Husband Stay (Husband #2) (3 page)

I hovered in the
doorway, not sure what to do. I couldn’t simply walk into a stranger’s room
when he wasn’t even awake. Weren’t there laws about privacy? I was frowning at
him, thinking I should just ease back out of the room and try and retrace my
steps. But right in that moment, he opened his eyes.

“Yes?” he croaked.

I had another impulse
to back away—which would have been the right thing to do. There was no reason
to stay. Only...he looked sad.

Stupid marshmallow
heart
.

I struggled
internally, but ended up stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. I
even conjured a fake smile. “Hello. I’m Angela. From the club.”

“Jack.” His frown
deepened and he shook his head. “Have we met? I’m sure I’d remember you. You’re
a knockout.” His voice was unnaturally gravelly, and I wondered if they’d
pumped his stomach. That distracted me so much I didn’t pick up on the
compliment straight away.

When I did, I
said, “Oh,” and took a few steps closer to the bed, so he didn’t need to strain
his voice. Then I faltered to a stop and my mouth fell open.

Shiva be
praised. What a man!

Somehow I managed
to say, “Thanks,” although I could hear the vague tone in my voice. I was
totally confused by the loud shouting in my brain.
Stop staring at his
chest.
And,
Oh my! How completely manly. How completely...sexy.

I swallowed hard
and struggled to meet his gaze, which was impossible when he was naked to the
waist. He had huge pecs with tiny brown nipples and a thin line of dark hair
that ran down the middle of his muscular belly, widening marginally below the
waist as it disappeared beneath the bed linen.

My imagination
promptly conjured a visual of what could be hiding there, and I felt stunned by
the fact that I wasn’t revolted—far from it!

Clearly, I should
never
have come into the room alone. It was completely inappropriate, and that
had to be the reason my face felt so hot. I was embarrassed. That was all.

“Angela,” he said
wistfully. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember anything before I woke up. The whole
night is a blank.” Jack’s eyes were brown, but not as dark as mine—more toffee colored—and
staring into them made me feel breathless. Which was crazy. I’d met handsomer
men than him—men with no facial hair.

But the stubble
couldn’t hide a strong jawline and beautiful lips. He was stunning,
arousing,
and I’d never felt like this before, not even when I’d had teenage crushes. The
jerky sensations racing around my body were debilitating and energizing all at
the same time.

I could hear
Fritha’s voice inside my head telling me it was destiny, and Jill saying it was
lust. I wasn’t sure what it was. But it was
something
.

I forced my mouth
to work. “I was singing. You vomited on my stage.”

“Fuck.” He just
kept staring at me, and somehow the air thickened around us. I could feel it
throbbing like a heat mirage. “I’m sorry.”

His steady gaze slid
away from my eyes and I felt my whole body tingle into life. His inspection was
slow, from the top of my long dark hair, down to pause at my lips, then it
lingered on my shoulders, my breasts, down to my cinched waist and then over my
generous hips. When he’d finished, he met my eyes again.

“So there’s no
chance of us...” He waved a finger between the two of us and smiled the ‘killer
smile’ the nurse had warned me about, all shiny white teeth in his tanned face,
sexy crow’s feet beside his eyes and a come-hither eyebrow raise. Looking at it
made my insides flutter down low, and I was just thinking I’d never felt
that
before, when he added. “...having sex?”

There was a three
second lag-time before I thought,
What?

Then it felt like
stepping under a freezing cold shower. Every steamy thought I’d been fighting sluiced
away.

Creep!

Bastard.

Dammit, I’d been
right the first time. I shook my head and took a step away from the bed. “I’m
married,” I snapped, horrified to hear my voice trembling. “And even if I
wasn’t, I certainly wouldn’t be interested in a foul-mouthed, drunk like you.”

Stupid,
stupid
marshmallow
heart.

I hugged my sore
wrist against my chest and stomped out of his room—as best I could in bare feet—slamming
the door behind me, unreasonably angry at the paramedic Sally
and
the
nurse who’d talked me into visiting him, and anyone else who had anything to do
with the situation—Bertie for letting him into the club in the first place. Jack
had probably been drunk then.

I shuddered.
Creep.
Then I realized how lucky I was. He’d revealed himself quickly. If I’d let that
wayward attraction continue to build... Would I have done something crazy?
Danny was the only man I’d ever slept with. We’d met in school. Even now, when
I was thinking it was ‘too soon’ to be dating, I knew I’d only go out with
someone who was husband material.

Jack certainly wasn’t
that.

In fact, he wasn’t
even the sort of person I wanted in the club where I sang, let alone someone to
make babies with.

But there was no
getting past the feeling I’d had—which must have been a bad-boy attraction. It
made me feel dirty to remember those sinful thoughts, and I knew Sister Carmel from
our school days would have made me say fifty Hail Marys as a punishment. But that
didn’t erase the fact that within seconds of being in his proximity, I’d experienced
more arousal than I ever had during sex.

