Authors: Candy Halliday
Your Bed or Mine?
Mr. Destiny
“Funny, cute, and charming… This story is a light… romantic comedy with an enjoyable, uncomplicated plot. In other
words: brain candy!”
—ContemporaryRomanceWriters.com
“A delight… A great story with some truly good surprises inside.”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“Sparkling… engaging tale… [with a] sweetly sensual romance.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“A fun, modern-day cross-boroughs romance.”
—TheBestReviews.com
Dream Guy
“A fun romp.”
—
Publishers Weekly
“Fun story, good reading, and plenty of hot sex thrown in… cute, funny.”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
“A lighthearted, contemporary war of the sexes using technology to further the skirmishes… Fans will enjoy this fun tale
that is one click away from providing the
Dream Guy.
”
—Midwest Book Review
Copyright © 2006 by Candy Viers
Excerpt from
Dinner First, Me Later
copyright © 2006 by Candy Viers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.
Warner Forever and the Warner Forever logo are trademarks of Time Warner Inc. or an affiliated company. Used under license
by Hachette Book Group, which is not affiliated with Time Warner Inc.
WARNER BOOKS
Hachette Book Group
237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017
Visit our Web site at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com
.
First eBook Edition: August 2006
ISBN: 978-0-446-55963-8
Contents
Praise for Candy Halliday’s Previous Novels
ALSO BY CANDY HALLIDAY
Mr. Destiny
Dream Guy
DEDICATED TO THE MOST AMAZING DOMESTIC DIVAS I KNOW:
Shelli Cottingham
Kimmie Clark
Judy Miller
Kim Poe
Pam Mathews
Marian Farrell
Tracey Simmons
Amy Patrick
Annie Klick
Lisa Thomas
Erin Sutton
Lynnette Schwiegeraht
Trish Link
Beth Burt
Jo Hughes
Thanks always to my fabulous agent, Jenny Bent.
Special thanks to my editor, Karen Kosztolnyik, for coming up with the Housewives’ Fantasy Club idea, and for believing I
could handle the challenge.
Thanks to my brainstorming partner, Emilie Rose, for keeping me sane through every book. And for insisting that this book
needed a blind dog. Simon thanks you for giving him life on paper, Em.
Thanks to Angie Narron for her expert legal advice.
And thanks from the bottom of my heart to my family for their love and support. Blue, Shelli, Tracy, Quint, and Caroline—I
love you all more than words can say.
Z
ada Thornton Clark didn’t miss the frown on her divorce attorney’s face as she hurried up the courthouse steps. The disapproving
frown should have intimidated Zada.
It didn’t.
The fact that the revered Angie Naylon was known around Chicago for her killer instinct in the courtroom, didn’t mean squat
to Zada, either. There was just something about having personally held your college roommate’s head over the toilet more than
once that served as a pretty good equalizer.
Zada reached the top of the courthouse steps.
Angie’s frown only deepened.
“Are you kidding me, Zada?” Angie looked her up and down. “This is your idea of a mousy-looking outfit for the judge’s benefit?”
“No,” Zada said stubbornly. “This is my idea of an eat-your-heart-out outfit for
Rick’s
benefit. I want Rick Clark to get his last good look at what he lost when he walked out on me.”
“And how shallow is that?” Angie said with disgust.
“Today,” said Zada, “shallow suits me just fine.”
“Obviously,” Angie snipped when two suits and ties walked past, craning their necks around for a second look at Zada’s curvaceous
nothing-skinny-about-her figure.
Angie looked back at Zada and said, “Your all-about-me dress certainly leaves nothing to the imagination. And here’s another
news flash for you. Red is
not
listed on the
mousy
side of the color chart.”
“But red
is
listed on a brunette’s side of the color chart,” Zada argued, tossing her long, dark hair. “Ask any brunette. It’s our signature
color.”
“It’s the
judge’s
signature you need to be worried about.” Angie frowned again. “I warned you this judge was old school, Zada. He doesn’t take
divorce lightly. That dress blows any chance we had of him believing you’re a meek and mousy heartbroken housewife, only asking
to keep your home and your poor blind dog.”
Angie wheeled around and stomped into the courthouse.
Zada hurried after her.
“Oh, come on, Angie,” Zada pleaded when she finally caught up. “I’m about as mousy as a wolverine, and you know it. You could
dress me in a nun’s habit, and I’d still look militant.”
“We don’t have time to argue,” Angie snapped, glaring at her again. “Your case is the first one on the docket after the lunch
break. That dress is enough to sway the property settlement in Rick’s favor. The last thing we need is to be late for your
hearing.”
Angie forged ahead, her briefcase in a death grip.
Zada picked up speed, trying to keep up.
“But we still have the poor blind dog hook,” Zada pointed out, trying to make amends. “
I’m
the one who’s taken care of Simon since Rick walked out on us.”
Angie sent her another mean look.
“How many times do we have to go over this, Zada? Simon is
Rick’s
dog.”
“The dog Rick left with
me,
” Zada said.
