Another Woman's Man

by Shelly Ellis

  Herb lowered his wineglass back to the table and pursed his lips. “Well, I’m sorry, dear, but to be frank, Byron brought this upon himself. I can’t consider the social comings and goings at the country club when I’m making business decisions. What he did was inappropriate and definitely in violation of—”

  “You’ve never liked Byron,” Constance said bluntly, again catching Xavier by surprise. “Just admit it, Daddy.”

  “Sweetheart,” Herb said softly, looking hurt. “This has nothing to do with whether I like or dislike Byron. As CEO of Allen Enterprises, it is my responsibility to maintain the welfare and credibility of my company. Byron was putting both at risk by carrying on an affair with an employee.”

  Constance raised her head from Xavier’s shoulder and shook it. “You do favors for people all the time, Daddy! Byron and I have known each other since grade school. We’ve been friends for, like, forever! You could have done a favor for him. You could have looked the other way, but you didn’t!”

  Xavier squinted at his fiancée.

  What was going on here? Why the hell was Constance coming to Byron’s defense? Xavier stared at her, bewildered that she was picking a fight with her father. It was so out of character for Constance. Had something happened before they arrived at the dinner party that he didn’t know about?

  Xavier looked at his mom, who was starting to appear uncomfortable with the whole argument. Meanwhile, Dawn’s brows were furrowed. Her lips had tightened. She opened her mouth like she was about to come to her father’s defense, but Xavier cut her off and defended Herb instead. He didn’t want the two sisters to argue.

  “Come on, baby. Cut your dad some slack,” he urged softly, squeezing her shoulder. “It’s not like he was out to get Byron. And he’s right. Byron did do this to himself. If his marriage and his family’s reputation are ruined, then it’s Byron’s fault, not your dad’s.”

  Constance shoved away from him. “You don’t like Byron either. You didn’t want Daddy to hire him in the first place! Be honest!”

  “Well,” Dawn said, finally joining the conversation, “considering that neither Herb nor Xavier liked him very much, as you claim, sounds like this Byron guy had it coming, Constance. They’re pretty good judges of character. I would trust their opinions.”

  “Oh, what the hell would you know?” Constance snapped, making everyone stare at her in shock. “You just met all of us two months ago! Now, suddenly, you’re an authority on our family?”

  Leslie Ann loudly cleared her throat and rose from the table. She clapped her hands. “It looks like everyone is finished now,” she said anxiously. “Xavier, we should probably start cleaning up, shouldn’t we?”

  “Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes shifting uneasily between Constance and Dawn as he reached for one of the dirty plates.

  He had to give Dawn credit. She was staying tight-lipped, even though she looked furious, even though he knew from experience that she didn’t shy away from a fight. He wondered if she was holding back because her father was here.

  “Raquel and I should probably be leaving,” Herb said quietly. “We have to get back home, and frankly, I’m . . . I’m feeling a bit under the weather today.”

  Dawn tossed her napkin aside and pushed her chair back from the table. Her face was marred with concern. She touched her father’s shoulder. “Are you OK? Maybe you should—”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart.” He patted her hand. “I’ll get some sleep and I’m sure I’ll be right as rain in the morning.”

  Herb and Raquel departed soon after. Constance had already made plans to spend the night with Xavier, so he wasn’t surprised she didn’t leave with her parents, but in some ways, he wished she had. If she was in a bad mood, he wasn’t in the right mind-set to deal with any bullshit tonight.

  Dawn lingered behind to help with the cleaning after the meal while Constance sat at the table, silently drinking chardonnay and looking sullen. A distinct chill now radiated between the two women. If they had any chance of building a relationship before, he was pretty sure that it was now ruined.

  He carried the remaining dirty plates into the kitchen and began to load the dishwasher.

  “Need any help?” he heard a few minutes later.

  Xavier looked up from the dishwasher racks to find Constance standing in the entryway smiling at him.

