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Michael knew he deserved her wrath. He’d treated her like shit. He had asked Ellie to marry him, gifted her with a diamond ring—which she had subsequently flushed down the toilet—planned for a future together, and then he’d backed out.
It had been the shortest engagement since Custer took on Sitting Bull.
Michael hadn’t meant to hurt Ellie. Hell, he’d loved her like crazy. But he’d developed cold feet over the idea of getting married, to anyone. He’d had lofty goals and dreams back then, and a wife and family just hadn’t factored into the equation.
Michael was still single, still eating takeout every night, still lonely, and there hadn’t been a day in the last seven years that he hadn’t thought about Ellie.
He was still in love with her.
And he was still afraid to get married.
“WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Ellie squawked.
Michael could have asked her the same thing; he had nearly choked on a breath mint when he’d spotted her flat on her back, lifting weights.
Ellie had never been what you would call athletic. In fact, the most physical thing they had done together, aside from making love, was walking across the Georgetown campus. Her idea of strenuous exercise had been flipping through the dress racks at Ann Taylor’s.
“What are you doing here, Michael?” she asked again, her eyes full of fire.
“Working out, same as you.”
She rose to her feet and faced him, arms crossed over her chest and chin tilted defiantly.
Michael could smell the scent of her perfume mingled with the sweat of her labors. Memories better off forgotten came rushing back and the sudden ache in his groin had nothing to do with his workout.
Dark eyes flashed annoyance. “You know that’s not what I mean. What are you doing in New York City? I thought you were living in D.C.”
Debating silently whether or not to tell Ellie about his new job, he finally decided against it.
“I’m in the city on business. It’s only an hour’s plane ride from Reagan National, so I tend to come here often.”
Ellie looked relieved, so he assumed she had bought his answer. It was mostly true, at any rate, but that “mostly” would definitely complicate things down the road.
Of course, life with Ellie had always been one big complication.
“I’m surprised to see you working out,” he told her. “Didn’t think you went in for diet and exercise, not that you need it, of course.” She looked damn good in her shorts. Ellie had great legs and soft, full breasts that begged to be touched.
And there’d been a time when he’d touched them, a lot.
Her cheeks filling with color, she lowered her arms to cover her stomach, as if she could hide the last candy bar she’d eaten. “I’m getting into shape, reorganizing my life, eliminating past mistakes, so to speak. So,” she pasted on a fake smile that exuded all the warmth of a piranha, “that being the case, it’s been interesting talking to you, Michael. Have a nice life.”
Michael watched Ellie disappear into the ladies’ changing room and shook his head, knowing that come Monday morning the shit was going to hit the fan, and he was going to be in the line of fire.
IN THE CHANGING ROOM, Ellie bent over, hands on knees, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. Fortunately, she was alone; no one had witnessed how the mere sight of Michael Deavers had caused her to become apprehensive, unglued, and downright pissed off.
Why did she have to see him now, when she felt so alone and vulnerable?
Why did she have to see him at all?
The devil might wear Prada, but Ellie was pretty certain he wore Armani, too.
“Get it together, Ellie. You’re over him,” she told herself, stripping out of her sweaty togs, grabbing a towel off the bench and heading for the showers.
I am woman, hear me…
Meow?
Damn, but he still looked as handsome as ever. His eyes looked even bluer than before, and the sight of his body in that tank top…
Michael dumped you, you moron. Get over it!
Of course, that was easier said than done. She’d pined for the bastard after he’d broken their engagement. She’d tried to put him out of her mind by dating a procession of new men, but nothing had worked. Even moving to New York City hadn’t been the panacea she’d hoped for; the man still had the power to make her nipples hard, even after all this time.
But then, sex between them had always been fantastic. Michael knew a million ways to make a woman happy in bed.
It was when you got out of bed that the trouble started.
Turning on the faucet, Ellie doused herself with cold water and let loose a shriek as the bracing water cascaded over her, erasing all—well, if not all, then most—erotic thoughts from her mind.
Not erotic, she amended. Psychotic! Because it was madness to have even the least little feelings where Michael was concerned.
The man was a heartbreaking, insensitive, lying, insincere bastard!
Don’t fret. He’s going back to D.C. You never have to see him again. Well, maybe in seven years. That seemed to be about the length of time between visits. And maybe by then she’d be married and have children, or at least a bunch of puppies to coo over.
Ellie purposely turned her thoughts to Will instead. He was a nice man, though not really her type. But then, what was her type? Brian hadn’t been right for her, and he was a three-piece suit all the way. Maybe a bit of Neanderthal loving was just what the doctor ordered. And Will as her trainer would keep her on her diet. With her lack of willpower—no pun intended—that was a positive.
