A Tangled Web (A Books We Love Erotic Romance) (5 page)

A repeat performance wasn't in the cards for them and she hoped his tender kiss goodbye meant that he knew it too.

* * *

Sitting at the kitchen table,
Erin
stared into her empty cup. It was Saturday morning and after two cups of coffee she still felt depressed. She shoved a hand through her hair.
What's wrong with me
?
Having sex with my ex? Am I that desperate? Just because Mitch and I broke up, it's not the end of the world.

Weekends usually found her feeling vibrant and ordinarily by now she would have taken a lengthy walk through the park where maples and elms bent their leafy heads together over the hiking trail. With the crisp morning air further invigorating her, she'd indulge in a latte from Starbucks afterwards and feel ready to take on the world.

Joey, still sleepy-eyed when she returned, would be ready for homemade pancakes with thick maple syrup and crispy slices of bacon, and she'd fondly watch him devour more food than anyone would believe a skinny boy's stomach could hold.

But Joey was gone and so was Mitch. And Joseph too, although he'd never really been back. She had no plans for that night. Or ever. A Saturday night and a lifetime with nothing to look forward to. Margo and Leanne were married and
Erin
felt left out of everything.

The three partners had debated changing the word 'ex-wives' on their business cards but they couldn't come up with a term that had the same
ring,
so thus far, they'd only changed the two last names.

Hearing a sudden screech of tires out front and eager to see
anyone
who might be arriving at her house whether it was a visitor or a delivery person,
Erin
bolted out of her chair and rushed for the front door. She peeked out the window and, seeing a bright red sports car, batted her eyes in puzzlement. Who could it be? A second later, a woman with long, frosted hair tied back with a scarf strode up the front walk and rang the doorbell.

Opening up,
Erin
took a closer look at her visitor. "Angel?"

"In the flesh," her cousin said. Her laughter sounded less certain than her words.

They hadn't seen one another in a long time and
Erin
didn't think Angel had ever seen her house.

"With your hair highlighted and past your shoulders, you look so different. But great, as always. Er…uh…come in. This is such a surprise. Would you like some coffee?"

"I'd love some but it doesn't agree with me."

"You're thinner. Have you been ill?"
Erin
asked, touching Angel's arm.

"Not really. But Mama hasn't been feeling well and I—I was wondering if you'd change your mind and go dress shopping with me? I hate to beg but I don't want to go alone. Searching for a wedding gown should be a festive occasion and it sounds so lame, shopping for something so special by myself. Besides, I'm not good at making decisions without someone else's opinion, and your sense of style is much better than mine."

For a girl who'd always been perfect at everything, Angel seemed to have developed a self-confidence problem. And with no close friends, why wouldn't she? Erin, who'd been feeling 'alone' a few minutes ago, felt a sudden rush of compassion. "Okay, I'll go. I mean, why not? I need a dress too and things aren't going exactly the way I expected."

"Did something go wrong with your engagement?" Angel asked, wide-eyed.

"It's not that."
Erin
shook her head. "It's Joey. My ex has taken our son on a Mediterranean cruise after I'd counted heavily on time with him. It is a marvellous opportunity for a boy his age. It's just that it's left me at loose ends." She waved her cousin into the living room. "Relax a minute or two and I'll get ready."

As Angel perched gingerly on the edge of the living room sofa, her eyes grew even wider. Erin's spacious home with its large rooms, high ceilings and magnificent chandeliers tended to awe the uninitiated, but Joseph loved splendour and she'd rather come to enjoy it once she'd experienced the lifestyle. She felt uncomfortable now, however, with Angel gawking around. Was it too ostentatious?

"This place is fantastic. My fiancé has a big home too, but I'm sure it's not furnished as lavishly," Angel said softly.

"You sound as if you haven't been there."

Angel took a sudden interest in her manicure, or so it seemed as she studied her hands folded in her lap. Or maybe she was gazing at her engagement ring. It was the first time
Erin
had thought to look at the diamond solitaire.

"I haven't, but he's a thirty-six year old bachelor and he said it reflects his tastes. So I'm assuming it's quite masculine." Looking
Erin
in the eye now, she smiled brightly. "Like he is. But we can talk about our fiancés later, over lunch if you like. I'd really like to get going now that I have someone to shop with me."

"I'll change quickly,"
Erin
said, turning to go upstairs.

Angel's fiancé was thirty-nine and
Erin
's mother said he was someone from her past. "Before I forget…since he's older than you, I guess he's not someone you dated in high school."

"No. He's not anyone you've met."

Erin
studied her cousin's face. She'd grown pale and she swallowed so hard, her Adam's apple bobbed. "So how did you and…Dior, isn't it…meet?"

She put a hand to her throat. "That's a nickname, sort of. We met in college and hung out together a lot his senior year, but then he graduated and went on to law school."

