My Favorite Husband Read online

  Shrugging, he decided there was only one thing to do. He walked over to her table and gave her his most charming smile, hoping he looked harmless. “Mind if I join you?”

  She hesitated, and he quickly tried to remember some persuasive remarks from his dating days, but she finally smiled and said, “Sure, why not?”

  But her eyes were red and puffy, probably from crying, and she looked like she was about to burst out again at any moment. Sheesh, just his luck. To head off the waterworks, he said, “Hi, I’m Chaz.”

  “Candace.”

  He searched for an innocuous conversation opener, keeping one apprehensive eye on her and one on the front desk. “So, you like it here?” Lame, really lame. But who cared? It wasn’t like he was really trying to pick her up. He preferred warm, cuddly brunettes, like Kelly.

  She shrugged. “Usually, it’s my favorite place to relax. But the man I love married another woman today.”

  Yeah, there was a lot of that going around.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. Then, not knowing how to go on after that conversation killer, he asked, “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  Ooookay. He swigged from his bottle and glanced at the desk again, hoping Billings would be gone. No such luck.

  Candace caught him this time and glanced behind her. “What are you looking at?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “The front desk. I’m waiting for someone.” Anyone but Billings.

  She glanced around. “I . . . see. And this is the only place you can see them come in, isn’t it?”

  He felt another sheepish smile form on his face and decided to own up. “I’m sorry. I’ll just go—”

  He half-rose from his chair, but she motioned him back. “No, sit.”

  He raised his eyebrows but decided not to quibble at being allowed to do exactly what he wanted. “You sure?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? I could use the company. Why don’t you tell me your story while you’re waiting?”

  “Story?”

  “Yes, story. Don’t bother to deny it. I’m in journalism, and you just reek of a man with a story to tell.”

  Yeah, one hell of a story—if you read the tabloids—but he wasn’t going to reveal it to a reporter.

  She smiled sympathetically and added, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’m a publisher, not a reporter, and besides, I’m off duty here.”

  Maybe, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Then again, Candace might be able to shed some light on the female mind. “My wife is trying to choose between me and another man.” No need to go into details that might produce unwanted headlines.

  Candace raised an elegant eyebrow. “My, that is a story. So, what went wrong?”

  “What did I do wrong, you mean?” Women always assumed it was the man’s fault. When she only shrugged, he added, “You wouldn’t understand.” Only another man would.

  “Try me.”

  He shook his head and took a swallow of beer, then decided, why not? “She’s mad at me because I came home later than she thought I should.”

  “How much later?”

  “A few weeks,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t as bad as it sounds—I’d been gone a long time.”

  “Leaving her alone?”

  “I had no choice.”

  “So, why didn’t you come home when she thought you should?”

  “Because I’d made a promise I had to keep. It was a matter of honor.” Didn’t anyone understand that concept anymore?

  “A man’s honor is so important to him,” she said, sounding condescending.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing. But what most men don’t realize is that women have honor, too. We just show it differently.”

  Kelly was one of the most honorable women he knew, by his standards. But what about hers? How did she account honor? “How is it different?”

  “Well, I’m no expert, but it seems to me that men are more concerned about keeping their word to strangers. Women care more about keeping faith with people they care about.”

  “But I did keep faith with her,” he protested. “Just . . . later. And I didn’t want to do it—I had to, to keep my word.”

  Candace shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how you felt about it, especially if you didn’t tell her—only your actions matter.”

  Hmmm.

  “And what your actions apparently showed,” she continued inexorably, “was that she came in second to someone or something else. No woman likes that.”

  Ah, hell. Is that what he’d done? No wonder she was upset. But there was no sense crying over what he couldn’t change. “How can I fix it?”

  “Go to her. Don’t let her stew for long. If you love her, show her that she comes first.”

  He grimaced. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, but I can’t. She’s holed up somewhere in this hotel and she won’t answer the phone. I don’t even know where she is.”

  “Is that why you’re watching the front desk?”

  “Sort of.” He glanced past her, but Billings was still there. Then a splash of color in the bellman’s hands caught his eye. He grinned. I recognize those red suitcases.

  “Never mind—I just figured out how I can find her. . . .”

  * * *

  Candace watched Chaz go, feeling a little guilty. She’d been a little hard on him. Too hard, maybe?

  Maybe not. She wished someone had pushed her years ago to declare her feelings to the man she loved. But she’d been too proud to approach him, too afraid to show her true feelings. Afraid he’d cry sexual harassment, afraid he’d feel sorry for her, afraid he’d reject her.

  After all, the man worked for her . . . and was obviously infatuated with another woman. There was nothing more Candace could have done. Was there?

  It didn’t matter anymore. It was too late. Spencer had married Kelly . . . and tonight was their wedding night.

  Candace closed her eyes in anguish. And she would have to watch their happiness every workday for the rest of her life. Somehow, she had to summon the strength to deal with this, to find a way to get beyond the pain and pretend everything was all right.

