Accidental Tryst Page 10

  “I knew they would.” She smiled back at her boss.

  He read from the paper. “L’Amour Lux dipped its toe in the menswear pond and turned it to gold. With brilliant, albeit little-known, designers making their appearance on the American fashion stage with l’Amour, the combination is a surefire formula for success. The clothing is quality, stylish, and leading the trend. Dare we expect anything less? L’Amour President Pierre Jarmon assures WSJ that after the completion of the market test in several US stores, the company will do a full rollout of the men’s line to every store by the close of next year.”

  He gazed up. “You helped make this possible.” He leaned in to wrap his arms around her and give her a big hug. “Thank you. Merci, Angelique.”

  Angie’s eyes went wide in astonishment. When Pierre was in a good mood, everyone knew it. She chuckled and returned the hug.

  “You’re welcome.” She’d just been doing her job.

  “Oh, I need to tell Thomas now. Au revoir.” He flapped his hand and was gone in a flash.

  Angie heard Nicole laughing from the other side of the cubicle wall. A laugh bubbled up in Angie as well.

  * * *

  Shortly after noon, Nicole appeared at her cubicle entryway. “Ready?”

  Lunches with Nicci were quickly becoming ritual. Angie looked forward to this lunch hour in particular.

  Angie and Nicci were seated at a little table in the corner.

  “Okay, spill. This is more than great massage glow.” Nicci paused with a twinkle in her eye. “Unless it was a very special massage,” she said in a slow cadence.

  Angie swatted at her arm. “No. Hush.”

  “You had sex,” Nicole cut in.

  She smiled, recalling the amazing sex she’d had on Mac’s desk. “Yeah,” she confessed in a low tone.

  “I knew it. Who was it with? I thought you didn’t like that guy Patty set you up with.” Nicole glanced to the side. “What was his name?”

  “Bruce.”

  “Right. Bruce. Was it him?” She wrinkled her nose at Angie.

  Angie smoothed her lipstick. “No. It was Mac.”

  “What?!”

  “Shh. Nicci.” Angie gritted her teeth and quickly glanced around the restaurant.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so surprised.”

  “I know. Me too. It was an accident.”

  Nicole straightened in her chair and narrowed her eyes. “How do you accidentally have sex?” she asked in a lower volume.

  “Well, . . . I slapped him.”

  Nicole’s eyes rounded.

  “He called me a bitch, so I slapped him.”

  “Good for you,” Nicole praised her, but at the same time her brows pinched together.

  Angie lifted her hand, palm out. “I know, but I really don’t think he meant to . . .” she trailed off. Thoughts flooded her mind.

  “What? I see those wheels turning. You don’t think Mac meant to call you a bitch?”

  “No,” she started slowly. “I mean yes. I don’t know, Nicci. Thinking back, I’m wondering if the whole incident was planned.”

  “How do you mean?” Nicci took a sip of her iced tea and leaned forward.

  “Through our lawyers, Mac said he wanted the boys with him during the summer. The whole summer.”

  “That’s outrageous.”

  “I know. So I went to his office to confront him, but being selfish like that doesn’t sound like Mac. Does it?” She asked more for her own benefit than Nicci’s.

  “No, but he has been trying to reach out to you more.” Nicci lifted her fork for a bite.

  Angie rested her elbow on the table and chewed at her thumbnail. “I think that was all a ploy to get me to confront him.” She shook her head, realizing just how absurd that reasoning sounded. “I don’t know, Nicci. I think my imagination is getting the best of me.”

  Nicci shrugged, and they both took bites of their salads.

  “Unless, . . .” Nicole started. “What if it was a calculated move?”

  “But why? Just to make me mad? We’ve had years of that crap.”

  “You know how the boy in school will be mean to the girl he likes?”

  Angie tipped her head. “This isn’t grade school. We’re both grown adults, or supposed to be.” She definitely saw that Mac had goaded her.

