LITMIR.BIZ

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sense, a wardrobe to die for and absolutely no cellulite. Gabby was sure of it. She might be shorter than Candace, but next to her she always felt as if she were taking up too much room.

      She took a deep breath and walked into the living room. Andrew stood by the door, Jasmine in his arms. Boomer bounced around, his ears and jowls flapping as he tried to get Candace to notice him. The twins were talking and twirling, while Makayla stood beside her mother. And Candace, well, she was busy being tall and thin and beautiful. Not to mention perfectly dressed in a pair of narrow cream-colored slacks and a tailored shirt in the same shade.

      White, Gabby thought in amazement, wondering how long it would take her to get a white shirt stained. Eight seconds? Nine? There was also her jewelry—fashionably layered necklaces and several rings. Even though she’d most likely put on her makeup nearly twelve hours before, it was still...perfect.

      As Gabby made her way into the room, Candace looked her up and down, then smiled that mean girl smile of hers.

      “Gabby. How delightful. Are you going out?”

      “Yes.”

      “Your hair looks lovely. Well, you’ll want to get changed, so I won’t keep you. Makayla, darling, are you ready?”

      “Mommy already changed,” Kenzie said helpfully. “She’s in her going-out shirt.”

      Candace’s right eyebrow rose. At least as much as the Botox would let it. “Oh. Well. You look...very nice.”

      Heat burned on Gabby’s cheeks, but she didn’t let a little thing like embarrassment slow her down. She herded the twins back to the kitchen and helped Cecelia get them ready for dinner. When she heard the front door close, she exhaled slowly. One crisis down for the evening. Four hundred and thirty-seven to go.

      She walked back to the living room and saw Andrew putting Jasmine on the sofa.

      “At last,” he said, turning toward her. “Hi. How are you?”

      He kissed her before she could reply. While the kiss was light, the hug that accompanied it was not. Andrew gave good hugs, full-bodied embraces that lingered an extra second. When the world was spinning, he was her anchor.

      “I’m okay.”

      He touched her cheek. “I know what you’re thinking. How on earth did I marry such a bitch? I have no excuse. All I can say for myself is thank God I got it right the second time.”

      He was good with words, too, she thought gratefully. And life. Andrew understood life. He was successful—the vice president of sales for a large aerospace firm. He traveled a lot, but not more than he had to. He made sure he was home for significant events and he never once made Gabby feel that his work was more important than hers.

      Now she resisted the need to cling to him, to complain about Makayla and the white pants, to ask that he go beat up his ex for being mean to her. No, those were her issues and she would deal with them.

      “My day was fine,” she told him. “What about yours?”

      “Good. We hit our numbers for the quarter, so I’m golden.” He flashed her a grin. “Until Monday, then it all starts again.”

      The familiar joke made her smile. Just looking at him made her smile, too. He was eight years older than her, but aging well. Dark hair and blue eyes. There was a touch of gray at his temples, which made him look even more appealing. It was the distinguished thing. Because Mother Nature clearly favored men.

      “I don’t remember the name of the fund-raiser,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t put it on the calendar. Just the date and time.”

      He leaned in and kissed her again. “I didn’t tell you the name.” He pulled her close and lowered his head so he could whisper in her ear. “There is no fund-raiser, my sweet wife. I’ve rented a room at the Inn on the Pier. There’s a bottle of champagne chilling. I was hoping we could have our way with each other for a couple of hours, then order room service before coming back home.”

      “I’d be willing to write a check to that cause,” she told him.

      Andrew leaned back his head and laughed, then put his arm around her.

      Tears burned. Happy tears, she told herself as she willed them away. The tears of a woman who had won the husband lottery.

Chapter Four

      “Again!” Tyler said eagerly, not sounding the least bit tired, despite the fact that it was a good half hour past his bedtime and they’d had a full day. “Read it again.”

      Nicole leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Are you thinking too much?” she asked her son.

      He grinned at her. “I am. I’m excited, Mommy. It’s better than Christmas.”

      If only that were true, Nicole thought, knowing there was no way to prepare a six-year-old for potential disappointment, yet aware she had to try.

      They’d spent their Saturday together—something she was still getting used to. Divorce from Eric had been difficult on so many levels, but financial wasn’t one of them. He might not see his kid very often, but he always paid his child support on time. The checks had allowed her to hire a couple of extra instructors at her exercise studio, Mischief in Motion, which allowed her to cut down on her evening classes and the luxury of not working on Saturdays. In a few short years Tyler was going to be too busy with school activities and friends to want to hang out with his mom, but until then, she wanted to take advantage of every second they had together.

      She stroked his hair. “Meeting the author of Brad the Dragon is going to be great,” she began.

      “I know. He’s going to be funny and nice and make everyone laugh.”

      Nicole wanted that to be true. But weren’t authors authors for a reason? There was no way she could spend all day alone, staring at a keyboard, typing. She needed to be doing something and around people.

      Of course, she probably had a ridiculous view of writers. Eric wrote screenplays, and while he did spend a fair amount of time alone at the computer, he was also out surfing most mornings. He took meetings, went to parties, did screenwriterly things, she wasn’t sure what. Maybe Jairus was the same way—working fifteen minutes on a picture book, then using the rest of the day to count his money.

      She sighed. She really needed to work on her attitude. She was going to be meeting the man in a few days. She didn’t want to shriek at him in the first three seconds. Better for that to happen in the second hour.

      The thought of yelling at the money-grubbing jerk made her smile. Tyler smiled back.

      “You’re excited, too,” he said.

      “I am.” A white lie was allowed because she was a mom, she told herself.

      “You won’t forget?”

      “Nope. I’m teaching at the senior center that morning but my afternoon is all Brad the Dragon, all the time. Just me and you-know-who.”

      As she spoke, she tickled Tyler’s sides. He squirmed and laughed, then lay down. “One more time,” he pleaded, pointing at the book. “I’ll try not to think. I promise.”

      “Only for you,” she murmured.

      She picked up the book and turned to the first page. “Brad the Dragon had always been interested in flowers.”

      She read automatically, not having to pay attention to the dragonly antics. She knew the story by heart, along with each and every other one of them. The never-ending thrill of B the D was that he evolved. Thank God the series ended when Brad turned ten. There was no way she wanted to read about a teenage B the D getting his stupid driver’s license.

      Nicole finished the book, then kissed Tyler good-night. His eyes were closed and his voice slow as he whispered, “I love you, Mommy.”

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