She’d fallen in love with the house the second she saw it. She’d loved the distressed white brick, the English cottage look, and the flower boxes beneath every window across the front of the house.
The fact that the developer had stayed true to the Woodberry Park name he’d given to the subdivision, was also a selling feature for her. Unlike many new subdivisions that were often stripped bare, only a minimal amount of trees had been cleared from the lots. That country, woodsy kind of atmosphere also complimented the private golf course that meandered throughout the subdivision.
The golf course had been the selling feature for Rick.
That, and the New Hope location.
Woodberry Park was less than ten miles from SDS.
The reason she’d set her alarm for 5:00 AM: She planned to be up, fresh and frisky when Rick arrived. Standing at the top of the stairs. Smiling at his shocked expression when he saw the mess in the living room. And waving good-bye when he said “I give up, you win,” just as Jen had said the night before.
Waving good-bye.
Zada sighed.
Her heart warned her she’d regret letting Rick go.
Her pride reminded her she had no other choice.
She didn’t want to be every bit as human as her mother and her sister, dammit! What had being human ever done for either of them?
Her mother had ended up with a husband who cheated on her and left her for another woman—a woman who was so worthless she threw him out twelve years later when the brain tumor appeared. And what had her mother done? She’d taken him back and cared for him right up until the day he died—as if twelve long years of him ignoring her and his children never happened.
Then there was her sister Sally, who after nine years, was still trying to hold on to a man who couldn’t decide from one day to the next if he wanted a family or his freedom.
Did she intend to follow in their humanly footsteps?
Hell, no!
She intended to be stronger. Smarter. Independent and totally self-sufficient. The way she’d always been—before Rick Clark walked into her life. Had Rick not been the first man she truly couldn’t resist, she never would have gone along with their spur-of-the-moment wedding in the first place.
Yesterday’s news, Zada reminded herself.
She yawned and stretched, waking Simon in the process.
The dog moved from his position at the foot of her bed, crawling on his belly until his head was on the pillow next to hers. When Simon rolled over on his back, Zada gave him a belly rub, his favorite doggy thing in life.
“It’s been a long time since you were awake this early, hasn’t it, buddy?” she cooed to the dog.
Before Rick moved out, he’d always taken Simon with him on his early morning run. But after Rick left, Zada found it didn’t take much persuasion to lure Simon over to the dark side, either.
They took their daily walk every morning on the walking trail around the golf course around ten—her true idea of morning—instead of noon as Rick had exaggerated.
It was on those peaceful morning walks that she got most of her ideas for her children’s books. Like the morning Simon had sniffed out an injured baby bunny, and had brought the bunny to her, holding it as gently in his mouth as a mother cat would hold one of her kittens.
She and Simon had taken Thumpless—the name she’d given the bunny in her book—to the vet to have his broken back leg splinted. After the bunny’s leg healed, they’d set Thumpless free in the same place where Simon had found him.
The Bunny Who Lost His Thump had been her best selling book in her Simon Sees children’s series so far—all thanks to one gentle, blind dog whose insight more than compensated for the things he couldn’t see.
“He’s a good boy, that’s what he is,” Zada cooed.
Simon curled himself into a ball against her.
“Just don’t get too comfortable, buddy,” Zada mumbled. “I’m going to close my eyes for five more minutes. Then we have to get up. And I have to get beautiful. I want Rick to see the true meaning of irresistible when he walks back through the front door this morning.”
Zada wasn’t sure if the sound of a car door slamming, or Simon’s low growl snapped her eyes wide open. But one look at the clock jerked her out of bed.
No! No! No!
She’d only closed her eyes for a minute.
How could it possibly be 7:00 AM?
Zada flew to the bay window, knowing what she’d find sitting in her driveway, yet praying that she wouldn’t. The large grill across the front of the ominous green Hummer seemed to be grinning up at her with a big gotcha smile.
Crap! Crap! Crap!
Just when she’d accepted yesterday, along came today!
Now there would be no time to shake, shake, shake her beauty into irresistible—no time to shower or dress.
And if she didn’t hurry?
She’d even miss the shocked look on Rick’s face when he saw the mess waiting for him in the living room.
Her head jerked around when Simon whimpered.
He was sitting up on the bed now, ears pricked to attention, signaling he knew exactly who had just arrived on the premises.
“Stay,” Zada ordered and ran for the bathroom.
The taste of victory would be sweet.
But victory wouldn’t taste near as sweet if she didn’t at least take time out to brush her teeth.
The absence of Zada’s Lexus in the driveway was Rick’s first clue that Zada hadn’t been kidding when she’d said “game on.” She never parked in the garage. Mainly because her side of the garage was always filled with all of the junk she refused to throw away.
Rick pushed the garage remote, just to make sure.
There was the Lexus, all right.
Parked on his junk-free side of the garage.
Rick slowly counted to ten.
He was not going to let Zada rattle him before he even got out of the car. He was stronger than that. He could take anything Zada could dish out. And he intended to prove it to her!
