The Replacement Wife (10 page)

Q
uentin's head throbbed as he made a cup of coffee in the kitchen at home. No doubt, Chloe was going to be furious when she woke up to find him gone, but he'd promised Alex he was coming over for a visit. At least Quentin had shared the strawberry crêpes with Chloe at three in the morning. Quentin was barely interested in the entire evening—the carnal activities or the crêpes—but Chloe seemed to be enjoying herself, and that's all that mattered since it was her birthday.

Chloe would've been furious to know that Quentin's thoughts kept drifting to Montana during her birthday celebration. He kept imagining her smile and that big wild head of hair that begged him to touch it.

There was something about Montana that made him want to pursue her. He felt like a sleepy lion that'd been having his meals brought to him. Then suddenly a young gazelle crossed his path, and he remembered that he was a hunter.

That was exactly it. Chloe had offered herself up on a platter, but Montana just skipped back and forth, taunting him, stirring his true nature. Quentin was a man's man. He liked to hunt for his food.

He closed his eyes and sipped the coffee. It was good, a Jamaican roast he'd bought when he and Chloe had spent a week in Montego Bay.

Quentin wondered if Montana had ever been to Jamaica. Then he imagined her curves in a two-piece swimsuit.

It completely jarred Quentin when he opened his eyes and Montana was opening the sliding kitchen door. She looked like she'd been in a fight. Her hair was flying out of its ponytail, she was drenched in sweat, and she clutched the wall, huffing and puffing.

“What happened to you?” Quentin asked.

Montana held up one finger. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a few times before replying. “You inspired me, Mr. Chambers. I tried to go running this morning.”

This made Quentin burst into laughter. “You just woke up one day and decided to go running?”

“Yeah, well, I figured I've got two legs and two feet. How hard could it be?”

When Montana started to slide down the wall to the floor, Quentin helped her over to the table. Then he gave her a glass of juice and a bottle of water.

“Drink both. You've probably sweated out every electrolyte in your body.”

Montana guzzled the juice. “Thank you. I feel okay, except that my feet are killing me.”

“Let me see your shoes.”

Montana stuck out her feet and immediately Quentin saw the problem. The shoes weren't running shoes. They were walking shoes, definitely not made to take the impact of running on the hard ground.

“Are they okay?” Montana asked.

“Not for running. They look a little cheaply made, too.”

Montana scoffed. “I beg your pardon! I paid twenty-nine dollars for these at Target.”

“If you're gonna run, you need better shoes.”

Quentin took out his cell phone and flipped it open. He started dialing a number.

“What are you doing? Calling the sneaker police on me?” Montana asked.

He shook his head. “Sneakers? Therein, my friend, lies the problem.”

“There is nothing wrong with my shoes.”

Quentin held up one finger as he spoke into the phone. “Hey, Gerard. Yeah, man, can you open a little early today? I've got an emergency. A friend of mine is trying to run in some no-name walking shoes.... I know, man. She don't know no better. . . . Nah, not Chloe. Chloe doesn't run, she zumbas or whatever. Yeah. . . . Okay, we'll be there in forty-five minutes.”

Montana furrowed her brows. “Who will be where in forty-five minutes? I don't have money for any expensive running shoes. I will stick to my Target specials.”

“Let me help you. I don't want you to hurt yourself out there. My friend has a sporting goods shop, and he will fit you with the best running shoes you've ever had.”

Montana folded her arms across her chest. “And how much is this going to cost me?”

“Just a couple of hours.”

“You can't buy me shoes, Mr. Chambers. That's not part of my salary.”

Quentin shook his head. “Okay, then let's call it your clothing allowance. Go shower really quickly, though, because you stink.”

“I do not!” Then, Montana sniffed herself. “Okay, so I do, but that was rude.”

“No, it would be rude if I let you go out and about smelling like that. A friend wouldn't do that.”

“We're friends, Mr. Chambers?”

Quentin smiled at her. “Anyone who cooks me yummy food for breakfast is my friend. And since we're friends, I have another request.”

“What's that?”

“Call me Quentin.”

Montana gave him a thoughtful look. “Okay, I'll call you Quentin. But only when I'm off the clock.”

“Okay, I'm giving you the morning off to go shoe shopping. Most women would be ecstatic about this. You have given me nothing but push back.”