A group of ladies came into the locker room just then and began undressing. A shapely blonde, who didn’t need to exercise—damn her size two hide!—smiled at Ellie, and she returned the gesture.
“You’ve got Will as your trainer, right?” she asked and Ellie nodded. “Too bad he’s gay. It’s such a waste of male perfection, don’t you think?”
Ellie’s eyes widened, even as her stomach took a dive south. “Will’s gay? Are you sure?” He sure didn’t come across as gay. Not that it was all that easy to tell. But some homosexual men were swishier than others.
The blonde smiled. “Yeah, pretty sure. He’s out in the lobby kissing some dark-haired guy. Apparently they had a tiff this morning.” She shrugged. “Oh well. Doesn’t mean he’s still not a great trainer. Just a sad loss to the female population at large, if you know what I mean.”
Ellie did. All the really cute men she’d dated or contemplated dating were either gay, married, or had commitment problems.
That was Joey Fratelli—thirty-four and still living with his mama, who did his laundry and cooked and cleaned for him. Rosemary had adored the dentist, which was reason enough for Ellie not to see him again, even though Joey had been very good with a drill.
Robert Lipscomb liked to dress up in women’s clothing, and the hell of it was, he’d had a better wardrobe than she did. Then there was Brian Pomeroy, who harbored an unreasonable hatred of dogs, especially ones who peed in his shoes.
And last, but certainly not least, was Michael—the man she had foolishly given her heart to, the man she had loved and the bastard who had dumped her.
Numb with the news that her trainer was now out of the picture, as far as dating was concerned, Ellie proceeded to dress, wondering if her bad luck was permanent.
ARRIVING BACK at her apartment a short time later, Ellie surveyed the mess that Barnaby had made of the remaining packing paper and boxes—which she should have disposed of properly, but hadn’t—scolded the animal half-heartedly, because he was so darn cute—okay, reasonably attractive—then hit the button on her telephone to retrieve her messages.
Brian’s deep voice boomed out of the phone’s speaker as he demanded in a very impolite manner that Ellie return his “damn key, immediately if not sooner.”
“Like I really want the damn thing,” she shouted back, wondering what had ever possessed her to live with such an unreasonable, dog-hating man in the first place.
The second message was from one of her girlfriends, Stephanie Marco, who was calling to see if Ellie wanted to go clubbing this evening. Like Ellie, Steffie was between relationships and had declared that Saturday night was a very good night to get laid.
“Hard to dispute that, Barn.” Not that she was into casual sex, mind you, but her flirting techniques could use a bit of brushing up. And after seeing Michael, Ellie’s ego needed a boost, as well.
Too bad someone hadn’t invented breast implants for egos, so you could make them larger when you needed to.
Ellie needed a 46DD boost right about now.
Just as she’d deleted the last message, the phone rang, and she thought about not answering it. Sometimes her boss, Mr. Moody, called on the weekend to ask her to come into work, and she wanted to avoid talking to him.
And did she really need more bad news?
But deciding it might be Steffie with last-minute details about their night out, she finally picked up.
She wished she hadn’t.
Actually, Ellie wished she was dead.
It was her mother, and Rosemary was crying.
And the thing is: Rosemary Peters never cried.
“Never trust a man who doesn’t like dogs.
Dogs are loyal; men are not!”
CHAPTER THREE
“MOM, WHAT is it? Why are you crying? Is something the matter with Dad?”
“I’ll say there’s something the matter with your father,” Rosemary said in a voice that spewed venom. “Theodore Peters is a bastard. I hate him. He’s a sick man, that’s what he is.”
Ellie was stunned by her mother’s vehemence, and not because Rosemary’s sharp tongue couldn’t flay the skin off an adversary from twenty paces. But her venom was seldom directed at her husband. Rosemary didn’t believe swearing was appropriate behavior for a woman, no matter the upset.
Ellie wasn’t certain she could speak in complete sentences without swearing.
“Could you be more specific?” she asked, unsure if her father was actually sick, as in dying, and her mother hated him for that, or if there was something else wrong, like they’d argued over money. Not an unusual occurrence. But still, her heart raced at the thought that her father might be seriously ill and hadn’t told anyone.
“I hardly know where to start, Ellie. This isn’t something I want to discuss with you over the phone. I’d rather wait and tell you in person. The shock might be too much for you. I nearly fainted when I found out.”
