Read Your Bed or Mine? Online

Authors: Candy Halliday

Your Bed or Mine? (8 page)

BOOK: Your Bed or Mine?
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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?

They certainly hadn’t offered to console her. Much less take her out to dinner!

Alicia shook her head. She wasn’t even sure why she bothered.

Since her divorce, she’d completely exhausted herself trying to think of ways to keep Jen and Tish from avoiding her. She’d
tried to start a book club, with no success. She’d also hosted every type of makeup, home interior, cooking utensil, and jewelry
party available.

Have it and they will come.

That’s what she’d kept telling herself.

Alicia sighed.

I’ve had it, all right!

She’d had it with playing nice to get their attention.

I’ll give them a reason to notice me.

And I’m standing at his front door right now!

She’d come up with her new Seduce-Rick-Clark plan late yesterday evening when she’d noticed all of the frantic activity going
on at the Clark house. All of the running back and forth to the garage, gathering up box after box of Zada’s belongings.

That’s when she’d realized what was really going on.

That Rick had won the house in the divorce.

That Rick, not Zada, was going to be her neighbor!

She’d been so excited, she’d hardly closed her eyes all night. This morning, Zada’s Lexus was missing from its usual place
in the driveway, and Rick’s Hummer had taken its place. This was the reason she was standing at Rick’s front door now.

The proverbial early bird, worming my way into the Housewives’ Fantasy Club.

The front door opened.

Alicia snapped to attention.

Rick seemed surprised to see her, but he smiled.

“Hi, Alicia,” he said. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Alicia smiled back.

Her best femme fatale smile, to be exact.

“Actually, Rick,” she said, “I came over to see if there was anything
I
could do for
you.

Zada’s dark brown eyes narrowed.

Alicia’s breathy voice always made her gag.

Simon growled in agreement.

She’d clipped the leash to Simon’s collar and headed out of the kitchen after Rick left to answer the door. But she’d come
to a screeching halt in the foyer when she heard Alicia’s voice.

BOOK: Your Bed or Mine?
11.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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