Back in control, Rick took his keys from the ignition and got out of the Hummer. Minutes later he was walking up the sidewalk with a duffel bag in each hand, the same way he’d walked down the sidewalk with a duffel bag in each hand six months earlier.
He’d hired a lawn service to take over his yard work after he left, and as he made his way up the walk, he made a mental note to call the service. The shrubbery lining the sidewalk needed more mulch. He intended to point that out.
An intense thing to do? Probably. But guys like him were intense kind of guys.
He used his new key in the new lock, already smiling to himself. At least Simon was going to be happy to have him back home. His happy smile faded, however, the second Rick walked into the foyer.
Game-on clue number two was waiting for him.
Holy Mother of God.
The mass destruction that used to be his living room would have made his mouth drop open—had Rick’s jaw not been immobilized in a damn-you-Zada! clench.
So this is how she’s going to play the game, is she?
Down and dirty.
No holds barred.
Well, he had news for Zada. Explosive detection was his line of business.
It had only taken a second to detect that Zada had blown up the damn living room, but he could dodge as many magazines as Miss Outwit-Outplay-Outlast wanted to throw in his direction!
But what a damn mess.
All Rick could do was stand there and stare.
One look in the bathroom mirror told Zada she had more to worry about than the sweet taste of victory. With her up-too-early bloodshot eyes and her overnight bed-head curls in a tangle, she looked like one of those bizarre doctored photos on the front of The National Enquirer.HALF-WOMAN HALF-MONSTER FOUND LIVING IN SUBURBIA could have been the caption under her picture.
Hopeless! Zada decided.
She only smeared toothpaste across her teeth and only raked through the tangles with
her fingers.
She still looked monstrous, even wearing a sexy black lace teddy. But it didn’t matter; she was not going to miss Rick’s reaction when he walked through the door!
Zada flew out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
Simon was still on the bed where she’d left him.
“Stay,” Zada repeated for good measure.
Seconds later, she had flattened herself against the upstairs hallway wall, and was leaning forward only far enough to peek into the downstairs foyer below.
Rick.
Already in the house.
A duffel bag in each hand.
And . . .
Yes!
A shocked expression on his now frowning face.
Zada kept watching.
Rick kept standing there, motionless. So still, in fact, he could have been a statue. Except, Zada decided, for that muscle that kept twitching uncontrollably in his tightly clenched jaw.
He finally shook his head disgustedly.
Several times.
Atta boy. You get the idea. Stay, and this is what you’ll be facing every day for the next ninety days.
He let out a long sigh.
I don’t blame you a bit. I don’t want to live in this mess, either.
He turned toward the door.
That’s it.
He walked to the door.
Don’t disappoint me. Keep walking.
Zada licked her lips, the taste of victory, sweet.
Until . . .
Bam!
What?
Rick had kicked the front door shut with his foot! He wasn’t leaving at all.
Holy freaking hell!
Now he was coming up the stairs!
Zada sprinted back down the hallway to safety. She closed her bedroom door and leaned against it. The f-word she said out loud wasn’t “forward,” but Simon evidently decided it was close enough. He jumped off the bed and ran forward. In seconds, he was scratching at the door like crazy.
“Simon, sit!” Zada commanded.
Simon’s bark said he was tired of taking orders.
“Please,” Zada begged, her back still against the door.
Rick knocked.
Zada jumped.
“Come on, Zada. Let Simon out. He knows I’m here.”
Simon barked again, agreeing with that suggestion.
“Traitor,” Zada grumbled, but she opened the door.
She stood there in the doorway, telling herself the sight of a grown man—down on his knees while a happy dog licked his face—didn’t tug at her heartstrings.
The lie threw its head back and laughed in her face.
Rick loved Simon as much as she did.
That was a given.
That she loved Rick as much as Simon did?
That would probably be her downfall.
Rick finally got Simon out of his face long enough to look up at Zada. The expression on her face was tender, as if even she were a tiny bit happy to see him. The tender look disappeared the second their eyes met.
His gaze traveled downward.
Black. Lace. Teddy.
Rick gulped.
Another ploy to drive me insane?
That thought quickly cleared his head.
“I like what you did with the living room,” Rick couldn’t resist saying.
Slam! went the bedroom door.
Damn!
He shouldn’t have said that, but how could he not? Zada had already set the stage for the game. She’d already proved by her actions that her strategy was going to be doing everything in her power to purposely drive him crazy.
But who am I kidding?
I’m already insane.
Or I never would have come up with the Survivor idea.
But here he was, prepared to stay.
Whether Zada realized it or not, it was going to take more than using his side of the garage and dumping a truckload of magazines in the living room for him to walk away and declare her the winner.
“Don’t worry, boy,” Rick told Simon, patting the dog’s head as he rose to his feet. “I’m home to stay.”
Simon wagged his tail happily.
Rick smiled.
Man’s best friend.
Insane or not, Simon was worth it.
“Let’s go get my stuff,” Rick said, smiling again when Simon fell in beside him.
