Authors: W. Lynn Chantale
The Pick Up Wife
Previous Works
Seducing HIs Wife
Breaking Delia’s Rules
Mistletoe Mambo
The Designer’s Bride
Decadent Seconds
The Pick-Up Wife
W. Lynn Chantale
A Whispers Publishing Publication
The Pick Up Wife
A Whispers Publishing Publication
May 11th 2012
Copyright © (2012) (W.Lynn Chantale ) Cover illustration copyright © (Elaina ) ISBN Not Assigned
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
Published by:
Whispers Publishing
, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.
3
Dedication
I would like to take a moment to thank my editor.
Thank you for your patience.
A special shout out goes to Myla for being such a great sounding board and my dear sister Aleisha for allowing me to interrogate pepper her with questions. Love you both.
As always I thank God for blessing me with this talent.
4
Chapter One
It couldn’t be. Symmone stared at the tall, broad shouldered man waiting at the hostess stand.
The din of voices and clink of silverware faded as her world narrowed to the man smiling at Amanda.
For a moment Symmone forgot to breathe.
Attraction made her heart flutter, but searing pain swamped and choked her.
The coffee she poured into a waiting cup overflowed and cascaded over her hand. With a gasp, she jerked her focus back to her task, set the coffee pot on the counter, and hurried to run cool water over her burning fingers.
5
She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the hostess seat the new arrival at a table near the long bank of windows. Just great. She dried her hand and tried not to wince when she scraped the coarse paper towel too roughly against her tender flesh. Leaning against the counter, she drew several deep breaths. What was he doing here?
He’d made it very clear she was a hindrance in his life.
Despite trepidation gnawing at her, some part of her was excited. She ruthlessly squashed the sentiment and filled a glass with ice and water.
Stay focused. He was the one who’d left to pursue his career, while she’d had to cope with loneliness and a broken heart.
She squared her shoulders. But why was he here? There was no reason for him to even seek her 6
out. They were divorced, good and proper. She hadn’t asked him for anything in the ensuing years, even going so far as to return the monthly support payments. She didn’t want or need his guilt money.
Besides, ten years was a long time to carry a torch for anyone, and she had too much going on in her life to waste her time with teenage fantasies and lovelorn dreams. And certainly not on Leo Sheppard.
Quickly she mopped up the errant coffee and did her best to avoid Amanda’s wave and point.
“You have a customer. And he asked for you,” Amanda said, slapping a stack of menus on the counter.
“I was really hoping to…”
“C’mon, Symmone. He’s absolutely gorgeous and he’s wearing this really great cologne.”
7
Amanda swept her gaze over Symmone from head to toe and just barely wrinkled her nose. “Why he would ask for you I have no idea.”
Disdain from the snotty hostess was a given, and Symmone could ignore the cattiness; what she couldn’t ignore was the hot, bitter emotion roiling in her stomach. For a second it felt a lot like jealousy. Ten years and she was jealous?
Unbelievable.
With an eye roll, Symmone picked up the glass of water and approached the table where Leo sat. Thankfully he had his back to her and she had time to gather her thoughts. Why was he here? She couldn’t seem to get past that question.
Her footsteps slowed as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the windowpane. She paused long enough to straighten her dark ponytail. With a 8
huff of disgust she dropped her hand from her ebony tresses and shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was primping for her ex. Primping!
She set the glass on the table with a thump.
He looked up with a tentative smile, and she was lost. She opened her mouth to speak and not a single word came out. God, he was even more handsome than the last time she’d seen him. Gone was the youthful softness of his face. Now he had a man’s face, a jaw that spoke of strength and maturity. His brown eyes, while bright and intelligent, seemed to hold a tinge of sadness, but what drew her attention most was his mouth. How many hours had she fantasized about the taste and shape of his mouth, about the firm press of his lips against hers or the butterfly kisses he used to flutter over her skin.
9
His smile widened. “You’re speechless.”
The warm rasp of his rich baritone danced over her, opening wounds she thought long since healed and igniting a desire she’d hoped long dead.
He couldn’t come in here, to her place of employment, and upset everything she’d ever worked for with just two words.
Everything came back in an aching, throbbing fireball, and she clenched her hands at her sides.
“What do you want?” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance or anger in her voice.
He blinked, and his smile drooped a bit, but he managed to maintain it. “I came to see you.”
“You haven’t given a damn about me in ten years. What’s so special about now? Are you dying?
Or have you come to assuage some misplaced sense 10
of guilt? Either way, the café has very good takeout I believe you would enjoy.”
He chuckled, and it produced an ache in areas she didn’t want to acknowledge. “I suppose I deserve that, but you’re wrong, Symmone. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.” His quiet admission stayed her irritation. “And I was wrong to do what I did.”
