Chapter One
Bridget
If Bridget hadn’t been so caught up in the moment, she probably would have turned just a little to the right and noticed the couple with their eyes fixed on her. She probably would have questioned their quiet exchange, sizing her up and nodding in shared approval. No, she was too busy with her own hidden agenda, her attention completely enthralled with one particular gentleman as he stepped into the restaurant.
Bridget noticed him first, and that element alone was enough to excite her. The thrill, the secrecy. Hell, the sexual tension between them was hypnotic, despite them being several feet apart. So much so, she had to stop herself from glancing around to see if anyone else was turned on by the apparent chemistry.
She shifted on the barstool and took another sip of the vodka and Sprite, continuing to eye the man over the rim of her glass. Expecting the interaction, she had dressed with care, the navy blue bandage dress clinging to the dips and curves of her five-foot, eight-inch frame. The sleeves hung off her shoulders to reveal a tapestry of butterfly tattoos shading the mocha flesh of her neck and collarbone an ombre of orange hues.
She lifted her hand to signal the bartender, the encrusted diamonds of her wedding band catching the pendant lighting from overhead. The bartender moseyed over, dragging a cloth along the marble bar top along the way. A gold tag with the name Alisha was perched on the breast pocket of her button-up uniform shirt.
“Another drink?” Alisha greeted with a knowing smile.
“Not for me.” Bridget nodded in the direction of the man who was now being seated alone in a nearby booth. “Send a Hennessy and Coke to him for me, please. Tell him it’s from me.”
Alisha nodded and headed off to fulfill the request.
Bridget continued nursing her own drink as she waited. She felt eyes on her, and she tried her best to hide a gloating smirk. It was foolish to feel nervous. Yet still, she felt her heart racing with excitement, or maybe it was anxiety. Either way, she had done her part. It was now up to Mr. Handsome to take the bait.
“Excuse me.”
The voice had a grin cracking Bridget’s face, and she cocked her head, only slightly, to eye the visitor. He, too, was smiling.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to thank you for the drink.”
Bridget nodded, exaggerating a lick of her plump lips. “My pleasure,” she flirted.
The man eased onto the stool next to her, and Bridget appreciated how he didn’t bother hiding his visual assessment of her body. “How did you know I like Hennessy and Coke?”
She shrugged. “Lucky guess, I suppose.”
“Either I’m that easy to read, or you’re just that good.”
Now Bridget did turn to face him, crossing her legs to allow a sliver of thigh to peek through from underneath the bar. “I’m just that good,” she said with a wink.
He laughed and held out his hand. “I’m Chris.”
Bridget already had her own lie ready. “Veronica,” she said, accepting his hand.
“Well, Veronica. Are you always this forward? Buying drinks for guys in bars?”
“Actually, yeah. I like to go for what I want.”
She caught the glint in his eye. “Is that so? And what exactly do you want, Ms. Veronica?”
“It’s Mrs.,” she corrected politely and held up her hand, fingers spread apart to give him full view of her wedding ring.
The gesture didn’t seem to faze him one bit. “I apologize. Mrs. So what does your husband feel about you being alone in here? Flirting with me?”
Bridget giggled. “Flirting? Is that what we’re doing? I just thought we were here having a drink, enjoying each other’s company. No harm in that, right?”
Now it was his turn to shrug. “You tell me.”
The liquor had Bridget feeling bold, and she leaned forward, a mere breath away from his lips. She could almost taste him as his Versace cologne assaulted her nostrils and awakened every inch of her body, that delicious musk of lust and desire like an intoxicating drug. To hell with it.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she whispered and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his to drink his very essence. She swallowed his moan as he deepened the kiss, using his tongue to wrestle with hers. He broke contact first, resting his forehead against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.
“You don’t play fair,” he murmured with a low chuckle.
Bridget kissed him once more and pulled back to take a healthy swig of her drink. “Hey, I tried,” she said. “But you came here looking so damn good I couldn’t resist. What was the name you used this time? Chris?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she side-eyed her man. “That doesn’t really suit you, babe.”
