn,” he added enticingly, “but I make a mean omelet.” He flashed one of his killer smiles, but it didn’t work quite as well this time.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m not interested in you, or your coffee.” I flattened the palm of my hand to let him see what I had found. “Here.” I threw the plain gold wedding band at him, aiming for the middle of his cheating forehead. “I found it where you obviously left it, last night.”

  I saw a fleeting look, of what could have been guilt, cross his face.

  “Lydia. Let me explain.”

  He reached for my shoulder, but I shrugged him off. He had nothing to say that I wanted to hear. He’d used me, damn it! When would I learn to keep my emotions under lock and key?

  “Don’t bother.” I stood tall, all five-feet-ten inches of me. “I know all about men like you, and I eat them for lunch.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I like to put on this, don’t wanna mess with me act, to keep men at a distance, so I don’t get hurt. I simply refuse to ever let that happen to me again, because, well, because it hurts too much. You know how some people say that your first love never dies? Well, mine did. Shot by his wife, as he sneaked back in the house, in the middle of the night—thought he was an intruder, she’d told the police. I’d wager a hefty bet she murdered him in cold blood, and all because of me. I’d been a twenty-two year old law student when I met Kevin, a professor, supposedly separated from his wife. After he was dead, I found out about the baby.

  It took me years to rebound from that, but eventually I was ready to find someone to spend the rest of my life with, when Stephen, love interest number two, arrived on the scene. He was a junior partner, handsome, charming, and everybody said we were a perfect match. The thing about Stephen was that he made me feel special in so many ways, and I never felt so loved. When, after two years of dating, he decided that Washington was a whole lot more interesting than me, I was totally broadsided. We’d even gone around looking at engagement rings just weeks before he dumped me. To make it worse, I had told my family, and they were so excited they put a picture of us in the newspapers and began making a wedding list. I did a retraction the following week. Mr. Stephen Winters and Ms. Lydia O’Reilley have no immediate wedding plans, not now, or in the foreseeable future. How embarrassing was that?

  I had let two men into my life, and gotten my heart shredded both times. That’s enough for me. I’m not real big into pain. But this is not about me; it’s a more universal problem, a malady of our time. Relationships don’t last. So, I decided to do something constructive, like become a divorce attorney, and make lots of money helping people escape the person they swore they’d love forever, so they can go on and find another partner, and eventually divorce that one too. It’s the best job in the world. Very rewarding.

  It also keeps me on my toes. When I see a guy like Jed, I usually run for the hills. Last night I was not my normal stand-offish self, probably because it was my birthday, and I might have been feeling a little bit lonely, or desperate, or whatever. It happened, why beat myself up? So the guy was married? So he turned out to be a jerk?

  I knew princes were rare, and the toad population abounded, why was I surprised? I didn’t have to keep hitting my head against a brick wall to know it would hurt, and I certainly didn’t have to fall in love to know it wouldn’t last.

  I was okay with that. I didn’t need all the trappings that some women did. Men? Not in this lifetime. Children? In your dreams. I didn’t need to change anyone’s dirty diapers to be fulfilled. If I was anymore fulfilled, I’d be bursting out of my power suits, and that’s the truth. Besides, I’m ninety-nine percent happy, and who could claim more than that?

  My agenda was to make partner by the time I was forty, and I had a feeling it was going to happen this year. Why would I waste another second on a son-of-a-bitch who was physically top dollar, but a quarter short in the scruples department?

  Too bad. His love making had been sensational. I closed my eyes, remembering how his lean, hard body had felt on top of mine. He’d been a perfect fit. That being said, I was much better off knowing he was married. If he wasn’t, I might have been tempted to go back for seconds, and that could have generated a snowball effect. Sex could get misconstrued as romance, romance could be confused with love, and love could sucker a woman into marriage. Bottom line, involvement with the male species was nothing but trouble.

  “Earth to Lydia. Wake up.”

  My eyes popped open, only to see a big belly in my face. It belonged to Ellen Thomas who worked down the hall.

  “Ellen, just the girl I want to see. How’s the report coming?”

  “Not good, Lydia. That’s why I’m returning this.” Ellen dumped a pile of files on my desk and shrugged.

  “What’s the matter? Everything is in those folders, all the information you need. What’s the problem?” I was trying hard not to stare at the black hairs sprout
ing from the corners of her upper lip, but the curlicues mesmerized me.

