Page 14 of Dirty Rotten Cheating Husband

I grabbed it, but not quite fast enough to fully prevent her blow from cracking painfully across my ribs.

“Hold on there, sweetheart,” I protested, grunting in pain. “I’m with the FBI.”

That only seemed to further enrage this gorgeous creature, and since I had the bat trapped in my hand, she aimed a kick at my thighs with her 5-inch heels.

I let it land, wondering who on earth this spitfire was, when she followed it with another blow to my calves.

Now I was wondering if she had some sort of active warrant out, which would be unfortunate, because I wanted her flat on her back immediately.

She tried to pull the bat from my hands, but when she didn’t get anywhere, she let it go and tried to slam the door on me instead.

I put one foot in the door to block her. Now I was sure had an active warrant out.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” I repeated soothingly, putting my hand on the door to pry it open, getting close enough that I could smell her. It smelled like she’d been outside and for a second there was something vaguely familiar about it. She smelled liked sun on skin, and I wondered what she would taste like, what it would feel like to run my tongue up her throat.

My words made her hiss like a little wildcat, and suddenly she had a goddamn hammer, and I was only able to move my fingers away at the last minute, but her blow sent splinters shooting out from the door.

“Whoa!” I said, worried she was going to hurt herself. “I told you to calm down! Do you want to get a ticket for assaulting a police officer?”

She sucked in her breath, a sharp harsh inhale.

“Oh, I’d love to see you try to arrest your own ex-wife, asshole!” she snapped. “I’ll have a lawsuit filed faster than you can pick your Viagra up from the drug store.”

Wait, that voice. . .

“Why would I arrest my ex-wife?” I said, before my brain could catch up.

Then she ripped off her sunglasses, her eyes narrowed in fury. “Who the fuck do you think you’re looking at, dumbass?”

My jaw dropped.

“Clementine?”

My wife had been a sweet pretty little thing with long hair she always pulled back in a severe bun, and clothes designed to hide her sweet little curves. She was shy and anxious, often asking me to order at restaurants because she didn’t want to talk to anyone.

This woman carried herself like she knew exactly the queen she was, wore clothes like she knew exactly how goddamn hot she was, and wasn’t afraid to look me directly in the eye.

I gaped at her, my ribs still throbbing from where she had hit them.

“You can’t be Clementine,” I said stupidly. But now that I saw her eyes and heard her voice, it was obvious. Those long dark lashes sweeping over her cheeks. The plump kissable mouth.

I was staring, and she swung the hammer again, connecting with my thumb, sending a blinding sear of pain through my arm.

“Stop it!” I bit out, grabbing the hammer and ripping it from her hands.

Undaunted, she kicked me, connecting painfully with my shins.

“What are you doing here?” she yelled at me. “I never wanted to see you ever again, you disgusting cheating bastard! Get the fuck out of my house!”

This was not how I expected this to go at all. I expected to find a quiet, sweet Clementine, maybe even feel bad for her because she was still carrying a torch for me.

I didn’t expect to see this confident goddess. Or that she’d be trying to maim me with a hammer.

“I’m here to protect you,” I said.

Her jaw dropped open. “From what? The only person I’ve ever needed protection from is you.”

OK, that stung more than I expected.

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