My Favorite Husband Read online

  Some of the tension left his face. Relief, perhaps, that she hadn’t left him alone on their wedding night for another reason?

  “Then the solution is quite simple,” Spencer said. “Kelly will just have to divorce both of us and remarry one.”

  Spencer and Amalia looked cheered by this idea, but Chaz wasn’t having any of it. “And I suppose you think you’re the one she should marry?” he challenged.

  Spencer’s urbane shrug managed to convey the thought that naturally Kelly would choose him.

  Chaz must have read it the same way, for his expression turned belligerent as he clenched his fists and said, “That won’t be necessary. All she has to do is annul her marriage to you. Then it will be as if it never existed.”

  Could it be that simple? Kelly frowned. Her head was beginning to hurt.

  Spencer stiffened, apparently annoyed at this reminder that he had never had a chance to consummate the marriage. “I can offer Kelly the best. An elegant lifestyle, peace of mind, and freedom from any worries. What can you offer her?” Spencer let his gaze sweep over Chaz in disdain. “Dysentery?”

  “He is right,” Amalia said in a cooing tone to Chaz as she stroked his arm. “Let him take care of her. I will take care of you.”

  Chaz shrugged her off, his gaze boring into Spencer. “I can offer her a hell of a lot more than you, pal. The important things—like passion, excitement, adventure. Ever heard of them? Or are you too busy being elegant?” he said with a sneer.

  Kelly watched in consternation as her husbands faced off, their civilized veneer stripped away. Oh, she knew Chaz had all that heat simmering just below the surface, but to see Spencer angry enough to be rude was quite shocking. She didn’t think he had it in him.

  She ought to be angry with both of them, but there was something exhilarating about having two men fight over her. Especially when they were both ignoring the bimbo. It was kind of nice to be the center of attention for a change.

  “Well,” Spencer said, shooting his cuffs and meticulously straightening them, “I’d rather be elegant than obstreperous.”

  “Obstreperous?” Chaz repeated in disbelief. “Who uses words like that?”

  “I not know what it means,” Amalia said in puzzlement. Turning to Scott, she asked, “What does it mean?”

  Ever helpful, Scott explained, “It means . . . unruly, belligerent. I think Spencer is calling Chaz a bully.”

  “Oh,” Amalia said, then narrowed her eyes at Spencer. “Chaz is no bully—he is mine.”

  As if that made any sense. Annoyed, Kelly snapped, “This is none of your business. You’re irrelevant, remember?”

  “Ha,” Amalia exclaimed, jerking her chin up. “If I am irrev— That, that thing, you are . . .” She paused as if searching for the right English word, then broke into a stream of Spanish, punctuating her words with a stamping foot, flashing eyes, and waving arms.

  Kelly watched in awe—she’d never seen anyone lose their temper with their whole body before. It was just as well she didn’t understand a word of it. If she had, she surely would have been offended. As it was, Amalia’s display reminded Kelly she needed to maintain her temper to ensure her husbands didn’t lose theirs.

  Unfortunately, they seemed to have forgotten her in watching Amalia’s little fit. Chaz looked apprehensive, but Spencer’s expression was oddly admiring. Scott, naturally, was amused.

  Disgusted with the lot of them, Kelly turned to leave, but Chaz caught her arm. “No, wait.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “You haven’t told him yet,” Chaz said patiently.

  “Told who what?”

  “You haven’t told that guy,” he nodded toward Spencer, “that you’re my wife. Legally, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Nonsense,” Spencer declared. “At least I didn’t jaunt off on archaeological expeditions all over the world and abandon her. I was here for her when you weren’t.”

  Chaz stared at him in disbelief. “You think I wanted to be held prisoner for five years?”

  “Hold on,” Scott said, interrupting them both. “What you two want isn’t at issue—we all know what that is . . . who that is. The question is, what does Kelly want?”

  “I’m sooo glad someone realizes that,” Kelly said sarcastically.

  Then wished she hadn’t. All eyes turned toward her, waiting for her to answer the question and end this. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. How could she choose one man and leave the other dangling in the wind? In the middle of a hotel hallway, no less? She couldn’t, not publicly like this.