And if
Erin
remembered correctly, Angel dropped out of her studies at the university and went home to live with her parents at the end of her freshman year.

Angel looked at her watch. Was she in such a hurry to find a gown? Or did she just not want to talk?

"I'll be right back," Erin said, and after rushing up the stairway to powder her nose and change, their departure came quickly, with Angel suggesting
Erin
drive her little red car since she knew the area better. In the passenger seat, the bride-to-be babbled about the weather and inconsequential matters without opening up any more about her husband-to-be.
Erin
was eager to know more about Dior but resisted questioning her.

In the second shop they entered,
Erin
found an exquisite yellow satin calf-length dress for the wedding that suited her and fit perfectly. If only it was this easy to find a date.

Angel combed the racks, shaking her head, not seeming to like anything.
Erin
urged her to try on some gowns, saying they'd look different on her than they did on a hanger. At last, Angel picked half-a-dozen but didn't come out of the dressing room until she'd slung all of them over the door for the salesgirl to take away.

Wearing her street clothes again, she came out and suggested they leave. "Nothing here fits well. There's a specialty shop I saw listed on the Internet that's close-by and while the gowns will be expensive, they're certain to be better made."

At the next store, Erin, who never worried about prices, blinked at the sales tags. "I'm sure you could find something more reasonable elsewhere," she said, taking Angel by the elbow and ushering her towards the door. "You don't want to say your nuptials with a maxed-out credit card."

"There's a sales rack in the back where you might find something suitable," the clerk suggested, and Angel trailed off after her.

Erin
, whose feet were tired, took a seat on a brocade loveseat and waited for Angel to return. At last, she emerged in an off-white bridal gown with an empire waist.

"What do you think?" she asked, twirling before
Erin
.

"It's very nice, but why don't you try something more svelte and sophisticated? That one looks a bit girlish."

Angel returned in one that was ivory with an overskirt of chiffon that started just below her hips. The silky material pulled at the seams, exposing something that
Erin
hadn't noticed before. Angel had a potbelly and, apparently aware of it, was trying to find a dress that disguised it.

"That isn't the one, in my opinion,"
Erin
said, and Angel nodded her agreement, disappointment written all over her face. "I know a little shop that has designer outfits and I'll bet you can find something there."

"We were over my head here," Angel protested. "Even the sale prices are ridiculous. I can't imagine what designer gowns will cost."

"Trust me,"
Erin
said. "The prices are reasonable. Let's get your car. It's a distance away."

Erin
drove again since she knew where they were going, but when they pulled up in front of a place called Bridal Boutique on a strip mall set in the centre of a lower middle class neighbourhood, Angel gasped. Gaping at the words 'gently worn clothing" under the name on the storefront window, she grabbed
Erin
's arm and dug her nails into her flesh.

"You want me to buy a second-hand dress?" Angel's eyes flashed with anger.

Erin
pulled her arm away and rubbed it. She'd never seen her cousin act this way. "Wedding dresses, worn once, present a tremendous savings, and what's the chance anyone would know? I didn't mean to offend you, but I've been told they offer a fantastic selection of designer gowns here at moderate cost."

Angel didn't appear mollified. Sitting back, her lower lip pushed out, she assumed a tone that didn't set well with
Erin
.

"I thought we were friends but now you're acting just like my mother,"
Erin
said. "Trying to cut corners and sweep my big moment under the rug. Mama doesn't even want me to have a train or tiara. 'Simple is better,' she says, but it's not. Why doesn't anyone understand?" Angel burst into tears. "A kind, wonderful man is marrying me and I want our wedding to be perfect."

Chapter Five

It was late when
Erin
entered Rendezvous alone. Feeling daring, she took a seat at the bar before realising the bartender wasn't Derek. Too embarrassed to jump up and move to a booth, she ordered a chocolate martini from the guy whose nametag said he was George. A crusty older man with a moustache and goatee, he didn't inspire her to create any sexual fantasies about his facial hair like she'd had concerning Derek's.

She'd argued with herself whether she should come or not and finally gave in. Now she wished she hadn't, but she'd grown more and more glum during her day with Angel, and laying eyes on Derek would have cheered her.
Laying eyes? Ha!
She'd hoped for more than that if she wanted to be honest with herself, and she'd crossed her fingers that by turning up after the busy dinner hour was over, he would have time to chat. She'd even imagined him asking her to stay until the club closed and leaving together.

Angel hadn't been her usual sunny self. She didn't like any of the gently-worn wedding gowns and
Erin
doubted that she'd have been any happier with them if they'd just come from a dressmaker's skilful hands. To be honest, none of them were flattering. Angel had gotten thin since
Erin
had last seen her. Yet she kept smoothing the material over her stomach and hips and complaining the fit was too tight. When they'd left the consignment shop, Erin had suggested lunch at a trendy little teashop she thought would cheer her disgruntled cousin, but Angel had picked at her salad and slipped her croissant onto
Erin
's plate.

