Addicted to Love

by Deborah Cooke

  “But you have to help me!”

  Lauren turned on the other woman. “No, I do not.”

  “I don’t have anyone else!”

  “You have a sister in Yonkers.”

  “She’ll never help me...”

  “But the ex-wife of your lover will?” Lauren shook her head. “Sorry, Marie. In this case, I think blood will be thicker than water. Let me know what you decide about your chair. I think it would be better if you gave it up, but I won’t force that decision on you.” The bells rang on the door then and Lauren smiled for Mrs. Ambrose, even though she really wanted to burst into tears.

  She’d decided one thing: there was no chance of her calling Mark now. The divorce lawyer could call him.

  “I was just going to mix your color,” she said to her client, ignoring Marie’s sniffling. “Did you like the lighter shade again today, or do you want to go back to the tried and true?”

  “Oh, you were right about the lighter color, Lauren. I feel ten years younger...”

  * * *

  Cassie had developed a habit of watching Ty and Amy.

  There was something fascinating about how smitten they were with each other, and something alluring about the sexual heat between them. It seemed to get hotter every day. Cassie originally told herself that she was watching because the romance was doomed to cool. With each passing day and week, though, she found herself watching for more evidence that love might last forever.

  They’d both changed since that first class at F5, when Ty had disguised himself as an instructor. Amy had blossomed—there was no better word for it—in the relationship. She had a bounce and a verve that had been lacking before. She dressed with more confidence and laughed more easily. And no wonder. If ever there had been a man determined to make a woman deliriously happy, it was Ty.

  Ty seemed rooted in a way that Cassie couldn’t quite define. He was more resolute yet more serene, and the little smile that curved his lips at the sight of Amy could have been used as a lethal weapon.

  Against every expectation, he had taken one of just about every sex toy in the F5 merchandise shop, claiming it to be research. Cassie had a pretty good idea that Amy’s luminous smile was from sexual satisfaction. The pair worked out at F5 several times a week, and retreated to Ty’s penthouse together.

  On this particular night, Ty returned from work, whistling.

  Cassie flagged him down from the gift shop, knowing he’d want to hear the news. “Theo booked that shibari instructor,” she said, watching Ty’s eyes light with anticipation. “We’re taking reservations for classes and you said you wanted to know.”

  “Absolutely.” Ty leaned over the desk to look at the class list Sonia had drawn up. He tapped a finger on the screen. “We’ll take the combination of three private classes,” he said without hesitation. “On the Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Last class of the evening each time.”

  “On your account?” Sonia said, typing up the details.

  “Yes, thanks. Are we doing gift cards for these classes?”

  “We hadn’t planned it...” Cassie began.

  “But I can make you one, Ty,” Sonia said easily. “You want to add another gift?”

  “That new shibari book,” Ty said, as if he’d already been thinking of buying it.

  “Amy’s going to end up with a collection,” Cassie noted.

  Ty’s smile flashed. “Research,” he said. “It’s all research for her books.”

  “When’s the first one coming out?”

  “Before the end of the year.”

  “Maybe we should carry it in the shop,” Sonia suggested.

  “I’m sure she’d appreciate that.”

  “But you’re not going to suggest it.”

  He smiled easily. “I don’t try to engineer success for people, unless I’m asked to do it. That would be meddling, or bossy, and we know that’s not me.”

  Both Sonia and Cassie laughed aloud.

  “Did I miss a good joke?” Amy said, appearing in the door of the shop.

  “Ty says he’s neither bossy nor inclined to meddle,” Cassie said.

  Amy smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek. “He’s trying to give up both.”

  The look he gave her could have left a scorch mark. Even without being in the line of fire, Cassie shivered, just due to proximity.

  “Bought you a birthday present,” he murmured to Amy.

  “My birthday was ages ago.”

  “And I missed it.” Ty shook his head. He scooped up the book and the gift card, tucking the wrapped book under his arm and giving her the card. “You can open the best part first.”

