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“You’re Lon’s wife,” he said, keeping his own hands in his
pockets.

Finally realizing he had no intention of accepting her hand,
she pulled back. “For the next little while, yes.”

“You’re divorcing.”

No man had ever used such a brusque tone with her before.
She didn’t mind. At least she knew how he felt. He wasn’t playing games. For
whatever reason, he didn’t like her and made no bones about it.

Karyn stiffened her shoulders. “If you’re his friend,
shouldn’t you know that?”

“I’m asking you.”

“Yes. We’re divorcing. What is your last name, if you don’t
mind me asking?”

He didn’t reply but by then she’d found something else to
occupy her attention. His eyes.

Though she’d expected them to be as serviceable as the rest
of him, they were a smoky blue-gray fringed in dark lashes. Pretty eyes. Even
when he stared her down like a cop might a perp. And not just any perp. One who
was heavily armed and an imminent flight risk.

Her skin prickled under his intense scrutiny. Something
about the way he looked at her—
in
her—made her warm all over, even
places she’d assumed had frozen permanently.

“Maddox,” he said finally, lingering over the word as if he
expected her to respond in a predetermined fashion. The name wasn’t familiar.

“Why do you have Lon’s phone?”

Again that long silence. She should have found it creepy.
Odd silences, probing stares and strange meeting circumstances added up to bad
news. Especially when they all originated from a guy who claimed to be her
husband’s friend but seemed to know little about their personal situation.

“He left it behind.”

“Behind where?”

“Why are you divorcing?” he asked, shifting only a fraction
when a couple entered the shop and attempted to sidestep him.

“Here, why don’t we sit down.” She returned to the table
behind her, hoping he’d follow.

He did, but only after what seemed to be great deliberation.
He pulled a chair out and dropped into it, spreading his long jean-clad legs
wide without any thought to her personal space. A new scent drifted over her as
he settled, one more intimate than coffee or peppermint or the wet smell of
drying wool.

Him.
Hot, male, potent. No aftershave or cologne,
just skin and sweat. She wouldn’t have been surprised if her nose twitched.

She’d clearly gone too long without male companionship if
any brute who walked her way made her sit up and take notice. Even one with
pretty eyes and scowling lips.

And firm thighs snugly encased in nearly threadbare denim.
She’d noticed that too.

“You asked why we’re divorcing,” she said, reaching for her
empty cup. She stretched her fingers around the leftover warmth and wished she
hadn’t drunk it so fast. She would’ve appreciated the diversion. “You’d
probably be better off asking him, though I have my opinions. He wanted
children. I didn’t produce any. Then when he decided to make up for the lack by
changing our lifestyle, he became bored with me. I’m a homebody. Perfectly
happy staying in with my movies and my paints. He wasn’t satisfied, in any number
of ways.” She smiled faintly. “Preschool teachers aren’t exactly wild.”

Jeff’s jaw slackened for an instant before he recovered. Had
she shocked him? Good. She liked having the power to do that to someone. It had
been a very long time since she’d said or done anything unexpected.

Her husband of ten years had asked for a divorce and she’d
agreed. She hadn’t fought or screamed or even pondered it too much. She’d known
they were sliding apart for a long time, tectonic plates that had developed the
mother of all faults between them.

They hadn’t been lovers for months before Lon had told her
he was leaving and she hadn’t minded that either. When necessary, she could
take care of herself. She’d refrained from saying that maybe his technique was
the problem and not her libido.

He wouldn’t have believed her, probably. After all, he
didn’t do anything differently now than he did early in their relationship, and
everything had been fine back then. Or maybe the difference in her feelings
accounted for the change in their sex life. How could she know for sure?

Along the way, she lost interest in trying to make things
work. Instead of speaking up, she stayed silent. As usual. Anything not to make
waves. Why create havoc when she truly didn’t know what she wanted anymore? She
hadn’t fought for him because she’d fallen out of love with him years ago, just
as she suspected he had with her. He’d taken other lovers toward the end but
she hadn’t cared. At least he wasn’t bothering her when he spent time in
another woman’s bed.

All she wanted was peace. And she’d succeeded at having a
completely quiet, drama-free life. A hollow triumph to be sure.

“You don’t want him back,” he said in a surprisingly gentle
voice.

“No.”

“Are you sure? It’s possible you’ve just hit a rough patch. That
happens in marriages. You could try to work through it”

“Mr. Maddox,” she interrupted, lifting a brow. “I appreciate
your concern, but you should save your breath. Lon and I are not reconciling.”

“But if you’d just—”

“Do you know how many orgasms I’ve had with him in the last
three years?”