“I am not like most women.”

Quentin nodded his head in silent agreement. He was going to enjoy taking her shopping. He wished it wasn't just for shoes. He'd love to buy her a dress. Something bright to flatter her figure. Then he wouldn't mind sporting her on his arm.

His cell phone buzzed on the table. It was Chloe. What a way to get knocked back to reality.

Quentin shooed Montana from the kitchen. “Go and get changed before the kids start harassing you for stuff.”

When Montana was gone, Quentin answered the phone. “Don't be mad.”

“I'm not mad. I'm hurt.” Quentin cringed at the whining tone in Chloe's voice. Had she always whined like that and he hadn't noticed it before?

“We had a great time, didn't we?”

“Yes, but I'm lonely and cold in this big bed.”

“I'm sorry, Chloe. I've got a million and one things to do today. My mother is forcing me to go to her brunch on Sunday. I'm trying to escape.”

There was a long pause before Chloe replied. “I will be there.”

“I can't endure her church friends.”

Chloe let out a sad chuckle. “I know you can't. That's why I'm coming. I've got your back.”

“I know. Call me later?”

“Yep. Bye, baby, love you.”

Quentin swallowed. “Okay, talk to you soon.”

He disconnected the call and shook his head. Every time Chloe said, “I love you,” he felt like a massive jerk. Who deals with a woman for five years, sleeps with her whenever he wants, parades her around town, and doesn't tell her he loves her? He didn't think he was that guy. But ever since Chandra had died, Quentin couldn't bring himself to say those words to a woman—especially not Chloe.

Chloe was not who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He knew that about two years into the five-year affair, but she was determined and he was lazy. That's what having meals served up to a lion did to him—it made him sluggish.

Was it time to end things with Chloe? The thought made Quentin feel like an even bigger lowlife. But he just couldn't pursue Montana while he had Chloe biding her time and waiting on a ring. He definitely wasn't that guy.

So the lion was awake. But did he remember how to hunt? Would he have to learn the rules all over again? Would the gazelle outrun him and leave him famished and unsatisfied? Maybe the lion wasn't fully wide awake yet. Coffee first, gazelle hunting in the afternoon.

M
ontana stood in her bedroom, freshly showered and wondering what to wear on her shopping trip with Quentin. She couldn't tell if he was flirting with her, or if he was truly just concerned with the welfare of her feet.

It was a very warm morning, so she chose a sundress that fitted snugly at the top but flared out at the bottom. It didn't show off her best asset, but she'd caught Quentin doing a double take of her backside when she left out of the kitchen earlier. If he was flirting with her, she didn't want to seem like she was encouraging it. She was simply accepting a very generous offer from her wealthy employer.

She pinned her hair up and put a yellow flower in over her right ear. A friend once told her that Hawaiian women signaled their availability to men by the position of their flower. On the left meant married and spoken for. On the right meant single and ready to mingle. In the middle meant up for negotiation.

Montana had no idea if the explanation was true, but just in case Quentin had heard it too, she wanted him to be clear that she was absolutely single. Just in case it was the beginning of something.

Montana was bothered by the fact that Quentin was not single, though. At least she didn't think he was. But maybe he and Chloe had called it quits and hadn't told anyone yet. Why else would he be flirting?

There was a knock on her bedroom door. She asked, “Who is it?”

“It's Deirdre. Can I come in?”

Montana grinned and opened the door.

“What can I do for you?”

“I was going to ask you a question about this song, but it looks like you're on your way somewhere.”

“Oh, we're going to practice this afternoon. You can ask me then.”

Deirdre inhaled deeply and gave Montana a suspicious glare. “You smell good! Where are you going?”

“Oh, nowhere, really. Your dad is taking me shopping for a pair of running shoes.”

Deirdre's mouth made a little
O
shape. Montana shook her head and laughed.

“Does Chloe know he's buying you shoes?” Deirdre asked.

“He just felt sorry for me, because he says my shoes are raggedy.”

Deirdre pushed her way into the room and sat down on Montana's bed. “Why would you go out with a guy like my dad to get running shoes. How about some Louboutins? I'm sure you don't have any red bottoms.”