  She glanced down at the wine glass in her hand. Alcohol wasn’t the answer, but talking to Chaz had made her feel a little better, especially if she could help him find the love she had lost through her own foolish pride. She lifted the glass in a silent toast. I wish you better luck than I had.

  * * *

  Kelly stretched out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, still clothed in the dress she’d worn to one husband’s wedding and the other husband’s funeral.

  Obviously, she couldn’t be married to both men, and she was fairly certain Chaz was her legal husband . . . but was that what she wanted? Spencer was very good to her, putting her needs above his, but he didn’t make her feel the way Chaz did. And after all these years, Chaz still had what it took to make her feel like a breathless teenager. But she wasn’t a teenager anymore, and Chaz never seemed to be around when she needed him the most, never considered her wants and feelings.

  With an exclamation, she tried to wipe the thoughts away. This was ridiculous. She kept going around in the same old circles in her mind. If she wasn’t careful, she’d wear a rut in there.

  She usually wasn’t so wishy-washy. She usually knew exactly what she wanted. But everything “usual” had been turned upside down today, and she didn’t know what she wanted anymore.

  No, that wasn’t true. She wanted the best of both men—Spencer’s reliability and Chaz’s sizzle. But unless she made a choice, she’d have neither.

  For one brief moment, that seemed like the solution—leave them both—but that was worse. She’d put relationships on hold for far too long. She deserved a chance to be happy, and she was going to take it, damn it.

  She just wasn’t sure who to take it with. . . .

  Well, maybe it would be clearer in the morning. For now, she’d get some sleep. Suddenly remembering her su
itcases were still downstairs, she called the Bell Captain to have them sent up, and in a very short time she heard a knock on the door.

  “Bellman,” a voice called out.

  He brought in the bags, but just as she closed the door behind him, there was another knock on the door. She’d tipped him, and had both of her suitcases. What had he forgotten? Puzzled, she opened the door and found Chaz, sans beard, grinning at her.

  All she could do was stare in shock at his freshly shaven face. The well-remembered contours and his flashing dimple were so endearingly familiar, they caught her off guard.

  He took advantage of her daze to saunter past and enter the room. “Hey, it’s nice in here.”

  Regaining some of her senses, she said, “It’s a room just like yours, Chaz. Why don’t you go there?”

  He cast her a reproachful glance as he dropped into a chair. “Now is that nice? And when all I want to do is talk to you.”

  In resignation, she closed the door. “How’d you find me?” If Billings had told him, she’d have the man’s job—and assorted body parts to boot.

  Chaz grinned, flashing his dimple again. “Easy—I followed your suitcases.”

  Yeah, Chaz had always been resourceful.

  “And imagine my surprise when I found out your room is only a few doors down from mine.”

  More evidence of Billings’s warped sense of humor. “But why are you here? I told you I’d call you in the morning.”

  I know, but Spencer has been seeing you every day for the past five years.” He rose to stand in front of her. “Would you begrudge me just a few minutes?” he asked with a beseeching smile.

  Damn, Chaz did beseeching very well. And without that beard, he looked much more like the Chaz she had loved . . . well and often.

  She took a step back, not trusting him or herself. “If I know you, you’re looking for far more than just a few minutes.”

  Well, of course,” he said, moving nearer, “but I’ll take what I can get.”

  Well, you’re not getting any.” He was too close—she couldn’t think straight. She moved back another step, and came to a halt when she bumped up against the bed. Uh-oh. Wrong direction.

  As if stalking her, Chaz moved in for the kill, but she put both hands on his chest. “Stop right there.”

  It didn’t deter him in the least. He leaned in closer, a half smile on his intent face.

  “Stop or I’ll scream,” she warned.

  He grinned. “Sounds like fun.” He drew her in close to his body.

  “I mean it, Chaz. I have a knee and I know how to use it.”

  “You wouldn’t do that. . . .” He moved in closer, his lips just a breath away.

  Unfortunately, he was right. “You’ve been drinking,” she accused. She could smell beer on his breath.

  “Just one beer, while I waited for your suitcases to show up.”

  He leaned forward, and she leaned backward until they were practically bent horizontal above the bed. Any moment now, his lips would touch hers, and she’d be lost. Desperately, she searched for another way to stop him. “I-I’ll choose Spencer.”

  That worked. He backed off and regarded her incredulously. “What?”

  “If you don’t stop this determined seduction, I’ll choose Spencer.” She would, too. Chaz had to learn to take no for an answer.

  “That’s a low blow.”

  But it worked—he let her go. Shrugging, she straightened her dress and stepped away from the bed and Chaz. “So what do you call what you were doing?”

  “That wasn’t low, that was . . . heaven,” Chaz said softly.

  Damn, did he have to sound so sexy when he said that? “You’d better leave,” she said unsteadily. “It’s late and I’m tired.”

  “Too tired to talk?”

  “Too tired to fight you off,” she corrected.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, no more touching, I promise. I just want to talk to you.”

  Did the man never give up? “Does it have to be now?”