  “You want to help me?” he asked, surprised.

  She stepped into his kitchen. “Don’t look so surprised.” She reached for one of the hand towels on his granite kitchen island. “I wanted to make a peace offering for that little blowout we had earlier.”

  He turned to face her. “Yeah, what was that all about? I wasn’t sure how the argument even started.”

  She released a long breath and shrugged. “I have no idea, pumpkin. I guess I was just . . . upset. Mommy said that Daddy vetoed one of the things I wanted for the wedding. He said the cost was just ‘too outlandish.’ Daddy never tells me no, but since Dawn came into the picture, now he says he doesn’t want to just spoil me anymore. He gave me some speech last week about being more self-sufficient! ‘Learn from Dawn’s example! ’ ” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I was pissed at him and it came out during dinner. Then Dawn had to make it worse and butt in her big fat nose and I . . .” She shook her head angrily and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I came in here to make up with you, pumpkin. To say I’m . . . I’m sorry for how I behaved.”

  “I appreciate that, baby. But you don’t have to do manual labor for us to make up.”

  “I know. It’s just . . . It’s not like I’m needed out there. Your mom and Dawn are busy with their own little conversation. It looks like they’re becoming fast friends.” She seemed perturbed at the idea, but didn’t make any further comment. “Besides, I know how to clean!”

  “I know you do, baby. It’s just . . .”

  You’ve never offered to clean before, he wanted to say, but didn’t.

  Constance had grown up with servants who catered to her every need. She didn’t think to offer to clean up after herself or anyone else. He didn’t hold it against her. She was just a product of her upbringing.

  The one time he had seen Constance pick up anything dirty, it was while she volunteered at a soup kitchen event that Allen Enterprises had sponsored. She had done her best to keep on a smile for the photographers as she removed used paper plates and plastic forks from the tables, as she scrubbed down the scuffed linoleum surfaces, but the instant the cameras disappeared, Xavier had seen Constance’s perky façade disappear. She looked tired and bewildered.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said now, waving her away. “I’ve got it covered.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal! Let me help you.” Constance eagerly walked toward the sink and peered down at the pile of dirty dishes. She paused, making him chuckle.

  “Any second thoughts?” he asked, loading another plate into the dishwasher.

  “No!” she answered stubbornly. “I’m supposed to be more self-sufficient now. Right?”

  She grimaced, reached into the sink, and retrieved a dirty wineglass. She began to place it on one of the dishwasher racks.

  Xavier shook his head and removed the glass, setting it on the counter. “No, sweetheart, that’s Mom’s crystal. All those glasses have to be washed by hand.”

  At that, she frowned. “I didn’t know washing dishes was so complicated.”

  For the next ten minutes, she made a halfhearted attempt to help him—mostly holding the dirty dishes with two fingers and quickly rinsing them off before handing them to Xavier. But finally, she let out a dispirited sigh.

  “I don’t think I’m cut out for cleaning, pumpkin,” she said, wiping her hands on one of the towels. “This is just gross and the water is making my hands all prune-y,” she muttered, staring down at her fingers.

  “That’s OK, baby. I appreciate you trying to help at all.” He leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before r
eturning his attention to his work.

  “But you know,” she said, placing her hands on her hips, “you look pretty sexy cleaning and working in the kitchen like this.”

  He did a double take. “I do?”

  “Definitely.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “Seeing you like this even makes me a little horny,” she whispered seductively with an impish grin.

  Horny? He frowned down at her in disbelief. But then she suddenly turned him around, stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. She tugged his bottom lip between her teeth and raked her fingers through his hair.

  Xavier didn’t know how to respond. Constance rarely initiated things sexually, so for her to take the reins now was pretty astonishing, to say the least. But it didn’t take him long to fall under her spell. He kissed her back just as fervently. When he started to get into it, she abruptly pulled her mouth away. She then began to unbutton her top, making his eyes widen. He stopped her hands midmotion and looked toward the kitchen entrance. He could still hear Dawn and his mother laughing and talking in the dining room. They sounded like they could walk into the kitchen at any moment.

