Just Deserts (2 page)

When she, Alex and Renée had finally transferred their anger for each other to where it truly belonged—on Marc—they were able to sort things and see just how deep his deceit had gone. And now, according to Tristan, it may have gone deeper than any of them could have ever imagined.

“Hello.”

“Alex, wake up. It’s Danielle.”

There was a pause and then. “Danielle, why are you calling at nine in the morning?”

She wanted to remind her that most people were out of bed by that time. Instead, she said, “Sorry, but we need to talk. Hold tight while I get Renée on the line.”

Danielle shook her head and smiled as she punched in Renée’s phone number. Alexandra, at twenty-one, was the youngest of the three, and when Danielle had first met her at Marc’s funeral, Alex had come across as one ditzy chick with too much money on her hands, thanks to her wealthy family. What woman would show up at her dead husband’s funeral wearing, of all things, a sleeveless white dress with black polka dots and some outlandish hat on her head? But after getting to know Alex, Danielle had discovered that she was actually quite smart.

But no one, Danielle decided, was smarter than Renée, wife number two, who at twenty-four was a college professor. Since the first grade Renée had attended exclusive boarding schools on academic scholarships, and people always considered her somewhat of a genius. According to Renée, all she ever wanted to do was live a normal life, and she’d fallen for Marc because he was able to make her feel less like a brain and more like a woman.

“Yes?”

“Renée?” She sounded sleepy, too. Did everybody sleep late on Saturday morning? She wondered. “This is Danielle. I have Alex on the line. We need to talk. Hold on for a sec while I get her.”

She then switched over to bring Alex on the line, only to discover she wasn’t there, although she could hear noise in the background. “Alex? Are you there? What’s going on?”

“Sorry about that, Danielle, but both Hunter and Little Sweetie don’t like it that you woke them up.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. Hunter was Alex’s husband of less than a month, and Little Sweetie was Alex’s dog, which Alex treated like a human being. “Apologize to them both, please, but by now I’m sure you’ve heard that there’s a possibility Marc might have been engaged to another woman.”

“Yes, we heard,” Renée said. “And as far as I’m concerned, she should be counting her blessings that a wedding never took place.”

“You’re right,” Danielle said. “But think of the emotional trauma it might cause her when she finds out about us.”

“Maybe she won’t find out,” Alex said quietly. And then in a playful voice she said, “Stop that, Hunter. We can’t mess around now. I’m talking to my wives-in-law.”

Danielle rolled her eyes again at the term Alex had adopted to define their relationship. “What do you think we should do, Renée?” Danielle asked. At least she was certain she had Renée’s attention. When a few seconds ticked by and Renée didn’t respond, Danielle asked again. “Renée?”

“Oh, sorry. What was your question?”

Danielle wanted to throw the phone down and scream. There could be only one reason Renée was not focused. “Is Chris there with you, Renée?”

“Of course he’s here. He lives here. Don’t you remember I told you that he transferred to Birmingham and is working for an agency here while we plan the wedding?”

“Sorry, I did forget. And how are the wedding plans coming along?”

“Fine. Just three more weeks to go. I’m getting excited.”

Danielle couldn’t help but be excited for her. Marc had been an ass and as far as she was concerned, both Alex and Renée deserved real happiness in their lives.

So did she.

But there was no way she could be happy until she uncovered the mystery surrounding the fourth woman. “Look, evidently this is not a good time to discuss anything with you two, so how about calling me back later? And Renée, it would be nice if Chris was included in our call. Then he could cover everything with us that he found at Marc’s apartment.”

“And what are you planning to do after that?” Alex asked on a yawn.

“I plan to find her.”

“Take Tristan with you when you go looking for her,” Renée said.

Danielle lifted a brow. “Why?”

“It will be fun,” Renée answered.

“Besides, he seems to like spending time with you,” Alex added.

Danielle knew what Alex and Renée were getting at. She was well aware that they thought something was going on between her and Tristan because of the time he had playfully kissed her hand in front of them. She had tried convincing them that she and Tristan were nothing more than best buddies, but evidently they didn’t believe her. “Thanks for the suggestion, Alex. I just might do that. Goodbye.”

Then she quickly hung up the phone.

An hour or so later, bored with the book she’d been reading, Danielle left the confines of her bedroom to look for Tristan. Funny how she considered the guest room at Tristan’s house as
her
room. When had that started? She wondered. Right after Paul had died and she had left the modeling world to return to Port St. Lucie.

It was hard to convince the people she’d known all her life that she was no longer Dani, the highly paid fashion model who’d walked numerous runways and been named one of the top models in the world by
People.

And then when half the modeling world, including Tyra, Viva and Heidi, had shown up at Paul’s funeral, her home—the one she and Paul had inherited after their parents’ death—had become an overnight sensation, drawing thousands of people who drove by hoping to see a celebrity. So it had been Tristan’s home where she would escape to whenever she needed to get away and find solace and peace.

Even after she’d married Marc and they had their little spats, it wasn’t unusual for her to show up here late at night. And since she had her own key, sometimes Tristan wouldn’t even know she was there until he awoke the next morning.

She smiled, remembering the time he had brought a date home only to find Danielle coming from the kitchen wearing a bathrobe. He’d had a lot of explaining to do, trying to convince Sharon What’s-her-name that their relationship was strictly platonic.

