Burning Down the Spouse Part 23

"Deanne and touche."

"I'm over Mitch."

"I'm over Anita."

"Then we're all about the over, aren't we? So we understand each other?"

"We do. Want me to show you I understand?" he teased, skimming his tongue over her lips, hoping to drag her back to his place for just a little while longer.

She groaned, low and s.e.xy, making his body respond with a fierce spike of electricity flooding his veins. "Not before you feed me like you promised. I'd never make another round if I don't eat. Now give me the food or suffer the wrath of my discontent."

Keeping one arm around her, Nikos reached up and grabbed a plate and some silverware from the overhead shelf, then scooped some stuffing up and dumped it onto the white surface.

Frankie looked at the plate. "That's it? After all that, this is all I get?"

Nikos chuckled, leaving her to move toward the fridge. He propped it open with his foot. "How about some cold ham and maybe some cold cuts and cheese?"

Frankie dropped the plate to the counter, digging in with zeal. "Bring it all."

"Wow. What a change from a month ago when getting you to eat was like asking for an exorcism from the Catholic Church." He dragged out several plastic-wrapped platters, depositing them in front of her with a pleased smile.

She shoveled a heaping forkful of stuffing in her mouth while grabbing for a roll of salami and provolone. "It was all that baggage unloading. Makes a girl ravenous."

Nikos pulled up a stool next to Frankie, content.

Really content.

For the first time in a long time.

A sense of peace stole over Nikos as they talked while Frankie ate and Christmas lights twinkled outside the diner. The kind of peace he wasn't quite sure he'd ever experienced in exactly this way before. Not with Deanne and not with Anita.

Not ever.

Whoa and s.h.i.t.

In that order.

"All I wanna hear you say, sa.s.safras, is Nikos is a good boy and he wrapped his w.i.l.l.y. Then I can go back to bed."

Frankie's cheeks flamed, her hand self-consciously reaching for her crazy, messed-up hair as she made her way into the living room to find Gail and Kiki curled up on her aunt's favorite chair. So much for the hope of not having to explain. "Aunt Gail! Shame on you. How do you know anything other than decking the halls went down?"

Gail set Kiki on the floor and shoved her hands into her quilted green bathrobe pockets. "Nothing to be ashamed of. I make Garner wrap his, and you decked something, but it wasn't a hall, that's for sure. Good on you for gettin' your s.p.u.n.k back, toots. Your uncle and I might not have had any children, but I know the look of a night in the sack. Your old Aunt Gail's no dummy."

Frankie winced, dropping her coat to the couch and leaning down to rub Kiki's head. "Well, here's what one of those kids would have said to you if you'd had one. TMI. As in-"

"Too much information. I know what it means, girlie. I watch that Bad Girls Club. I know all you kids think we seniors don't have it in us, but I'm here to tell you, hoo boy, can we-"

"Nooooooo!" Frankie held up a hand, covering her eyes with the other, giggling. "I don't doubt you have it in you. Not for a second. I just don't want to know about it-hear about it. Visualize it," she said on a rough chuckle. "So how about we just conclude, I was as safe as any good adult should be and call it a night?"

Gail laughed witfh a throaty chuckle. "Aha, somebody had a Merry Christmas. Can't say's I'm surprised or unhappy about it. Nikos deserves a nice girl like you after that last round he had with Whatserface."

Frankie frowned, still troubled by Nikos's admission. "Are we talking about Anita?"

"Not sure of her name. I don't think Voula ever mentioned it. I just know she was upset about his troubles at our bridge games about two summers ago."

Nikos was turning out to be one revelation after the next. He'd been hurt just like her. Yet, she'd learned from Maxine's nutty theories, the key to finding happiness was in dealing with what went wrong and letting it go in favor of getting a grip and not repeating past mistakes. How odd that she wasn't the only one who needed to do that.