Rosemary’s voice cracked, and Ellie’s heart began to pound in her ears. “Dad’s got cancer, doesn’t he? He’s dying, right?” Tears filled her eyes. “Omigod! When did you find out? How long does he have to live? I’ll book a flight, and—”
“He doesn’t have cancer, but that bastard will wish he was dead when I get through with him.”
Breathing a deep sigh of relief, she tried to calm herself. It was clear that her mother was distraught for reasons known only to her and Ellie knew she needed to have patience in dealing with the distressed woman. “Calm down, and tell me what happened. You’re scaring me. And start from the beginning, okay? I’m sure whatever the matter is, we can work it out.”
“Remember how I told you that your father has been spending all of his time on the Internet, and that he didn’t want to do anything else but fiddle with his computer?”
Ellie started to get a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach that no amount of Zantac could touch. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “You mentioned that the other day when we talked.”
“But what I didn’t mention was that he’s always so secretive when he’s online. He moved his computer into the spare bedroom several months ago and he stays in there for hours on end. When I complained Ted told me he was working on client accounts or getting his stock quotes updated. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I feel like such a fool.”
Ellie’s head began to hurt. This was starting to sound like a nail-in-the-coffin alert.
“Anyway, I went on the computer a little while ago, to find the cruise rates, like you suggested. Your father went to the barbershop to get his haircut, like he does every Saturday morning, so I thought it would be a good time to look for the prices and surprise him with the information when he got home.
“But I was the one who got surprised. What I found out broke my heart.” Rosemary started sobbing again. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. How could Ted do this to me? After all these years of marriage…”
“It can’t be as bad as all that, Mom. Please don’t cry.” Rosemary’s tears were as foreign to Ellie as not eating chocolate. It just didn’t happen.
Her mother sucked in her breath, blew her nose, then blurted, “Your father is having an affair! There, I said it. It wasn’t easy, but I said it.”
There was a moment of stunned silence while Ellie digested what her mother had just said. “What? What do you mean…an affair?” Surely her mother was mistaken, overwrought….
Insane?
“You know, the kind that older men have on the Internet.”
“Oh, you mean he’s been visiting porn sites?” She felt a rush of relief. That wasn’t as bad as the other, though it was still out of character for her father.
“Probably. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I think it’s called a cyberaffair. I found e-mails from another woman, some bimbo named Michelle.
“They’ve been exchanging e-mails for months, talking about sex and all sorts of disgusting, perverted things that they’d like to do to each other. And it may have gone beyond talking. But I’m not certain of that yet.”
Knowing Rosemary’s determination to get to the bottom of things, Ellie figured she would be certain, and soon.
“What I am certain of is that my life is ruined. Your father has found another woman to replace me—a younger woman would be my guess. Out with the old, in with the new, as they say. I gave that man thirty-five years—the best years of my life—and this is how I’m repaid?”
Ellie felt on the verge of puking. This couldn’t be happening. Not with her father, the man she adored—the man she respected more than anyone else in the world.
Theodore Peters had always been a straight shooter and the most honorable man on the face of the planet. Her father didn’t drink, smoke, curse, or use violence. He’d always been the perfect, loving father and, she’d thought, husband.
“You must be wrong, Mom. Maybe it’s a joke. You know, with a co-worker or someone he has business dealings with. Dad’s never done anything like this before.” She swallowed, getting the courage up to ask, “Has he?”
“No, of course not, at least, not that I know of. But just the other day he started a diet and exercise program, insisting that it was time he got into shape, and he’s never been concerned about his appearance or weight before.
“I think he’s worried about getting old and needs to prove that he’s still a man—a male menopause type of thing, if you know what I mean. I hear it’s common with men his age.”
“But you wanted Dad to lose weight; you told me so yourself when we spoke on the phone the other day. He’s probably just taking your suggestion, trying to make you happy.”
“I wish that were true, Ellie, but I don’t think so. Ted bought aftershave. Your father hasn’t worn aftershave in the thirty-five years I’ve been married to him. He said it made him sneeze. And I saw him looking at the men’s hair coloring yesterday while we were at the supermarket.”
Ellie knew the aftershave story was true because all of the Jade East, English Leather and Old Spice colognes she had given her father as a kid every Christmas still remained unopened in his medicine cabinet. She had thought it endearing that he’d kept them, in spite of his allergy.
“What did Dad say when you spoke to him about this?”
“I haven’t spoken to him about it yet. I’m not sure what I’m going to say. I only know that we’re through. I can never trust Ted again. Who knew he could be so deceitful. I always thought he was an honorable man.”