The next hour, Rick spent making multiple trips up and down the stairs, unloading his clothes from the Hummer. The hour after that, Rick spent hanging his clothes in the closet, putting his socks and underwear into dresser drawers, and basically getting settled into the guest bedroom at the far end of the hall—as far away from Zada and her damn master bedroom as possible.
Simon never left his side.
The dog followed every step he made.
Thirty more minutes spent organizing his personal items in the bedroom’s adjoining guest bath, and Rick stepped back from the medicine cabinet, thoroughly pleased with himself. He was officially settled back into his house, with his dog sitting faithfully beside him. Nothing Zada could say or do was going to force him to leave home again.
Game on?
Absolutely!
Rick looked down at Simon. “How about it, boy? Do I dare go downstairs and see what’s waiting for me in the kitchen? Zada knows there’s nothing I hate more than a messy kitchen.”
Simon barked as if he understood the question.
Rick took a deep breath, then headed downstairs.
The only thing he found waiting for him in the kitchen, however, was Zada sitting calmly at the kitchen table. And looking like a million bucks in a tight pair of jeans and a skimpy little top. And…
Geez!
Eating one of her disgusting Dove ice-cream bars.
Ice-cream for breakfast, Rick thought. Like that makes perfect sense.
He glanced at the leash across her lap.
Zada ignored him completely, looked directly at Simon and said, “Ready for our walk this morning, buddy?”
Walk?
When did exercise-phobic Zada start taking Simon on a morning walk?
Rick said, “Now that I’m back home, I thought I’d take Simon on a run with me this morning. Get him back on schedule.”
Zada looked directly at him this time.
She even smiled.
Lethal-like.
“Simon has a new schedule now,” she said. “One he’s been enjoying quite nicely for the last six months. It wouldn’t be fair to confuse him. Or is consistency no longer your sacred golden rule over at the training center?”
Sacred golden rule. Cute.
Rick scrambled for an equally wiseass answer.
The front doorbell saved him the trouble.
Zada, however, didn’t budge. She sat there, as if she didn’t hear the chime.
Teasing him.
Taunting him.
Driving him truly insane as he watched her pink tongue lap, lap, lap at the last bit of ice cream on her Popsicle stick.
Do. Not. Think. About. The. Tongue. Thing.
Rick forced himself to look away when she made one more exaggerated lick up and down the length of the stick.
“Well?” Rick finally said.
“Well, what?” said Zada.
“Aren’t you going to answer the door, Zada?”
“Are your legs suddenly broken, Rick?”
Alicia Greene pushed the doorbell again, then adjusted her low-cut top so the only way Rick Clark could miss her cleavage was if he had suddenly gone as blind as his bomb-sniffing dog.
The dog had never liked her. And the feeling was mutual. But was a mere dog going to deter her from her mission?
Not!
She’d deal with the dog. Even if it meant keeping doggie treats in her pocket, and shoving one in the mutt’s mouth every time Simon growled at her.
Still, winning Rick over wasn’t going to be easy by any stretch of the imagination, and Alicia knew it. Of all the husbands in Woodberry Park, Rick was
the husband who had paid her the least attention—something a woman with her looks usually didn’t have to worry about.
But he’s gorgeous.
On the rebound.
And ripe for the taking.
Alicia smiled to herself.
She was sure Rick had been faithful to Zada, even during their separation. Rick was just that kind of guy—another reason he intrigued her. One look and you knew he was straight-up and honest. So unlike most of the men she’d come in contact with during the course of her life.
But Rick was also one hundred percent male. And no doubt lonely for female company by now.
Lonely.
Available.
And living right across the street!
With Zada out of the way now, she might have a chance.
That would make Jen and Tish regret letting Zada push her out of the loop. After all, Jen and Tish had been her friends first. Well, semi-friends, if you wanted to be technical about it.
Before her nasty divorce from Edward. And before her big settlement made the headlines.
That’s when wives started getting nervous around her. And when Jen and Tish had dropped her in favor of just-moved-into-Woodberry-Park Zada.
Alicia frowned.
Zada and her infamous “Housewives’ Fantasy Club.”
Ex-housewives excluded, of course.
Their club was the talk of the neighborhood.
“Wouldn’t you love to listen in?” everyone said.
“Wouldn’t you kill to be invited to one of their Fantasy Club meetings?” everyone agreed.
Well, that situation was about to change.
Zada was the ex-housewife now.
And I’ll be more than happy to fill her empty slot.
Besides, once she and Rick were an item, she’d no longer be the out-of-the-loop divorcée, watching life in the suburbs pass her by from her upstairs bedroom window, the way she’d been doing yesterday.
She’d watched Zada zoom into her driveway; watched Jen and Tish rush over to console her. After they’d declined another invitation from her. This time to a bunko party—the new millennium replacement for bridge. Sorry, but
they were taking Zada out to dinner, Jen and Tish had informed her, to console poor Zada after her big day in divorce court.
Snobs!
All of them.
Where were Tish and Jen when she had her day in court?
Your Bed or Mine? Page 6