That she was taking the sensible approach to a new relationship venture left her feeling very proud of herself. Nikos had a way about him, one that could distract her from almost anything with his delicious kisses and disarming grin. Yet, she couldn't afford to budge. No, she wouldn't budge. The instant she'd made her demands clear to Nikos was the instant she knew trust and honesty were two things she wouldn't go without again.

Frankie rubbed her aunt's shoulder with an affectionate hand, in need of some time to herself to think. "You go to bed, Aunt Gail, and get some sleep. I'm cooking tomorrow. Oh, and you'll be tickled all shades of the rainbow to know, I invited Nikos over for dessert. How's that pin-curl your hair?"

Gail chuckled, cupping Frankie's jaw, sweeping a kiss over her cheek. "You're a good girl, Frankie. A good girl who's moving on. Your mother'd be so proud."

The long events of the night, the turmoil over Mitch, making spectacular love with Nikos, topped with Christmas, made her long to talk with her mother. "I hope so, Aunt Gail. I hope that's true."

"You can bet your bippy on it. I'm off to bed now. Night, honey, and Merry Christmas." She gave Frankie a squeeze before treading off to her room.

Frankie flopped back on the edge of the couch in front of the small Christmas tree, staring at the lights draped over gold and silver ornaments, and kicked off her shoes.

Tired. Euphoric. Afraid. Excited.

Afraid.

She was back in the dating pool-a pool she'd spent not nearly enough time swimming in to begin with before she'd committed her life to a man she outgrew.

Yet, here she was, hot-man nabber of the year, all getting involved and setting records straight like she knew what she was doing.

Frankie smiled secretively.

Yeah. She didn't just have a fantasy man, she'd scored one.

And she was terrified.

"Merry Christmas, crabby," Simon crowed. Pleased with himself and the gift he'd bought Jasmine.

He heard the crinkle of the envelope as Jasmine took his gift. He also knew the look that flashed across her face was akin to what one might expect had he given her something he'd dug out of a Jersey landfill. The breeze of her waving it under his nose sent her perfume to settle in his nostrils. He grinned. She was p.i.s.sed. He loved when she was p.i.s.sed because it gave him the opportunity to prove her wrong.

He loved proving Jasmine wrong because it only strengthened his case that they should be a couple. Permanently. "So go on, open it."

"I thought we weren't exchanging Christmas gifts. In fact, I remember expressly telling you no gifts. I can't afford gifts. I can barely afford to pay my rent and keep you in Cheetos."

He rubbed his chest with the palm of his hand, preparing for battle. "I offered to buy my own game-time snacks. You refused, Independent Woman of the World. Just open the d.a.m.ned thing and quit complaining, honey." He'd never tell her, but he loved to hear her complain. He loved to hear her, period. Simonides Rhadamanthus Jones was in love. Whether Jasmine liked it or not.

She shifted in the bed, moving away from him. "Didn't your mother teach you any manners at all? Giving someone a gift who can't afford to give you one back makes that someone uncomfortable."

"My mother is too busy enjoying marriage number two in Saint Moritz to teach me anything. Didn't your mother teach you to be gracious?"

"My mother was a tough broad who didn't take any c.r.a.p from anyone right up until the day she died. You leave my mother out of this."

Simon let his hand stray along the sheets until he located her knee, giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Well, at least now I know where you got your b.a.l.l.s. Now open the present, honey."

Jasmine flicked his hand away with one of her pretend irritated gestures, but he knew her vibe, and while she was playing like he'd given her the gift of chlamydia, she was actually pleased. He sensed it in the unbidden sigh escaping her full, soft lips. He sensed it in the way she leaned toward him and in her overall body language.

"Fine. I'm opening, but if you think you can buy me with jewelry and trips to exotic locales, you're wrong. I've been everywhere, and I've had all the trinkets I can p.a.w.n. So don't go thinking . . ."

The way she drifted off in the midst of her hundredth saucy rant told him she'd sliced open the envelope.

"Oh, Simon."

Yeah.

