Page 2 of His Weekend Wife

“Great. I’m feeling much better now.” He scraped his jaw and rolled his eyes.

“He’s fabulous—the new beau.” She pressed her palms together as if she was readying herself to pray.

“In other words, he is rich and available, or at least what you consider to be available.”

“He’s getting a divorce, too, but it’s taking forever. It’s messy. Young kids and all.”

“A ring on a man’s finger never stopped you before. Why would it now? Wasn’t Norman married when you met him? As long as you’re happy I guess.” He winked. “But please tell me this new fellow is old enough to legally drink.”

One corner of her mouth dropped and she feigned hurt. “I’m not sure why you take that attitude with me when I’ve done nothing but help you and your siblings in times of need.”

Declan laughed. He noticed that she didn’t answer his question on the man’s age. He could easily remind Lucy that after their mother died and their father caged himself in his office, their aunt was too busy with husband two to spend any time with her niece and nephews. She did, however, find a decent nanny that was, thankfully, a great influence and cared for their best interest. He realized they were probably better off without Lucy playing an important role in their care, so he didn’t bother correcting her discrepancy. “I’m sorry to hear about Norman.” Declan meant every word. Although Norman was passive and no match for Lucy, Declan respected the fact that the other man stuck it out in the marriage to her for almost ten years. That could be compared to a life sentence at Riker’s Island. “When is the divorce final?”

“Next week.” She grinned and fluffed her platinum blonde hair. He wondered if there was anything about her that wasn’t artificial or enhanced. She was a collagen junkie, clinging to the last bit of youth that each injection promised. Someone should tell her there was a line no person should cross, but he wouldn’t dare. He’d once asked her how she’d gotten two black eyes, and she’d been angry for days after. How the hell was he supposed to know that she had just undergone eye surgery.

Unfortunately, he glimpsed moments of sadness in her and, although undeserving, he did feel sorry for her at times. She’d never had any kids so she was alone. Theobald said that Lucy had loved her first husband, and had been loyal and dedicated to a fault, until he ran away with his young secretary. From then on, Lucy had changed, turning bitter and forever looking out for number one no matter who she had to walk on. Each husband after the first had seemed like an opportunity to make a man miserable. “Norman was in a hurry to sign the papers. I guess the twenty-something model he’s been fucking wants to hurry and marry him before his wrinkled balls shrivel even more.” Her nose crinkled and her chuckle was cold. “If she’s thinking of having a baby with that old man, she’d better invest in Viagra stock.”

“TMI.” Declan emptied the scotch and placed the empty glass on the table.

“How dare the son-of-a-bitch warm his bed with another woman, a child of all people. I’ve attended all his boring social gatherings, speeches, plastering a smile on my face, helping him make his way up the ladder of success. He’d never be where he is today if it wasn’t for me.” She moaned, “Even giving him the obligatory once-a-week special in bed was a lot to ask. It makes me sick now to think that I had to tolerate his disgusting grunts and five pumps before he rolled over and snored like a freight train.”

“Way too much information. Don’t you have friends you can talk to, divulge your secrets with?” He felt a little woozy.

“Why do men do this? Why do they always trade women in for newer models?” For the first time in a long time, he saw a sliver of regret in her grey eyes. “Like we’re vehicles and once we lose our shine or, heaven forbid, get a rust spot, we are exchanged for the shiny, bright, sleeker model. Do men realize how hard it is for a woman in today’s society? We’re expected to stay a size two, give good blowjobs, and smile like we’re actually enjoying the sex.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” he groaned.

“I’m only stating the facts. I’m hoping that you can help me understand why. I’m a decent woman—sometimes. I’m not as firm as I once was, but the tits cost a fortune. They have an operation for everything now and I never wasted one penny. I have the body of a woman twenty years younger than me.”

He wouldn’t deny that his aunt was indeed a beautiful woman, stayed in shape with the help of a personal trainer and stylist. She never missed her plastic surgeon appointments, which did make her look younger. However, somewhere along the way, the altering of her physical body had become as plastic as her personality. And her bitterness trumped everything else.

“No answer? Please, offer me some wisdom.” She lifted a thin brow.

“I can, but you might not like what you hear.”

“Test the theory, hun.”

“Lucy, have you ever thought it might be the men you’re choosing? After all, your history is becoming a reckless pattern. Could be that you love the challenge of nailing them, but lose interest once you’ve settled. You said yourself that there’s already another replacement on the horizon for poor ol’ Norman. This new guy didn’t just pop in at the most opportune time, no, you chose him. All new relationships have the thing called wanderlust. Sex is fantastic until the first argument.”

He inwardly moaned. He knew the truth of those words all too well.

“We haven’t slept together, the new man and me!” She smoothed her palms down her tailored, designer jacket. “Mark my word, they’re all princes until they turn into a toad—and believe you me, they all turn into toads eventually.”

“I take offense to that.”

“Just be glad you signed a prenup before you waltzed down the aisle with that one woman, what’s her name? Why can’t I ever remember? She looked a lot like that one actress…hmm…” Lucy tapped her chin. “Oh, I know. Kate Beckensale. No matter how sweet and tight she may have seemed at the time, it sure went south fast. You’re worth a fortune and all a woman will ever see is your bank account, dearest. You must protect yourself.”

Declan smoothed his hand down his cheek. An image of Ashley with her long, dark hair, azure eyes, and pale skin filled his mind. Damn, he’d made a mistake, but shouldn’t he feel regret? Instead, his chest burst with a familiar ache that visited him quite often. At times, it came as a suffocating, unbearable nagging pain that felt a lot like he was having a heart attack. Other times it struck him with a mystical gratification that the only time in his life he’d ever really known satisfaction was in the arms of Ash, his wife.

They’d married on impulse and when she’d left him after a silly argument, she never came back.

Pushing the thought aside, he forced his voice to work. “Wow, you’re full of inspiration this evening.” As much as he hated to agree with Lucy, he feared as much himself that every woman outside of Ash would only see his wealth. Therefore, keeping every woman at arm’s length had been his goal. If he didn’t open himself up to anyone, then he didn’t have to worry that he’d wake up one day realizing he’d bought himself a wife. He guessed somewhere deep inside, he believed that love did exist, after all, he had experienced it, or at least thought he had, but many of the women he’d met since were unapologetic in their outward attempts to land a man who could adorn her with jewels, fancy shoes, and exotic getaways. Hell, he wouldn’t mind doing those things for any woman. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford to. He hoped one day to find someone who wanted more from him—love maybe. “Her name was Ashley and I didn’t have her sign a prenup.” The words fell out.

“Wh-What?” Lucy turned pale.

He shrugged. “You heard me. We were young and we didn’t have time to discuss any of the details of my financial arrangement before we tied the knot.”

“How much did you have to pay her to walk away from your fortune?”

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