My Favorite Husband Page 3

  Scott chimed in, looking a little miffed himself. “She did, you know. The only reason she accepted the promotion was to have the money to keep searching for you. She spent every cent she could get on it. She depleted her savings, even made the supreme sacrifice to move back home with Mother to save money. Though everyone else was convinced you were dead, she kept on looking. She only stopped when even the law said you were dead.”

  Thank heaven for little brothers. Scott’s diatribe must have worked because Chaz regarded her thoughtfully now. “Is this true?”

  When she nodded, he took her into his arms and held her close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “All I thought about was getting home to you, to where we left off.” He squeezed her tighter. “God, I missed you so much.”

  Tears filled her eyes and spilled over. “I missed you, too.” Missed his fierce hugs, his loony sense of humor, the way he made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world. She returned his embrace with interest, thinking everything would be all right if he would just hold her tight and never let her go. Maybe she could even pretend the horror of the past five years had never happened.

  He released her for a moment to cuddle her in his lap as a smile played around his lips. “So, you didn’t sleep with anyone else while I was gone, huh?”

  “Of course not,” she said indignantly. “How could you think such a thing?” Though it was rather difficult to maintain her indignation when she was curled into him like a purring kitten.

  He kissed her neck, the beard tickling her ear. “Well, you did marry someone else,” he pointed out, then continued nuzzling the sensitive spot on her neck as he slid one hand halfway up her thigh and the other cupped her breast.

  Feeling a little breathless, she asked, “How many times do I have to explain that?” She tried to act annoyed, though she rather enjoyed the marvelous things he was doing with his hands and mouth. It had been so long. . . .

  Ignoring her question, he squeezed her lightly and her body revived from its dormant state to respond to the remembered sensations, tightening her breasts and making her well with moisture. If she wasn’t careful, she’d melt into a puddle of longing here and now. She knew her expression gave her away—she could never hide her desire from Chaz.

  “Does he make you feel this way?” Chaz murmured. “Does he make you sizzle the way I do?”

  “N-no,” she admitted. Though, in all fairness, Spencer had respected her married status and never progressed beyond a chaste kiss, though she knew he’d wanted to. He’d never been given a chance to make her sizzle.

  Chaz, on the other hand, was doing a fine job with very little encouragement. He slid his hand further up her thigh and a moan escaped her lips.

  “Jeez,” Scott exclaimed. “Get a room, willya?”

  Embarrassed, Kelly pushed Chaz’s wandering hands away and tried to straighten her clothing. Good Lord, what must they think of her? Melting in one man’s arms—in a funeral parlor of all places—while another waited in their honeymoon suite, hoping to do those same sweet things to her body.

  Ohmigod, Spencer was still waiting for her, expecting her to sizzle with him tonight. Kelly pushed away from Chaz and struggled to her feet. She needed a clear head to decide what to do, and Chaz did nothing but cloud her senses.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You are going to tell this guy that your real husband has returned, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.” Though she wouldn’t put it quite that way. . . . “I just want to do it in my own way.”

  “How hard can it be?” Chaz protested.

  Very, but Chaz had never had the problems Kelly did with relating bad news. “Let me tell him. I need to find a way to soften the blow.” Though she had no idea how she was going to accomplish that feat. “After all, this was supposed to be his wedding night.”

  “Yeah, well it’s supposed to be my reunion night,” Chaz reminded her with a smoldering look. “And I don’t want to miss a minute of it.” He drew her back into his arms and whispered suggestive things, marvelous things he promised to do to her, pouring the longings of five years into her ears in a matter of moments.

  Kelly drew a shaky breath. This wasn’t exactly how she’d planned on spending the evening, but the thought of warm oil, cool satin sheets, and a hot-cha-cha Chaz sounded verrry intriguing.

  But she couldn’t do that to Spencer, either. Heck, she couldn’t sleep with either of them without feeling guilty. So what should she do? To avoid answering that question, she asked, “Where are you staying?”