Tears burned and clogged the back of her throat. Somehow he’d stolen all of her righteous indignation with a few short sentences. “Well, I’m glad to hear you admit it. So is this what makes amends for anyone you’ve wronged? Fine. You’re forgiven. You may go.” She spun on her heel, would’ve made a clean getaway, except he grabbed her wrist. The chair scraped across the 11
floor, and a moment later the hard line of his body met her back.
Need slammed through her system, sparking little used nerves and sending her pulse into overdrive. The heady scent of his cologne, a little pine and sage, promised slow, sensual seduction.
She whirled around and snapped her gaze to his face. Molten desire shone in the depths of Leo’s milk chocolate eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She never expected to see such passion on his face, not after all this time. Biting her lip against the answering wave of desire pulsing through her veins, she snatched her hand away.
“Don’t touch me again!”
He backed up, hands raised. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just”—he inhaled—“I want to talk to you, Symmone. I meant what I said. There has been no 12
one else since you and, well, I would really like to take you out to dinner tonight.”
Dinner? She pierced him with an icy stare and savored a small victory when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’m. Busy.”
Nodding, he reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a card, and laid it on the table.
“If you change your mind, my cell is at the bottom and my hotel is on the back.” His gaze lingered on her a moment. “If I don’t hear from you, I will be back every day until you agree to see me.”
He brushed past and she stared after him, dumbfounded. What game was he playing now?
****
Symmone was still worrying about her ex’s motivation for returning when she dragged her weary, aching body across the threshold of her 13
house. She closed the door and leaned against the wood, closing her eyes.
Even though she was home, the real work was just beginning. Small arms circled her waist and squeezed. A soft smile curved her lips, and she returned the hug.
“Well, hello to you too, sweetheart. How was school?” She stroked the little girl’s back.
“Fine. LJ got in a fight.”
“Did not!” came the indignant reply.
Symmone let out an exaggerated sigh and both children fell silent. “I just need five minutes.
Please.” She looked from her son to her daughter and back again. “And since I didn’t get a call from the school, we’ll talk about your behavior.”
14
LJ nodded solemnly. “But I really didn’t get into a fight. I didn’t even go to the principal’s office.”
She beckoned the little boy over, and he dragged his feet. All she did was give him a quick hug. “We’ll talk about what happened in a bit.”
She stroked the face of each child. “Now go show me what you did today.”
Both hurried off to grab their schoolwork.
Symmone set her purse on the small table and ambled down the short hall until she came to an open doorway on the right. Standing at an electric stove in dire need of a junkyard was Melvin. He stirred something that looked suspiciously like spaghetti sauce. She gave the air an experimental sniff; the basil and tomatoes wafting toward her were unmistakable, and her mouth watered.
15
“You didn’t have to cook,” she said, entering the room. She went straight to the fridge and tried not to groan when she opened the door. The shelves were practically bare, save for a half-empty milk jug, a carton of eggs, and a couple of bottles of water. Just enough to get the kids through breakfast tomorrow. Thank goodness it was also payday. She would go grocery shopping on her way home. She grabbed a water and closed the door.
Melvin turned, an easy smile on his boyish face. “I heard the munchkins harassing you when you arrived. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes. I have to leave in a bit, but I will be back before you go to work tonight.”
Symmone sat down, breaking the seal on the bottle. She set the bottle on the scarred wooden 16
table without drinking any. Work. Tonight. A sigh escaped her lips. Just once she’d like to come home and not have to go out again, but that’s the price she paid for raising her children alone.
“Don’t remind me.”
He chuckled. “The kids are done with their homework, they have field trip forms which require your signature, and parent-teacher conferences are next week. You need to pick a date and time.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know the drill.”
He sat across from her. “So how was your day?”
She raised the bottle to her lips, thought a moment, then lowered the water to the table again. “Guess who came into the café today.”
Melvin tilted his head to the side. “My mother.”
17
She barked a short laugh; getting her Aunt Cynthia, Melvin’s mother, to walk into a restaurant would be no mean feat. The woman had a phobia about places where she couldn’t see her food being prepared.
“Nope.” Symmone glanced around, leaned across the table, and kept her voice to a hoarse whisper. “Leo.”
Melvin sat back, eyes wide and mouth open.
“No way! What did he want?”
She gave a careless shrug, belying the nervousness clutching at her since the moment he walked into the café. “He wanted to take me to dinner.”
“What?”
She nodded. “Gave me his business card and everything.”
18
Melvin shook his head. “I can’t believe he would come back after all this time. So are you going out with him?”
She inhaled the water she was drinking instead of swallowing. A coughing spasm shook her body as she tried to expel the offending fluid.