  “What I’m saying Angie is, what if he’s trying to get you back?”

  What? Could Nicci be right? “I don’t know.” It seemed like a plausible explanation. And that sex was hot. If she could have it that hot again—many times again—she’d get back together with him.

  Oh God, did she really just think that? After everything they’d been through, could she really go back into that marriage? If it were different, perhaps. She still loved Mac, however all the crap got in the way of those deep feelings. Maybe he was thinking the same thing.

  Nicole let her think in quiet for several moments, then she spoke. “The question is really, what do you think? And what do you want the answer to be?”

  * * *

  Angie raised the speed on the gym’s treadmill. Lately, she found jogging was great for helping her to think. Maybe it was improved blood flow, getting oxygen to the brain. Who knew? But she admired the results just the same—her clothes were fitting better too. She hadn’t worked out in years, and shame on her. Energetic activity did her body good. Even her mood brightened.

  Angie replayed her conversation with Nicci from lunch. She was becoming obsessed over whether or not to try and get back together with Mac. Did he even want to? What if Nicci was completely wrong? What if he’d been overtaken by a surge of testosterone causing him to have sex with her in his office and he really had no interest in getting back with her?

  Geez! The boys were at his place for the weekend, until Sunday at six. That meant no distraction—she had all weekend to mull this over. And over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Angie popped the lid off her lip liner, and very carefully lined her lips. God, she never wore lip liner. Then she filled in the area with a luscious red. Nothing too bright nor one that screamed harlot. A just-the-right-red.

  Earlier that Monday morning, Stuart had bustled around the kitchen asking if anyone had seen his science book. Of course, no one had, so that ratcheted up his stress level.

  “Did you leave it at your father’s?” Angie had asked him.

  “I must’ve.” Stuart retrieved his cell phone from his back pocket and called his father to ask him to drop it off after work. The tone in Stuart’s response made Angie believe that Mac had begrudgingly agreed.

  Since that very moment, Angie had been scheming. If anybody had seen her face, the twinkle in her eye and the grin across her lips would be obvious.

  Angie had managed to break away during her lunch hour for a mani-pedi. The helpful girl at the salon had told her where to find a matching red lipstick. Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, she smoothed her lips together, then slid on her new black pumps that fit her like a glove—designer and worth every penny. She stood back from her full-length mirror and checked out the woman in the reflection. Black dress, silky black hose, black peep-toe heels, and dangling silver earrings.

  Stunning. Probably an eight out of ten. Angie smoothed her hands over her waist and hips. The woman in the mirror smiled.

  The doorbell rang.

  Showtime.

  “Mom! Dad’s here,” Robbie called from the kitchen.

  “Okay, I’ll get it.” Heaven forbid he get up and answer the door when he knew it wasn’t for him. She grinned inside that her sons were so predictable.

  She took a deep breath, pushed her shoulders back, and opened the front door.

  “Hey, I’ve got—” Mac stopped himself. She held back a smile as she witnessed Mac’s eyes go wide and his jaw lax.

  “Hi, Mac.”

  His gaze traveled the length of her. It had been a long time since he’d looked at her that way. The way you look at something you want to devour entirely with no apologies
. Her heart jumped a beat.

  He wore a dark charcoal suit, and his tie hung loosely from a long day at the office.

  “Hey, Angie. I’ve got . . . I mean . . . wow. You look great.”

  Ah, just the reaction she was looking for—compliments plus lack of proper diction meant indelible impression. The kind of impression that hopefully got him thinking about her well into the night. No matter who else he was with, she wanted Mac thinking about her. And only her.

  “Thanks.”

  “Got a date?” The flash of bitterness in his eyes was quick, but she caught it.

  She merely smiled a knowing smile and opened the door wider for him to enter. He walked through but still didn’t take his eyes off her.

  “Stuart, your father’s here with your science book,” she called upstairs.

  Stuart yelled back, “Coming.”

