In Another Man’s Bed

by Francis Ray

  Brianna shook her head. “He didn’t look the type, although, after Jackson, my judgment might be off.”

  “The point is you did find out about Jackson, and I bet you gave him a send-off he won’t soon forget.”

  Brianna’s grin was pure devilish satisfaction. “Guaranteed.”

  Justine dipped her spoon in her gumbo. “Then handling this guy should be easy.”

  “It won’t take longer than three seconds.” Rising, a glint in her eyes, Brianna headed for the front door.

  Justine leaned back in the seat, envying Brianna her strength. Jackson might have fooled her for a little while, but she’d seen through him on her own. How long had Andrew cheated on her? Or had it really been his first time? Occasionally, to her shame, she wanted to believe it had been.

  A scream jerked her out of her thoughts. She was out of her chair before the sound died, the spoon clenched in her hand. She stumbled to a halt a few feet inside the living room when she saw the broad-shouldered man with his arms around Brianna’s tiny waist.

  Six

  “Dalton.” She wasn’t aware of saying his name, but she must have because he glanced up. Time tumbled backward. He’d filled out since he was a senior in high school. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist. His long, muscled legs were lovingly encased in faded denim. Her gaze lanced back up to his face. The full beard was new, but it gave him a rakish, dangerous look that he’d begun to perfect in high school. He still had the most beautiful black eyes she’d ever seen.

  “Justine.”

  She was running to him before the word completely left his mouth. He let go of Brianna and caught Justine to him, his arms going around her, holding her against the hard strength and warmth of his muscled body. Unexpected tears clogged her throat and misted her eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.

  Her hands flexed. For one glorious moment she’d forgotten.

  Setting her away from him, Dalton stared down into her pale face with an intensity that made her tremble. “Ask and, if it’s in my power, it’s yours.”

  He’d said the same thing on the night over seventeen years ago when they’d parted. Perhaps if she’d told him what was in her heart then, she would have been spared the pain she was going through now.

  Too full to speak, she simply shook her head.

  The calloused base of his thumb brushed the tears away she had been unaware were falling. “Cry if you want, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

  She trembled. Tears made men feel uneasy. After Andrew’s accident, they’d always turned away or tried to get her to stop crying. But then Dalton, despite his bad boy image and reputation, had always had an uncanny perception of what she needed. “No tears.”

  He smiled, a flash of strong white teeth in a darkly handsome face that still did unexpected things to her stomach. She tried to step back and found his arms still tightly clasped around her waist.

  He frowned, as if realizing that he still held her. Slowly, he released her. “Does the spoon in your hand mean you were going to protect Brianna or am I interrupting dinner?”

  Justine took a shaky step back and glanced at the spoon clutched in her hand. “Both.”

  “Sorry, I—”

  “Don’t you dare apologize. Come into the kitchen and join us.” Brianna led the way to the kitchen and pointed to a chair while she prepared another place setting and bowl of gumbo. “There’s more than enough. I guess Mama and Daddy told you how to find me.”

  “Yes, they did.” Dalton said, pulling out Justine’s chair for her. “I hope neither of you mind my dropping by without calling first.”

  “You’re always welcome, and you know it.” Brianna placed the food on the poppy-colored place mat. “I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

  “Thanks,” Dalton said, but his questioning gaze remained on Justine.

  “It’s good to see you. Brianna told me you’d called several times. Thank you,” she finally managed.

  He nodded, his hands lightly fisted on the table. “I thought about coming, but . . .”

  Her hand briefly touched his shoulder. “There was nothing you could have done.” A bit startled that she had reached out to him, she placed her hands in her lap.

  “Here you are, Dalton.” Brianna placed the wine on the table, then reclaimed her seat.

  “What brings such a famous author back to Charleston?” Justine asked, unconsciously smoothing her hair behind her ears.

  “Hardly famous,” Dalton said easily. “I’m signing at your bookstore tomorrow night.”

  Justine’s eyes widened. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks. Another thing she’d let go was being on top of things at her bookstore, but it was easier to hide from people in her office during those infrequent times she was there. “Dalton, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You have a lot on your mind.” He took a bite of the gumbo. “This is good.”

  “My mother is a great cook. Too bad I didn’t inherit her skills,” Brianna said.

  “You took after your father.” Dalton grinned, deepening the laugh lines around his eyes. “He told me you were pretty famous yourself.”

  Brianna rolled her eyes. “He’d tell anyone who stood still longer than two seconds.”

  “Brianna is just being modest,” Justine said, well aware that Dalton had gracefully let her off the hook. “She’s the youngest Texas Super Lawyer that Law and Politics Magazine has ever selected.”

  “And now you’re coming back to Charleston to shake things up,” Dalton said, his black eyes twinkling.

  “To borrow a word from you, hardly.” Brianna sipped her wine. “Taking over Daddy’s general practice is going to be easy compared to the workload I left behind in Dallas at the corporate law firm.”

  “Will you miss it?” Dalton asked

  “Yes, but Daddy comes first.”

  Dalton nodded as if he’d expected the answer. “This hits the spot. I haven’t eaten since I left the house this morning.”

