The Pick-Up Wife

by W. Lynn Chantale

  Previous Works

  Seducing HIs Wife

  Breaking Delia’s Rules

  Mistletoe Mambo

  The Designer’s Bride

  Decadent Seconds

  The Pick-Up Wife

  W. Lynn Chantale

  A Whispers Publishing Publication

  www.whispershome.com

  The Pick Up Wife

  A Whispers Publishing Publication May 11th 2012

  Copyright © (2012) (W.Lynn Chantale ) Cover illustration copyright © (Elaina ) ISBN Not Assigned

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Dedication

  I would like to take a moment to thank my editor.

  Thank you for your patience.

  A special shout out goes to Myla for being such a great sounding board and my dear sister Aleisha for allowing me to interrogate pepper her with questions. Love you both.

  As always I thank God for blessing me with this talent.

  Chapter One

  It couldn’t be. Symmone stared at the tall, broad shouldered man waiting at the hostess stand.

  The din of voices and clink of silverware faded as her world narrowed to the man smiling at Amanda.

  For a moment Symmone forgot to breathe.

  Attraction made her heart flutter, but searing pain swamped and choked her.

  The coffee she poured into a waiting cup overflowed and cascaded over her hand. With a gasp, she jerked her focus back to her task, set the coffee pot on the counter, and hurried to run cool water over her burning fingers.

  She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the hostess seat the new arrival at a table near the long bank of windows. Just great. She dried her hand and tried not to wince when she scraped the coarse paper towel too roughly against her tender flesh. Leaning against the counter, she drew several deep breaths. What was he doing here?

  He’d made it very clear she was a hindrance in his life.

  Despite trepidation gnawing at her, some part of her was excited. She ruthlessly squashed the sentiment and filled a glass with ice and water.

  Stay focused. He was the one who’d left to pursue his career, while she’d had to cope with loneliness and a broken heart.

  She squared her shoulders. But why was he here? There was no reason for him to even seek her out. They were divorced, good and proper. She hadn’t asked him for anything in the ensuing years, even going so far as to return the monthly support payments. She didn’t want or need his guilt money.

  Besides, ten years was a long time to carry a torch for anyone, and she had too much going on in her life to waste her time with teenage fantasies and lovelorn dreams. And certainly not on Leo Sheppard.

  Quickly she mopped up the errant coffee and did her best to avoid Amanda’s wave and point.

  “You have a customer. And he asked for you,” Amanda said, slapping a stack of menus on the counter.

  “I was really hoping to…”

  “C’mon, Symmone. He’s absolutely gorgeous and he’s wearing this really great cologne.”

  Amanda swept her gaze over Symmone from head to toe and just barely wrinkled her nose. “Why he would ask for you I have no idea.”

  Disdain from the snotty hostess was a given, and Symmone could ignore the cattiness; what she couldn’t ignore was the hot, bitter emotion roiling in her stomach. For a second it felt a lot like jealousy. Ten years and she was jealous?

  Unbelievable.

  With an eye roll, Symmone picked up the glass of water and approached the table where Leo sat. Thankfully he had his back to her and she had time to gather her thoughts. Why was he here? She couldn’t seem to get past that question.

  Her footsteps slowed as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the windowpane. She paused long enough to straighten her dark ponytail. With a huff of disgust she dropped her hand from her ebony tresses and shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was primping for her ex. Primping!

  She set the glass on the table with a thump.

  He looked up with a tentative smile, and she was lost. She opened her mouth to speak and not a single word came out. God, he was even more handsome than the last time she’d seen him. Gone was the youthful softness of his face. Now he had a man’s face, a jaw that spoke of strength and maturity. His brown eyes, while bright and intelligent, seemed to hold a tinge of sadness, but what drew her attention most was his mouth. How many hours had she fantasized about the taste and shape of his mouth, about the firm press of his lips against hers or the butterfly kisses he used to flutter over her skin.

  His smile widened. “You’re speechless.”

  The warm rasp of his rich baritone danced over her, opening wounds she thought long since healed and igniting a desire she’d hoped long dead.

  He couldn’t come in here, to her place of employment, and upset everything she’d ever worked for with just two words.

  Everything came back in an aching, throbbing fireball, and she clenched her hands at her sides.

  “What do you want?” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance or anger in her voice.

  He blinked, and his smile drooped a bit, but he managed to maintain it. “I came to see you.”

  “You haven’t given a damn about me in ten years. What’s so special about now? Are you dying?

  Or have you come to assuage some misplaced sense of guilt? Either way, the café has very good takeout I believe you would enjoy.”

  He chuckled, and it produced an ache in areas she didn’t want to acknowledge. “I suppose I deserve that, but you’re wrong, Symmone. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” His quiet admission stayed her irritation. “And I was wrong to do what I did.”

