Wedding Vows: Just Married: The Ex Factor / What Happens in Vegas... / Another Wild Wedding Night

“I see you still work out,” she murmured, running her lips over the muscular ridges of his belly.

The pale slash of an appendectomy scar, an old and nearly forgotten friend, drew her tongue and he sucked in his breath as she traced the line, something she’d done hundreds of times when he’d belonged to her. Moved by the memory, she suspected, as she was.

He was so familiar to her. His legs with the freckles above the knees, that ridiculous tattoo on his left shoulder he’d got on a drunken college trip to Thailand. He claimed he’d asked for an eagle and somehow either in a bad translation or a lack of artistic talent on the part of the tattoo artist, he’d ended up with a rooster on his back.

Which always made her smile. It was a reminder that her ex-husband might be competent at business and brilliant at design, but he could be crazy and unpredictable and just as stupid as the next person.

“I see you still have Millie.” And who but she would have named a rooster Millie?

He smiled at her, all dark eyes and simmering sexuality. “Do you know how much it costs to get a tattoo removed?”

She laughed at him, running her hands up and down his smooth, muscular back. “You’ve got lots of money. You’re just a weenie about pain.”

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down beside him on the bed until they were in easy kissing distance. “You know me too well.” He kissed her. “Which has some advantages.”

“Such as?”

He grinned at her wickedly. “You know exactly what I like in bed.”

And the truth was he knew the same about her. As he pulled her even closer and began playing with her body, and she began playing with his, she knew precisely what he meant.

Just touching him, feeling his skin warm under her hands, hearing from his whispered encouragement how much he enjoyed her own response got her hot, hotter, and finally too hot to hold. He’d always been able to gauge her response and pace himself accordingly so she had the bone-deep pleasure of feeling orgasm begin to swamp her and then feeling his pleasure double hers. It was the ultimate excitement and she’d never found it before or since.

But once the first round was over, and their urgent need slaked, they began to play, rolling and teasing, laughing and groping until the play turned serious, and they were making love once more.

“I can’t keep up with you,” he groaned, his body slick with sweat, his breathing ragged. “You are the most insatiable woman I’ve ever known. But you’ve worn me out. I need fuel.” He slapped her rump playfully and rolled out of bed as gorgeous as she remembered. If anything his body had improved. It was so unfair.

“What have you got to eat?”

“Nothing. I ate earlier.”

He yawned, still naked, like it was no big deal and then he headed for her kitchen. “Any leftovers?”

“No.” She didn’t want to tell him she’d stuck a frozen diet entrée in the microwave. It seemed so lonely somehow.

But Dexter seemed to think he had the right to entertain himself in her kitchen. Maybe he felt like he could still open her cupboards and fridge as though they were still married.

Because she had to find her robe and slip it on, plus find slippers and run a brush through the red tangle that used to be her hair, by the time she got to the kitchen, naked Dex was standing with his head in the freezer section of her fridge.

He turned to her with a look of disgust. “What is all this diet crap?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve put on a few pounds.”

“No. You haven’t.” He shook his head and shut the door with the plastic thunk of a freezer that prefers to keep its secrets. “No wonder you’re always in a pissy mood. You don’t eat.” He went for his coat and for a sad, sick moment she thought he was leaving, but he emerged with his BlackBerry. A couple of clicks and he was dialing.

“Who are you calling?”

“Chinese. Found a great delivery place.”

“Not Chinese,” she almost shouted.

With a puzzled expression he ended the call before it completed. “You always used to love Chinese.”

“I still do,” she moaned. “But I’ve used up all my calories today. I cannot watch you eat and not dig in.”

“You need to quit this diet craziness, you hear me? You look fantastic. Even better naked than I remember.” He grinned at her. “And I’ve got a very visual memory. It’s an architect thing.”

The thought of him comparing today’s naked body with that of five years ago was enough to send her into the bathroom to slam the door and lock herself in until he was gone. “You’re lying.”