  “Baby, are you sure you don’t wanna wait until they leave?” he whispered. “Believe me, I’m ready to go if you are, but—”

  “We’ll just be quiet about it.”

  He opened his mouth to say more, but she silenced him by raising a finger and placing it on his lips. “I’m horny now, pumpkin. I don’t wanna wait until they leave!”

  Constance went back to unbuttoning her blouse, revealing the pink lace bra underneath. She took one of his hands, placed it on her breast, and kissed him again.

  The logical part of him thought this was a bad idea. Who the hell had sex with his girlfriend with his mother and his future sister-in-law on the other side of a wall, less than ten feet away? But the logical part was losing out to the hunger that was building inside him. Admittedly, he and Constance didn’t have sex quite as often as he would like, so when she presented him with an offer like this, it was hard for him to say no. Maybe that was the real reason why he was having fantasies about Dawn. Sex with his fiancée might be the balm that he needed to push Dawn out of his mind.

  When Constance pressed her torso against his and began to unbuckle his belt, he didn’t argue with her. When she lowered his zipper and plunged her hand past the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, all he could do was close his eyes and let her do whatever she wanted. He groaned against her lips when she started to stroke him, and he tugged down the lace cups of her bra and toyed with her nipples. They kissed again and he began to raise the hem of her skirt, easing her back onto the counter.

  “Xavier,” Dawn said as she walked into the kitchen, holding a casserole dish, “your mom said you need to soak this in soapy water as soon—”

  At the sound of Dawn’s voice, Xavier tugged Constance’s hands out of his pants. He turned toward the entryway to find Dawn staring at them.

  “Hmm, looks like we’ve been caught red-handed,” Constance said, closing her top. She grinned.

  “I’m . . . I’m so . . . so sorry,” Dawn stuttered, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t . . . I mean, I didn’t . . . I was only bringing this in. Your mom asked me to—”

  “No! No, that’s OK, really,” Xavier said, hastily raising his pants zipper. “We were just—”

  “Pumpkin, Dawn knows what we were doing.” Constance giggled and wrapped an arm possessively around Xavier’s waist. She licked her lips and laid her head on his shoulder. “Sorry, Dawn. Xavier and I got a little carried away. You know how it is though, right?”

  “Yeah,” Dawn replied, smiling tightly at Constance. “I know how it is.”

  Her dark eyes then shifted to Xavier, and he instantly felt guilty. He didn’t know why. Constance was his fiancée. He had every right to kiss her and to do a lot more than that if he wanted to, but still, the last person he had wanted to stumble upon them at that moment was Dawn.

  Dawn stepped forward and placed the eggplant-crusted casserole dish on the granite island. She then quickly backed away. “Well, like I said . . . your mom asked me to bring this to you. I was about to head out and—”

  “Leaving already?” Constance asked.

  “Yeah, I should be . . . you know . . . getting home.” Dawn cleared her throat. “Enjoy your birthday, Xavier.”

  “Oh, believe me, he will!” Constance gloated, then laughed. “Won’t you, pumpkin?”

  Xavier could be wrong, but at those words, he thought he saw Dawn flinch.

  “Good night,” he called to her.

  “Thanks for coming!” Constance sang.

  Dawn nodded. “No problem. Have a-a good night.”

  He watched her turn and walk out of his kitchen.

  Chapter 17

  Dawn poured herself another glass of sauvignon blanc, grabbed her cell phone, and began to scroll through the contacts list on the glass screen.

  She had arrived home from Xavier’s dinner party half an hour ago, and thanks to the hot-and-heavy love scene she had witnessed in the kitchen between Xavier and Constance, Dawn was now hell bent on getting drunk and getting laid—in that order! She was tired of obsessing about that man. Dawn Gibbons was not a woman who mooned over someone who neither wanted nor desired her. Plus, it wasn’t like she could have him anyway. He was Constance’s man, and that Malibu Barbie bitch had made that abundantly clear tonight. It was about time Dawn realized that fact and moved on, and what better way to do that than with a booty call?

