My Favorite Husband Read online

  5

  Chaz closed his eyes and swore silently. Uh-oh. I’m dead meat. The hurt and confusion on Kelly’s face was almost too much to bear. And it was all Amalia’s fault. He had never hit a woman in his life, but he came awfully close to it then.

  He backed away from Amalia before he did her bodily harm. “We’re not getting married. I’m already married—happily married. I told you that.” Over and over again. Damn it, he’d thought he was free of the woman. How the hell had she found him?

  “Not for long,” Kelly declared. The hurt had disappeared from her expression, now replaced by anger.

  “Good,” Amalia said and moved to take his arm. “Then nothing will stop our wedding.”

  Chaz peeled her off with an annoyed glance, and turned his attention to the woman who really mattered. “It’s not how it looks, honey, honest.” She had to believe him—Amalia meant nothing to him.

  “Really?” Kelly asked with her arms crossed and a closed-off expression on her face. “It looks like you lied to me about your buddy Garcia.”

  “I didn’t lie,” he protested and suddenly realized he was back in that shifting quicksand once more. In response to Kelly’s raised eyebrow, he squirmed a little. “I just didn’t tell the whole truth.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I wanted to explain it to you slowly.” After they had reunited and everything was all right between them. “I knew you wouldn’t be rational about this.” Besides, to be honest, he wanted to put off the scene as long as possible.

  “Rational? You expect me to be rational about the fact that my husband lived with another woman for five years and couldn’t be bothered to tell me about it?”

  Damn it, he’d used the wrong words again. How could he make her understand? “I know it looks bad, but you make it sound like we were living in sin or something.”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “No, no, of course not. Let me explain—”

  “Why are you talking to this woman?” Amalia pouted and stuck to him like a blood-sucking leech. “Now we can be married. You must leaf her.”

  Leaf her? Chaz had a sudden bizarre vision of festooning his wife with foliage, but shook his head. Familiarity with Amalia’s accent made him realize what she had really meant.

  Down the hall, a door opened, and Scott popped his head out. When he spotted Amalia clinging to Chaz, his eyebrows rose. “What’s this?”

  Good—reinforcements. “Could you help me out, here?” Chaz asked. He definitely needed it. Without knowing how, he was somehow sinking deeper every moment.

  Scott moved out into the hall and glanced curiously at the woman attached to Chaz. In a bemused tone, he asked, “Just what kind of help do you need?”

  Chaz tried to pry Amalia’s fingers from his arm. “Get her out of here, would you?”

  Scott glanced at the tight grouping they made. “Which one?”

  Giving Scott a glare at his obtuseness, Chaz said, “Not Kelly, of course. I need to talk to her.” Alone, so he could explain everything—make her understand how little this woman meant to him, how much Kelly mattered.

  “Don’t bother removing her, Scott,” Kelly said in a scathing tone. “It’s obvious he’s been used to having her around—for the past five years.”

  Comprehension dawned on Scott’s face. “Ah, this must be Garcia.” He shook his head sadly at Chaz. “Bad move.”

  “Yes, I am Amalia Garcia,” his barnacle confirmed. “And I am not a bad moof. We are to be married.”

  “Stop saying that,” Chaz exclaimed. How could he make Kelly understand if Amalia insisted on spewing her inane fantasies to everyone who would listen?

  “But we must marry. We haf been together for many years.”

  Lord, the woman had a one-track mind. It had taken him about a week to tire of it and a month to be totally sick of it. And after five years, he’d thought seriously about slitting his wrists—or hers—to be rid of her.

  Unfortunately, the expression on Kelly’s face showed she felt the same way—about both of them. To erase that impression, he protested, “But nothing happened between us. Besides, I’m already married.”

  “Well, that’s debatable,” Scott said.

  Amalia’s face lit up. “Yes?”

  Chaz glared at Scott but Kelly’s ever-helpful brother explained, “The law thinks he’s dead.”

  “Ah yes, I read about his funeral, so I meet his family.”

  “You met my family?” Chaz repeated in a faint voice. He groaned to himself, wondering what she had said and how much damage control he had to do.

  Ah hell, who cared? They always thought the worst of him anyway. It was Kelly who mattered now.