He shook his head and pressed redial. She heard him ordering all of her favorite foods and wondered if any woman would blame her if she killed the man by plunging chopsticks into his heart. So long as the jury was packed with women on diets, she knew no one would find her guilty.

While they waited for the food to arrive, he poured them another glass of the wine and pulled his jeans on.

They sat together, chatting, almost like old times.

“Tell me about your project,” she asked.

“I’m excited about this one. The original building is a perfect example of classical revival architecture. The Stockard was built in the 1920s as the headquarters for a trading company, then converted to a bank and then a law firm. Our challenge is to transform The Stockard into a twenty-four-story mixed-use building with office, retail and luxury residential.” He took a sip of wine and she knew he was picturing the project. “They’d already agreed to preserve the exterior façade and mezzanine, where most of the original historic details still exist. But we had to convince them that green building was the way to go. And we did.”

“Congratulations,” she said, knowing that Dex, with his passion and vision, was hard to resist.

“Thanks. We’re mixing smart design with the original architectural detailing. Retail at street level, a couple of floors of offices and a separate entrance leads to top of the line condos. I love mixing old and new.”

She smiled at his excitement. “It sounds amazing.”

“It will be. I might buy one of the condo units.” He shrugged. “See how they turn out.”

She was surprised and she knew it showed on her face. “You’d move back to Philly?”

He flicked her a glance. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or if I keep doing a lot of work here it might make sense to keep a place. I haven’t decided yet.”

She didn’t know what she’d have said, wasn’t even sure what she thought of the idea of him spending enough time in the city to keep a home here, when the doorbell sounded.

“Get the plates, will you?” he said, as he jogged down the stairs to answer the door.

“Plate. One,” she muttered, even as she licked her lips in anticipation.

He jogged back in with a shallow box containing far too many takeout containers.

“What did you buy? Everything on the menu?”

“Sex makes me hungry. You know that.” He plopped the box on the counter and flipped open a carton. Waved the thing under her nose. “Makes you hungry, too. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“Oh, I am a weak, weak woman, and you are an evil, evil man,” she said as she reached inside the container for a crispy chunk of ginger beef and popped it in her mouth where the spicy flavor exploded on her tongue.

From that moment she was lost.

They talked, they ate, and when she tried to stop, claiming she’d had enough, he started feeding her little pieces with his own chopsticks. When he dropped a fat, juicy prawn before it reached her mouth, so it slid down her chest, and then he went after it with his mouth, she laughed. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe.” He leaned forward and undid her robe.

“No,” she cried, trying to pull the lapels back together.

“Let me look. You are so beautiful.”

“After I lose five pounds.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

She shook her head at him.

He got a cunning look in his eye, one she knew well, and that stirred her blood. “What are you planning?”

“Maybe just a little peek.”

She laughed, but the light in here was so bright. “You’ve already seen everything there is to see.”

“Come on. I like to look at you.”

But she let him ease open one side of her housecoat. Revealing one plump breast, the nipple already as round as a blueberry.

He glanced up at her, then back at her breast. “I haven’t had dessert.”

“Have a fortune cookie.”

He reached for his chopsticks. “I have a better idea.”

12

“OH, NO,” she said, seeing where he was going. “Not the plum sauce.” But she was already giggling.

He opened the little cello pack of prepared plum sauce, squeezed some out and painted her nipple with sauce. It felt sticky and cool and when she glanced down her nipple glistened.

To her shock, Dex took his chopsticks and snagged her nipple between them. “What are you…”

He lifted the plump flesh carefully toward his mouth, lowering his head until he could lick plum sauce off the end of her nipple. The sensation was intense: she felt the pressure of the wooden sticks, not squeezing tight, he’d never hurt her, but holding her, as though she were a morsel of food to be offered to his mouth. And then, beside the rigidity of the wood, clamping lightly, came the warm, wet caress of his tongue on her sensitive skin swirling the slick sauce around until she felt herself beginning to melt.