Sitting at a white wrought iron table amidst a sea of pink and purple roses, Erin had probed her with questions about Dior, thinking that would bring a smile, and for a moment, it had.

Coming out of her trancelike state, Angel had spoken softly. "He's Nordic and quite handsome and rugged," she'd said.

"Nordics are blond, aren't they?"
Erin
had asked, sitting back in her pink-cushioned chair.

"Not all of them." Angel had reacted as if she'd been slapped.

George, the bartender at Club Rendezvous, leaned his elbows on the bar in front of
Erin
, bringing her back to reality and her surroundings abruptly. "You're quite the daydreamer."

Had he been ogling her long? She squirmed in discomfort. "I was thinking."

"Want another Chocolatini?" he asked, picking up her glass. Seeing it was half full, he set it down again. "I haven't seen you around here before."

"Stay away from her. She's mine." Two strong hands gripped her shoulders, and
Erin
swivelled her head to find Derek standing there.

As she gazed up into liquid brown eyes, heat washed over her, and she smiled. He was as handsome as she remembered and he smelled wonderful. She didn't recognise the men's cologne he was wearing but it was spicy and musky and it turned her on. If she could bury her face against his neck right now and inhale, she would. "Where did you come from?"

"I was hiding in that booth back there. I'm not working tonight but I was hungry and there's no better place to eat." He nodded his head towards a dim corner. "Care to join me?"

Without waiting for her answer, he picked up her glass and extended a hand to help her down off the high stool. "What? No Sex on the Beach?"

"I'm trying something new," she said, laughing lightly.

"If you'd care to try
someone
new…" The bartender, waggling his eyebrows, swiped a towel over the spot where
Erin
's glass had been. "I'm available."

"Cut the crap, George. Why would she want you when she can have me?" Derek asked, chuckling as he led
Erin
away.

Her skin tingled beneath his hand on her arm. Her heart thrilled to the feeling of his possessiveness. Did he really mean it…that she could have him? He might not have to ask twice.

He set her glass on the table next to his, and she noted that she'd guessed right about him. He
was
drinking scotch.

He waited until she'd slid into the booth and then moved in close. His thigh touched hers and she fought the urge to press her leg tightly against his. "Coming to a bar alone at night is a new experience for me," she said, concentrating her gaze on the chocolate concoction. "I'm glad you're here so I don't have to sit by myself."

"Only women who are trying to pick up a man sit at the bar alone. Is that why you were seated there? Or…" He squeezed her knee. "Did you think I would be tending bar?"

Either way, she was going to look bad, but facing the consequences boldly seemed the way to go. So, cocking her head, she tilted her chin to meet his gaze. "You haven't used my business card to call me yet, so I thought I'd come by and ask why."

"Aha," he said, grinning. "You
did
come to see me, and it was my night off. I'm glad I came here for dinner so you weren't disappointed. The prime rib is excellent, by the way. Are you hungry?"

"I hadn't thought about hunger." She realised after she spoke that wasn't true, but food wasn't what she hungered for. She craved male companionship—his, specifically. "I was lonely and bored."

"Then you've come to the right place. I can be quite entertaining." He chuckled. "I hope. At least, I can keep you company over dinner. How about it?" Derek squeezed her knee again, gently. "Say yes. I don't want to eat alone."

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes craving the taste of those full lips of his. The brush of his moustache on her sensitive skin.

He touched her hand. "I'll be right back. I'll give the chef our order before it's too late. The kitchen closes soon. May I get you another mixed drink or would you like wine?"

"Cabernet would be nice with prime rib, and don't worry if the beef still has its moo. I like mine very rare."

"A woman after my own heart," Derek said, brushing her cheek with his knuckles as he rose.

How could I be so lucky? Running into him on his night off is even more than I hoped for
. She loved the little touches he bestowed upon her. Tokens of affection… Was he always that way with women or did he feel the same crazy emotions she did?

Erin
hurried to the powder room to fluff her hair, adding a head shake for good measure. She applied blusher and straightened her slim skirt and silk pullover. Satisfied, she returned to find Derek waiting with the wine and two Caesar salads.

He stood up to let her slide in again and then moved close so their thighs touched the same as before.

If this evening should wind up with the two of us fucking our brains out, I'll be sorry I ordered such a gigantic meal. She picked up her wine.

Derek raised his glass to hers. "Here's to full truths."

She clinked and drank, but his toast puzzled her.
Full truths about what?

They made idle chit chat while devouring their salads,
Erin
careful to eat only part of hers so she'd be able to manage her prime rib. Derek, who finished his off along with a dinner roll and his wine, picked up the bottle, refilled his glass and topped off hers.

