Mr Destiny (38 page)

Z
ada Clark didn’t miss the frown on her divorce attorney’s face as she hurried up the courthouse steps. Known around Chicago for her killer instinct in the courtroom, Angie Naylon was attractive, she was smart, and she looked the way a successful attorney should look in her man-tailored gray business suit, and with her auburn hair cut fashionably short in a no-nonsense style.

Had Angie not also been an old college friend, the disapproving frown would have intimidated Zada. Having personally held Angie’s head out of the toilet back in their college days, however, served as a pretty good equalizer.

Still frowning, Angie looked her up and down when Zada reached the top of the steps. “Are you kidding me, Zada? This is your idea of a mousy-looking outfit for the judge’s benefit?”

“No,” Zada said stubbornly. “This is my idea of an eat-your-heart-out outfit for
Rick’s
benefit. I want him to get his last good look at what he lost when he walked out on me.”

“And how shallow is that?” Angie said in disgust.

“Today,” said Zada, “shallow suits me just fine.”

“Obviously,” Angie snipped when two suits and ties walked past, craning their necks around for a second look. She looked back at Zada and said, “Your all-about-me dress certainly leaves nothing to the imagination. And here’s another news flash for you. Red is
not
listed on the
mousy
side of the color chart.”

“But red
is
listed on a brunette’s side of the color chart,” Zada argued. “Ask any brunette. It’s our signature color.”

“It’s the
judge’s
signature on your property settlement you need to be worried about,” Angie said and frowned again. “I warned you this judge was old-school, Zada. That dress blows any chance we had of the judge believing you’re the meek and mousy heartbroken housewife who is only asking to keep her home and her poor blind dog.”

Angie glared at her again, wheeled around, then pushed through the double-glass front doors and stomped into the courthouse. Zada hurried after her.

“Oh, come on, Angie,” Zada pleaded when she finally caught up. “I’m about as mousy as a wolverine, and you know it. You could dress me in a nun’s habit, and I’d still look militant.”

Angie kept walking.

Zada picked up speed, trying to keep up.

“We still have the poor blind dog hook,” Zada mentioned, trying to make amends. ”
I’m
the one who’s taken care of Simon since Rick walked out on us.”

“You keep forgetting Simon is still
Rick’s
dog,” Angie said. “I told you from the beginning Rick’s attorney is going to make a big production over Rick and Simon being injured at O’Hare recovering that explosive device. The dog saved Rick’s life. Separating a man from his heroic life-saving dog is not going to be an easy task.”

“That’s when you bring up the fact that I didn’t even know Rick then, but that I was so touched when I heard Simon was blinded in that explosion,
I
visited Simon at the vet’s hospital every day and even wrote a children’s book about him.”

“And Rick’s attorney will remind the judge that Rick is one of the top explosive detection dog trainers in the nation,” Angie said. “And that he works with dogs on a professional level every day.”

“Yes, Rick does,” Zada said. “He works at least twelve to fourteen hours every day. I, on the other hand, became Simon’s stay-at-home mom once Rick and I were married. The mom who
didn’t
walk out and leave Simon behind.”

“And Rick’s attorney will insist the only reason Rick left Simon behind, is because
Rick
had your house specifically designed so poor, blind Simon
could
function as a normal dog again.”

Angie stopped walking and turned around to face her.

“You tell me, Zada. Now that you’ve blown my strategy and look anything
but
a meek and mousy heartbroken housewife, who do
you
think the judge is going to say deserves Simon and the house?”

“Me,” Zada insisted.

Angie groaned and walked off again.

“Angie!” Zada called after her. ”
I’m
the one who’s made Simon a household name with my
Simon Sees
children’s series.” When she caught back up again, Zada said, “Be sure and point that out.
Publishers Weekly
and
The New York Times
have both hailed
Simon Sees
as an inspiration for children with disabilities everywhere. Simon and I even have a national tour of children’s hospitals scheduled during Christmas this year.”

“How convenient,” Angie quipped, “since red
is
your signature color.” Her eyes cut sideways for a second. “Take my advice this time, Zada. Wear a different dress for the children’s tour.”

Angie turned down a corridor.

Zada clipped along behind her in four-inch heels.

At least Angie hadn’t said anything about the shoes.

Her sling-back red pumps were as sexy as the dress.

Or maybe Angie just never got
past
the dress.

When they finally reached the designated courtroom, Angie pulled Zada aside and pointed a finger under her nose.

“Keep your militant mouth
shut
for once,” Angie said. “I mean it, Zada. I don’t want even so much as a peep out of you in that courtroom.”

Zada made the zipped-lip motion with her fingers.