  He kissed her neck again. “Wherever you are, sweet.”

  Well, she had planned on staying at the Pourtales honeymoon suite, but a ménage à trois held no appeal. And she certainly didn’t want to go home. If at all possible, she wanted to avoid the scene Mother would make when she learned about this development. At least, until after all this was resolved. “Okay, why don’t you find a hotel, and I’ll call you there afterward.” After she had some time to decide what to do.

  Chaz grinned at her. “Not on your life. I’m coming with you.”

  “To the Pourtales? I don’t think that’s such a good idea. . . .” She wanted to break it to Spencer gently, not shove Chaz’s existence in his face.

  “Yes, it is,” Chaz insisted. “I know how soft-hearted you are. He’s liable to look sad and you’ll want to comfort him, and the next thing you know, he’ll be making whoopie with my wife on a frilly, heart-shaped bed.”

  She pulled away from him. “I wouldn’t do that!”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about—it’s him. And I’m going to make damned sure he doesn’t take advantage of the situation. Or you.”

  She knew that stubborn look—Chaz wasn’t going to budge an inch. She might as well go along and find a way to reduce the damages. And she could be just as stubborn. “Okay, but you’re not showing your face until after I’ve explained it to him.” When Chaz opened his mouth to protest, she said, “I mean it. He’s been very good to me while you were missing, and I’m not going to toss him aside just because you’ve returned from the dead. What kind of person would that make me?”

  Besides, she wasn’t quite sure that’s what she wanted to do anyway. She needed time to think this through, time to decide what was best. But time was apparently the one luxury they wouldn’t allow her.

  Chaz grimaced. “You’re right—you couldn’t do that and still be the Kelly I love. But I’m still going to be nearby to make sure you tell him.”

  “Fair enough. Now, how are we going to get out of here without being mobbed by all those mourners?” She didn’t relish the thought of facing that crowd.

  “Hold on a sec,” Scott said. He opened the door a crack and nabbed the funeral director who was still guarding the door on the other side, pulling him into the room with them.

  Wearing a slightly harassed air, Mr. Throckmorton tugged on his coat and straightened his tie. “I quite understand your need for solitude,” he intoned. “But I have another service scheduled in an hour. Would it be possible to move this along a bit?”

  Scott slapped him on the back. “Just what we had in mind. If you don’t want a scene . . .”

  Throckmorton raised an eyebrow. “Is there any way to avoid it?”

  Scott grinned. “There is if you have a back way out of here.”

  “Yes, of course,” he said, then hesitated. “But what shall I tell the . . . others when you’ve gone?”

  “The truth,” Chaz suggested. “Tell them we skipped out. With us gone, there’s no reason for them to stay. They’ll all be so eager to spread the news of my miraculous reappearance, they’ll fly out of here.”

  That seemed to decide him. “Very well.” Throckmorton went to the other side of the room and swept aside some curtains in an alcove to reveal a door. “This goes out the side, to the parking lot.” He slanted a look at Kelly. “And I believe your wife has a limousine waiting there to take her to the Pourtales.”

  At Chaz’s questioning glance, s
he said, “That’s right. Spencer arranged it.”

  “Perfect,” Scott exclaimed and strode to the door. “I’ll just alert the driver.”

  As he headed out the door, Chaz turned to the funeral director and held out his hand. “Thank you for making my memorial service a memorable one.”

  Throckmorton shook it, saying gravely, “Oh no, sir. That was all your doing.”

  Chaz laughed. “True, but you did it up nice. I do have one question, though.”

  “Yes?”

  “Who is in that pine box?”

  The man’s expression turned pained, though Kelly wasn’t sure if it was because of the question itself or because Chaz had cast aspersions on his work of art.

  “No one,” Throckmorton said. “Anything else would be . . . unseemly.”

  Chaz’s grin widened. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, anyway. Thanks again. There’ll be a bonus for your assistance . . . and even more if you’ll give us about twenty minutes or so to get away before you let the mob loose.”

