Too Darn Hot (17 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Using the keys Lina had given him, Eric unlocked her apartment door. He had about a half hour before she’d return from her regular kick-boxing class, more than enough time to sneak in to her apartment, leave her birthday present, and sneak back out again. He chuckled to himself.

Today was her birthday. Naturally he couldn’t celebrate with her tonight, Saturday being the busiest night at The Cookhouse. Thus he’d driven into Forest Hills at noon to leave a little surprise. Inside the breast pocket of his black leather bomber jacket was a slim, beautifully wrapped gift box: a sapphire and diamond bracelet. To match her eyes.

He opened the door and nearly jumped out of his skin at the vicious barking that greeted him from somewhere in the vicinity of Lina’s bedroom. Automatically he double-checked the number on the apartment door.

As he closed the door a large gray Weimaraner charged down the hallway and skidded to a halt at the entrance to the foyer, its nails clacking on the oak floor. The dog was barrel-chested and wasp-waisted, with a short, smooth coat and floppy ears. A ridge of hair rose menacingly on the back of the its neck as it bared its teeth and growled.

Were Lina and Joy pet-sitting for someone? If they were, he knew nothing about it.

Eric felt his own hackles rise. Never breaking eye contact with the animal, he reached for the Victoria’s Secret catalog he’d spied on a pile of mail on a side table. He rolled it into a tube as he slowly started down the hall to Lina’s bedroom. His canine escort snarled with increasing ferocity while keeping a wary eye on the makeshift snout smacker clutched in Eric’s fist.

With his hand on the knob of Lina’s closed bedroom door, he heard something that froze him on the spot. A man’s voice, raised in exasperation.

“Percy, stop barking at Mommy. What took you so long, Zanny my love?”

Eric’s fingers tightened painfully on the faceted glass doorknob. He stopped breathing as his pulse thrummed in his ears, nearly as loud as the fresh burst of rapid-fire barking. The sound of his master’s voice had apparently imbued the animal with renewed courage.

“Shut up, Percy,” Eric commanded in a low, pack-leader rumble. The dog quieted with a whimper and dropped to its haunches. It raised a paw.

He turned the knob and swung the door open, his gaze automatically homing in on Lina’s bed. The man sprawled between her yellow sheets in a side-lounging come-hither pose was handsome, with curly black hair and a trim beard.

He was also stark naked. The sheet was draped low enough on his hip to leave no question on that score.

Eric absorbed all this in the split second it took the man to bolt upright, yank the sheet to his waist, and demand, “Who the hell are you?”

Just the biggest fool who ever lived,
he silently answered, nearly trembling with fury and the pain of betrayal.

Percy ambled in, tail wagging, and found a spot on the carpet that suited him. He turned three tight circles and settled down with a contented sigh.

The man’s pale eyes widened as he took in the rolled-up catalog being crushed in Eric’s fist. His arms flew into a defensive posture. “I’m a gree—black belt! Tae kwon do.”

“Save it, Steve.” Eric tossed the catalog on the bed.

The man flinched but swiftly regained his composure when it became clear he was in no danger from the wrinkled lingerie catalog. It took a moment for Eric’s use of his name to register. His eyes narrowed.

So Eric’s guess had been right. This was Steve. The ex-husband. The man Lina had sworn she wasn’t involved with.

For a year and a half he’d consciously repressed the memory of walking in on Ruth, naked in bed with her onetime lover. Now his late wife’s treachery returned with gut-wrenching force.

Steve glanced at the framed picture on Lina’s night table—a full-length shot of a grinning Eric flambéing pears and cherries in The Cookhouse kitchen. It was one of the photos used in the
Bon Vivant
article.

When Steve looked at his visitor once more, it was clear he’d put two and two together. His features settled into a nasty sneer. Apparently it had finally dawned on him that his occupation of his ex-wife’s bed gave him an intrinsic advantage. With leisurely ease he propped the pillows against the brass headboard and settled back.

Percy appeared to follow the unspoken exchange, his golden eyes flicking between the two men while the rest of him remained perfectly still.

Yep, that’s me, the world’s biggest fool,
Eric thought. Deaf, dumb, and blind. With the emphasis on dumb. Without a word, he turned and let himself out of Lina’s apartment for the last time.

