“All right. I’ll do the same for you.” His eyes narrowed. “You won’t wreck my clothes or CDs, will you?”
“Clearly I need to point out that I am not the one behaving badly here. Besides, I wouldn’t waste my time or energy. I would, however, ask for your key to my house.” She started removing his house key from her ring.
“Fine.” He stalked down the hallway toward his bedroom.
“Do us both a favor and put on some pants,” she said sweetly.
He entered the bedroom and Mallory heard Blondie ask, “Who the hell is she and what the hell is going on?”
Mallory cleared her throat then called out loudly, “As for who the hell I am-I’m the girlfriend he’s had for the past eight months. He says he was going to tell me about you tomorrow, so maybe that’s when he was also going to tell you about me.” Mallory paused and smiled grimly at Melon Boobs’s gasp. “As for what the hell’s going on,” she continued, “Jerk-off’s putting on some pants, thank God, and getting me the key to my house, which I’d given him. As soon as it’s in my hand, he’s all yours.”
Seconds later Greg strode from the bedroom-wearing pants, thank God-his expression resembling a thundercloud. Melon Boobs followed close on his heels, her ample assets barely covered by Greg’s dress shirt.
Mallory held out her hand and Greg slapped her key into it. She then dropped his key into his outstretched palm.
Melon Boobs shot Mallory a nasty glare. “He was all mine before he gave you back your key, honey.”
“Uh-huh. And what a prize he is.” Mallory shook her head. “You know, Candy-”
“Mandy,” the young woman said through clenched teeth.
“-I actually feel sorry for you. This guy has proven himself to be nothing more than a lying, cheating bottom-feeder. I’m thinking you can do better. I know I can. But he’s your problem now. I wish you both luck.”
Without a backward glance, she sailed through the doorway and quickly entered her car. Just get away, just get away, her inner voice chanted. At the end of the block, well out of sight of Greg’s house, she pulled into the strip mall on the corner and immediately parked at the far end of the lot, in front of an Italian bakery. Then she leaned her head back against the headrest, closed her eyes and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.
Good God, she was shaking. And even though she tried to will them away, hot tears leaked from beneath her eyelids and trailed down her cheeks. Damn it, she did not want to cry. She shoved the wetness aside with impatient fingers, but a fresh onslaught of tears spilled over.
Had she ever been this angry? This humiliated? If so, she couldn’t recall. But she was more than angry-she was furious. At him. And herself. And that snarky, melon-boobed bimbo. But mostly him.
That bastard! He’d not only cheated on her, he’d been cheating on her for months. How mortifying and degrading was that?
But then anger at herself boiled over, washing everything else aside. This was the guy she’d believed steady? Stable? Dependable? How could she have been so stupid? So blind? Such a sap? So willing to go that extra mile to try to fix things between them? Even going so far as having those boudoir photos taken? Well, thank God she’d discovered the truth before she’d humiliated herself further by giving him those.
At the thought of the pictures, an image of Adam rose behind her closed eyes, pushing a humorless laugh past her tight throat. How ironic that she’d felt so guilty about her attraction to Adam. Obviously she hadn’t needed to worry.
Keeping her eyes closed, she sat perfectly still for several minutes, concentrating on her relaxing breathing techniques while gathering her scattered thoughts. When the tears stopped flowing and her heart rate had settled and she felt calmer, she took a detailed emotional inventory.
Angry? Oh, yeah. Humiliated? Check. Self-disgust for being a trusting fool? Yup. Relieved?
Yes.
Her eyes popped open and she pulled the clip from her hair then tunneled her hands through the strands. Blowing out a long, slow breath, she continued. Hurt?
Nope.
Heartbroken?
No way.
And that irrevocably answered the “did she love Greg” question she hadn’t been able to answer earlier. Obviously she didn’t for if she did, she’d be devastated and brokenhearted instead of pissed. Which told her exactly how lucky she was to be rid of him. With her new twenty-twenty hindsight guiding her, she clearly saw that they’d been heading toward the end for months. Yes, it was a shame she’d given the relationship more time than it deserved, but she didn’t have to give it, or him, another thought.
Still, even though he hadn’t crushed her heart, there unfortunately was still something about getting dumped for a not-even-old-enough-to-legally-drink Playboy-centerfold type that was pretty damaging to the ego. Damn. Her heart didn’t need a boost, but her trampled self-esteem definitely did.
She considered calling Kellie, who she knew would happily spend the evening wallowing in an “I can’t believe that ass dumped such a great girl” Greg-bashing party, but that wasn’t what her bruised ego craved. And a rented movie and Thai takeout wouldn’t do the trick, either.
No, her wounded pride demanded that she feel desirable. Wanted. Attractive. Sexy.
And she knew exactly the man for the job.
5
Saturday, 6:00 p.m.
ADAM SAT BEHIND the computer at Picture This and typed in order number after order number, slowly working his way through the stack of invoices piled on Nick’s desk. For every big party, such as a wedding, at least four hundred proofs were taken. Each proof was numbered and from them various-size prints and albums were made up for the bride and groom, their families and friends. Based on the number of invoices and orders in the in-box, Nick’s business was booming. Weddings, anniversary parties, christenings, bar mitzvahs, sweet sixteens, graduations, private sittings-with more jobs being booked every day.
He’d just completed another invoice when a light tapping sound had him looking up and he stilled-except for his heart, which seemed to stumble over itself.
Mallory stood outside the front glass door, which Adam had locked when Nick left an hour earlier. He jumped to his feet and strode quickly across the tiled floor.
“Hi,” he said, pulling the door inward. “C’mon in.” His smile faded when he saw her pale face and what looked like red-rimmed eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said, brushing past him to enter. His body tensed at that brief contact and he pretended he hadn’t felt it. Or caught a whiff of her light, flowery fragrance. Gritting his teeth, he kept his back to her and spent a few extra seconds relocking the door, telling himself to get a grip. He shouldn’t be so thrown off balance just because she’d stopped by. Probably she just wanted some more prints made of her photos. For what’s-his-name.
But when he turned around, she threw him off kilter again. She stood less than two feet away, looking at him with an expression he couldn’t read, but one that set his blood on fire. And then she blew him right out of the water by stepping forward, pressing herself against him and tunneling her fingers through his hair. Then she lifted up on her toes, pulled his head toward hers and kissed him. Like she meant it.
If all the blood hadn’t instantly drained from his head to settle in his groin, most likely he would have wondered what had brought this on. But anything that involved thinking was going to have to wait. His arms went around her, pulling her closer, tighter against him, and he deepened the kiss she’d initiated.