Simon folded his arms behind his head, pleased when he heard Jasmine sniffle.

"You bought me a six-month supply of cat food and a year's worth of veterinary care for Gary . . ."

"Yeah, because I'm like that. I know how much you love Gary and worry you won't be able to afford his shots. A healthy Gary's a happy Jasmine. But there's more," he prompted.

She giggled, the sound warm and slipping into his ears like soothing oil being poured over him. The rustle of the envelope indicated she was still digging into it. "Gift certificates to McDonald's. You're determined to find a way to make me let you pay for dinner, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't want you to have to cook." Actually, after the can of SpaghettiOs she'd burned, he'd prefer she never touch another utensil again. "So how can you be mad at that? Because if there's a way, you'll find it," he teased.

She was silent for a moment, and he knew when he slid a hand to her cheek, it would be moist from the tears she was trying not to shed. "No one's . . . no man's . . . ever given me a gift so . . . so thoughtful."

No man better ever give her a gift, thoughtful or otherwise, Simon thought.

Climbing over him, Jasmine straddled him, leaning down, her long hair brushing against his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

His chuckle was deep, and for the first time since his accident, he wished he could see, so his eyes could meet hers. So she'd know what he was sure she wasn't ready to hear. "What, no beat down? No protests? No refusals? Who are you?" he joked softly against her mouth.

Her response was almost inaudible. "I don't know, but thank you." She settled on top of him then, curling her hand under her chin, nestling her head against his shoulder.

That tight feeling that never failed to constrict his gut sat deep in his belly. The feeling that told him all he needed to do was wait this out. It was happening whether Jasmine wanted it to or not, Simon thought with satisfaction. She would fall in love with him if it killed him. He wouldn't accept less.

Yet, Win was in his head in an instant, admonishing him for not telling Jasmine everything.

Everything.

Resting his head against the top of hers, Simon shoved away the eventual mess he was bound to make in favor of the woman he held in his arms. The woman who, after spending so much time with him, had managed to turn his childish grudge into something he'd never expected.

The woman he'd originally set out to hurt because her ex-husband was a pig, and now only wanted to love.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

From the journal of ex-trophy wife Frankie Bennett: Sorry it's been a while, but props to Maxine. I gotta give it up to her. She was right about more than just the thrill of being self-sufficient and the boost to your self-esteem when you learn to stand on your own two feet. s.e.x, when your a.s.s is less than perfect, and your thighs cramp at the mere mention of the position doggy style, can still be awesome. In fact, now that I've sort of adjusted to dim lighting-very dim-okay, really dim, it's begun to rock my socks off. It almost beats getting my own place to live. Wait. No it doesn't. Making love on Nikos's bed, couch, sunken tub, shower, wherever, beats s.e.x at my new place on a cold tiled floor where if we move an inch in the wrong direction, we'll end up having to call the paramedics. But it's a real close second.

Nikos dumped a small box on Frankie's kitchen counter, Kiki under his arm, gazing lovingly at him, while Gail arranged her cutlery drawer. A drawer that held nothing more than three forks and one large serving spoon, but they were hers and they were in her drawer, in her studio apartment. "You have no knives, sa.s.safras. How will you cut those big pieces of steak you're going to cook for you and the hunk here?" Gail asked, thumbing over her shoulder in Nikos's direction.

Frankie laughed, draping an arm around Gail's shoulder. "I hate to cook, and you know it. And it'll probably be a while before I can afford much, but at least I'm out of your hair, and you and Garner can . . . you know . . . in peace." She winked with a conspiratorial smile.

Gail gave her hand a squeeze. "You know I loved having you, and I'm sure gonna miss that coffee you make, but I'm real proud of ya for getting your own apartment."

Frankie smiled at the blank walls and empty s.p.a.ce. Yeah. She was proud, too.

"There goes the neighborhood," Jasmine teased, dropping a large gift bag on the kitchen counter.