Montana gazed at Deirdre and tried to figure out where the conversation was going before it got there. Deirdre's expression was completely innocent, although Montana sensed that the questions were not.

“Are you trying to get Chloe really mad at me? What business would your father have buying me designer shoes?”

“What business does my father have buying you any shoes?”

“It's like I said. He felt sorry for me.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Deirdre said. “That still doesn't explain why you gotta smell so good, but okay.”

“Um . . . okay.”

“Can you remind my dad that Chloe is taking me to lunch today? Just in case he thinks I'm trying to sneak off my punishment. I might not be here when you get back.”

“Why don't you go downstairs and tell him?”

“Because if he looks guilty about this little running shoe trip, I'd feel weird during my outing with Chloe.”

“There's nothing to be guilty about.”

Deirdre hopped up from the bed. “Sure. I got it. You've got your hair pinned up, you're drenched in perfume, and you've got a dress on that's hugging your boobs. It's nothing.”

Deirdre skipped out of the room like it was Christmas morning and she'd just opened a new toy. She was too happy about her insinuations.

The conversation left Montana feeling uneasy. The last thing she needed was for Deirdre to say anything out of pocket to Chloe, but to ask her not to mention it might make it seem like they did have something to hide.

And if Chloe was taking Deirdre to lunch, then obviously things were going fine between her and Quentin. So he wasn't flirting, then, and it really was all about the shoes.

Finally, Montana headed back downstairs to meet Quentin and go. He was standing just at the bottom of the staircase, and he watched her descend the stairs. Quentin's face seemed mesmerized, and immediately Montana thought that maybe she'd overdone it with the dress and the flower in her hair. What if he thought she was pursuing him?

“Wow. Am I taking you to a photo shoot on the way to the shoe store?” Quentin asked.

Montana blushed. It was too much. “I can change. I didn't know where we were shopping. I thought it was some rich people's store. I didn't want to look bummy.”

Quentin doubled over with laughter. “Oh boy. Let's go, Montana! I don't even know what to say to that.”

They walked through the house to the attached garage, where there were multiple luxury vehicles, all in different shades of red. All shining brightly.

“Someone is a collector,” Montana said.

Quentin smiled. “I am. It's the only thing I really splurge on.”

Montana grinned to herself. She'd also heard he splurged on Chloe, but she wasn't about to bring her up.

“So which one you want to go for a ride in?” Quentin asked.

The burgundy Aston Martin convertible was calling her name, so Montana pointed to it. “What kind of car is this?”

“It's an Aston Martin, and you have great taste. Let's go.”

Quentin went to a lockbox on the wall and punched in a code. He opened it and removed a set of keys. Then he opened the passenger-side door for Montana and she got in.

The buttery leather felt good on Montana's skin, and the car smelled like it had just left the showroom. There wasn't a crumb, scratch, or nick inside—a far cry from the inside of her Nissan Sentra. This car felt like money. And she was riding shotgun.

“You ready?” Quentin asked.

Montana nodded, and Quentin opened the garage. He turned on the car, dropped the top, and zipped to the edge of the property in what felt like three seconds.

“Wow!” Montana said breathlessly.

“That's nothing,” Quentin said. “Maybe I'll take you out to the country one day so you can see it really move.”

Montana looked at the floor and tried not to smile. Was he making plans for their next outing already? She wanted to ask him about Chloe, but couldn't think of how to do it without sounding presumptuous. What if he was just trying to be friends?

“What is that scent you're wearing?” Quentin asked. “It's nice.”

“Oh, it's just some cheap Bath and Body Works spray. It'll probably be worn off by the time we get back.”

“It doesn't smell cheap.”

Montana cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes at Quentin. Why couldn't he just come out and give her a compliment? He said she looked like she was going to a photo shoot instead of telling her she looked nice. And instead of saying she smelled good, he said her perfume didn't smell cheap. He was being very careful with his words and careful not to flirt. Maybe he was just trying to be a good boyfriend to Chloe.

Or maybe he wasn't flirting at all. Montana didn't like not knowing.

Montana thought of a safe question to ask. “I didn't see you come in last night. Were you out late?”

“I was,” Quentin replied.

Dang! That wasn't enough information to go on, and any additional questions would seem like she was being nosy.

“Were you worried?” Quentin asked.