  “Yes—should I not know my husband’s family? But I get there after you leaf.” She pouted at Chaz again, obviously trying to appear sexy but only succeeded in looking childish. “They were upset with you for not saying where you go.”

  “Then how did you find me?” he asked, wondering what gods he had pissed off to deserve this.

  “That nice Mr. Throckmorton told me.”

  Well, Throckmorton could kiss his bonus good-bye. In fact, he can kiss my—

  “So, if you are dead, does that not mean you are . . . free?” Amalia asked.

  Ignoring her strange logic, Chaz stated the obvious. “I’m not dead.” But Amalia was going to be if she didn’t shut up. “And I’m not free. I’m very much married—to Kelly.”

  That was, if she didn’t kill him after this mess. Turning to his wife, he pleaded, “Give me a chance to explain.”

  “Why, Chaz? So you can lie some more?” She paused, adding sarcastically, “No, wait. I mean so you can ‘leave out’ more vital information?”

  The quicksand was up to his waist now. “I won’t leave anything else out, I promise.” He’d already learned that lesson. “And I won’t lie. Nothing happened, I swear. I never touched her.”

  Not that Amalia hadn’t tried. And after the first couple of weeks, he hadn’t even been tempted by her too-obvious charms. Her clumsy advances and aimless, self-centered prattling were the worst of the tortures he had endured. That’s why he called her Garcia, to maintain some distance, treat her like one of the guys.

  Amalia moved closer to rub up against him like a cat in heat. “Why do you lie? We were as man and wife. We luff each other.”

  “No, you don’t love me—you just think you do.” Desperately, Chaz turned to Kelly. “She’s the one who’s lying. Can’t you see that?” The woman was a jealous fiend and would lie, cheat, and steal to get what she wanted.

  But Kelly looked like she was buying this fishy story, hook, line, sinker . . . and half the rod and reel as well. The quicksand was about to close over his head.

  He turned to Scott, hoping for support. But Scott merely frowned at him, obviously not knowing who to believe. “Do you luff her, too?”

  He was making jokes at a time like this? “No, I love Kelly.”

  This was just too surreal. Why had Amalia tracked him down . . . and why on earth did she assume he would marry her? He had never implied any such thing. In fact, he thought he’d made it rather plain he hated the sight of her. What the hell could he do? Frantically, Chaz cast his gaze around, searching for a way out.

  That’s when he noticed that other doors along the hall had opened, the room occupants peering out at them with varying degrees of annoyance and curiosity. Damn it, he didn’t need an audience—having Scott and Amalia there was bad enough.

  Turning to face the peeping Toms, he raised his voice. “What is this? A damn movie set? You want to be an extra? I can arrange it.”

  Hastily, they all closed their doors. Feeling satisfied that something had gone as he planned, Chaz returned his attention to Kelly. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

  “Good idea,” Amalia said brightly and grabbed Chaz’s arm. “My room is this way. . . .”

  He shook her loose again, wishing he had some kind of repellant to keep her from lighting on him again. �
��Then go to it—I need to talk to my wife. Alone.”

  Kelly shook her head, looking cold as ice. “There’s no need. I wouldn’t think of standing in the way of true luff.”

  Sheesh, her too? He rolled his eyes, but Kelly continued implacably, saying, “You can have a divorce.”

  Chaz felt as if he’d been sucker-punched. Oh, no—not the “D” word. He opened his mouth to protest, but the only thing that came out was a moan.

  The quicksand had just closed over his head.

  * * *

  Kelly hadn’t expected the shaft of pain that speared through her at her own words. The same pain showed on Chaz’s face, but that’s what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? To hurt him as much as he’d hurt her?

  Unfortunately, his buddy looked like a self-satisfied feline who’d just rolled in a bed of catnip. Kelly felt an overpowering urge to slap her, but managed to control herself. She wouldn’t give Chaz the satisfaction—he’d probably love a cat fight.

  “No,” Chaz exclaimed in horror. “Not a divorce. You don’t want that.”

  Kelly regarded him with disdain. “You have no idea what I want. You never did.”

  “That’s not true—”

  “Can we do this somewhere else more private?” Scott asked, interrupting him. “Before they kick us out of the hotel?”