  “You still live in Buckhead?” Justine asked, recalling that he was divorced.

  “Yes.” He finished off his food and reached for his wine. “I drove straight through and checked into Charleston Place downtown.”

  “Well, I hope you plan to stay for a few days.” Brianna propped her elbows on the table.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Dalton glanced at Justine. “I want to look at the home place and try to decide if we want to sell it or take my sister’s advice and make it a writer’s retreat for myself.”

  “My vote is the retreat,” Brianna remarked.

  Justine was aware of the lengthening silence and that some remark was expected of her. How could she advise someone else when her own life was such a wreck?

  “I’ll take that under consideration,” Dalton said. “Justine, members of the South Carolina African-American Police Association are supposed to be at the signing, so it should be a good one.”

  The tension seeped out of her. He had let her off the hook again, but presented her with another problem. “Women might go for punch and cookies, but men want something more substantial at signings,” she commented.

  “I didn’t tell you that for you to be concerned or go to any trouble. I’ve been to plenty of signings where the audience was lucky to have a chair or I was lucky to have one person there,” he told them with a hint of a smile.

  “Signings can be humbling,” Justine agreed, but she still planned to call Iris, the store manager, first thing in the morning.

  A little after nine that night, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, Dalton walked beside Justine to her van in the underground parking lot of Brianna’s condo. Seeing Justine again had affected him as profoundly as he had expected. “You sure you don’t want me to follow you home?”

  She smiled, finding it easier each time. “Despite the bad boy image you cultivated in high school, you were always a softie.”

  “It was easy around you.”

  Justine flushed. She shouldn’t feel the warmt
h spreading through her. “Good night. Your books sell well, so you’ll have a crowd.”

  He chuckled. “Like I said, I remember when I was the only one to show up at my signings.”

  The sound was rich, deep, and inviting. It was nice knowing Dalton hadn’t changed and could still laugh at himself. “That definitely won’t happen tomorrow.” She got in and closed the door. “Night.”

  “Night, Justine. It was nice seeing you again.”

  “Welcome back, Dalton.” Starting the motor, she backed out of the space and pulled away, glancing in the rearview mirror for one last look. Catching herself, she jerked her head around. Dalton was a friend, nothing more, and it was going to remain that way.

  Dalton watched the van pull off, then went to his Cherokee and got in. In the three-car garage in Buckhead was a vintage Corvette and a custom-made Harley. He’d gone through a wild spending period before he realized that he was attempting to compensate with things for the mess his life was in, and, as his two sisters pointed out, if he didn’t stop he’d be broke in a year. Thankfully, he’d listened.

  He’d closed accounts, cut up credit cards, stopped hanging out with his buddy, Jim Beam, and worked hard to keep his life on an even keel after three years of constant upheaval. Six months later he’d read the headline in The Post and Courier and his calm world shifted once again.

  Dalton watched Justine pull through the iron security gates of the condo and followed her onto the quiet street, his thoughts troubled. He still remembered how slight she’d felt in his arms when he held her, the dark smudges beneath her sad eyes, the lingering anguish in her beautiful face that never went completely away even during those infrequent times when she smiled.

  His hand flexed on the steering wheel. She still made his gut clench, his body want.

  Not good, and it wasn’t likely to get any better. Blowing out a breath, he stopped behind her at a signal light. He should do the signing tomorrow night, then stay the hell as far away from Justine as possible. But he knew he wouldn’t. She was hurting.

  She looked lost and miserable. He’d been both. If there was the slightest chance that he could ease her pain, even if it was just to remind her that others cared, he was staying.

  The light changed to green and Justine pulled off. After a moment’s hesitation, Dalton followed instead of turning left toward his hotel. He told himself he’d just worry about her reaching home safely if he didn’t follow to make sure. He’d lied to himself before and, although he’d promised himself never again, he had a strong suspicion that Justine was going to make him break more than one promise.

  The phone was ringing when Justine entered the house through the four-car garage. Her hand on the doorknob stilled, her heart raced. An image of Dalton’s darkly handsome bearded face popped into her mind before she could draw another breath. With the second ring, she chastised herself, then continued to the phone on the kitchen counter.

  “Hello.”

  “Justine.”

  Guilt punched her in the gut as she heard Beverly’s anxious voice. “Is Andrew all right?”

  “A bit restless, but I think it’s because you weren’t here tonight,” came the response.

  Justine’s hand clutched her stomach. Andrew hadn’t made any type of voluntary response since the accident, but for the past three weeks Beverly kept insisting he had. The reactions always came when they were alone. “Do you want me to come?”

  “No, it’s late. I’m sure if you’ll just say good night to Andrew and tell him how much you love and miss him, he’ll rest more comfortably. Just a moment and I’ll hold the phone to his ear.”

  Justine’s grip on the receiver tightened. The phone would be positioned where Beverly could hear as well. Justine had no choice. She lied. “We all love you and want you to come back to us. Sleep well, Andrew.”

  “You’re such a good wife and daughter-in-law. He’s calming already,” Beverly reported. “We’ll look for you in the morning.”

  I don’t want to go, “Do you want me to bring you anything?”