She didn’t even try to protest when he pushed her robe away from her other side and proceeded to squeeze more plum sauce, take her other nipple between chopsticks. Lick and suck her halfway to oblivion.

Her robe was gone. Fallen away, and she didn’t care that it was probably going to be ruined. He trailed plum sauce down her body in unpredictable patterns, following with his tongue.

When he hit her belly, she felt herself growing heavy and liquid with desire as she sat, sprawled on one of her designer kitchen stools.

“Now,” he murmured, “I wonder where else I could use chopsticks.”

“Oh, no, I—”

But he was already slipping her legs apart, and she was offering herself up like a banquet on a Lazy Susan. She watched through heavy lids as he parted her folds, exposing her clit which had no need of plum sauce to glisten.

He came slowly toward her with the chopsticks and she began to tremble.

She could pull away, shut her legs and close up shop, but she didn’t. She watched. Everything about her was plump, including her intimate parts and when he took that most sensitive of her parts gently, ensnaring the root with the chopsticks, she thought she might fall onto the floor so wildly did the sensation rock her.

A strange sound, not moan or sigh, but some combination of both slipped from her mouth. He took the plum sauce, squeezed a dab onto her hot, aching clit. Then he began to lick it off, unbelievably gently because he knew how sensitive she was, how close.

Torture. It was torture. The most amazing, incredible, delicious torture. He wouldn’t let her come. Controlled her as though her body was his, her response his to order.

Those hard, rigid sticks held her in place and that soft, mobile mouth made love to only that one spot.

Slowly.

Delicately.

Exquisitely.

She had her arms stretched out, hanging on to the cold granite countertop, it was the only way she could remain still. But nothing could stop the crazy sounds coming from her throat.

She thought she’d die of pleasure. It would go on forever and she’d never achieve release.

Then, as though he knew she couldn’t take any more, he increased the speed of his movement, upped the pressure slightly and with a wild bucking cry, she exploded in his mouth.

“I need you…in me…NOW!” she yelled, but he was already stepping between her legs, already there, and as he thrust home, she cried out again.

MORNING LIGHT DAPPLED HER BODY as Karen stretched luxuriously, every cell in her body singing the “Hallelujah Chorus.” The gesture pushed her breasts up and Dexter leaned over to kiss them, his face all manly with emerging stubble.

“I didn’t mean to spend the night,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to let you.” This was all too intimate, too familiar. In a minute, he’d suggest they shower together, or she would, and then they’d drink coffee and share the paper. She’d kiss him goodbye and wish him a good day.

“I’d almost forgotten how good we are together,” he murmured.

The memories of the night before made her smile with mingled pleasure mixed with mild embarrassment that she’d been like a sex-crazed maniac last night. “I’ll never look at Chinese food the same way.”

“I’m having those chopsticks bronzed.”

He reached for her breast where the persistent tingling told her her nipples had reacted to the memories. Of course, since he was currently pressed up against her, she could feel that his body had also reacted to the memories of last night.

His mouth closed on her breast. “You still taste like plum sauce. We should take a shower together.”

Yep, right on cue. As though they were still the happily married couple who had sex with their takeout and showered together in the morning. But they weren’t…

Suddenly a wave of mingled grief and rage swamped her, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced since they’d first split up.

If they were so bloody good together, why weren’t they still married?

“Why?” she whispered, knowing he could hear the anguish in her voice.

He raised his head and leaning on one elbow, gazed down at her. “Why what?” She suspected he knew exactly what her question referred to, but she obliged him anyway by expanding her question.

“Why did you cheat on me if we were so good together?”

His fingers traced a pattern down her chest.

A rueful half smile lit his face. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it? Here’s a question for you. Why were you so quick to jump to a conclusion that was insulting to both of us?”

An inarticulate squeal formed in her throat. She felt the hot wash of betrayal sting her skin. “I saw you. She was half naked in your arms.”