After their dinners arrived, they ate in silence, concentrating their attention on the delicious beef and steamed asparagus. "This prime rib is scrumptious,"
Erin
murmured, "the best I've ever tasted."

He nodded and turned to meet her gaze. "I wouldn't lead you wrong."

Derek seemed a master of the double entendre and
Erin
puzzled over it. When they'd both begun to show signs of slowing, she spoke again. "Tell me a little about yourself," she said, nervous about asking but eager to know him better.

"Nothing exciting to tell. I grew up in
Pennsylvania
. My dad's parents were from
Italy
, hence my last name, Acampora, but they moved to
America
early in their married life and Pop was born in
Pittsburgh
. He met Mom, whose heritage was German, and she chose to name me 'Derek' after her great-uncle. Go figure. I guess she just liked the name.

"Anyway, I grew up eating a lot of Italian dishes because Dad's mother taught him to cook, and since she and Granddad lived next door, I learned to make homemade ravioli and all that good stuff." He raised his glass to
Erin
. "I also learned how to choose wines and I ordered one of my favourites for you. Do you like it?"

"Very much." She took another sip, savouring the taste. "Was bartending a lifelong goal then?" she asked, smiling.

"What's wrong with it?" He pretended…she hoped it was a pretence…to be offended.

"Nothing at all. Really. I think it looks like fun, especially when you make shaker drinks." She raised her hands and imitated the motion.

Derek sat back in his seat, chin raised. "Did you always want to be a substitute wife?"

"Touché." Lea had pretended to be Mike's wife and Julie and Jon's mother when he'd asked for her help in keeping a secret from his potential publisher but…
"That's not an accurate job description. My partners, Lea and Margo, and I were married to successful businessmen who liked to entertain, and we became very good at it. After the three of us divorced, we put those talents together to form Wives-R-Us, an agency that helps single men with dinner parties, decorating jobs and organisation. We are by no means marital partner substitutes."

"So you don't fill in for the wife in the bedroom?"

"Derek, Derek, Derek. I so hoped you were above that,"
Erin
scolded, shaking a finger at him.

"I guess that's not an original question?" He chuckled. "I should have resisted but couldn't."

"The answer is 'absolutely not' and to atone, you may reply to a question I can't resist. I assume you're not married, but I also know it's not safe to assume anything. Are you?"

"Married? No." Pushing back his plate, he took her hand and brushed his lips across it.

The flitting trail of his moustache hairs created a tingling that coursed throughout her body—up to her brain and downwards to harden her nipples before curling up in her belly and spreading like wildfire to create a burning desire between her legs. She ached for his lips on hers, longed to have them wend their way along her skin until they reached her pussy. She'd love for him to lick her clit. Suck it. Make it so hard she'd beg him not to stop.

"I might ask the same thing after the other night."

She searched his face, wondering what he meant. "You mean my coming in here with Joseph and our son?"

Nodding, he narrowed his eyes. "Now, ask me the
question that prompted you to come here tonight."

"You mean why you haven't called me when you must know that's why I left my business card?" Just because she'd shown up with her ex and Joe, Derek surely didn't think she was married. She set down her wine glass so he wouldn't see her hand shaking. His demeanour told her he wasn't joking.

"Can you blame me for not wanting to be one of the guys you're juggling? Frankly, I can't see why you'd want
me
to phone when you have two men in your life. A boyfriend and a husband…do they know about one another? Do they know you came here to see me tonight?"

Erin
wanted to slap Derek. Instead, she clenched her hands at her sides. She hadn't expected sarcasm and found the way he'd set her up for it despicable. He'd invited her to dine with him and she'd found him as sweet as Crème Brule throughout the meal, but suddenly he'd turned on her.

Even though she understood how it might have looked to him, she suspected he knew better and was just giving her a hard time. Sitting ramrod straight, she moved as far away from him as the booth allowed. "Both boyfriend and husband are 'ex' and my son and his father were leaving the next day on a Mediterranean cruise."

"So you were having a family moment." Derek folded his hands in his lap. "You were all over Mitch and now he's out of the picture? Care to explain that?"

Erin
sighed. "We broke up the same night you saw us here at Rendezvous."

Derek didn't try to close the gap she'd created between them in the booth. "Why?"

"We discovered we had differing views on our relationship."

"Meaning?"

She'd be damned if she was going to explain that she wanted to marry Mitch and he wasn't interested. "Meaning you have no right to interrogate me and if this is how you usually act, I'm glad you didn't call."

Snatching up her purse, she threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. "I hope this pays my share of the tab. Now, if you'll please move and let me out, I'll relieve you of my company."

* * *

Derek polished the top of the wooden bar, concentrating on a stubborn burn mark left over from the days when smoking was allowed at Rendezvous. He wished he could rub out the damage he'd caused between himself and Erin on Saturday. He shouldn't have talked to her the way he did. He had no right to be jealous of her, but dammit, he was.