Danielle rounded the corner and came to a stop. Tristan was stretched out on the sofa sound asleep.
Poor baby.
She tiptoed quietly over to him, understanding why he was so exhausted. Now that their business had expanded, grown by leaps and bounds, the two of them no longer had to be tied to the office to run things. Tristan, however, was still very much hands-on. Danielle loved her role working in PR and being all over the place. All the contacts she’d made over the years proved to be an asset in bringing new accounts A&T’s way.

Stooping down, she studied Tristan’s features, seeing how they’d changed over the years. He no longer had that boyish look. He had grown into an extremely handsome man. He had chocolate-colored skin and the most gorgeous dark eyes and lips she had ever seen on a man. His long eyelashes were to die for, but then, she couldn’t discount his blunt nose and chiseled jaw. Both added arrogance to his features, a characteristic Tristan could not claim. He had to be the most humble man she knew.

His skin looked soft to the touch, and she knew from experience it was. She fought back the temptation to touch him now. She remembered the crush she’d had on him at twelve, until that day she’d seen him kissing Sadie McClelland in the park. It had broken her heart. She had run home crying to her mother, who’d hugged her and explained that it wasn’t real love she felt for Tristan but hero worship, and there was a big difference.

What her mother said that day had made real good sense at the time, but now Danielle couldn’t help wondering if at one time during her life she had actually loved Tristan. Really loved him.

She almost gasped when his eyes flickered open and she suddenly felt trapped by his dark gaze. Something stirred within her that almost made her moan. She actually felt herself swaying. Inhaling deeply, she tried thinking of something to say, but he beat her to it.

“You were staring at me.”

“Yes,” she answered with a guilty nod. “You were sleeping and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He held her gaze a little longer and then shifted positions to sit up. He rubbed his hands down his face. “Okay, I’m awake now, Dani. What’s wrong?”

Dani.

That had always been his name for her, although Paul and her parents had stuck to Danielle. When she became a model it had been so easy to use the name he’d given her.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just talked to Alex and Renée a few minutes ago.”

“And?”

Danielle dropped down beside him, forcing him to scoot over to make room. “And neither of them seems interested in finding the fourth woman.”

He took her hand in his, something he’d been doing a lot lately. “Dani, I think they’re interested. They just don’t have the fire about it that you do. I hate to tell you this, but now they have
lives.
Alexandra is married and Renée will be getting married this month. They have moved beyond what Marc did to them.”

“And you don’t think I have?”

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “I just don’t think it’s as easy for you to let go. Maybe it’s because you were Marc’s first wife. Or it could be because you were married to him the longest. But then, it might be your age.”

Tristan swallowed, realizing he’d just made a mistake when he saw the narrowing of Danielle’s eyes and the stiffening of her spine. “What about my age, Tris?”

Looking into her scowling face, he knew he had to smooth things over or get a cold shoulder the rest of the day. “What I mean, Dani, is that you’re a lot more mature than Alexandra and Renée. That’s not a bad thing. You’ve been where they have yet to go. What they are experiencing now is—”

“Men!”

He lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Men,” she said, as if with distaste. “Alex and Renée have a man in their lives. I’m not involved with anyone so I have a lot more personal time on my hands.”

Tristan took a minute to fully absorb what she had said. “And why do you think that is, Dani? Other than Marc, I’ve never known you to become involved with anyone, at least not seriously.”

“Yeah, and look where my involvement with Marc got me. The man was a con artist extraordinaire. He caught me at a vulnerable time and swept me off my feet. The next thing I knew I was in Atlanta getting married.”

“Because you thought you loved him?” he asked quietly, wondering what her answer would be. During the past five years there were times he actually thought she loved Marc, and then there were times he’d been filled with doubt.

She seemed to think deeply about his question and then she said, “No, because at that time I thought he loved me. I wanted someone to love me. I was hurt. I felt alone. And then Marc appeared and seemed capable of making me feel whole. Not special but whole. There is a difference.”

He leaned back on the sofa. “And what’s the difference?”

She leaned back with him. “I felt special as a model. I was used to getting all kinds of attention, even when I didn’t want it. But Marc made me see the importance of moving on after losing Paul, and he was there to help me get beyond my grief.”

Tristan didn’t say anything for a while. Marc had done for her what
he
should have done. He, Tristan, had let her down and in the interim left the door wide open for another man to walk in and have her. A part of him would never forgive himself for doing that. For five years he had to endure the pain of knowing the woman he loved had married someone else.

“Why did you stay with him if you didn’t love him?” he finally asked.

She curled up by his side. He knew that to her it was a natural thing to do, no big deal. She had no way of knowing how her closeness was making his heart leap in his chest. “You of all people know how things were between me and Marc, Tris. I confided to you about it. We hadn’t been married a year when I noticed he was taking more and more trips out of town and was becoming distant. There were blocks of time—and I mean huge blocks—when we didn’t even share a bed when he was home. And when he was away he seldom called, claiming his business was keeping him extremely busy.”

She paused for a moment, then continued, “I never told you this part, but I even threatened him with a divorce if he didn’t get his act together. I was beginning to feel like we were married in name only. Hell, I was spending more time over here with you than at my house, because he was never there. When Hurricane Frances swept through here a few years ago, I was stranded with you the entire time while Marc was somewhere else.”

Tristan nodded, remembering the time. They had been stuck here without any electrical power while her husband had been no telling where and with whom.

“You said you had threatened him with divorce. What happened to make you change your mind?”

She met his gaze. “A baby,” she said softly. “He promised me a baby.”

Tristan didn’t say anything. All he could do was remember the day she found out that the one thing Marc had promised her had been the one thing he couldn’t deliver. A case of the mumps in his teens had left him incapable of fathering a child. She had taken the news hard.