  “So, who’s it gonna be?” Scott asked. “Mr. Elegance or Mr. Excitement?”

  They all looked at her expectantly, but it was too much. Pain speared through her head and Kelly rubbed her temples. “I-I don’t know. I’m tired and I have a headache. I can’t think. I need to rest awhile.”

  Chaz scowled. “But—”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Not another word, or I’ll say to hell with both of you.”

  Spencer looked offended. “But I didn’t say anything,” he protested.

  “You just did,” Scott said with a grin. “Come on, is it too much to ask to let her alone to think for awhile? After all, it’s the rest of your lives she’s deciding. Would you want to be rushed into such a decision?”

  Scott could be useful on occasion. “He’s right,” she said. “I just need some time.”

  “How much time?” Chaz asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her temples really throbbing now. And she wouldn’t put it past Chaz to continue bugging her with the same question until she answered to his satisfaction. “But don’t even think of bothering me. The first one to disturb me is out of the running.”

  Chaz looked guilty, but Spencer appeared surprised. Obviously, he had never even thought of intruding upon her until she announced she was ready.

  So which was better? The man who was considerate of her feelings? Or the one who was so anxious to be with her that he ignored all the rules?

  If she followed her heart, the answer was clear. After her reaction to Amalia’s possessiveness, it was obvious Kelly still loved Chaz as much as she ever had. But loving him had caused her so much pain. Could she live with that again?

  Could she live without him? Kelly massaged her temples, wishing the pain and pressure would go away.

  “No,” Amalia exclaimed with a stamp of her foot. “It is cruel of you to leaf us like this. You must choose. Now.”

  Darn it, Amalia was right. And from the expression on everyone else’s faces, they thought so, too.

  The quandary warred within Kelly, creating a maelstrom of contradictory emotions.

  I need to make a decision. I can’t make a decision.

  I want Chaz. I want Spencer.

  I just want out! she screamed inside her head. That did it. The pressure that had built up inside her burst open, letting loose an explosion of emotion—she covered her face and sobbed.

  Chaz stared in consternation at his wife as she bawled in big gulping sobs. He couldn’t ever remember seeing her cry before and it tore him up inside, especially the thought that he might be the cause of her misery. He took a step toward her, but so did the other guy, and Chaz realized she hadn’t given either one of them the right to comfort her. Yet. He almost growled in frustration.

  Kelly turned blindly toward her brother and Scott did what Chaz only wished he could—he took Kelly in his arms and made soothing noises as she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “Look, guys,” Scott said with a scathing glance. “I don’t think she’s going to make any decision tonight.”

  Chaz took another step toward her, but Scott scowled at them both. “Let her get some rest now. Don’t worry, you can continue harassing her tomorrow.”

  Though Chaz didn’t care for Scott’s attitude, he couldn’t fault the man’s concern for his sister. He nodded and watched as Scott led Kelly back to her room. She was still weeping, though more quietly now, and it m
ade him feel like a brute.

  As the door closed behind them, Chaz realized he was now alone in the hallway with Amalia and that other man.

  “Good,” Amalia declared. “She is gone. Come with me.”

  Good Lord, did she never give up? Glaring at her, Chaz said, “I’m not going with you. Anywhere. Anytime. Got that? You might as well give up and leave.”

  Amalia shrugged. “We will be married. You will see. For now, I get my beauty sleep.” Apparently thinking Kelly wasn’t going to be a threat for the rest of the night, Amalia sauntered off, swinging her hips and her hair as if she were a model on the runway and the world’s eyes were upon her.

  It didn’t impress Chaz one iota, but he caught the other guy eyeing her with speculation.

  The other guy? Chaz scowled as he realized what he’d been doing. Unwilling to give the man reality by naming him, Chaz couldn’t bring himself to call him Spencer or Preston, even in his mind—they were just too wimpy for words. And he wasn’t about to think of him as Kelly’s other husband. But he couldn’t just keep calling him the other guy. What should he call him then?