  Tears burned and clogged the back of her throat. Somehow he’d stolen all of her righteous indignation with a few short sentences. “Well, I’m glad to hear you admit it. So is this what makes amends for anyone you’ve wronged? Fine. You’re forgiven. You may go.” She spun on her heel, would’ve made a clean getaway, except he grabbed her wrist. The chair scraped across the floor, and a moment later the hard line of his body met her back.

  Need slammed through her system, sparking little used nerves and sending her pulse into overdrive. The heady scent of his cologne, a little pine and sage, promised slow, sensual seduction.

  She whirled around and snapped her gaze to his face. Molten desire shone in the depths of Leo’s milk chocolate eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She never expected to see such passion on his face, not after all this time. Biting her lip against the answering wave of desire pulsing through her veins, she snatched her hand away.

  “Don’t touch me again!”

  He backed up, hands raised. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just”—he inhaled—“I want to
talk to you, Symmone. I meant what I said. There has been no one else since you and, well, I would really like to take you out to dinner tonight.”

  Dinner? She pierced him with an icy stare and savored a small victory when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m. Busy.”

  Nodding, he reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a card, and laid it on the table.

  “If you change your mind, my cell is at the bottom and my hotel is on the back.” His gaze lingered on her a moment. “If I don’t hear from you, I will be back every day until you agree to see me.”

  He brushed past and she stared after him, dumbfounded. What game was he playing now?

  ****

  Symmone was still worrying about her ex’s motivation for returning when she dragged her weary, aching body across the threshold of her house. She closed the door and leaned against the wood, closing her eyes.

  Even though she was home, the real work was just beginning. Small arms circled her waist and squeezed. A soft smile curved her lips, and she returned the hug.

  “Well, hello to you too, sweetheart. How was school?” She stroked the little girl’s back.

  “Fine. LJ got in a fight.”

  “Did not!” came the indignant reply.

  Symmone let out an exaggerated sigh and both children fell silent. “I just need five minutes.

  Please.” She looked from her son to her daughter and back again. “And since I didn’t get a call from the school, we’ll talk about your behavior.”

  LJ nodded solemnly. “But I really didn’t get into a fight. I didn’t even go to the principal’s office.”

  She beckoned the little boy over, and he dragged his feet. All she did was give him a quick hug. “We’ll talk about what happened in a bit.”

  She stroked the face of each child. “Now go show me what you did today.”

  Both hurried off to grab their schoolwork.

  Symmone set her purse on the small table and ambled down the short hall until she came to an open doorway on the right. Standing at an electric stove in dire need of a junkyard was Melvin. He stirred something that looked suspiciously like spaghetti sauce. She gave the air an experimental sniff; the basil and tomatoes wafting toward her were unmistakable, and her mouth watered.

  “You didn’t have to cook,” she said, entering the room. She went straight to the fridge and tried not to groan when she opened the door. The shelves were practically bare, save for a half-empty milk jug, a carton of eggs, and a couple of bottles of water. Just enough to get the kids through breakfast tomorrow. Thank goodness it was also payday. She would go grocery shopping on her way home. She grabbed a water and closed the door.

  Melvin turned, an easy smile on his boyish face. “I heard the munchkins harassing you when you arrived. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. I have to leave in a bit, but I will be back before you go to work tonight.”

  Symmone sat down, breaking the seal on the bottle. She set the bottle on the scarred wooden 16

  table without drinking any. Work. Tonight. A sigh escaped her lips. Just once she’d like to come home and not have to go out again, but that’s the price she paid for raising her children alone.

  “Don’t remind me.”

  He chuckled. “The kids are done with their homework, they have field trip forms which require your signature, and parent-teacher conferences are next week. You need to pick a date and time.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know the drill.”

  He sat across from her. “So how was your day?”

  She raised the bottle to her lips, thought a moment, then lowered the water to the table again. “Guess who came into the café today.”

  Melvin tilted his head to the side. “My mother.”

  She barked a short laugh; getting her Aunt Cynthia, Melvin’s mother, to walk into a restaurant would be no mean feat. The woman had a phobia about places where she couldn’t see her food being prepared.

  “Nope.” Symmone glanced around, leaned across the table, and kept her voice to a hoarse whisper. “Leo.”

  Melvin sat back, eyes wide and mouth open.

  “No way! What did he want?”

  She gave a careless shrug, belying the nervousness clutching at her since the moment he walked into the café. “He wanted to take me to dinner.”

  “What?”

  She nodded. “Gave me his business card and everything.”

  Melvin shook his head. “I can’t believe he would come back after all this time. So are you going out with him?”

  She inhaled the water she was drinking instead of swallowing. A coughing spasm shook her body as she tried to expel the offending fluid.