  “I think I know what the other one is,” Amy said with a pleased smile.

  Ty thanked Sonia and the pair headed toward the private elevator, Amy explaining something to Tyler as she opened the card. He watched her with keen interest. There was no mistaking the meaning of Amy’s little squeak of delight, much less the way she flung herself at Ty. He caught her around the waist with his free arm, holding her off the ground as they kissed.

  “Keep it legal,” Kyle muttered as he crossed the lobby. “Get a room.”

  So, he was still in a mood. Cassie had never seen anything like it. Usually, Kyle was the ray of sunshine at F5.

  Ty laughed at him, then ushered Amy into the elevator. She was almost bouncing in her excitement and he looked like he’d won the grand prize.

  Cassie watched the numbers illuminate as the elevator ascended.

  “What’s up?” Kyle asked. “You think he forgot where he lives?”

  “I think they’re going to do it again.”

  “Do what?”

  Cassie pointed. The elevator stopped, with both number 8 and number 9 lit up on the display. “The eighth floor is the sweet spot,” she muttered.

  “Hey, is something wrong with the elevator?” Kyle asked, heading to the desk with purpose. “We can get someone in to fix it, especially if Ty and Amy are stuck...”

  “They’re not stuck. He stopped it.”

  Kyle looked up. “No.”

  “Oh yeah. They do it at least once a week.”

  “In the elevator.” Kyle grinned, even as he looked up at the display. “That’s my man.”

  Cassie shook her head at his endorsement, then Kyle snapped his fingers.

  “Hey, we can check on the security camera to make sure they’re okay.”

  “You peeper,” Cassie accused. “But it won’t work.”

  “Why not?” Kyle was tapping on the computer, probably entering his password to see the security footage. “You can’t hide two people in an elevator that small.”

  Cassie waited, not at all surprised when Kyle frowned at the screen.

  “Something wrong?” she asked sweetly.

  “It says it’s out of order.”

  “Uh huh. And the part it needs is back-ordered with a two-month wait.”

  “What a strange and unusual coincidence,” Kyle noted as he straightened. “Do you think he bought the entire east coast supply?”

  “It’s Ty. He probably bought every one on the continent. He’s thorough like that.”

  Cassie couldn’t even imagine having a lover who was so thorough. It was the stuff of dreams.

  The elevator began to ascend again.

  “Six minutes,” she noted, checking her watch. “They were fast today.”

  It must have been that gift.

  Kyle was typing again, and Cassie came around the desk to watch the security camera display. It was the camera at the end of the hall on the sixteenth floor, where Ty’s penthouse was located.

  Ty stepped out of the elevator, looking very satisfied. His shirt was a little bit untucked at the front and he had Amy cast over his shoulder. She looked to be hanging limply and wore only one shoe. The other was jammed into the pocket of Ty’s suit jacket. He still had the wrapped book under the other arm and was carrying his briefcase, his free hand behind Amy’s knees to hold her steady. There was something
white also hanging out of the pocket of his jacket.

  “Is that lace?” Kyle asked, squinting at the screen.

  “Panties,” Cassie guessed and Kyle laughed out loud.

  Ty winked at the camera and gave a thumbs-up without letting go of anything, then stopped outside his apartment door. Amy slid down his chest, looking like her legs couldn’t hold her up. Ty caught her around the waist and Cassie saw Amy’s rapturous expression for the first time. They kissed languorously, then Ty unlocked the door and they tumbled into his apartment.

  “They’re like minks,” she said, hearing the yearning in her own voice. “We won’t see them again all night.”

  “You’re just jealous,” Kyle teased.

  “You bet your ass I am.” Cassie was going to leave it there, but she had a thought. She turned on Kyle, whose expression was entirely too innocent. “Why aren’t you?”

  “Oh, I am,” Kyle said mildly but Cassie’s eyes narrowed.