  “You’re hurt, but are you sure you don’t want to call one of your sisters and lament to her instead?” a small, rational voice in her head suggested. “You’ll feel much better in the morning about it than having sex with some random guy!”

  To hell with that, Dawn thought with a snort as she continued to scroll through the list and took a gulp from her glass. The time for talking was over! She wanted a man to make her moan and make her scream and push whatever lingering thoughts she had of Xavier Hughes out of her head with an earth-shattering orgasm. Her only challenge now was finding the right candidate.

  While Dawn and her sisters had been taught by their mother to look for certain qualities in men—wealth, power, and a willingness to skip signing a prenuptial agreement—Dawn knew some men had other laudable qualities that weren’t on her mother’s list. In this area, Dawn didn’t break the family rules exactly, but merely bent them a little. Over the years, she had secretly hooked up with a half dozen guys who didn’t have a lot of money or prestige, but were definitely skilled in the bedroom. She would never commit to them, only call on them from time to time, whenever she had an itch. Unfortunately, those times were further and further apart now that she had become so preoccupied with her career, but still she liked to keep a few around for emergency situations like these.

  “Mark? No,” she said as she scanned her phone screen, searching for the names with the gold star beside them. “Jean Claude?” She tilted her head and drank more wine. “Eh, maybe. But I’ll see who else is in here. Miguel? Oh, yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  She had met Miguel two years ago at a fund-raising gala at the Capital Hilton. He wasn’t one of the rich men who had placed insanely high bids on the items up for auction that night. He was instead one of the bartenders who handed out watered-down drinks and collected tips in a snifter. He had kept looking at her with sexy caramel eyes and had given her a seductive smile every time she’d go to the bar to refill her glass. When the night wound down, he asked her if she’d be willing to go with him to a salsa club after the gala. Her first instinct had been to say no. She was exhausted from a night of schmoozing, and he was a hotel bartender, for God’s sake! But there was something in those eyes and in that smile that held a lot of promise. The next morning, Dawn was happy she had agreed to go out with Miguel. It turned out he was just as good in bed as he was on the dance floor—and that man could salsa damn well!

  They had hooked up a few times since then, but she hadn’t
spoken to him in more than a year.

  “Time to check in,” Dawn murmured as she pressed the button to dial his number. She finished the last of her wine and listened to the phone ring, already brainstorming what lingerie she would wear when he arrived at her apartment later that night.

  “Hello?” a woman answered.

  Dawn paused. That certainly wasn’t the voice she expected to hear on the other end of the line. She lowered her wineglass to her night table. “Hi, uh . . . I’m sorry. I was trying to call Miguel Sanchez.”

  “Who is this?” the woman asked. “How did you get this number?”

  Dawn went stark still.

  “How the hell did you get my husband’s cell number?” the woman continued, raising her voice. “Damn it, the number is blocked but you don’t fool me! Are you that bitch from the leasing office? I told you not to call my husband anymore unless you want me to come down there and kick your ass!”

  Her husband? Oh, hell, Dawn thought, rolling her eyes heavenward. So she guessed quite a great deal had happened in Miguel’s life in the past year. Luckily, Dawn had run into her fair share of angry girlfriends and wives, and she knew how to do some fancy footwork to get out of this one.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m not sure what you’re referring to,” she said, taking on a bureaucratic tone. “I was trying to get in touch with Mr. Sanchez to let him know about the new low interest rate he can receive on his Visa card. He’s one of our valued customers, but I’ll try calling back at another time that’s more convenient for him.”

  “Oh,” the woman said. “Well, I . . . I didn’t know it was a sales call. You should have said that at first.”