  Asshole leapt to mind.

  Naw, he might let it slip in Kelly’s presence and she wouldn’t appreciate the little nickname. But Chaz couldn’t let the asshole get the upper hand—Mr. Elegance would just have to realize he would always be in second place.

  That was it—he’d think of him as Number Two. Chaz grinned. He rather liked all the connotations associated with that. Deuce was even easier. Good, Deuce it was.

  But a suitable nickname didn’t solve any real problems. Chaz tried to ignore Deuce’s presence in the hallway, but it ate away at him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, an inkblot in his peripheral vision. Chaz twitched in frustration, wanting to punch the guy for taking advantage of Kelly while she was in a vulnerable state and for having the gall to marry Chaz’s wife. But Kelly wouldn’t like it if they brawled in the hallway of this fancy hotel, so Chaz kept his fists balled in his pockets and willed Deuce to leave.

  Unfortunately, the blot remained. At this point, Chaz would have gone to his own room to give Kelly a chance to recuperate, but there was no way in hell he was going to leave Deuce with a clear playing field right outside Kelly’s door.

  The SOB moved closer and Chaz bristled. The time he had spent in captivity had left him with a very thin veneer of civilization and if the twerp with two last names started anything, Chaz wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.

  But Deuce halted about four feet away, as if to make sure he was as close to Kelly as Chaz was.

  Chaz snorted derisively and leaned against the wall just to the side of her door, casually crossing his arms. Deuce just as nonchalantly leaned against the other side and crossed his arms, until they looked like a pair of eunuchs guarding the sultan’s harem.

  Hell, wrong image. Chaz was definitely no eunuch, though he couldn’t speak for Deuce. And this was no secluded harem—this was his wife’s bedroom. Deuce had no right to be anywhere near it.

  Chaz felt a sudden primal urge to claim the territory as his own in unmistakable terms, but he didn’t know how to go about it, short of whizzing on the carpet.

  Not a good idea—Kelly and the hotel management probably wouldn’t like it. It wasn’t civilized.

  His lips quirked into a wry grin at the thought. The grin seemed to make Deuce uneasy, so Chaz let it widen into a sneer. Mess with my woman, willya? As soon as I can find a way to win her back, you’re outta here.

  But though he retained his civilized ways, Chaz still felt the need to claim Kelly as his own, to be with her in her time of need. She was upset and he should be with her, holding her, comforting her, telling her everything would be all right. Damn it, it should be Chaz in there with her—not her brother, and certainly not the elegant man she’d chosen as her second husband.

  Sudden doubt assailed Chaz as he wondered why she had chosen a second husband so unlike her first. If she had married another man like Chaz, he could have understood it, at least. But to choose one who was his polar opposite in every way . . . what did that say about their marriage? Had it been that bad?

  No, it couldn’t have been. He remembered nothing but good times, wonderful companionship, and hot, sweaty sex. Oh, there had been a few fights, sure, but that was the sign of a healthy marriage, wasn’t it? Or had he idealized his marriage during those five years, making it out to be much more than it really was?

  He mulled that over in his mind for a moment, then decided he hadn’t exaggerated it. When he and Kelly had reminisced earlier, she had responded to the shared memories as warmly as he. Had she changed that much, then, that a future with a wimp like Deuce seemed desirable? He couldn’t imagine it.

  The door opened then and both he and Deuce leapt to attention, but only Scott emerged. He closed the door behind him, smiling slightly when he saw the “guard” positions they had taken.

  “How is she?” Chaz demanded, only to be immediately echoed by Deuce.

  “She’s fine,” Scott reassured them, making a calming gesture. “She’s just worn out. It’s been a long day.”

  Yes, it had. Chaz realized with a start that the day had started out with her marrying one husband and finding another was alive, then had been packed full of events since. “She must be exhausted,” Chaz murmured.

  Scott nodded. “I’m sure you both understand she’s too tired to make a decision right now.”

  “Of course,” Deuce said in that smarmy tone of his.