  “I don’t think so.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Theo said that actress practically threw herself at you Friday but you didn’t catch.”

  “I was wounded.”

  “That never stopped you before. Didn’t she want to make it better?”

  “I just wasn’t in the mood,” Kyle said, sounding pestered.

  “I didn’t think that was a variable.”

  “She wasn’t my type!” he said, flinging out a hand.

  Cassie ticked off her fingers. “Female. Pulse. Pretty. Young. Interested.” She met his gaze. “What exactly was she lacking?”

  Kyle visibly bit his tongue then averted his gaze. “I don’t know. I just didn’t feel it. Maybe she looks younger on the big screen.” He shrugged and walked away, heading back into the gym. Cassie watched him go wondering who, exactly, had snared his attention so thoroughly.

  Ty’s sister?

  Maybe the dedication to sexual intensity ran in the family.

  Too bad Ty didn’t have any brothers.

  * * *

  It took several hours for Lauren’s fury to build.

  She’d been startled and shocked by Marie’s confession, then appalled and outraged. It wasn’t until after Marie had left the salon and her clients were done for the day that Lauren began to get angry.

  By the time she locked up, she was livid.

  How dare he?

  It was one thing to have a tepid marriage, but quite another for Mark to screw around.

  It was one thing for him to have quick sex on a Friday night when he’d been out drinking with the boys—and not a small thing, either—but quite another to carry on an affair for six months with a woman who worked in her salon.

  It was another for him to have moved in with Marie for two weeks, and to have continued to call and appeal to Lauren for forgiveness.

  Had he been calling her mother, asking her to intervene, while sitting on Marie’s bed in his boxers?

  Lauren stopped in the bodega at the corner of her block to get some pasta for dinner and could have smashed the box against the wall. As it was, she dropped it into her basket with such force that she heard the spaghetti crack. So be it. She seized a jar of sauce, because she wasn’t in the mood to cook anything more complicated than that, and headed for the produce section.

  A salad. She would tear lettuce with a vengeance and chop all the other vegetables very very small. With a big knife. She was going to need wine, too. Lots of wine.

  How dare he?

  She stormed around the end of the aisle and nearly ran into the man in question.

  “Lauren! Hi! Maybe we could talk.” Mark was dressed in a suit and tie, as he always was for work, and carrying a bottle of water. He never bought water. He always said the stuff from the tap was good enough...and he didn’t live on this block anymore.

  Which meant he was lurking.

  Waiting for her.

  And running into her here, at this hour, where she always stopped at this very time on her way home from work, wasn’t a coincidence.

  How dare he?

  She met his gaze and he took a step back, apparently noticing that she wasn’t in the best of moods. Paolo looked up from behind the cash desk, his expression assessing. “What are you doing here, Mark?” she asked, as sweetly as she could manage—which wasn’t very sweetly at all.

  “I, um, was hoping to see you. Maybe we could have dinner together and talk.” He glanced down at her basket. “Spaghetti. My favorite.”

  “You don’t live here anymore,” Lauren said and made to step past him.

  “But we need to talk. Surely, we could do that over dinner.”

  Lauren paused on her way to the produce, turned, and met his gaze again. “But that could only happen if I let you into the apartment, and that’s never going to happen again.” She didn’t lower her voice and a few other patrons were glancing their way. Lauren didn’t so much as glance at them, but Mark did.

  “You don’t really mean that. I mean, we’re married! We can work it out.” He gave her his most engaging grin and she was surprised that the sight had no effect upon her. She’d been such a fool for this man, with his easy charm and his classic good looks, but in this moment, she felt nothing for him.

  Her anger, she realized, was because she felt stupid again.

  Stupid for trusting her husband.

  “That was a cute trick,” he said in a confidential tone, clearly trying to charm her. She was kind of amazed at how badly he was doing. “Changing the locks and sending all my stuff to New Jersey, but you know, if it made you feel better, we can just forget about it.”