Again Jeff appeared stunned, his pupils widening as he
opened and closed his mouth like a guppy. Then he shook his head.

“Less than a handful. Lucky for him I have minimal needs or
I might have divorced
him
a long time ago.”

She wouldn’t have but Jeff didn’t need to know that. For a
little while, she could pretend to be a different person. She could become a
woman who loved ’em and left ’em rather than being the one left.

“They have vibrators, you know,” he muttered, his jaw
cracking as he flung his gaze toward the window.

She laughed and tilted her head, enjoying the opportunity to
study him while he was looking anywhere but at her. “I have two but thanks for
the tip. It’s not only about sex,” she said into the awkward silence. “We fell
out of love, plain and simple. The saddest thing is we won’t even be friends
after. I always told myself I’d be friends with my exes. That everything would
be so civil and lovely.” She sighed. “Not so much.”

“Really? I can’t stand the sight of mine. If everything was
so hunky-damn-dory, they wouldn’t be your ex.”

“Well, that is true. Ex-wife?” she asked. At her best guess,
he was around her age of thirty, maybe a few years older. Certainly old enough
to be married and divorced, maybe multiple times.

“Yeah. Two of them.” His frown dug lines around his mouth.
“Honestly? Marriage fucking sucks. But it would really help me out if you’d
stay in yours.”

Curiosity piqued, Karyn leaned forward and rested her
forearms on the table. His attention shifted to her hands. Or more
specifically, her rings. They were all silver except for her wedding band,
which stood out like a beacon from the rest. She wore them on her thumbs and
every finger but her pinkies, her only concession to personal adornment. She
had no tattoos and no piercings, not even pierced ears. But her rings, each
polished to a high sheen and intricately carved, always grabbed notice.

Sometimes people asked her why she wore silver with gold.
The silver had been her choice. She hadn’t picked the dull gold band but Lon
had wanted something traditional.

More irony.

“Why?” she asked, curling her thumb into her palm. Still he
continued to stare. Maybe he really liked baby-blue nail polish.

He started to answer then cut himself off and shook his head.
“Look, I’ll just give you your husband’s phone. Return it to him when you
want.”

“Wait,” she said as he set the familiar navy cell on the
table. “You’re not going to tell me any more than that? Why do you care if I
stay married?” She narrowed her eyes. “Is he sleeping with someone important to
you? One of those ex-wives? A girlfriend?”

Jeff didn’t answer. She didn’t really expect him to.

“I know about his affairs. I’m okay with them,” she added.

“Lady, with all due respect, you seem way too okay with way
too much.”

A laugh tore from her chest and she covered her mouth to try
to hold it in. Talk about a lost cause. She doubled over and let the hysteria
overtake her until tears blurred her vision.

Tears. Real, honest-to-god tears. From mirth, but still. They
counted.

He reached across the table and awkwardly patted her back as
one might a potentially dangerous, wounded animal. Only his palm made contact
with her spine, not his fingers. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

“Yeah? I’m sitting here discussing my non-sex life with a
total stranger and you think that’s okay? A stranger who wants me to stay with
a guy who wouldn’t eat my cooking and refused to come to Christmas dinners at
my parents’ house? I’d say none of this is okay, Mr. Maddox.”

“You can call me Jeff.”

“Thanks so much.” The hint of sarcasm in her voice surprised
her as much as she could tell it did him.

“He’s sleeping with my little sister.”

“Oh.” Then as it sank in, she said again, “Oh. Sorry about
that.”

Much to her shock—and pleasure—he started to laugh. “Yeah,
it fucking sucks.”

“Do you always swear so much?”

His laughter subsided but the glow in his truly amazing eyes
didn’t. “You really sound like a preschool teacher, you know that? So calm and
well-mannered.”

She shrugged. “I’m good at my job. I must admit, I wonder
what yours is. Because of the swearing and…lack of vocabulary, I’m thinking
maybe truck driver?”

Again he laughed, long and loud. “Hardly. I edit. Books,” he
added at her blank look.

“What kind of books?”

“Ones with a lot of pages.” He got up and fished a ratty
wallet out of his back pocket. “Want another coffee?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t—”

“Go for it.” He gave her a half-smile. “Go wild.”

Karyn huffed out a breath and nodded. “Tall peppermint latte
please. Extra whip.”

His smile went from merely interesting to striking enough to
knock the socks she wasn’t wearing right off. “Now we’re talking. I’ll be right
back.”

She watched him stroll up to the checkout, her gaze centered
on the gray thermal shirt sticking out from under his sweatshirt. It landed
mid-butt cheek, hiding just enough of the good stuff to tease her imagination.

She smiled. An ordinary guy, huh?

Suddenly ordinary didn’t seem so bad.