  “No!” Kelly and Chaz declared together. Immediately, Kelly wished she could take it back, not wanting to be in agreement with Chaz on anything. But being in a confined space with him and his “buddy” would be worse.

  The question was, why did Chaz say no? No doubt he wanted a clear line of retreat.

  Though right now, Chaz was advancing—toward her. “Please, honey. You’re not being reasonable.”

  Kelly had started to back away, but this just ticked her off more. She stood her ground, even took a step toward him as her voice rose uncontrollably. “I’m not being reasonable?” She ignored Scott’s shushing motions—the hurt and anger needed an outlet. “What did you expect? You betrayed me, you lied to me, and you want me to be reasonable about it?”

  “But I didn’t betray you—”

  “Yes, you did,” his bimbo interrupted.

  Chaz whirled on her, fury in his eyes. “Stop it.”

  What’s the matter, Chaz?” Kelly taunted. “Having a lover’s spat?”

  Chaz turned back to her and wheedled, “Come on, honey. Don’t be like this—”

  “I’ll be any damned way I please, and you have nothing to say about it.” Feeling safe from Chaz’s charm in her anger, she took another step closer and jabbed her finger in his chest. “In fact, you have nothing to say about anything. I want nothing more to do with you.”

  Chaz just gaped at her wordlessly but unfortunately, Amalia seemed to have no problems with her mouth. “Good—then he’s mine. Come with me, Chaz. You need a real woman.”

  Like I’m fake?

  For the first time, Kelly took a good look at Chaz’s buddy, wondering what he saw in her, searching for flaws. Amalia’s nose was too thin, her mouth too wide, her hair too shiny, and she looked unbalanced with those large breasts on that skinny frame.

  Damn it, she was beautiful. And sexy.

  Jealousy roiled through Kelly. She suddenly felt too short, too chubby, too plain. If Chaz had to be imprisoned with a woman, why couldn’t it have been an ugly one?

  The thought aroused a fierce competitive edge that Kelly hadn’t known she possessed. Hell, lady, you might be a knock-out, but can you make mud pies?

  Suddenly, Kelly realized she was going about this all wrong. By dumping Chaz, she was leaving the field wide open for this bimbo. They might deserve each other, but they didn’t deserve happiness after all Kelly had been through.

  Wait a minute. Seeing how Chaz was trying to get as far away from his clinging vine as possible, maybe Amalia wasn’t as irresistible—or as much of a woman—as she thought.

  So I’m not a real woman, huh? “What you mean by that?” Kelly demanded.

  Amalia shrugged with style and elegance which just ratcheted up Kelly’s anger even more. Wriggling a body that would give most men wet dreams, the woman asked, “Do I haf to explain it?”

  “Yes, I think you do.” Go ahead, let her show her true feelings to the world. Then Chaz would see just how conceited and self-centered she really was.

  Stroking Chaz’s arm, Amalia gave her a calculated smile and said, “Well, you were not able to keep him at home, but I will not haf any trouble.”

  Anger exploded within Kelly, more so because that shaft hit the bull’s eye. She hadn’t been able to persuade Chaz to stay home with her. And this woman knew far too much about their personal lives for Kelly’s peace of mind. Ignoring Scott’s frantic motions once more, Kelly said, “Well, Chaz made it quite clear he doesn’t want you. He wants me.”

  Amalia scowled and Kelly hurried to follow up on her advantage. Grabbing a double fistful of Chaz’s shirt, she yanked him up against her chest and said fiercely, “He’s my husband and you can’t have him.” Then, to pound home the point, she gave him a long, hot, angry kiss.

  But before the kiss could turn her knees weak, she broke off to gauge her opponent’s reaction. Amalia appeared supremely annoyed, Chaz was delighted, and Scott looked . . . odd. Kind of sick and horrified at the same time as he gazed at something over her shoulder.

  Kelly twisted around to see what he was gawking at and her knees almost buckled as the blood drained from her head.

  Ohmigod, it’s Spencer.

  A tiny voice wailed inside her mind. This wasn’t how she wanted him to find out. . . .

  “Your what?” Spencer asked, looking as pale as she felt.