“You walk in there and sit down as quickly as possible before the judge notices the lower half of your dress is missing. And it wouldn’t hurt to slump a little. Judge Parkins is in his seventies. The way that dress clings to every inch of your body, the old fart could have a heart attack and croak right there on the bench.”

“Sit and slump,” Zada said. “Got it.”

She tried smiling brightly at Angie.

Angie
didn’t
smile back.

Fine. Be that way,
Zada decided.

Maybe short and clingy wasn’t the best choice.

And maybe red wasn’t the best color.

But Zada quickly changed her mind when she saw the look on Rick’s face when she walked into the courtroom.

He was already seated at one of the tables at the front of the room. With his attorney. And now with an eyes-popped-out expression on his dropped-jaw face.

Zada smiled inwardly.

Screw slumping!

She threw her shoulders back.

She thrust her breasts forward.

She held her head high.

And walked right past her soon-to-be
ex
husband.

Rick was already nervous, but there was no doubt in his mind why his mouth suddenly went dry. Zada always had that effect on him. That feeling of being sucker-punched in the stomach. The kind of feeling that had the power to bring any man to his knees.

Except Rick was done.

No more on his knees, begging Zada to reconsider.

A man’s pride could only take so much.

Yes, they’d had one hell of a fight. Yes, they’d both said horrible things to each other. And no, he shouldn’t have walked out. Especially when he knew exactly how Zada felt about the “walking out” issue.

Zada’s older sister had taken her husband back more times than he could remember; a huge sore spot with Zada. In retrospect, he’d often wondered if that was the main reason he had walked out that day—because he knew exactly how angry walking out would make Zada.

Biggest mistake of my life.

Angry didn’t even touch Zada’s reaction.

Livid
was more like it.

Zada changed the locks on the house the same day.

Zada filed for separation papers two weeks later.

Any chance for a reconciliation had walked right out the door with him. Zada had told him so—in those exact words—during the one and only verbal conversation he’d had with her since the day he left.

After that conversation, their only communication, except through their attorneys, had been brief one-line e-mails. Him confirming every Wednesday he would stop by to see Simon. Her verifying she would make arrangements to be gone for the hour he would be at the house. Six months had passed now, the required separation period in Illinois if both parties agreed to the divorce.

Zada had no intention of backing down.

He had no intention of backing down.

Yet here he was sitting in a court room now, ready to face a judge who would put an end to their marriage, and all he could think about was how good Zada looked in that red dress, and what a damn fool he’d be if he let her go.

Rick was still looking at her, Zada could feel it.

It should have given her immense satisfaction knowing she’d definitely gotten his attention. But as good as she knew she looked in her new red dress, Rick looked ten times better.

The dark-blue suit showed off his tan, and his a-little-longer-than-fashionable hair was still a bit damp and sexy-looking from his morning shower. If she dared look directly at him, she knew his eyes would be a deep, brooding blue today. His eyes always turned darker when he was nervous or angry about something.

Funny, but she’d never even been attracted to blond men before she met Rick. Funny also that the second she met him, her tall, dark, and handsome preference switched to tall,
blond,
and handsome in about two seconds flat.

Of course, his ex-marine finely-honed body hadn’t deterred her from quickly switching to the blond side, either. And dear God, if any man had a finely-honed body, it was Rick.

Supposedly thanks to his stupid health food,
Zada thought with a pouting frown.

In retrospect, she’d often wondered what the hell she and Rick had been thinking going from a whirlwind romance straight into a marriage. If any two people had ever been total opposites, it was definitely the two of them.

Opposites attract, sure.

But that didn’t mean they could live together.

She and Rick had sure proved that point.

In more ways than one.

Rick liked the house kept military-standard neat and tidy. Her idea of daily cleaning was a sweeping glance around the room.

Health-food-nut Rick prayed to the tofu gods who kept him in tip-top physical shape. She was on a first name basis with Ronald McDonald.

Early-to-bed-early-to-rise Rick ran five miles before breakfast every morning. Burning the midnight oil writing meant she rarely got up for breakfast—and
her
idea of exercise was jogging over to the fridge for another Dove ice-cream bar.

Living together had been a total disaster.

The fact that they were both Type-A personalities with extremely limited skills when it came to the art of compromise didn’t help matters, either. Zada was surprised they hadn’t killed each other the first week after the honeymoon. If the sex hadn’t been so fabulous, they probably
would
have killed each other.

Fabulous sex.

Zada quickly dismissed that thought.

Reinforcements zoomed forward to take over.

Mind-boggling sex
tapped her on the shoulder.

The twins—
hot and sweaty sex
—whispered in her ear.

Pleasure
ran an enticing finger up and down her spine.