  She looked at him blankly. “New Jersey?”

  “My stuff from the apartment,” he clarified. “It was in this grubby storeroom on the far side of New Jersey. What a rough neighborhood! I’m surprised you even knew of such a place. Let’s just call it a tantrum and get back to normal.”

  Lauren pulled out her phone and made a note.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure I remember to buy Mr. Bernard an excellent Christmas present. He was the one who orchestrated the removal of your stuff. I never knew where it went.”

  Mark’s features darkened. “He never liked me...”

  “Consider his involvement a blessing. I would have sent your stuff to Australia. Underwater.”

  The guy choosing a green pepper snorted, as if he shouldn’t have been listening but couldn’t help it.

  “Haha,” Mark said, his confidence undamaged. “Come on, Lauren. Let’s sort it out. You know you don’t really want to split up. What would your family think? Your Grandma Trixie?”

  Lauren bristled that he’d try such a ploy. She chose a green pepper herself. “Actually, she’s good with whatever makes me happy and being rid of you does.” She smiled brightly. “So no worries there.” She pushed past Mark to get some dressing.

  Caesar.

  Extra garlic.

  She could breathe fire.

  “Lauren! We can work it out if you just give me a chance.”

  “Work it out,” Lauren echoed, then turned to face him again. “Would that be with or without your mistress and her baby? Because I don’t think the apartment is big enough for four.” She feigned surprise. “Oh wait. There’s the blond girl who needs her roots touched up, too.” She raised a hand to her lips. “Four adults and a baby in a one bedroom? Gosh, that’s crowded, even by Manhattan standards.”

  The guy by the green peppers laughed. Several of the other shoppers eased closer to listen. Two were watching openly. Lauren seized the bottle of salad dressing.

  Mark followed her. “Lauren,” he appealed. “You don’t understand...”

  “Unfortunately, I do understand.” She spared him a glance. “Unless there are even more women who I don’t know about yet.” She patted his arm and her voice was hard. “You’re going to need to rent an entire floor to house your harem. Good thing you’re in the real estate business. You should be able to find a deal.”

  “Lauren! You have to list
en to me!”

  “I have to listen to you? Why?”

  “Because Mr. Frederickson invited us to his house in the Hamptons last weekend! I made an excuse but we can go this weekend instead. This is it, Lauren. This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for. We have to go and do the couple thing and then I’ll get my promotion.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m sure I could talk to him tomorrow...”

  Lauren froze in her steps. She pivoted to face the man she had once believed she loved, fed up with being polite. Mark could have made other arguments that might have softened her reaction, but that he was only interested in the marriage for the sake of appearances, so he could pursue a promotion, was the worst possible confession he could have made.

  Lauren kept her voice low when she spoke, which must have been why her choice of words visibly startled Mark. “And you seriously think that after you have fucked a woman outside the restroom at the club my brother owns and I have seen the security video of that tender act, and after you have fucked a woman who works for me, repeatedly over a six-month period while we were still supposedly happily married, then moved in with her for two weeks after I threw you out and abandoned her when she discovered she was pregnant with your child, that I would want to do anything for you?” The bodega was completely silent as everyone listened. “Do you really imagine that I am lying awake nights, worrying about your career?”

  Mark had paled.

  Lauren advanced upon him. “Do you actually think that I give a damn about where you go or what you do or whether Mr. Frederickson promotes you or whether you starve in a gutter tomorrow?” She poked him in the chest and he took a step back, raising his hands.

  “I just thought...”

  “No, you don’t think, not with your brain anyway.” There was a twitter of laughter in the shop and Mark colored. “Understand this, Mark. The only thing I want from you is an address where the divorce papers can be delivered. I sincerely hope that you choose to sign them, immediately, because I’m in no mood to put up with any more of your shit. You wasted five years of my life. I can’t have them back, but I can be rid of you forever, and that’s my plan.”