“I know what you saw, I was there. What you didn’t see was me having sex with another woman because it never happened. I had no idea how to handle a nightmare embarrassing situation. She was messed up and needy and drunk or high. What you saw wasn’t me undressing her, it was my trying to get her dressed so I could find you and we could take her home.”

But the image of betrayal was burned on her retina. She could describe every part of the image as though she were describing a scene as it unfolded. “She was kissing you. You had your arms around her and were unzipping her dress.” The anger felt so fresh and raw she wanted to smack him. Wanted to reverse time to the moment he’d arrived yesterday so she could tell him to go away.

“I was trying to zip it up! I’ve told you a hundred times. And she plastered her mouth on mine while I was doing it. Believe me, I wasn’t kissing her back.”

“How can I believe you?” she cried, knowing with all her heart that she wished his words were true, but she’d been cheated on before. So had her mom and her sister. In her experience and that of most women in her life, men weren’t to be trusted.

She remembered her father, how good-looking he’d been and how special she’d felt in his company. He’d traveled a lot on business and the house used to be kind of empty and depressing when he wasn’t there. Her mother always seemed to be in a bad mood. It wasn’t until she’d grown older, and he’d finally left the family for good, that she understood that there was a lot of pleasure mixed in with his business trips.

Men couldn’t help it, her mother hypothesized after the divorce when Karen pelted her with questions. It was part of their genetic makeup to spread their seed as far and wide as possible. Nature or nurture, Karen had sworn to herself that no man would make a fool of her that way, and she’d stuck to her principles.

If she’d been stupid to marry a man who was as good-looking and charming as her father, at least she hadn’t put up with years of lying and cheating like her mother had.

As much as it had hurt her, she’d dumped the lying, cheating scumbag as soon as he showed his true colors.

But oh, she’d had no idea that part of her would be destroyed.

She thought he looked a little sad as he said, “No one can answer that question but you.”

“I even tried to talk to her, you know. After.”

“Who?”

“The model.”

“How did you find her? She didn’t even have a last name.”

“I can be very persistent.” And in some still naive, hopeful part of her she’d wanted the woman to corroborate her husband’s story.

“Wow. I can’t believe you tracked her down.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t hear you getting all excited about how she backed up your story.”

“Because I’m not stupid. If she had, we wouldn’t be here now. We’d still be married.” He shook his head. “Actually, we probably wouldn’t. Some other shadow would have frightened you away.”

“You’re right about one thing. She didn’t corroborate your story.”

He snorted. “So, you’d believe a drunk woman without a last name before you’d believe me.”

“All she told me was that she couldn’t remember anything about that night. By the time I tracked her down she was in rehab.”

“Great. Just great,” he said. “That father of yours sure did a number on you.”

“Don’t you blame my father. He had nothing to do with this. The only mistake I made was in marrying a man just like him.” She pulled the covers up so her breasts were no longer exposed.

He rolled to his back, putting distance between them. She felt cold without his arms around her. “The mistake you made was not believing you hadn’t. It all comes down to trust.”

“You hurt me.”

“You hurt me, too.” He’d never said those words to her before and as she turned to him, she saw that it was true. Whatever he’d done, at least he felt the loss of their marriage. She supposed that was something.

“Some days I wish I’d never met you.”

“I should have made you go to marriage counseling with me,” he said at the same moment.

“There was no point,” she insisted.

He jabbed a finger toward the living room. “Do you think there’s a perfect man in that computer storehouse out there? Some guy who won’t ever come home late or go on business trips with attractive women? What are you going to do? Spend your life savings on private dicks and all your energy on suspicion?”

“No. No, I’m not. I believe there’s a nice man out there who can be faithful.”

“Do you?”

“Mmm-hmm. I won’t set my sights so high this time.”

He rolled over and got back up on his elbow so he could stare down into her face. “Come again?”

“I’ve done a lot of reading since we broke up. There are theories about what makes a successful relationship and one of them is that you should match up with people who are similar status to you.” She shrugged. “So, really good-looking people should stick together and more homely people should go with homely ones. I was always so flattered when you took an interest in me, but I think in the end you’re too good-looking. Too successful.”