  She stood with her legs slightly apart, scratching her extended belly. I could see her naval button poking through the thin material of her dress. I didn’t know where to look, at the mustache, or the bulge in her dress. My eyes darted back and forth, and landed on her nose.

  “Sorry, Lydia, I can’t possibly get to this today. You’ll have to ask someone else. I’ve got a Doctor’s appointment in an hour. I’m having an ultrasound done, and I told Fran a week ago that I was leaving early.”

  “You should have said something when I dropped it off.” I said sweetly, since she was pregnant, and her hormones were probably out of whack. “I need this right away,” I sang in the same sugar-coated voice, “and it’s been on your desk since yesterday afternoon.”

  Rubbing her back, Ellen merely shrugged. “I had a pile of stuff on my desk. How was I to know it was urgent?”

  “Because I told you when I dropped it off,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Fran Sherman, the office manager, came around the corner and I signaled her over.

  “Yes?”

  “Could you please tell Ellen to get this typed up for me? I hate to bother her but…” I could feel my Irish temper rise, “I need it a-s-a-p.”

  “What’s the problem?” Fran asked.

  I tapped my foot, a warning to all those who knew me that I was in a controlled rage. “Ellen is leaving for a Doctor’s appointment. I don’t have a problem with that, but my Dutton vs. Haverhill file has been sitting on her desk since yesterday, and now she says she can’t complete it.”

  Fran touched Ellen’s elbow. “Off you go, dear. I remember you telling me. Best of luck to you, and don’t worry, I’ll handle this.”

  I had to grit my teeth to hold my tongue. Fran treats everyone like they were all part of her large, happy, slightly disorganized, sometimes dysfunctional family. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but the secretarial pool was on to her and took advantage of her sweet nature. Everybody knew an office job at Tyrone-Matheson’s was better than tenure; you had to majorly screw up, or it was guaranteed for life.

  Mustache or no mustache.

  Ellen gave me a victory smirk before trotting off, and I wanted to grab a rubber-band and zero in on the back of her head.

  Picking up the files, Fran said soothingly, “I’ll get JoMarie on this right away. She’s good and she’s fast.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll give it to Ted, even though he’s already overloaded.” Ted’s been my administrative assistant for the past year, and I hated to ask him to work late again this week, but a fully loaded pepperoni pizza always shut him up.

  “I suppose I shouldn’t have been so sharp with Ellen, but being pregnant is no excuse to slack off.”

  Fran’s eyes gleamed. “Maybe you’ll get the chance to find out for yourself one day.” Before I had a chance to reply, she added, “Alexei Perkins is here. I know she’s early, but shall I show her in?”

  “Fine.” I glanced at my watch, noting the time. “I’m doing joint depositions today. Has he shown up yet?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m sure Ms. Perkins would be more comfortable already seated in your office when he does.”

  “Right. Bring her through, and I’ll prep her while we wait.”

  I watched Fran greet Alexei Perkins, then had to smother a grin as Alexei sashayed down the hall on four-inch heels, wearing a clingy knit top and a micro-mini skirt. It was the first time I’d seen Alex dressed like this. On other occasions she’d come straight from a dance studio. Today she’d dressed to impress, as most women do for the benefit of their soon-to-be-ex.

  I grabbed the files I needed and went to greet my client. “Hello, Alexei. How was your drive up?”

  “Quick. I left Key West around six and made it here in three hours.” She sank into a seat. “I sure would love some coffee.”

  Coffee sounded good to me too. I was feeling a little sleep deprived, but whose fault was that?

  After I’d ordered the coffee, I turned back to Alexei. “So are you comfortable about today’s proceedings?”

  “Yes, but I’ll be happy when the day is over.”

  “Of course you will. I have no doubt that your husband will leave here with his tail between his legs.”

  After a discreet knock on the door, Susan entered carrying a tray with two coffee mugs, cream and sugar and a small plate of biscotti. “Thank you, Susie. You can leave it here.”

  “Just cream for me.” Alex had to lean forward to reach the offered cup. After a big sip, she let out a sigh of pleasure. “First cup in the morning always tastes great.” She drank half before she settled back in the chair.

  She had the longest legs I’d ever seen on a woman. Dancer’s legs-long and sleek, with calf muscles carved out of determination and bone. She’d performed for the Florida Ballet before giving up her career to be a stay-at-home mom.