  And sure enough, she heard the pounding of his size eleven shoes as he raced down the stairs and to the foyer. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome. Next time, make a pass before you go to make sure you haven’t forgotten anything. Okay?”

  “Yeah, I will.” Stuart raced back upstairs, book in hand.

  “Well,” she stood watching, waiting and, of course, smiling. A smile that had just the right amount of teeth showing. She didn’t want to appear like she was trying too hard.

  “Well, . . . I guess I better head out.”

  “Sure, okay.”

  He turned toward the door. “Have a good time tonight.”

  “Thanks. I will.” That sounded casual enough.

  As he stepped onto the front porch, he turned one last time to get a look at her. He grinned and then spun back around and headed for his German car parked in the driveway. A quality car built to last. Mac would always tell the boys, Take care of your stuff and it will last forever.

  She closed and locked the front door. A huge smile grew across her face. Mission accomplished.

  “How do you guys feel about pizza for dinner?” she called out.

  “Great,” she heard in unison.

  She called and ordered an extra-large with everything on it, then went to her closet to hang up her dress, and slip on some sweats and a tee.

  * * *

  Mac admittedly had felt annoyed when Stuart asked him to bring the science book he’d forgotten at the apartment over the weekend. Mac had hoped to get to the gym that night. Then he remembered the kid was reasonably responsible and this probably wasn’t going to be a reoccurring thing. He would give Stuart the benefit of the doubt. Of course, any bit of irritation quickly dissolved when Angie opened the door. Holy fuck! She looked fucking amazing.

  The fruits of her working out were apparent in that black dress she wore—the way it cinched at her waist, and hugged her hips and breasts. Her face looked bright and happy. Her hair shinier than he’d remembered, and longer. And those legs of hers appeared to be a mile long in those damn high-heels.

  Holy fuck!

  She had a fucking date. Again! The divorce hadn’t even been finalized and she was dating. Well, duh. So did you—sort of. He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that.

  Mac plodded into his empty apartment, dropped his keys on the counter and proceeded to his bedroom. He started to get out of his suit, his escalated breathing the only sound in the room. He whipped off his tie and threw it on the bed. Then he sat in a chair, and removed his shoe so fast it went flying, slamming into the wall with a whap!

  Alright, calm down, Mac.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about how Angie looked standing before him. She was smoking hot, and some loser was taking her out tonight. His wife, goddammit!

  Okay, so he might not be putting on a full-court press at this point, but he couldn’t risk scaring her away. Regardless, this wasn’t right. Nowhere near close to being right!

  Mac followed Stuart into the apartment and dropped his backpack and football bag on the floor. Robbie sat at the kitchen table reading a textbook.

  “Hey, Robbie.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  Mac rolled up his sleeves and began pulling food and a beer out of the refrigerator. Wednesday night was his night with the boys.

  He tried to work quietly so he wouldn’t disrupt Robbie’s concentration. Just then his phone dinged with a new text. Ryan.

  Bro, you free next week for dinner? Steaks on the grill.

  Mac grinned as he pulled up his calendar.

  Can’t say no to steaks. Tuesday or Thursday are best for me. Thanks.

  Ryan replied quickly. Great. Tuesday it is.

  Time spent with friends helped keep Mac’s sanity through all this. He couldn’t wait.

  Mac dropped the brats on the stovetop grill, a perfect dish for a cold October evening, when his mind went to Angie. He didn’t know how to broach the topic with his boys of her date. He had replayed that night seeing Angie a million times since Monday evening. She seemed different. She looked great. Had she always looked that good and he’d missed it?

  He’d gotten the impression her date from weeks ago had amounted to nothing. He could tell though, this time was different. Was it, in fact, getting serious, or had she met someone else?

  “Okay, guys, clear the table. Dinner’s ready.”

  Mac watched as the boys dug into their food. He remembered those years when he could eat fast and often. There’d been times growing up he felt hungry constantly.

  “So, how’s the week going?”

  “Good,” they both mumbled with full mouths.

