Ladies' Night by Andrews, Kay (find a book to read TXT) 📗

good idea. J’Aimee. My former assistant and my ex’s new girlfriend,” Grace said. “This is totally her handiwork. And, of course, now the house is out of my reach, because I can’t afford to buy a house, because, so far, Judge Stackpole’s idea of a property settlement is to give Ben the gold mine and me the shaft. Ben is entitled to everything, and I get nothing. Because he hates women.”

“Fucker.” Camryn said it quite distinctly.

Paula’s face turned pink. “I’m sure that’s not the case…”

“Not the case?” Ashleigh hooted. “Paula, get a grip! Those pills you’ve been taking have seriously pickled your punkin’.”

The therapist’s face paled. “That’s very unfair.”

“But it’s true,” Ashleigh insisted. “Nobody else wants to speak out, because they’re all soooo afraid Stackpole will screw them even worse than he already has. Not me. I don’t care what you or Stackpole say or do. Because after Monday, this is all a moot point anyway. I am so out of here.”

She hopped out of her chair. “I’ll see y’all later. At the Sandbox. Right?”

*   *   *

“Man, Ashleigh, you knocked Paula for a loop tonight,” Camryn said later, with something akin to admiration. “After you left, she was back to her old self. Just going through the motions until eight o’clock rolled around. She didn’t even have us read from our journals.”

Ashleigh dipped a finger in her margarita and licked it. “I’m not going back for any completion ceremony, y’all.” She looked around the table. “This has been kind of fun, in a weird way, but it’s not an experience I want to repeat. But hey, if any of y’all ever want a little nip or a tuck, give me a call. I’ll make sure Boyce gives you our professional discount.”

“What about me?” Wyatt asked.

“What? You think men don’t have plastic surgery?” Ashleigh chortled. “Eyelid lifts, chin implants, tummy tucks, breast reductions—honey, you’d be amazed how many men walk into our office. Not to mention all the prescriptions for Rogaine we write.” She gazed meaningfully at Wyatt’s gleaming dome.

He ran his hand over his head, immediately feeling defensive. “I’m not bald. I’ve got plenty of hair. I shave my head because I work outdoors all day. It’s cooler. And there’s less chance of ticks hiding in my hair.”

“Ticks. Eeew.” Ashleigh shuddered.

At the other end of the table, Grace waited until the others were engaged in a lively conversation about the cause for Paula’s demeanor. She leaned over and spoke in a low voice.

“Camryn? Remember the morning you and your cameraman came to my house? The day after I left Ben?”

“How could I forget?” Camryn said. “Best story of the year.”

“I’ve been wondering. How’d you get past the guard gates?” Grace asked. “None of those other news crews were able to get through security. How’d you do it?”

“Mmm. Trade secret,” Camryn said, sipping her drink. “Why do you care?”

“Because I want to go back to the house. And get the rest of my things. But Ben got the security guards to deactivate my key card.”

“Gotcha,” Camryn said. “Let me call my friend in the morning. See if she can help us out.”

“We?”

“You’re gonna need a wingman, right?”

*   *   *

Wyatt watched Grace, her head bent close to Camryn’s, as they whispered and plotted. He felt an irrational stab of jealousy. All night, he’d tried to catch Grace alone, if only for a moment. He needed to reassure himself that what was between them was real and that they had a future together. But there was always somebody around. He took a sip of his beer, then pushed it aside. He yawned widely, hoping the exaggerated movement would catch her eye.

Finally, she glanced his way, smiling ruefully. He got up and made his way toward the men’s bathroom. Grace followed, pausing at the door to the ladies’ room. She opened the door, and in the next instant, he’d pushed his way inside, slamming the door and locking it in one fluid movement.

“What are you…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “This,” he said, his voice muffled.

“And this.” His hands slid under the back of her sleeveless cotton top, nimbly unsnapping her bra.

“Also this.” He worked his knee between her thighs, her skirt riding up and baring her thighs, pinning her up against the sink vanity. Grace’s body arched into his, and he lifted her effortlessly atop the vanity. She leaned back and ran her hand over his cheek. He caught her hand in his and kissed it, then yanked her top over her head in one fluid movement.

She laughed uneasily and crossed her arms over her bare chest. “We can’t do this! Everybody’s out there. My mother is out there. Somebody’s going to notice…”

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, and I have wanted to do this all night,” he whispered, cupping one of her breasts and kissing it. She let out a soft, low-pitched moan, then grabbed the waistband of his jeans and traced the zipper’s path slowly with her thumb until she heard the sharp intake of his breath against her nipple.

“God, Grace,” he breathed. She worked the zipper downward, stroking his erection. His hands fumbled with her skirt. “How does this damned thing come off?”

There was a sharp rap at the door. Grace froze.

“It’s occupied,” she croaked, hopping down from the vanity and hastily pulling on her top.

Wyatt grabbed for her, but she was too fast for him. He chuckled, despite himself, but she frantically shushed him.

Grace flushed the toilet twice, then groaned loudly and followed that with a remarkably authentic sound effect mimicking violent nausea.

“Come on, already,” a girl’s annoyed voice came. “I’m about to pee my pants.”

“Employee bathroom near kitchen door,” Grace called. “Sorry.” She gagged violently, for good measure.

“Goddamned amateur,” came the girl’s parting shot.

When she was sure the girl was gone, Grace collapsed against Wyatt in a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning to the mirror to fix her disheveled clothing and hair. “But we’ve got to get out of here before we get busted.”

She turned and gave him