Frankie laughed, giving her a quick hug. "You have no one to blame but yourself for the state of your neighborhood. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have gotten away with not having to give that shark of a landlord of ours a deposit." Jasmine had charmed the pants right off of Rocco, their landlord and an all-around ladies' man. By the time she was done, Frankie had the corner apartment, lower level, two parking s.p.a.ces, and was located right across the way from Jasmine.

"Did my woman use those pesky feminine wiles she's always complaining are the death of her to get you your own crib, Frankie?" Simon teased, close behind Jasmine, his hand on her waist.

"She did," Gail confirmed with a shake of her silvery head. "Hoo boy. I ain't never seen anything like it 'cept in the movies either. She's one smooth talker, this s.e.xy cookie is. I think he'd have agreed to let Frankie have an elephant for a pet by the time Jasmine was done with him."

Jasmine threw up her hands with a grin. "I figure I may as well use all of this for something-even if it's for evil." She poked at the bag on the counter, shoving it in Frankie's direction. "Open it."

Her cell phone rang, interrupting her excitement over Jasmine's gift. She held up one finger in a gesture for Jasmine to wait and whispered into the phone, "I told you I'd have it for you, didn't I, Mitch? I'm in the middle of something, but I'll call you back later." She flipped the phone shut and returned her attention to Jasmine, briefly wondering why Simon had such an odd expression.

"Well, hurry up and open it!" Jasmine encouraged.

Frankie stuck her hand inside the big lavender foil bag and pulled out several items wrapped in blue tissue paper. "It's a shower curtain and towels. Oh my G.o.d, I forgot about towels! Ohhh, and a toothbrush and soap holder, and wait-Scrubbing Bubbles and a sponge."

"That's because you're now officially the maid, but don't worry. I'll teach you how to scrub the toilets so there's no nasty ring," Jasmine taunted good-naturedly.

Nikos laughed, unfolding the lone plastic chair she'd gotten free from the bank when she'd opened up a savings account, and setting it in the middle of her small living room-slash-bedroom. He set Kiki on it, scratching her ears. "Look at you. The only thing you need to make the old homestead complete is a velvet Elvis portrait for the wall."

Frankie giggled, her heart skipping a beat when she caught Nikos's gaze from across the room. "Hey, I had to start somewhere, right? And once I get my tax return, I'll pick up some more essentials, funny man." Thankfully, she'd remembered she was owed one of those due to her job at Bon Appet.i.t last year, and she'd filed an early return. A definite bright spot when she and Nikos discovered her quest to get out of Gail's hair wouldn't have to be thwarted quite as long as Frankie had originally thought.

And here she was. The walls were cracked, the crazy blue and green bathroom was uglier than a boil on your a.s.s, the kitchen was the size of a s...o...b..x, and the front door sagged, but it said "Frankie Bennett" on the rental agreement.

There was no two ways about it, she'd have to stick to a strict budget, one she'd learned how to create with Jasmine and Maxine and the girls at Trophy, but if she was careful, and barring any unforeseen tragedies, she was going to do this.

Her way.

"Knock-knock!" Maxine called, milling her way through everyone to find Frankie. "I come bearing housewarming gifts for a woman of independent means," she said on a wide smile. Pretty and always tastefully put together, Maxine gave her a hug.

"I come, too," Campbell called from behind her. "Because the gifts for the independent woman were too heavy for the other independent woman to carry alone."

Frankie's eyes widened as she counted three boxes and two more gift bags. "Oh, no, Maxine. I can't. It's too much."

Maxine's smile grew wider when Campbell placed his hand on her shoulder. "Well, you might want to wait on that until after you open them. There's booty to be had, oh, and this." She handed Frankie a small black tote. "It's a survival guide for women striking out on their own. You know, coupons for local stores, emergency numbers, suggestions for energy saving, tips on how to get a stain out of your carpet because your maid's gone the way of the dinosaur. All important stuff."

Frankie laughed again, giving Maxine a hug. "Thank you. I wish you hadn't spent so much."