Montana detected some amusement in his tone. “No! Why would I be worried? Honestly, I was just being nosy.”

“Well, why didn't you just say so? I took Chloe out for her birthday, and then we went to the Ritz.”

Montana nodded slowly. The guys she'd dated in the past had taken her, at best, out to eat and then to the Marriott, or back to their home. Quentin was just like any other unsaved guy—dinner, then a hotel. He just had more money.

She felt silly for getting done up. It was stupid anyway to get even a little bit carried away over Quentin when he clearly had a girlfriend.

Montana was quiet the rest of the way to the shoe store, and Quentin didn't try to engage her in conversation. The wind whipping through the car seemed to be enough noise for both of them.

The sporting goods store was definitely one of those places where the wealthy spent their money. There were no price tags on any of the shoes, and there were items Montana had never seen before.

The owner came from the back and hugged Quentin, then gave him a fist pound. “Frat! What's going on?” he said.

Quentin said, “I can't call it! Gerard, meet my friend Montana. Montana meet Gerard. We go way back, and he's gonna hook you up.”

“Well, aren't you lovely,” Gerard said, while sweeping his eyes from the top of Montana's curly head to her feet.

“Thank you,” Montana said. She glanced at Quentin out of the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction. She didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He didn't seem to mind the compliment.

“She needs outdoor running shoes. She was trying to run on my estate today and had sore feet afterward.”

Gerard nodded. “A lot of uneven terrain on your property. Some rocky areas. Did you ever put in a running path?”

“No, but I might do it now. I have been the only one running all these years.”

Gerard's eyes widened, and he gave Quentin the strangest look. Quentin burst into laughter. “Oh, man! You are funny. Why didn't you just ask? My mother hired Montana to be the children's nanny.”

“Ah!” Gerard nodded. “I was about to trip. I was up here asking myself when you traded Chloe in for the younger model.”

Gerard and Quentin shared a hearty laugh that was complete with slaps on the back and more fist pounds. Montana frowned and felt she was the butt of a joke somehow. Was Quentin teasing her?

“Okay, Ms. Montana, I'm going to ask you to stand on this contraption here. It's going to tell me how you distribute your weight on your feet, so I'll know the best kind of support for you.” Gerard took Montana's hand and led her over to the machine in the corner.

Montana took off her sandals and stood on the machine while it buzzed and whirred and made clicking and beeping sounds. She hoped all those noises meant the machine knew what it was doing.

After a few moments, a small printer attached to the machine printed out a sheet of paper. Gerard read it and nodded. Then he had her step down.

“Looks like you have flat feet, Ms. Montana. I'll need to get you a shoe with a lot of shock absorption and stability support.”

Montana looked confused. “Um . . . I have no idea what you just said.”

“Sit here. I'm going to bring you a shoe that will make love to your feet.”

“Well, it's a good thing I don't have a boyfriend, because he'd be jealous.”

Montana chuckled as she walked barefoot over to the brown leather couch. When she sat, her entire body sank into the cushions. Yep, she was definitely in a rich establishment.

When Gerard left the showroom floor, Quentin asked, “Why don't you have a boyfriend?”

“That's a personal question, Mr. Chambers.”

“We're back to Mr. Chambers?”

Montana nodded.

“But why? I thought we were having fun.”

It had gone back to Mr. Chambers in the car when Quentin talked about spending the night with his girlfriend at the Ritz. Then it was absolutely settled when Quentin and his boy had a good laugh about her being the “younger model.” What was so funny about that? She wasn't as glamorous as Chloe, but she definitely held her own. Admittedly, she'd thrown out some bait with her sundress and the flower in her hair, but Montana decided that this was a dangerous game she was playing.

Quentin was obviously a forever bachelor, and Chloe was his long-suffering girlfriend. No matter what she'd been dreaming about, Montana was no Cinderella and Quentin was no prince. He was just an incredibly handsome man with a fat wallet.

“I thought we were getting running shoes,” Montana said.

Quentin gave Montana a mischievous smile. “Well, I will just have fun all by myself then.”

Montana tried to give him a serious glare, but had to look away when his gaze turned intense. She felt like a ball of yarn in the paws of a tom cat, and it wasn't a good feeling at all. After getting delivered from Rio, Montana was determined not to be anyone's toy.