  “She said he is her husband,” Amalia explained helpfully. “Though perhaps he is not.” Then, looking back and forth between Spencer and the others and evidently sensing undercurrents she didn’t understand, the woman asked bluntly, “Who are you?”

  Spencer’s expression turned stony. “I’m her other husband.”

  6

  Kelly closed her eyes against the pain and bewilderment on Spencer’s face. Could he have possibly learned the truth in a worse way?

  She wished the floor would open up and swallow her right then and there, but no such luck. Fainting sounded like a good idea, too—anything to get her out of this mess—but she didn’t know how to do it on purpose, much less realistically. She’d probably end up hurting herself anyway, so she was just going to have to deal with it.

  The only one who seemed happy about Spencer’s statement was Amalia. “Ah, good,” the bimbo exclaimed. “Then Chaz is mine.”

  Chaz scowled at her. “Now cut that out. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not going to marry you. I’m married to Kelly. She’s the one I want. You’re . . . irrelevant.”

  Amalia pouted again. “What is this . . . word? Is it a bad thing?”

  Chaz just rolled his eyes in disgust, so Scott filled her in. “It’s not bad,” he said soothingly. “It means you’re . . .” He paused, searching for the right word, then lamely ended up with, “. . . extraneous.” At her puzzled look, he added, “Superfluous?” She frowned and he added, “Uh, not needed.”

  Her expression cleared. “Ah, I see. But Chaz does need me. We are to be married.”

  Now Scott appeared as exasperated as Chaz looked and Kelly felt.

  Unfortunately, Spencer still appeared confused. Feeling bad for him, Kelly took a step in his direction, but Chaz blocked her way.

  “So this is the guy you married?” he asked disapprovingly, looking Spencer up and down as if he were some unwashed homeless junkie.

  Spencer stiffened, and waves of frost rolled off him as he glared at Chaz. But, ever polite, he said, “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure . . . ?”

  Animosity choked the air, threatening to suck up all the available oxygen, but, true to her upbringing, Kelly wanted to avoid a scene at all costs.

  It’s a little late for that.

  Okay, avoid making a worse scene
, then.

  Stepping between her two husbands—and didn’t that thought make her senses reel?—Kelly said, “Chaz, this is Spencer Preston, my—” She broke off, fearing that finishing that statement would only make things worse. Ignoring her brother’s knowing grin, she turned determinedly to Spencer. “Spencer, this is Chaz Vincent, my . . . first husband.”

  “Only husband,” Chaz said firmly.

  Ignoring him, Spencer gazed at her with a frown creasing his brow. “But how did this happen? And why are all these people here?”

  Kelly hesitated, wondering how best to explain.

  In the pause, her helpful brother jumped in with his version of events. “It’s really quite simple,” he told Spencer with an engaging smile. “You two had Chaz declared legally dead so you could get married. But Chaz wasn’t dead—he was just held captive with Garcia. He showed up very much alive at his own funeral, so he decided to come along on your honeymoon. I thought it sounded like a good idea, so I came, too.”

  Spencer nodded dubiously, though he still looked perplexed as his gaze swung toward Amalia.

  “Oh, her?” Scott said. “She’s Garcia—Amalia Garcia—and she wants to marry Chaz, but she’s irrelevant.”

  Amalia stamped her foot. “I am not irrev— Irrel— That thing you said. I am not not needed.”

  Kelly glared at Scott’s levity.

  Ignoring her, he said blithely, “Well, she’s irrelevant to Chaz, anyway. Kelly thinks she’s very much relevant since Amalia spent the last five cozy years with him.”

  “Thanks so much for the run-down,” Kelly said, hoping she could stop the revelations pouring from her brother’s mouth.

  Scott grinned. “No problem. Any time.”

  Spencer appeared thoughtful. “So this is why you left me alone in the honeymoon suite? Because your first husband rose from the dead?”

  Kelly sagged in relief. Trust Spencer to cut through Scott’s obfuscation to what was truly important.

  “He makes me sound like a zombie,” Chaz protested.

  Ignoring him, Kelly turned to Spencer. “Yes. I-I didn’t know quite how to explain, so I wanted to be alone for awhile, to figure out how to break it to you.” Only this wasn’t how she’d planned to do it.