  “Of course.”

  “Great,” Chaz exclaimed. “Let’s go.”

  He grabbed Kelly by the hand and pulled her toward the door. Thankful for the reprieve, she followed him out the door to find Scott holding the limo door open for them. They slid into the plush interior and Kelly looked up at Scott with a grateful smile. “Thank you. But . . . could I ask you one more favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Could you tell Mother what happened?” Yet another scene she dreaded.

  Scott grimaced. “Not on your life, kiddo. She can find out some other way.” He paused, then added with a sudden look of alarm, “And I don’t want to be around when she does. Move over—I’m coming with you.”

  Scott shoved into the seat beside them and shut the door. Turning to the driver, a big blond woman, he said, “Get us out of here.”

  As the driver complied with nothing more than a lifted eyebrow, Kelly sighed. How bizarre. First her dead husband and now her brother had joined her on what should have been her honeymoon.

  How on earth was she going to explain all this to Spencer?

  3

  Chaz glanced at Kelly. “What’s that buzzing sound coming from your purse?” he asked.

  “My cell phone. It’s on vibrate.”

  He vaguely remembered cell phones. . . .

  She pulled out the phone, glanced at it once, and groaned. “Over a dozen emails, texts, and voice mails. Mostly from your family,” she told Chaz. “I really don’t want to answer them.”

  “So, don’t,” Scott said. He plucked her phone from her hand, turned it off, and stuck it in his pocket. “There. Now you won’t be bothered until you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” Kelly said, looking relieved.

  Chaz eyed Scott warily. He liked Kelly’s brother, but he hadn’t expected him to come along for the ride. In fact, Chaz had seriously considered seducing Kelly on the way to the hotel. Having an audience cramped his style.

  He glanced at Kelly, who was chewing her lip in a nervous habit that drove him crazy. Her full bottom lip made him think of hot nights and even hotter sex. Now she worried at it because of her other husband. Why was she so concerned about this guy? She couldn’t possibly love him.

  Could she?

  Chaz dismissed the notion. No, after the way she had responded earlier, he was absolutely certain Kelly still loved him. And since he wanted Kelly concentrating on him, not this twerp who had conned her into marrying him, he moved closer and slid an arm around her shoulders, then said to Scott, “Why don’t you get off at the next corner so my wife and I can get . . . reacquainted?”

  Scott appeared amused, but Kelly wasn’t. Pushing Chaz away, she turned to her brother. “No, Scott. Stay where you are.”

  Uncertain, Chaz asked, “Why? I thought you wanted him to tell your mother about my miraculous return.”

  Kelly shrugged but kept her distance. “I changed my mind.”

  He tried moving closer again, but she shook her head with a warning look. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” Hell, he’d waited five years to see her, and she was playing coy? What was going on? Didn’t she want him anymore?

  “Because I can’t think when you’re so near,” she complained.

  Well that was a relief. “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “It is if you want me to figure out how to tell Spencer.”

  He did—the sooner, the better. But he knew how much she hated to break bad news. Chaz captured her hand and kissed it. “Hey, don’t worry about that little chore. I’ll be glad to do it for you.”

  She gave him a wry glance. “Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen.”

  Chaz was taken aback. That’s not the way the old Kelly would have reacted. The old Kelly would’ve been grateful for his help . . . and not quite so mouthy. “You’ve changed,” he said softly. “Your clothes, your hair . . . your sassy attitude.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” she challenged, repeating his words back to him.

  The jury was still out on that. He needed some more time to get to know this new version of his wife first. Hedging, he asked, “How’d it happen?”

  “Well, after you were gone so long, I needed to learn to cope, so I did.”

  Yeah, by going totally independent on him. “But how? When I left, you were a copy editor at Pizzazz. Now you look like one of their models.”

  “Well, I know you don’t want to hear this, but most of it was Spencer’s doing. . . .”

  He grimaced but knew he needed to hear it anyway. He motioned for her to go on. “How, exactly?”