He blinked at her, his face darkening with anger. “That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” he argued, pulling himself up to sitting. “Setting aside the fact that I think you’re beautiful, what does that say about me? In ten years, when you start to age, do I turn you in for a younger model? What about love? What about the old-fashioned idea of sticking together through thick and thin? Better and worse and all that?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.” He rolled out of bed, unconcerned that he was naked. Even though she was angry and confused she couldn’t help but drink in her fill of that tall, buff body and wish things could have turned out differently.

He pulled on his clothes swiftly and efficiently and then walked over to where she sat in bed, watching him.

“Is this really about me being unfaithful or is it about you being insecure?”

“I’m not insecure, I’m realistic.”

He made a dismissive sound. “Tell that to your mirror.”

“I—”

“I didn’t fall in love with a status symbol. I never thought you did, either. I think you’re gorgeous, and successful. I like your curves. Did it ever occur to you that I wasn’t the one who betrayed our marriage?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. You can’t make this my fault.”

“I can’t make you see reason.” She thought he’d say more, then he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Take care of yourself.”

“You, too.”

He kissed her swiftly. Rose and as he reached the door of her bedroom turned back. “Oh, and you might want to edit that profile before you post it.”

13

DEX WAS GORGEOUS, sexy, dangerously good in bed and completely bad for her. Forget sex with Dex. She had to start over.

So after that fiasco she renewed her online efforts. Thursday she had a lunch date with a guy named Larry who spent the entire time talking about his ex-wife and what a bitch she was. It was so depressing she had a headache when she returned to the office.

Saturday evening she had drinks with Steve who admitted over his second martini that while his profile claimed he was divorced, he wasn’t completely divorced.

“How close are you?” she asked.

Larry ran a hand through rapidly receding hair. “I can’t upset her right now, she’s moody. But as soon as I find my soul mate, I’m telling my wife right away.”

She declined to stay for dinner.

When she reviewed her latest date with Dee the young woman said, “Okay, it’s time for some advanced tips and hints.”

“I’m ready.”

“One.” The young woman twirled a blond curl around her pencil. “At your age, it’s borderline on whether a guy’s been married or not, but if they get close to forty and they’ve never been married or had a significant relationship, that’s a big red flag. Mommy issues? Can’t commit? Do some investigation before you commit to anything.”

Karen thought about Ron, the CPA who at thirty-seven had never been married. She suspected she’d already met one of those.

“Got it.”

“Two. If a guy says he’s divorced, when you e-mail him make sure—”

“Oh, I’ve got this one. First question I should be asking is how long they’ve been divorced.”

Her dating mentor nodded. “And make sure they’re living on their own.”

“Huh?”

“Catholic divorce. It’s where the wife lives on one level of the house and the ex lives on the other. With this bad economy, lots of couples are doing it, but I wouldn’t go there.”

“Right. That could be complicated.”

“Kids is another issue.”

“I like kids.”

“I know you do. That’s my point. If you’re going to have kids, no offense, you don’t have a lot of time to waste, so if a guy doesn’t have any, you want to find out pretty soon if he’s open to kids. And if he has some, find out if he sees them a lot. Best way to discover if a guy is going to be a good father is to see if he already is one.”

“Wow. This is more like landing a great job than finding eternal love.”

“Love won’t last if you don’t share basic goals and values,” Dee informed her.

She was filled with affection for her assistant. “So young and so wise.”

By paying more attention to the details in a profile she did manage to avoid a couple more disasters and no one jumped out at her as the potential father of the kids she’d better have quick according to Dee, before she ended up barren as well as alone.

The following Wednesday, against her better judgment, she went to the movies with Ron. Who probably had mommy issues, possibly also commitment phobia. But he was a nice man and she didn’t really like her own company right now. Afterward, they stopped at a coffee shop and found, as they had before, that if they talked about their businesses, they got on fine. But on the personal front, they didn’t have much in common.