  Not to be outdone, Chaz added, “It can’t be easy for her.” Or us. But he left that unsaid.

  “It isn’t,” Scott said with a sigh. “I’m not sure it will ever be.”

  Fear spiked through Chaz. At first, he had been so certain Kelly would choose him, so utterly confident in her love for him, that he hadn’t even considered any other outcome. Now, however, he wasn’t so sure. Would she blame Chaz for making her cry? Would she believe Amalia’s skewed version of events?

  Would she do the unthinkable and choose Deuce?

  Chaz couldn’t stand the idea of her making a decision without giving him a fair hearing, without giving him the chance to show her how much he loved her, needed her. “I have an idea,” Chaz blurted out.

  Both men looked at him in surprise, though Deuce’s expression also held a healthy dose of suspicion.

  Now, how to make this palatable to everyone? “Why don’t we give her more time to decide . . . and give her more information on which to base that decision?”

  “What did you have in mind?” Deuce asked with narrowed eyes.

  Ignoring him, Chaz spoke directly to Scott. “I figure I—I mean we—could each have a day with her, alone. It would give her a chance to see each of us at our best and maybe help her figure out who she wants to be with for the rest of her life.”

  It galled Chaz that he would have to give Spencer a full day alone with Kelly, too, but it was the only way they would all go along with it.

  “What’s the catch?” Spencer asked in a suspicious tone.

  “No catch,” Chaz said. Except that when the stakes were this high, he played to win.

  Scott nodded slowly. “I think she’ll go for it, but she’s sleeping now. I’ll ask her in the morning.”

  Chaz felt himself relax a little. At least this way he’d have a chance with her. “Good.”

  “So,” Scott said, “the next question is, who goes first?”

  Chaz and Deuce eyed each other, unsmiling. Which was better, to go first and set the standard, or to go last and clinch the deal? Apparently, Deuce was having the same problem deciding, for he didn’t say anything either.

  “Never mind,” Scott said. “We’ll flip a coin. Heads, it’s Chaz. Tails, it’s Spencer.”

  Scott flipped the coin and peered down at it, showing it to both men. “Tails it is—Spencer goes first.”

  Deuce smirked and Chaz tensed. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. . . .

  7

  Kelly woke, fe
eling disoriented for a moment or two in the strange room. Stretching in the bright morning light, she realized she had worn an oversized T-shirt to bed . . . which seemed wrong somehow.

  She struggled to clear the sleep from her brain and the world slowly came back into focus. Oh, yeah. Kelly couldn’t bring herself to wear the frilly nightgown Mother had given her for her honeymoon, so accommodating Scott had scrounged up a shirt for her to wear.

  Her mind cleared even more and the events of the previous day came into full clarity. The wedding, the funeral, the scene in the hallway . . . and Chaz, Spencer, and Amalia. Kelly moaned and pulled the bedspread over her head, wishing the world would just go away. It worked for ostriches, didn’t it?

  A knock came at the door and she burrowed even deeper, pretending she hadn’t heard it.

  A moment later, it sounded again. This time, she heard Scott saying, “It’s me, Kelly. Open up.”

  Well, Scott was safe. Kelly uncovered her head and dragged herself out of bed to let him in.

  “Good morning,” he said in a disgustingly cheerful tone as he breezed in holding a breakfast tray with a newspaper tucked under one arm.

  He looked so crisp and clean, it made her feel grungy. She grunted a greeting.

  Setting the tray and paper on the dresser, he added, “Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine.” At her glare, he said, “Yeah, I know. You’re not a morning person. Go on, clean up a bit while I set up breakfast.”

  Gratefully, Kelly did just that. Brushing her teeth, splashing some water on her face, and brushing her hair into some semblance of order made her feel a little more human. And when she emerged from the bathroom, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee made her inhale gratefully. “Hmm, what did I do to deserve this?” she asked, taking in the pot of coffee and assortment of pastries he had brought.

  Scott smiled and handed her a cup of coffee. “I figured you wouldn’t want to brave the hallway and the Great White Hunters lying in ambush for you without some sort of nourishment.”