Even when he’d
sworn so casually, it hadn’t put me off. Bad language usually did, because it
was harsh and I was gentle. The two things didn’t go together. Danny had never
sworn, and I certainly didn’t want to be with someone who swore.

And yet...for some
reason, hearing Jack say
Fuck
in that gravelly, deep voice had been totally
hot. His cocky masculinity had hit me below the belt, and it didn’t matter how
fast I marched down disinfectant-scented corridors, following signs back to the
emergency waiting room, I couldn’t get away from the feeling that he was the
sexiest man I’d ever met.

I resumed my blue
velour seat and waited for them to call my name, hoping I could put the whole
embarrassing evening behind me. But a relentlessly truthful part of me wanted
to acknowledge that Jack and I had shared
a moment
.

And why was that?
I didn’t even like him as a person. He was crass and uncouth. There was nothing
sexy about that. He’d vomited on my shoes for goodness sake. And as for his
crude proposition back there in his hospital room? That spoke volumes about his
attitude to women.

But the more I
railed against him, the more my mind dished up snippets of
what could be
:
of me running a hand down that smooth, muscular chest, and lower, beneath the
sheets. And him, pulling me onto the bed to straddle him, kissing me until my
hair tumbled around us like a dark screen, hiding our carnal activities from
the world.

I didn’t like him
at
all
, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how big and sexy he was, and how I
wanted to feel his strong hands on my body.

Was I that sex
starved?

“Mrs. Lata.
Angela Lata.”

Oh thank goodness.
I stood, straightening my dress with my good hand. I had more important things
to worry about than a drunken cowboy—like how I’d pay my rent if I couldn’t
work.

But as I followed
the harried doctor into his consultation room, I had an uncomfortable
premonition that my attraction to Jack was a symptom of deeper emotional
issues. I’d always been ‘a good girl’, and had thought that living a moral life
would make me happy. I’d even imagined that my sex life with Danny had been
satisfying.

But as I sat in
the patient’s chair and waited to hear what my x-rays had revealed, I knew I’d
been lying to myself.

I was a faker, and
maybe I deserved a cheating husband. The only orgasms I’d ever had were the
ones I’d given myself on the sly. You could hardly call that a ‘satisfying sex
life’. And now my husband had found someone who probably enjoyed his attentions
more than I had.

I’d never told
anyone that I was faking orgasms, not even my closest girlfriends. They would
have blamed Danny. But it wasn’t his fault. I’d just started off wrong, wanting
to please him with my enthusiasm, thinking all that moaning was sexy, and then
I hadn’t known how to be truthful. As the years rolled by, I got used to
masturbating when he wasn’t there.

I’d been dishonest.

And it had made me
feel ashamed of myself—ashamed of my sexuality—so much so, that when our
marriage ended, a part of me was relieved that I could finally stop worrying
that he’d discover me with my hand down my pants and the whole thing would blow
up in my face.

I missed our
companionship, but if I was honest with myself, the way things had played out
was easier to cope with. In society’s eyes, he was clearly the bad guy in the
story, so I was off the hook.

Unfortunately, it
didn’t leave me a lot of clarity about future relationships. And my attraction
to Jack—of all people—muddied the water further.

As I watched the
doctor clip my X-rays up onto a light screen, I came to grips with the idea
that if I wanted to have a child—children—I needed to marry again. I needed to
get into a sexual relationship.

I had to find a
husband, a good father for my children, and I’d always imagined the perfect
candidate would be someone like Danny—cute, charming and undemanding—someone I
could forget when he walked out the door and focus on again when he came home.

That way I’d be
able to give all my time and love to my babies, who I knew would be the great
loves of my life. I’d never imagined being with someone I couldn’t stop
thinking about, couldn’t keep my hands off, someone so sexy I actually
wanted
to have sex with him. That would be hopelessly distracting.

The doctor started
talking and I nodded at appropriate intervals—
clean break, six-week plaster
cast.
I should have been asking questions, worrying about the future,
something. But I just sat and listened, took his prescription for pain killers
and went to wait in the plaster section where they’d put on my cast.

It seemed crazy to
be grateful for a broken wrist, but it was actually a good thing that a chance
encounter with a drunk had brought all my sexual problems to a head. I couldn’t
go on faking orgasms for the rest of my life. I’d go nuts.

But what if I
couldn’t find someone who turned me on? Someone
decent
, I amended,
shuddering as I remembered Jack’s projectile vomiting. I didn’t have a decade
to look around. At thirty-five, my biological clock was ticking. And if I ended
up with someone who didn’t turn me on, could I tolerate the sexual half-life
I’d already been living for the sake of a family?

Or would that
drive me slowly mad?

You’re getting
out of Sydney tomorrow. That will clear your head.

I was scheduled to
sing at the launch of Fritha’s new tea house
Bohemian Brew
in Belandera
tomorrow night. But remembering that raised the question of how I was going to
drive there.