  “He took me under his wing, taught me how to dress in the best styles and colors for me, how to wear my hair to flatter my face, and how to choose a look all my own.”

  “Why?” She was perfect just the way she had been when he left.

  “I needed a new image.”

  “But I liked the old Kelly.”

  “The old Kelly didn’t get anywhere,” she reminded him. “The new one got promoted to associate editor then editor. I owe him a lot.”

  “Well, you certainly look the part of a high fashion editor now.” He couldn’t help it—a touch of disapproval colored his voice.

  She gave him an odd look. “Don’t you like the way I look?”

  Frankly, no. He wanted his old Kelly back. “You look very . . . sophisticated.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. It’s just not . . . you. Not the you I remember, anyway.”

  Her expression turned soft. “Oh, Chaz. Everything must seem very strange to you after all these years. The change was gradual for us, but it must looked pretty drastic to you.” She smiled at him, then raised an eyebrow before he could hope for too much sympathy. “But it’s all your fault, you know.”

  How the hell did she figure that? “How? Because I was held captive in peril of my life?”

  She gave him an admonitory look. “No, because you hared off on another expedition without me.”

  “It’s my job.” Surely she didn’t blame him for that.

  “No, it’s your addiction. Though we were only married a few years, you were gone half that time, trotting all over the world in search of archeological treasure. You left me alone. A lot. So stop trying to make me feel guilty because I got on with my life.”

  What was her problem? She’d never complained before. It must be that other guy’s fault. Chaz glanced at Scott for support but his frantic motions disavowed any desire to take part in this discussion.

  “But you were my anchor, my roots. I needed you here,” Chaz explained. Didn’t she understand that?

  “Well, I needed you here, too,” she said in a reasonable tone.

  Feeling as if he were on shifting quicksand, Chaz suspected he was losing this argument, but couldn’t figure out why, so he decided to use heavier ammunition. “Well, while you were playing footsie with whatshisname, my buddy Garcia and I were held captive by a vicious band of pyg—” He broke off
, knowing he’d regret it if he finished that sentence.

  Confusion creased her pretty face. “Pigs?” she asked in disbelief.

  Scott chuckled. “I think he meant pygmies.”

  Chaz slanted an annoyed glance at Scott. Now he chose to enter the conversation?

  I don’t need that kind of help.

  “You were captured by little people?” Kelly asked incredulously. “And you couldn’t get away? What’d they do? Bite your kneecaps? Punch you in the shins?”

  Chaz shot a warning glance at Scott, who appeared to be convulsed with mirth. “It’s not funny. They used deadly poison darts. And besides, we were lost. And sick. We needed to get our bearings first.”

  Kelly shook her head in disbelief and abruptly changed the subject on him. “So, tell me, Chaz. Did you find what you were looking for?” Her tone was mild but there was an aspect to it he didn’t quite understand . . . or care for.

  Warily, because he felt as if he were on quicksand again, Chaz said, “What does it matter?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A straight answer, please. Did you find what you were looking for?”

  He was tempted to lie, but he’d never been able to lie to her. “Well, we didn’t find the city. . . .”

  “But?” she persisted.

  “But we did find a few artifacts.” And had received a very nice sum for them, too.

  “I knew it,” she exclaimed in disgust. “Tell me, was that before or after you escaped from this vicious band of pygmies?”

  “After.”

  Uh-oh. That did it. She looked like Mount Vesuvius about to blow. “Damn it, Chaz. Are you telling me that even after you were free, you didn’t head immediately for home?”

  “I had given my word to bring something back,” he reminded her. Chaz Vincent never went back on his word—she knew that. “And it was only for a short while.”

  “How long?”

  “Not very . . .”

  “How long?” she persisted.

  “A few weeks,” he admitted. “I figured after five years, a little more time wouldn’t matter.” Not when he had an obligation to meet.

  She smacked him in the arm. “And you didn’t call me?”