  “Before Mr. Harrison gets here, I’ll go over what will take place. I don’t want you to worry about a thing.” I handed Alexei a stack of papers. “These are questions that are likely to be asked. We’ve gone over all this before, just focus on the important details. How much you spend, where you shop, what vacations you and your family go on.” Leaning forward, I held eye contact. “We need to establish the fact that you are a very expensive woman to maintain. After all, you’ve become used to a certain lifestyle, and we are not about to give that up.”

  Alex flashed a predatory smile, and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I can’t wait to see his face. He’s going to die, just die.”

  I would be meeting her unfaithful husband for the first time today, but you’ve seen one jerk, you’ve seen them all. When you’re in my business, all men, the cheaters anyway, begin to blend together and look alike. With that thought, Jed’s face floated to mind. He didn’t have that look down, but I was sure he’d nail it in time.

  The knock on the door broke my train of thought. The door opened and there stood Jed. Stunned, it took me a second to find my tongue. “What…?”

  How’d he find me? What was he doing here?

  Alexei crossed her legs, and said, “You’re late, Jed.”

  Jed? Jed was… I scanned the paperwork. John Edward Harrison. Shit! My client’s husband. He looked as confused as I felt, and if he acknowledged he knew me, I was dead meat. Promotion? Forget it. More like disbarred.

  I jumped up before he could open his mouth and accidentally knocked over the jug of water at my elbow. “Oh, my God.” I grabbed the important papers and began to frantically fan them dry.

  Brushing past Jed, I stuck my head out the door. “Susie?” My tongue was thick and wouldn’t co-operate with the rest of my mouth. “Could y-y-you come here for a second?” I nearly died from embarrassment. I hadn’t stuttered in years. I hardly ever did anymore, only when I was extremely nervous. “I could use some p-p-paper towels.”

  Alexei pushed back her seat a few feet from the desk, while Jed looked around for something to soak up the mess. I kept my head bent, and my hair shielded my flaming face. Within seconds Susie appeared with a whole roll of towels.

  “Would you like to change to another board room?”

  “No, this one w-will be fine.” I raised my head, trying to gather myself, and regain my professional image. It took a huge effort to speak normally. “Do you think you could run off a clean copy for me?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “I’ll be right back.”

  Making a big deal of mopping up, allowed me time to hide my mortification, and keep my eyes averted. I was blushing like a nerdy school-girl. And that pissed me off. I hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. This philandering husband was going down!

  I dropped the squishy wad of papers in the bin, and squared my shoulders. “Mr. Harrison, thank you for coming.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Lydia O’Reilley, and I represent Alexei. Please take a seat. Your attorney should be here any minute.”

  “Why didn’t you…?” his que
stion was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.

  “Come in,” I called loudly, cutting him off mid-sentence.

  “Hello, Lydia. It’s nice to see you again.”

  I shook the short, balding man’s hand. “Clive,” I said with more warmth than usual.

  My mind was reeling a mile a minute. I couldn’t do the deposition. Everything I’d ever worked for, everything I was could go down the toilet like a paper swipe. For what? One night of sensational sex? Well, let me tell you something. It wasn’t that sensational.

  My hands were clammy, and a bead of sweat broke out on my brow. “Is it hot in here?” I asked, thinking how to get out of this situation.

  “No,” Alexei answered. “My legs are cold.”

  As expected, everyone glanced at her legs.

  I had to get out of the room. Fast. “I think we should begin with Alexei. She had a long drive this morning and will be running low on energy by the end of the day.”

  “Of course,” Clive nodded, “if Ms. Perkins doesn’t mind.”

  I heard Jed clear his throat. His blue eyes were artic cold. “I didn’t know you were her lawyer.”

  Clive looked at Jed, then at me. “You know each other?”

  “No.” I spoke at about the same time as Jed, who, stupidly, said, “Yes.”

  Clive looked confused. “So what is it? You do or you don’t?”

  “We don’t.” I assured him. “I mean, not well. We’re neighbors. Mr. Harrison recently moved into my apartment building, the Southgate Towers.” Crossing my fingers, I prayed Jed wouldn’t open his big mouth.

  He didn’t.

  “Good.” Clive seemed satisfied, but Alexei eyed us suspiciously.

  Clicking on his tape machine, Clive nodded to Alexei. “Hope this won’t make you uncomfortable, but everything said today will be recorded.”

  “No, not at all. I have nothing to hide.”

  Jed rolled his eyes.

  “Ms. Perkins, please tell us your full name and where you live?”