“Well, Veronica was definitely throwing it at me. A few more minutes and you were about to hop on this dick right here at the bar.”
Bridget laughed out loud. “I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded. Lucky for you, that’s been my dick since I married you.”
Alisha approached again, a wistful smile already planted on her face. She set a bread basket between the couple. “Are you two done with your role-playing?”
Bridget jerked a thumb in the man’s direction. “Yeah, girl. Roman here couldn’t keep a straight face.”
Roman smirked as he nuzzled his wife’s neck, startling a squeal from her lips. “I’ll tell you what I can keep straight.”
“You are so damn freaky.”
“That’s why you love me.”
Alisha poked out her lip, feigning a jealous pout. “You two are so damn cute, it’s sick. You come in here every Saturday night with this little pretend thing you do. Are y’all newlyweds or something?”
“Or something,” Roman said with a grin.
“We’ve been married for two years,” Bridget chimed in, dropping her hand to her husband’s thigh. “Just a little something to keep the sparks alive. It’s like our little date night.”
“Well, you two look so happy,” Alisha gushed. “Whatever y’all are doing, it’s working. Teach me your ways.”
Bridget chuckled as Alisha strolled off to assist another patron at the bar. Roman took her hands in his, and it felt like bolts of electricity shot from her wrist to her shoulder and back again. Amazing. Even she was in awe her husband still had that effect on her. A simple look, touch, or whisper from him was enough to have her sprung ass melting like hot wax. In every way possible.
“I love you,” Roman murmured, keeping his eyes level with hers. Bridget sighed as her heart fluttered.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
“I think Veronica still owes me some action.”
Bridget rose to her feet on a laugh. “Let Veronica go to the little girl’s room, and then you can take her home and get every piece of her.”
He groaned inwardly and exaggerated an appreciative roll of his eye as she stood. Bridget took her time, sashaying her slender hips as she weaved through the maze of people on her way to the restroom. Oh yeah, she was certainly going to lay it down on Mr. Pierce as soon as they got home. Hell, the way she was feeling, she would be surprised if they even made it out of the parking lot. Bridget was all but chuckling to herself as her mind wrapped around a series of sexual contortionist positions that they could pull off in Roman’s two-seater Mercedes.
Bridget stood in front of the mirror, readjusting the razor-edge bangs on the bob wig that framed her face. It was itching like hell, but she would be damned if she let the seventy-five dollars go to waste. Besides, the short look did give her a little more sass, more sex appeal than the waves of her naturally long tresses. She fished in her purse to find the nude lipstick she had applied earlier that evening. Apparently, what was left of it had made its way from her lips to Roman’s.
The restroom door swung open on its hinges, and Bridget met a woman’s polite smile in the mirror. She nodded a silent greeting of her own before turning back to the task at hand.
Bridget couldn’t help but notice the woman’s body was like a siren’s. A voluptuous frame filled every inch of the maxi dress she wore, the material taut with curves and arcs thick in proportion. They were about the same maple syrup complexion, but the woman towered a good few inches over Bridget, even with the six-inch stilettos she wore. Stunning was a complete understatement.
The woman approached the sink and bowed her head, staring into the porcelain as if it held the answer to her prayers. Her curls shielded her face from view. It wasn’t until Bridget heard the muffled sniffles that she even knew the woman was crying.
“Um, are you okay?” She didn’t know why she felt compelled to ask. Call it the Pisces in her. The woman’s head bobbed in response, but still she kept her face lowered, nor did she utter a single word.
“You sure?” Bridget questioned again, her voice etched in concern. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep bugging you. I just wanted to . . .” She trailed off. She just wanted to what?Roman always managed to remind her of how she could come across as nosy. Not that it was her intention. But here she was again, all up and through this poor woman’s business. Some woman she didn’t even know, at that. “Sorry,” Bridget murmured and, pursing her lips together, turned back to her sink.
“Don’t be sorry.” The woman’s voice was quiet, and she braved lifting her eyes to meet Bridget’s in the streaked glass of the mirror. Tears trailed her ashen cheeks with mascara and glittered on her lashes like black diamonds. “I appreciate you even asking.”
