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“Come on, Candy. Open your eyes. He didn’t want you looking hot so guys wouldn’t line up to take you away from him. So he could control you.”
“What?” Candy glared at her, that odd panicky feeling boil-ing again in her stomach. “That is the most ridiculous—”
The doorbell rang.
“Oh, crap. Pose.” Candy glanced to make sure Abigail was ready, then pulled sharply on the door so it swung into the room on its own and she had time to get back into position.
Justin. Standing at her door. Holding her pie plate.
His eyes widened to the size of walnuts and started bounc-ing back and forth, Candy, Abigail, back to Candy, back to Abigail, then came to rest on Candy. “Holy sh—”
“Justin.” She blushed fiercely, which ruined her determination to be icy around him, wishing he didn’t look so incredibly handsome and virile, because that made it much harder to stay furious with him as he deserved. A traitorously weak part of her threatened to melt into submission at the mere sight of him. She had to remind himself that if he made anything like a move toward reconciliation, it was likely the fact that her breasts were pumped higher than tires on a monster truck, and little of the rest of her had any covering at all. “What were you doing in Mrs. Abernathy’s car?”
The second she said the words she realized they were ridiculous. That, the snort from Abigail and the obvious confusion on Justin’s face.
“I meant where is Mrs. Abernathy?”
Only slightly less ridiculous.
“Uh.” He swallowed convulsively, eyes clearly making a valiant attempt to stay on her face, but not succeeding too well. “Mrs. Who?”
“The car in my driveway.”
“Yeah, um. Yeah. I saw her.” He swallowed again. “She’s in her car. On her phone. You left your plate. Here it is. God, you both look— Whoa.”
Candy turned pointedly to Abigail, who wasn’t rolling her eyes as she was bloody well supposed to be. In fact she was watching Justin intently. Not even frowning in cynical sister-hood. The betrayal became complete when she held out her hand, smiling the smile that knocked every straight man to his knees, and probably quite a few gay ones, too.
“Hi, Justin. I’m Abigail.”
“Nice to meet your—you.” He shook her hand, glancing at Candy. “Nice to meet you.”
Abigail giggled. “Candy’s told me a lot about you, Justin.”
Candy froze her face into fury. Abigail!
“Oh. Well. That’s nice.” He turned back to Candy. “You going to a Valentine’s party tonight?”
“Nope.” She lifted her chin, determined to let him know she wouldn’t be sitting home pining for him. “I have a dinner date.”
“You’re going on a dinner date in that? ” He gestured to her uplifted breasts.
“No, not in this.” She managed to hang on to her cool, but only barely, because he was standing too close, heating her half-naked body with his gaze, and she was reacting both 144
emotionally and sexually without having given permission for either one. “What do you take me for?”
He met her eyes, looking perplexed. “I’m never quite sure.”
Abigail made a sudden movement. They both looked at her.
“The baby?” Candy asked anxiously.
“No, no. It’s all good.” She smiled at Justin with real friendliness, which on Abigail looked like “please sleep with me now.” Candy wanted to yank off her wings and stomp on them.
“So, Candy, where are you going on this date? ” He spat the last word out, sounding contemptuous. Or…jealous? Her heart did a funny triple flip.
“Firefly Café in Wauwatosa.”
“Nice place.” He rubbed his jaw, looking annoyed and vulnerable and a little dismayed, and Candy’s lovely outrage faltered. “They have a great bar for—”
“Candy Graham!” Mrs. Abernathy appeared next to Justin and clapped her hands to her cheeks. “How a-dor-able you look! And you, too, my goodness. What’s your name, dear?”
“Abigail.” Abigail looked as if her morning sickness was about to come back, but not because of the baby.