  “This won’t take long,” he promised. “Please, sit.”

  With a sigh, Kelly sat in one chair and he seated himself opposite her. She might as well hear him out. He certainly wasn’t going to leave until she did. “Okay, what is it?”

  He gave her an earnest look. “I’m afraid all you remember are the bad times, and the time you spent searching for me.”

  There might be some truth in that. For years, thoughts of Chaz had been all bound up with concern for his safety, and fear of what might have happened to him. “Maybe.”

  “Well, before you make your decision, I just wanted to remind you of the good times we had. The times I remember.”

  She glanced at him curiously. “You say that as if I choose to recall only the bad.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. But you’ve been focused on finding me, whereas my memories of you were all that kept me going.”

  Curious now, she asked, “What memories?”

  He smiled. “Remember when we were dating and went hiking in the mountains and got caught in that rainstorm?”

  “I remember we were drenched, muddy, and absolutely filthy by the time we got back to the car.”

  “Yes, and you were trying so hard to maintain your mother’s impossible standards and keep clean . . . until you slipped in the mud and fell in that huge puddle. I could tell the moment you gave it up. You looked so . . . free, so full of life and laughter.”

  She chuckled. “I think I went slightly insane.” She had splashed around in the puddle, and made mud pies and threw them at him when he laughed at her.

  “No, not insane. Carefree. Adorable. That’s the moment I fell in love with you.”

  “Lord, what a horrible image of me to carry around with you.” But despite her words, the memory left a warm glow in her heart. If he could love her while she looked like that . . . Well, he must be the insane one.

  He shook his head. “Remember watching old movies in front of the VCR on Saturday nights? We’d bundle up under your grandmother’s quilt and eat popcorn and snuggle.”

  She smiled. “I remember.” She had always felt warm and cherished in his arms.

  “How about the parties we threw? I loved playing games with you. We were the best charades team in the world.”

  She nodded. It had felt good to loosen up and be as silly as Chaz. They had had some good times.

  “But the best times of all were Sunday mornings. We’d lay in bed, make slow, lazy love, read the comics, and talk about our hopes and dreams.”

  Tears suddenly pricked her eyes. They had seemed to have so much promise, so much potential then. When Chaz was home, life had been perfect.

  “Don’t throw all that away,” he begged softly.

  “But it wasn’t always like that.” It had been fun and exciting when he was with her, but when he was gone, she missed him terribly and worried every moment about his safety. It was hard to live like that.

  He captured her hands in his. “Don’t dwell on that, please. Remember the good times—it can be like that again.”

  “I don’t know, Chaz. It couldn’t be the same. We aren’t the same two people who married eight years ago. I’ve changed—I had to, with everything that happened.”

  “So, he’s made you a stick in the mud?”

  That hurt. She pulled her hands away. “If that’s true, why would you want me?”

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t love you for just the good times. I love you because . . .” He paused, gesturing impatiently. “Because you’re you. You’re warm, homey, comfortable—”

  “You make me sound like a sack of old clothes,” she protested.

  “No, no. That’s not what I meant at all. Look, you know I’m not as good with words as you are.”

  That wasn’t quite true—he’d been doing quite well up until now.

  “Can you give me the benefit of the doubt here?” he pleaded.

  Okay, he was trying, and she had to admit that his reminiscence
s had touched her. “All right. But I’m not making any promises.”

  He must have seen some softening on her face, for he asked, “Does that mean I can stay?”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He grinned, unrepentant. “Hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “No, I guess not. But you’d better leave now. I really do need to get some rest.” She went to the door to give him the hint.

  To her surprise, he took it. Rising, he said, “All right, I’ll go for now. But don’t forget, I’m just down the hall if you should need anything.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Anything at all.”

  He looked so guileless she couldn’t help but laugh. “I won’t, but thanks.”

  She opened the door and Chaz walked out into the hallway. “And don’t forget,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s always been you I loved. Only you.”

  Her resolve started to melt and she took a step toward him. “Oh, Chaz—”

  “Chaz, mi querido,” a husky voice exclaimed, interrupting them. “There you are. I haf been looking everywhere for you.”

  The lightly accented voice belonged to a tall, dark Latin beauty with masses of luxurious dark hair and creamy brown skin. That’s about all Kelly was able to register before the woman was in Chaz’s arms, covering his face with tiny kisses.

  What the—? Planting her hands on her hips, Kelly said, “So it’s been only me, huh?”

  Chaz peeled the woman away from him and gave Kelly a desperate look. “It’s not the way it looks, honest.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Kelly and asked, “Who are you?”

  “I’m his wife,” Kelly said, but it didn’t seem to faze the woman at all. “Who are you?”

  The woman cast a surprised glance at Chaz. “Did he not tell you? I am Amalia Garcia. We spend the last five years together.”

  “You’re his buddy Garcia?” Why, that lousy, cheating scum.

  “Yes,” the woman declared. “Though I will soon be Amalia Vincent.” She tucked a hand into Chaz’s arm and beamed up at him. “We are to be married.”