*

“Get up!” Lina landed a stinging slap on Steve’s bare rump as he lay peacefully snoring on her bed. Her ex-husband yelped and lurched to full wakefulness. He blinked sleepily and smiled.

“Zanny my love—”

“Don’t you `Zanny my love’ me. What the hell are you doing here?”

Percy rose and stretched, then came over to stick his nose in her crotch. She pushed him away. Steve smiled that arrogant smile of his—Lord, how had she put up with it for so many years?—and rubbed his butt where a pink handprint had begun to form. “Your tastes have gotten kinkier, I see.”

She had to restrain herself from choking him. “Who gave you permission to—to—?” Sputtering with rage, she gestured at her rumpled bed.

My God, he was waiting for me!
she thought.
He thinks all he has to do is park himself between my sheets and I’ll–

“Get out,” she repeated. “This instant.” She noticed the crumpled Victoria’s Secret catalog at the foot of the bed. Good grief, the man had no shame.

With a frown of perplexity Steve swung his legs off the bed. He seemed in no hurry to comply with her order.

“Put your clothes on.” She gathered his things from the carpet and hurled them at him.

He found his briefs and jerked them on, his face twisted into an angry scowl. “Must be that time of the month, huh?” He reached for his socks.

No, it isn’t, as a matter of fact. If it were, I wouldn’t need that cute little test kit I just bought at the drugstore.

“You don’t get it, do you?” She planted her hands on her hips and watched her ex-husband step into his neatly pressed khaki slacks. Fury slowed her words and heightened her enunciation. “This is my home.” She jabbed a finger at her chest. “My home. You have no right to barge in—”

“For your information, I did not ‘barge in.’”  He pulled on his undershirt and tucked it into his pants. “I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d be friendly and say hi. The super let me in. Rocky. Helluva guy. Flashed some ID and told him I’m your brother.” He chortled at his own ingenuity.

She knew that wasn’t all he’d flashed. Slip ole Rocky a nice crisp twenty and you could tell him Steve was her grandmother. She’d deal with the super later. “What made you think you could pull a stunt like this?”

He shrugged into his blue oxford shirt and began buttoning it, slowly, treating his ex-wife to an insolent once-over. “You just can’t admit there’s still something between us, can you? Some kind of chemistry.” Buckling his belt, he shook his head with that same superior little smile that had always set her teeth on edge.

Chemistry?
she thought.
Try oil and water.

She said, “I’ve never given you the slightest reason to believe I’d sleep with you. Never.”

He sat and slipped his loafers on, holding her gaze. “I don’t see it that way. Actions speak louder than words.”

“Is that so?” With unmistakable deliberation she turned and pointed toward the doorway.

“Come on, Percy. Mommy doesn’t want us around.” At the bedroom door he slowly turned back. “You know, you always talked a good game, Zanny, acting so holier than thou about your so-called professional ethics. And I always bought it. Is this a recent thing, getting it on with the chefs you review, or were you doing it when we were married?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

He gestured toward the picture of Eric on her night table. “I’m talking about the guy with the bad attitude and the key to your apartment.”

Lina felt the blood drain from her face.

Her reaction wasn’t lost on Steve—he appeared immensely pleased with himself. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
Eric was here? He saw you in my bed?
Steve’s mean little smirk gave her the answer. With a trembling hand she pushed her hair behind her ear. “He must’ve stopped by for my birthday.”

That familiar uh-oh look came into her ex-husband’s eyes—a look she knew all too well. The bastard had no idea it was her birthday. Well, why break with tradition, after all?

“Get one thing straight.” She stiffened her spine. “This is my home, Steve. You’re not welcome here.”

He leaned on the doorframe. “On second thought, I’d guess the getting-it-on part comes first, and the review is a nice little bonus for the lucky restaurant owner.” He shook his head sadly. “You don’t even know when you’re being used, Zanny. If you’re that desperate to get laid...” He spread his hands in invitation.

Lina’s eyes stung with the threat of tears. She took a deep breath. She’d be damned if she’d let Steve see her cry. “If you don’t leave this instant, I’ll call the police.”

His steel gray eyes skewered her. “You bitch.”