  “Robbie, have you started basketball practice?”

  “Yeah. Our first game isn’t for a few weeks. Did Mom send you our schedule?” He looked up.

  “Yes, I think I saw it on my email. It’s a home game.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Now that the topic had been brought up . . . “How’s your mother?”

  “Fine,” they both said.

  “How did her date go Monday night?”

  “What date?” Stuart asked.

  “When I dropped off your science book, I thought she had a date.”

  Stuart looked over at Robbie, and they both frowned. “She didn’t have a date. We ordered pizza and watched American Pickers.”

  “Dad, you should’ve seen it. Mike found this pre-World War II motorcycle in great condition. He tried talking the guy into letting him ride it and . . .” Robbie rattled on, but Mac’s mind wandered.

  Angie didn’t have a date that night.

  He fell speechless. Why was she dressed up then? Come to think of it, she didn’t confirm having a date, he thought. He’d assumed she had a date.

  Well, fuck me.

  Mac shoved a bite in his mouth to cover the smile on his face, and refocused on Robbie. His wife had dressed like that for him. To get his attention. Well, it had worked. They still had a chance. Now, how to reel her in and close the deal?

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hey, man. You made it.” Ryan opened the front door of his contemporary-style house, a twenty-minute drive from Mac’s house, in a newer neighborhood. “C’mon back. Carol’s got the kids at some school function, so we have some peace and quiet before they get home.”

  Ryan’s kids were nine and seven, and balls of energy. He remembered that age with Stuart and Robbie. They had two speeds—fast and sleep.

  Mac chuckled. “Your kids are great.”

  He followed his friend through the house to the back covered patio. The temperature had dropped recently—just right for chilling outside. Ryan reached into a cooler and pulled out an ice-cold beer, handing it to him.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, how’s living on your own?” Ryan kept his sight trained on Mac as he asked the question.

  Mac exhaled, and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m surviving. There’s been some adjusting. It’s been a weird few weeks.”

  “How so?” Ryan flipped the steaks and checked the foil-wrapped potatoes.

  “I’ll start with the bad news.” That got Ryan’s atte
ntion and he turned toward Mac with a frown.

  “You mean, besides moving out?”

  “Yes.” He scratched the side of temple. “After we met at Borrowed Money for drinks, a woman approached me. She had one thing on her mind.”

  Ryan sat in the chair across from him at the glass and black wrought iron dining table. He raised an eyebrow, clear about Mac’s reference.

  “I told her I wasn’t interested. She seemed to accept that, and asked if I could walk her to her car. She put on a full-court press.” Mac shook his head, still in complete disgust with himself, and his deplorable lack of willpower.

  “Anyway, it almost went too far before I caught myself. Frankly, I’m sick about it and I think I need to tell Angie.”

  Ryan shook his head at once. “Fuck no. Don’t tell her.”

  Mac raised his eyes and saw the earnestness in Ryan’s gaze.

  “It happened one time, right?”

  Mac nodded.

  “And this was after several drinks, right?”

  “That doesn’t matter, Ryan.”

  “In a way it does. Mac, the bottom line is you can’t tell Angie to relieve your guilt. You screwed up. It won’t happen again. You need to deal with it on your own and move past this. You want to get Angie back, right?”

  The man had a valid point. He would be relieving his own guilt and in the process tearing up Angie. She would be mortified, and she might never forgive him. He’d never cheated before and that woman got him at a low-point in his life. That was never going to happen again. Still, honesty was the best policy. “Of course, I do. But—”

  “No buts. Focus on Angie and moving forward. Have you seen her?”

  The corner of Mac’s lip quirked up. “Yes. Funny you should ask.”

  Ryan’s demeanor relaxed. “I’m listening.”

  “She came down to my office to ream me out about something I did.” He wasn’t about to get into the details of how he’d intentionally taunted his wife. “Well, one thing lead to another, and in the heat of the moment, I took her. On my desk.”