  “I’m fine. I’m going in a bit since Andrew is resting better,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I knew he would once he heard your voice. He loves you so much. Did you and Brianna have a good time?”

  Guilt hit Justine again. “Yes, an old friend stopped by,” she said, telling Beverly about Dalton as if that would make her momentary lapse of lusting after another man all right. “He has a book signing at the store tomorrow night.”

  “I seem to remember reading about how popular he is, but I’d rather read my Bible or a biography. There’s too much evil and dishonesty in the world for me to waste my time reading about it.”

  And your son is at the top of the list, “In Dalton’s books evil is always punished.” Unlike in real life.

  “But not before some innocent dies,” was Beverly’s quick comeback.

  “Innocence dies in a lot of ways,” Justine said, thinking of her own situation when she’d seen another woman leave a sexually sated Andrew on the bed they’d shared, a bed and bedding Justine had bought.

  “I suppose that’s why Andrew is such a godsend to men and women having problems,” Beverly said.

  Justine couldn’t think of an appropriate lie, so she didn’t say anything.

  “He’s touched so many lives,” Beverly continued.

  I know of one up close and too personal.

  “Good night, dear. Andrew is asleep.”

  If Beverly wanted to believe that she could tell if Andrew was asleep or anything else, then Justine would not try to change her mind. Justine had ceased trying to figure it out or worrying if her mother-in-law was going over the edge. Beverly was a mother who was in danger of losing her son; she was dealing with it in her own way. Justine had read on the Internet and heard from the ICCU nurses about similar situations. “Good night, Beverly.”

  Hanging up the phone, Justine picked up her purse and continued to the bedroom. She had just taken off her dress when the phone on the nightstand rang. Her gaze went to the caller ID. Relief hit her. Picking up the phone, she plopped on the bed.

  “How do you always know when to call?”

  “You know my maternal great-great-grandmother was a voodoo priestess. What’s up?” Brianna asked.

  Justine had to chuckle. “That would surprise your mother, since she’s very proud of the fact that your ancestors were free people of color and educators in Charleston.”

  “So she was an educated voodoo priestess. Stop stalling and give.”

  “I just hung up from talking with Beverly,” Justine said and repeated the conversation with her mother-in-law.

  “If Andrew does wake up, I’d like to be there to slap him silly,” Brianna said.

  Justine scooted up in the bed and leaned back against the padded headboard. “I just want to be free.” She didn’t want to talk about Andrew any longer. “Thanks for dinner, and please thank your mother for cooking.”

  “Anytime. We both love you. And speaking of . . . did you see the way Dalton was looking at you? I couldn’t decide if I wanted to fan myself or leave the room. Girl, that man still has a thing for you.”

  Justine straightened. Heat flushed her face. “He’s . . . he’s—”

  “Still a sexy hunk with black eyes that could melt a woman at ten feet. Admit it and shame the devil.”

  Justine twisted uneasily on the bed before saying, “All right. I admit he still has it.”

  “What if he decided to stick around?”

  “Despite a lapse or two on my part tonight, I won’t break my vows the way Andrew did,” Justine said.

  Brianna snorted. “Too bad you can’t be like some cultures in the Middle East and just say the words and be divorced.”

  “You wouldn’t have had a successful career if that were the case,” Justine said.

  “True.” There was a slight pause. “Justine, don’t turn your back on possible happiness.”

  Standing, Justine went to the closet and hung up her dress. �
��I think we’re getting way ahead of ourselves. Looking doesn’t mean anything.”

  “If it does?” Brianna asked.

  Justine blew out a breath and went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet over the Jacuzzi. “Having a friend who is a lawyer can have its drawbacks at times.”

  “You love me anyway. You’re stalling again. Answer the question.”

  Wedging the phone between her shoulder and her ear, Justine picked up the crystal bottle of 24 Faubourg perfumed bath cream and poured a liberal amount beneath the running water. “I’d be flattered and leave it at that.”

  “You’re sure you want to leave it at that?”

  She sat on the wide lip of the tub and momentarily placed her head in her palm. “Men are off our list, remember? I can’t take any more complications, Brianna. Not now. I just can’t,” Justine said, her voice quaking.

  “I understand and I’m with you in whatever decision you make, you know that.”

  Justine’s head lifted. “That helps. I wonder if you know how much.”

  “I do. What time is Dalton’s signing?”

  Justine watched the fragrant bubbles fill the tub. “Probably seven. I’ll call you on your cell and let you know the definite time.”

  “I’ll be there early.”

  Justine shut off the water and stood. “It will be your first day at your father’s office. You’ll probably be swamped.”

  “I’ll be there,” Brianna repeated.

  Unlike Justine’s mother, Brianna had never made a promise to her that she didn’t keep. “To run interference, no doubt.” Justine sat on the top of the toilet. “Despite his bad boy image in high school and the fact that you’ve always gone for the preppy type, you’ve always liked Dalton.”

  “I like Dalton, but I love you. Get some rest. Good night.”

  “Thanks. Welcome home again and good night.” Justine disconnected the call and began stripping off her undergarments. She might be flattered that Dalton still found her attractive after all this time, but she had to remember that he had left her as well.