I glanced at my
watch. I’d been in the hospital for hours and it was nearly 6am—not a completely
unreasonable hour to phone a friend, and I knew which one I wanted to spend
quality time with.

I loved my three
girls equally, but this wasn’t something I could talk to Louella or Fritha
about. Louella didn’t discuss sex. Ever. And Fritha would be so eager to help,
it would be embarrassing. Jill, on the other hand was carelessly blunt, so if I
got in too deep, I could tell her to shut up—nicely—and her feelings wouldn’t
be hurt.

Ten rings later
she answered, sounding sleepy. “
Ange.
”

“I’m in hospital.
I broke my wrist singing.”

“
As you do
.”
I heard scrabbling, then a clunk. “
Where are you honey? I’m coming.”

“St Vincent’s, but
don’t. What if I fly to you and we go to the launch together? I can’t drive.”

“
Sure. Let’s do
that,”
she said, exactly as I’d hoped. Her soon-to-be-husband Finn had a
property at Byron Bay, and they were trying out a trendy surfer lifestyle.

I was just feeling
relieved and wondering where I’d packed my bikini—before I remembered I had to
keep the cast dry—when she said, “
I can ring Louella to come too, and we can
all go to the launch together.”

“Oh.”

That wasn’t at all
what I’d wanted.

“
Or not. Do you
want me alone?
”

I loved
girlfriends. They were so perceptive. “Yes I do. I’m at a bit of a crossroads.”

“And I make
such good choices, you thought I could give sage advice.”

We both laughed at
that. Jill’s road to happily-ever-after had been a minefield of
blow-up-in-your-face decisions. But still, she knew me, probably better than
anyone. “It’s delicate.”

“
And I’m so
discreet. Right. This has to be about sex.”

Okay. So sometimes
it wasn’t fabulous being read like a book. “Don’t tell the girls.”

“
Are you
fucking someone?
”

I clutched my
phone closer to my ear. “Is Finn listening to this?”

“
He’s asleep
and I’m in the kitchen. I’m not completely indiscreet.”

I chose not to
argue with that. “Thank you, and no, I’m not. This is just about...future
options.”

“
If this is
about Doug, I’m not keen to rehash his performance.”

Doug?

Why would she
mention her ex-boyfriend?

The last time I’d
seen Doug he’d been roaring drunk and jealous as hell about Finn. I’d felt
sorry for him—he’d always been so lovely to Jill while they’d been together—so
I’d tried to comfort him, but he certainly wasn’t
on my radar
.

Unfortunately, before
I could say that, she went on with, “
I don’t want Finn getting jealous, and it’s
bad form to kiss and tell. Even for a blabber like me.
”

“Good.” I was glad
she respected Doug that much. They’d been together for ten years, and he was a
very nice man. I liked him, and I knew he found me attractive—he’d said as much
when he was drunk. But, “I’m not considering Doug.” At least, not at the
moment.

Her breath came
out on a gust.
“Thank God. Because I didn’t call him Doug the Dud for
nothing. You need a hot guy. Someone who makes you howl.”

So much for no
kiss-and-tell.

I swallowed down
embarrassment and glanced around myself, glad to see that no one had sat in
close proximity while I hadn’t been watching. The hospital was reasonably
deserted at this hour and that suited me well. Jill got loud when she was
excited.

I lowered my
voice, hoping she’d take the hint. “Let’s talk when I get there.”

“
Sure. Come
anytime today. I’ll pick you up at the airport. We don’t leave for Belandera
until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Fabulous.” Just
talking to Jill on the phone made me feel better. I wanted to be inside her feisty
hug, laughing at her outrageous sense of humor, feeling loved and accepted. Of
the four of us, she was the most likely to understand sexual confusion. It was
a good plan. “I’ll text you the details of my flight.”

It was all
straightforward after that. I booked my flight on my phone while I waited for
my cast—which was surprisingly light once it was on. Then I headed for the desk
to sign out so I could catch a taxi home. Unfortunately, that’s where
everything came unstuck.

“—must be a
mistake,” I said patiently. “I’ve always had the top hospital cover. My husband
pays for it out of...” I trailed off as sudden tendrils of fear snaked through
me.

Danny was
technically still my husband until the divorce finalized, but that didn’t mean
he was obligated to cover me with his medical insurance. For all I knew, he
might have taken me off the policy as soon as I moved out. Payments had always
come out of his salary, so I never gave it a thought.

And I should have.

“How much is the
bill?” I asked tentatively.

The clerk looked
down at her computer, clicked a few buttons and said, “Five thousand, four
hundred and thirty dollars.”

All I could do was
blink, moving from cold to numb. I’d just paid the registration and insurance
on my car. I had six thousand dollars to my name. My financial settlement with
Danny wouldn’t go through until our house sold. It would be months before I saw
that money.

So how could I
survive the coming weeks with five hundred dollars and no job?

I couldn’t.