“And the dog who saved Rick’s life,” Angie reminded her. “Rick’s attorney will make a big production over Rick and Simon being
injured recovering that explosive device at O’Hare. Separating a man from his heroic life-saving dog is
not
going to be an easy task.”
“That’s when you bring up the fact that I didn’t even know Rick when he and Simon were injured,” Zada said, “but that I was
so touched when I heard Simon was blinded in that explosion,
I
visited Simon at the vet’s hospital every day and even wrote a children’s book about him.”
“And Rick’s attorney will remind the judge that Rick is one of the top trainers of explosive-detection dogs in the nation,”
Angie said. “Rick trains dogs professionally every day of the week.”
“Yes, Rick does train dogs professionally every day of the week,” Zada said. “Twelve to fourteen hours every day of the week.
But
I’m
Simon’s stay-at-home mom. The mom who
didn’t
walk out and leave Simon behind.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Angie insisted. “Rick’s attorney will say the only reason Rick left Simon behind, is because
Rick
had your house specifically equipped so poor, blind Simon
could
function as a normal dog again.”
“Wrong again,” Zada said. “Simon could have learned to function like a normal dog without all that high-tech equipment Rick
had installed in the house. Any owner of a blind dog will confirm that. Rick never gave Simon a chance to learn to manage
on his own. Rick’s a techno-geek. Plain and simple.”
Angie stopped walking and turned around to face her.
“And
you
were supposed to be a plain and simple housewife,” Angie reminded her. “But now that you’ve blown that strategy to hell and
back, you tell me, Zada. Who do
you
think the judge is going to say deserves Simon and house?”
“Me,” Zada insisted.
Angie groaned and walked off again.
“Angie!” Zada called after her. “
I’m
the one who’s practically made Simon a household name with my
Simon Sees
children’s series.” When she caught back up, Zada said, “Be sure and point that out.
Publishers Weekly
and the
New York Times
have both hailed
Simon Sees
as an inspiration for children with disabilities everywhere. Simon and I already have a national tour of children’s hospitals
scheduled around Christmas this year.”
“How convenient,” Angie quipped, “since red
is
your signature color.” Her eyes cut sideways for a second. “Take my advice this time, Zada. Wear a different dress for the
children’s tour.”
Angie turned down a corridor.
Zada clipped along behind her in four-inch heels.
At least Angie hadn’t said anything about the shoes. Her sling-back red pumps were as sexy as the dress. Or maybe Angie just
never got past the dress.
When they finally reached the designated courtroom, Angie pulled Zada aside and pointed a finger under her nose.
“Keep your militant mouth
shut,
” Angie said. “I mean it, Zada. I don’t want even so much as a peep out of you in that courtroom.”
Zada made the zipped-lip motion with her fingers.
Angie said, “You walk in there and sit down as quickly as possible before the judge notices the lower half of your dress is
missing. And it wouldn’t hurt to slump a little. Judge Parkins is in his seventies. The way that dress clings to every inch
of your body, the old fart could have a heart attack and croak right there on the bench.”
“Sit and slump,” Zada said. “Got it.”
She tried smiling brightly at Angie.
Angie
didn’t
smile back.
She tossed her auburn hair back from her forehead.
She adjusted the jacket of her gray business suit.
And she marched into the courtroom.
Fine. Be that way,
Zada decided.
Maybe short and clingy wasn’t the best choice.
And maybe red wasn’t the best color.
But Zada quickly changed her mind when she saw the look on Rick’s face when she walked into the courtroom.
He was already seated at one of the tables at the front of the room with his attorney. And now with an eyes-popped-out expression
on his dropped-jaw face.
Zada smiled inwardly.
Screw slumping!
She threw her shoulders back.
She thrust her breasts forward.
She held her head high.
And walked right past her soon-to-be
ex
-husband.
Rick was already nervous, but there was no doubt in his mind about why his mouth suddenly went dry. Zada always had that effect
on him. Long, shimmering dark brown hair. Sultry, dark brown eyes. Voluptuous curves that had the power to bring any man to
his knees.
Except Rick was done.
No more on his knees, begging Zada to reconsider.
A man’s pride could only take so much.
Yes, they’d had one hell of a fight. Yes, they’d both said horrible things to each other. And no, he shouldn’t have walked
out. Especially when he knew exactly how Zada felt about the “walking out” issue.
Zada’s father had walked out on her mother when Zada had only been six, and her younger sister had just turned four. They’d
been in their teens when her mother took her father back—something Zada had never fully forgiven her for doing.
Unfortunately, younger sister Sally served as proof that history does have a way of repeating itself. Sally had allowed her
own husband to come and go at will, begging Zada to understand that she had two young sons to consider; another huge sore
spot with Zada.
In Zada’s mind, walking out was the ultimate taboo.
Rick had known that.
And he’d cursed himself every day since he walked out; for allowing his pride to get in the way when Zada gave him that damned
you-walk-out-now-and-it’s-over-between-us-for-good ultimatum.
Except Zada knew ultimatums were his pet peeve, which was the exact reason she’d hit him with an ultimatum.
Rick sighed inwardly.
Some days you were the dog.
Some days, the hydrant.