Bridget snatched a few paper towels from the dispenser and held them out to her. “Do you need me to call someone, or . . .”
“No.” The woman bit off the one-word answer with a shake of her head. “It’s nothing like that. My husband and I just had a little fight.”
Bridget nodded. No, she couldn’t relate, but relationship issues weren’t a foreign topic to her. Especially with her checkered past entanglements with men. It was just that now with Roman, he was, thankfully, the exception.
“Are you married?” the woman asked.
“Yes. Two years.”
“Six.” Her sigh was heavy, as if weighted under every second of the past 2,190 days of matrimony.
“It’ll get better,” Bridget offered with a comforting smile. “Men, you know how they can be sometimes.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“And marriage is tough. Just talk it out if you can. My husband and I are getting better with our communication and transparency. Even if the other may not like what needs to be said. And if you can’t talk it out, just show it out.”
The woman frowned. “Show it out?”
“Yeah, girl.” Bridget gestured toward the woman’s body. “Looking as good as you do, just pull out the tricks. It’ll temporarily make him lose his mind, he won’t even remember why he’s mad.”
The woman chuckled, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “I wish it were that simple.” She paused. “What’s your name?”
“Bridget.”
“Corrine. Are you a motivational speaker, Bridget? Or a therapist? You certainly have a way with words, girl.”
Bridget chuckled. “Event planner. So my little gift for gab comes in handy.”
Corrine’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? I’m a caterer. We run in the same circles.”
“Oh, wow. Small world.”
Corrine was already fishing in her clutch, producing a crisp business card embossed in hot pink and teal. “Here, take my card. Never know when you’ll need me for your preferred vendor list.”
Bridget accepted the card with a nod. “Oh, damn, I don’t have any of mine on me. But I tell you what, look me up. My website is Brinique Lux Affair dot com.”
Corrine smiled. Bridget noticed the appreciative gesture didn’t reach her eyes.
“For what it’s worth,” Corrine said, “I really appreciate this little talk, Bridget. It made me feel better about my situation.”
Bridget’s smile widened at the compliment. “Sometimes, it helps just to get it off your chest,” she said. “Good luck with everything, Corrine.”
Corrine nodded her gratitude once again, her eyes following Bridget’s movements as she swept past and back out of the door into the steady hum of restaurant activity.
Roman was still perched at the bar when Bridget returned. He slid another drink her way. “You took a minute. Everything okay?”
Bridget lifted the glass to her lips on a nod. “I’m just horny,” she teased with a wink. “Let’s finish this up at home.”
“My kinda woman.” Roman lifted his hand, and Alisha eased her way back to their side of the bar. “We’re ready to cash out.”
Alisha pulled her billfold from the pocket of her apron and quickly scanned the ticket. “Oh, it’s already taken care of,” she informed them.
Roman frowned and glanced at Bridget, who shrugged. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” Alisha placed the receipt in front of him where she had scribbled settled in a sloppy circle. “The couple at the other end took care of this for you.”
Bridget turned in the direction she gestured, craning her neck to pick out the people who were gracious enough to pay for their tab. She didn’t bother getting a look at the man, but the woman, the gorgeous Corrine, was taking her place at the table, already smiling in her direction. Bridget smiled back, shaking off the slightly uneasy feeling.
“Well, that was weird,” she murmured.
“How so?” Roman was peering over her shoulder, trying to get a look for himself. “Who is that? You know them?”
“No, not really. The woman I met in the restroom. She was crying, and I just gave her a little sisterly advice. She’s a caterer.”
“Wait. You met a caterer in the bathroom, and she pays for your drinks?”
“Guess she just wanted to thank me,” she said absently.
Roman glanced in Corrine’s direction and merely shook his head on a laugh. “Only my wife.”
Bridget shrugged. She had to admit, it sounded even stranger out loud. But still, she kept her face neutral. She wondered why she was having to convince herself the innocent gesture really wasn’t that big of a deal.
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