  “No,” she said when she finally recovered her voice.

  “Why not? You’re not dating anyone else, and if I’m not mistaken, you’re still in love with him.”

  A spark of truth resonated in his words, but she didn’t want to acknowledge them. “That aside, the answer is still ‘no’.”

  “Has it been five minutes?” LJ yelled from the other room.

  Symmone chuckled, the tension easing from her shoulders. “And I have more important things to focus on right now.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “Yes.”

  ****

  Late in the evening, Symmone stood in the middle of the hall between her children’s bedrooms, the only two bedrooms in the house. She slept on the foldout in the living room and kept her clothes in a beat-up bureau that doubled as a TV stand.

  Ten years, two kids, and one failed marriage. Children she should’ve told Leo about by now. Symmone veered left into an ancient bathroom and flicked on the shower. Though in need of updating, just like the rest of the house, it served the occupants’ needs. Toilet, shower, sink.

  That was all. Still, some days she would love the luxury of soaking in a large whirlpool tub, but right now she’d settle for a working showerhead. The water sprinkled from above.

  Refreshed, dried off, and dressed for her second job, she paced the living room. Three nights a week she cleaned office buildings, in addition to working full-time at the café. And on those three days her cousin Melvin spent the night. Often he would suggest she cash one of the support payments, but that would be too much like taking charity. She refused to let Leo dismiss her, then throw money at her like some hollaback girl.

  On her next pass in front of the TV, she reached out a hand and picked up the framed drawing. Why she felt the need to keep the picture after all these years, she couldn’t be sure. Tracing the pencil line, a deep pang of regret resounded through her. Maybe it served as a reminder of all her broken dreams and promises. Or maybe it kept her focused on the future. Just a silly drawing of a silly house. With a sigh, she replaced the frame.

  Twin beams of light sliced through the darkness and bounced off the window. The squeal of brakes signaled Melvin’s arrival. She breathed a relieved sigh. The second job wasn’t quite necessary, but it helped round out the rest of her household budget, and she could afford a few extras for her children.

  She greeted him at the door. “Everything go all right?”

  Melvin nodded. “Of course.”

  “I should be back by three,” she said, shrugging her purse onto her shoulder.

  “Well, don’t wake me.”

  Chuckling, she closed the door. The warm, humid night slid around her. She glanced up at a star-laden sky. Despite the beauty of the evening a heaviness settled around her heart. It wasn’t until she arrived at the office building she was to clean that she realized what bothered her.

  Leo.

  Chapter Two

  Leo loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. He peered around the hotel room, which was more like a junior suite with its spacious sitting area and separate bedroom. He toed off his shoes, picked them up, and set them in the closet. The tie and cufflinks followed. He sat in a leather recliner and let out a sigh.

  Seeing Symmone again was incredible. The moment he laid eyes on
her, the love, the happiness, the attraction all came rushing back, and he could only stare, drinking in the delicious sight of her. For a moment he forgot how terribly he had treated her.

  When he’d decided to visit the café, he wasn’t sure if she would be there or not, so he stood outside watching, waiting. Then when she sashayed from the back of the restaurant his heart skipped a beat.

  She’d let her hair grow. He longed to slide his fingers through her long tangle of ebony hair.

  Would the strands be as silky as he remembered?

  Could he even get close enough to find out? When he held her hand, he had the overwhelming urge to explore her satiny skin, relearn all the secrets her body held. A spark of lust flared to life, and he shifted his arousal to a more comfortable position.

  The last real picture he had of her was their wedding day where she still had the fresh-faced glow of innocence about her, but now… A moan hovered on his lips. Now she was all grown up, with the lush curves and sensuality of a woman he wanted to get to know. A woman he wanted in his bed.

  He stood and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window, drew back the curtain, and stared out into the deepening night. Headlights, streetlamps, and other luminary devices vied with the inky sky. Miles and miles of blacktop and concrete as far as the eye could see intersected with buildings of all shapes and sizes. Somewhere out there, Symmone was waiting.

  Abruptly he pulled back. She wasn’t waiting for him; the way she’d looked at him earlier let him know exactly where he stood with her. She wanted no part of him, but her honey-almond eyes didn’t lie.

  He’d seen the quick flash of heat when he touched her. Regardless of the words falling from her delectable lips, she was still attracted to him, but would it be enough to gain him entry into her heart?

  He huffed. Unlikely. The woman he’d seen earlier in the afternoon, while it may have seemed she has happy and carefree, left him believing she wanted more. And he wanted to give her more. He somehow wanted to make up for divorcing her ten years ago.

  A huge, catastrophic mistake. The biggest, stupidest blunder of his life. The image of her tear-stained faced and wide-eyed shock haunted his dreams and every moment of his waking hours.