Page 2 of 40 and Flirting (with Disaster)
What I want is an open marriage rang in her ears, and as she stared into the man’s eyes, she knew from the fixed expression on his face that he’d heard the same words she had.
The man cleared his throat. “We at the Carousel wanted to wish you a happy anniversary.” He settled the cake, its single silver candle flickering with bright flame, at the edge of their table, equidistant between her and Kirk. “If you have need of anything”—somehow that stare made her feel like the words were meant for her—“please don’t hesitate to ask.”
The man excused himself, and the silence at the table became deafening. Iris fisted her shaking hands and forced herself to speak.
“So you want us to see other people but stay married.”
“No.” Kirk balled up his napkin and threw it onto his empty plate. “I want to see other people but stay married.”
She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “I dressed like a ‘floozy’”—she made air quotes—“so you don’t want me, but you do want to find someone else to sleep with?”
“A man has needs, Iris.”
“So do women. And if you don’t intend to fulfill those needs, I will definitely be looking elsewhere.” She didn’t want to, had no intention of doing any such thing, but what was good for the goose…
Kirk leaned across the table, his anger forcing her back in her seat. “You’re not gonna play the whore on me, damn it.”
“No.” She balled up her own napkin, resolve firming inside her despite the shaking of her hands. She threw the napkin onto her plate just as he had, then leaned over to blow out the candle on their anniversary cake. “I won’t be playing the whore on you. I won’t be married to you anymore.” Standing, she grasped her purse, facing Kirk squarely. “I will not live with a man who could even think about suggesting such a thing to me. I deserve more.” So much more. “We’re getting a divorce.”
As she brushed by his chair, Kirk gripped her wrist tightly. “Iris—”
“Anything I can do for you, ma’am?”
The deep voice belonged to the man who had delivered the cake. Iris had hoped to avoid the humiliation of seeing him again, but right now she had no choice. She forced herself to meet those deep green eyes. “Yes. A cab, please.”
The man nodded but refused to move, his gaze locking on Kirk’s fingers tight around her arm. Glancing down, she realized that later she’d have bruises, though no pain registered right now.
She turned back to her husband of twenty-three years. They wouldn’t make it to twenty-four. “I hope you already have her picked out, Kirk.”
His hold tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Who?”
“The woman you want to sleep with.” Because it was a sure bet he hadn’t taken this risk without someone already in mind. “You can start tonight. Don’t bother coming home.”
Yanking her wrist from his grip, she turned and followed the man who’d interrupted them, ignoring Kirk as he called her name behind her. She refused to cry, not here. At home, when she was alone, she could let go.
Alone. That word opened up a vision of her future that she’d never expected to see. A solitary future. And shameful or not, the relief from earlier returned to mix with the pain clenching her stomach into a knot.
Alone. It sounded better than what Kirk had proposed.
The room was a blur of color and sound as they passed through. Iris kept her focus on the broad back of the man escorting her, ignoring everything else. He had placed a cell phone to his ear, she assumed to call her a ride as she’d requested. Her glance took in the red curls brushing his collar, sprinkled liberally with salt and pepper, the wide shoulders that looked like they could handle any burden. There was something familiar about him, something she couldn’t place with her mind in chaos. She couldn’t see his left hand to look for a ring, but she bet he’d never tell his wife he wanted to fool around on her. Or maybe he would. She’d never thought her ultra-conservative husband would suggest such a thing. He’d never wanted anything wild in the bedroom; they’d never even had anal sex.
Would he do that with his bimbo? He had made it plain she was the problem, not lack of desire for sex. What if—
She hadn’t realized the man had stopped in front of her until she slammed into his side. As if he’d anticipated her distraction, he’d turned, and neatly caught her with a light hand at her waist.
“Just a minute there, darlin’.”
Iris shrank away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing you need to be sorry for.” Those full lips tightened like they had back at the table. “I think that’s your husband’s job.”
She couldn’t hold back her snort. “Kirk, apologize? Not in twenty-three years.”
His broad hand came up, one finger catching the tear that had escaped without her knowledge. “Maybe if he had learned, it wouldn’t have come to this.”
She had no response, just shook her head. Looking around, she realized they were in a back hall instead of at the front door as she’d expected. “What—”
“I thought you might prefer some privacy until your ride gets here.” He jerked his chin at the door in front of him. “This is my office.”