Having discharged the final salvo—that had always been important to him—Steve called his dog and stalked down the hallway. Lina braced for what she knew would follow.

Her apartment door slammed thunderously, rattling the pictures on her walls and the bottles on her dressing table.

She slumped onto the bed. “Happy birthday, Lina.”

Chapter Sixteen

Two weeks had passed since Lina had arrived home to find Steve ensconced in her bed. She needed to talk to Eric, explain the preposterous incident for what it was, but he refused to even come to the phone. She’d considered ambushing him at his house, but couldn’t bear the humiliation of face-to-face rejection. Besides, the boys didn’t need to witness a scene like that.

His callous refusal to hear her side hurt her deeply. If he truly cared for her, wouldn’t he at least let her speak her piece? This was the man who’d declared his love time and again during the past few months. She’d always thought love implied a degree of trust.

For the thousandth time in two weeks, her hand slipped down to reverently stroke her belly. No difference. No outward sign of the miracle taking place deep inside. Life was truly unpredictable. In all the years she’d dreamt of being a mother, never once had she considered single parenthood. And yet here she was, embarking on this great adventure.

Alone.

A pile of maternity clothes occupied the sofa next to her, still sporting their tags. Okay, so she was jumping the gun a bit, but it was hard not to. How many times had she passed maternity stores and wished she had a reason to spend a month’s wages on tentlike frocks and pants with ugly elastic panels?

Eric didn’t know about the baby. Joy was the only one she’d told. It would have been hard keeping anything from her roommate, much less daily bouts of morning sickness. Lina wondered, if he were to find out, would he be happy? Would he want the baby? Probably not. His sons were teenagers. No doubt he was thankful diapers and colic were a thing of the past. Responsible type that he was, he’d probably feel obligated to marry her for the sake of respectability.

Or maybe he’d eschew marriage and settle for visitation rights. She shivered. Out-and-out rejection looked good compared to grudging acceptance. Of course, she could opt to keep him in ignorance—and the child, too. Never acknowledge his paternity to either of them.

She thought of the wonderful, warm years of her own childhood. While it might be politically incorrect in this age of free-form parenting, she’d never shaken the belief that a conventional nuclear family is best for a child.

She sighed and patted her belly. “Well, little one, looks like it’s just you and me.”

She heard Joy’s key in the lock. Her roommate’s voice rang out from the foyer. “So did you buy out the store?”

“What do you think?”

Joy laughed when she saw the mound of dresses, pants, skirts, tops, nightgowns, and underwear. There was even a flowing wool coat. “I think they saw you coming.”

“Well, I’m going to need clothes, aren’t I?”

Joy tore open the wrapper on a pair of maternity tights and held them up. Her eyes grew round. “Jeepers.” She glanced at Lina’s flat belly. “Are you really gonna fill these out?”

“So they tell me.”

Her roommate lifted a stretchy yoga top. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Lina snatched the garment away from her, laughing. “Dr. Schulman says I can continue to exercise, within reason.”

Joy perched on the back of the sofa. “When are you gonna tell Eric?”

She groaned. “Joy, don’t start that again. He won’t even talk to me.”

“So send him a registered letter. Don’t you think he has a—”

“Yes, he has a right to know, and I’ll tell him when I’m ready.” Maybe.

Joy’s expression made Lina wonder whether she could read minds. She swung her legs over the back of the sofa and bounced down onto the pile of clothes. “The longer you put it off, the harder it will be. You know that.”

Lina toyed with the tag on a jumbo-size beaded evening dress. “I’m not trying to put it off, I’m just...”

“You’re confused. And scared to face the thing head-on.”

Lina knew she could deny it. But what would be the point?

Joy jumped up, pulling Lina with her, hauling her into the foyer. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“What are you doing? I’m not going anywhere.”

Joy pulled Lina’s buff suede jacket off the coat tree and tossed it at her. She donned her own fleece-lined windbreaker. “That’s what you think.”

*

“What kind of maniac goes jogging in forty-degree weather? In the rain?” Joy squinted out the windshield of her beat-up Chrysler hatchback. The beach appeared deserted. They’d tried Eric’s rambling white clapboard house first. Lina had remained in the car while Adam directed Joy to Rocky Bay Beach.