Your Bed or Mine? (31 page)

Tish looked at Jen.

Jen tried to take her temperature again.

Zada laughed, and pushed Jen’s hand away.

“Let me try this again,” Zada said. “I say I think it must be the flavor of coffee I’m drinking this morning. The three of
you ask, what flavor is it?”

“What flavor is it?” they asked in unison.

Zada smiled. “Thank you for asking. It’s Sugar & Spice and Everything Nice.”

Jen looked at Alicia.

Alicia looked at Tish.

Tish looked back at Zada.

“And the flavor is important because?” Tish asked.

Good, Tish is finally catching on.

“Because that’s what little girls are made of,” Zada said happily.

Evidently not.

Total silence.

No one said a word.

“Oh, forget it,” Zada finally said, giving up. “I’m pregnant!”

The screams were so loud, Rick could have heard them ten miles away at the training center.

“Man,” Rick said. “I can’t believe it. Jake Sims living only two doors down.”

“You might want to tone your level of excitement down just a notch,” Zada told him. “It’s starting to rival the plus sign
appearing in the circle last night.”

“Come here, you,” Rick said and pulled her to him. “You know better than that.”

He kissed her.

Zada kissed him back.

Rick had just come home, and they were standing in the middle of the den, arms around each other. He glanced down at the coffee
table. He didn’t even grimace at the clutter of magazines.

He reached down and picked up the top magazine. When he stood back up, he had a puzzled expression on his face. “Baby names?
You really think we need this?”

Zada nodded.

Rick still looked puzzled. “Why? You’ve already told me there’s no room for discussion. Our son will be named Richard Avery
Clark, the second, and we’ll call him Chip.”

Zada said, “Hello? There’s a possibility we might need a girl’s name.”

“We have one,” Rick informed her.

That was news to Zada.

“Since when?” Zada wanted to know.

“Since today,” Rick said. “I decided if you get to name our son, it’s only fair that I get to name our daughter. I want to
call her Elizabeth Ann. Elizabeth for your middle name. And Ann for both of our mothers’ middle names.”

Zada leaned over and kissed him. “Our mothers did make it convenient for us having the same middle name, didn’t they?”

“But we’ll call her Lizzie,” Rick said. “I can already picture her. Dark hair, dark brown eyes, too pretty for her own good,
and feisty as hell. Just like her mother.”

“Ha-ha,” Zada said and pushed him down on the sofa.

She sat down beside him, and snuggled against him. Simon came over, and hopped up on the sofa. He turned around twice, then
settled down beside Zada. Zada reached out and rubbed his fur.

“When are we going to break the news to Simon about the baby?” Rick asked, looking over at the dog.

“We had a long talk about the baby this morning,” Zada said. “Didn’t we, buddy?”

Simon’s tail thumped against the sofa in answer.

“Sometimes you two scare me,” Rick said. “Sometimes I think you really do talk to each other.”

“How dare you imply that we don’t,” Zada said. “We talk to each other all the time, don’t we, buddy?”

Again, Simon thumped his tail.

“Scary,” Rick said and shook his head.

Zada reached across him for the remote control lying on the end table by the sofa.

“There’s a new reality show coming on I want to see,” Zada told him.

Rick didn’t groan, but Zada knew he wanted to.

The big screen came to life.

Zada burst out laughing.

It was Jake Sims in his underwear commercial.

“Poor Tish,” Zada said. “She’ll never survive Jake Sims living right across the street. She’s already drooling buckets full.”

Rick looked at the screen. Then back at her. “And you? Are you drooling buckets full?”

“Absolutely not,” Zada said. “I prefer my men blond and wearing sexy black masks.”

“Ha-ha,” Rick said, but he leaned over and kissed her.

Zada snuggled against Rick again, put her head on his shoulder, and looked back at the screen.

She had to admit Jake Sims was a handsome devil.

Black wavy hair. Piercing gray eyes. A bad-boy grin that would steal any woman’s heart.

Maybe he did have a bit of a bad reputation. But like most bad boys, Zada suspected old Jake just hadn’t met his match yet.

“Alicia!” Zada exclaimed and sat up. She looked back at Rick. “I just thought of something,” Zada said. “Jake Sims and Alicia
would be perfect for each other.”

“Now, Zada,” Rick began.

“I’m serious,” Zada insisted. “Alicia has as much money as he does. And she’s as beautiful as he is handsome.”

Zada reached over Rick again and grabbed the portable phone from the end table.

Alicia couldn’t help but laugh.

Jake Sims?

“Absolutely not,” Alicia said into the phone.

“Zada!” Alicia said. “Jake Sims is
not
my type. He’s the furthest thing possible from my type. Even if he weren’t a hopeless womanizer, a constant partygoer, and
not to mention a celebrity who’s always in the spotlight, Jake Sims has a daughter.

“Because, Zada, children never like me. Neither do dogs. Your dog hates me. And I hate to say this, but your son or daughter
will probably hate me, too.

“I’m not being ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous.

“I’m hanging up now, Zada. No, we are
not
going to discuss whether Jake Sims and I are a perfect match at coffee with Jen and Tish in the morning. There’s nothing
to discuss. I am not interested in Jake Sims in any way, shape, or form.

“No. I will not turn on my television right now so I can actually see his shape and form in his underwear!

“Good night, Zada.

“Zada. I said good night.

“I’m hanging up now.”

Click!

Zada handed the phone back to Rick.

Rick placed it back on the end table.

Zada didn’t say a word. She snuggled back against him and put her head back on his shoulder.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Five full seconds.

Rick gave in and said, “I can already hear your mind spinning, Zada.”

“It is so,” Zada said.

“And I couldn’t help but hear everything Alicia just said. She was practically shouting at the end of your conversation.”

“She was so,” Zada said.

Rick said, “Then you are going to drop it, right? No trying to play matchmaker between Alicia and Jake Sims. Right?”

Zada got up from the sofa and walked out of the room.

Rick pulled himself up and went after her.

“Right, Zada?” he said from the bottom of the stairs.

She paused at the top of the stairs, turned around, and faced him with a flirty smile. “Right about what, Rick?”

“You know what,” Rick said.

Zada said, “All I know is how much I love it when my gorgeous blond husband puts on his sexy black mask.”

“What you’re trying to do is change the subject,” Rick argued.

Zada crooked her finger.

Seductively.

She turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

Rick let out a defeated sigh.

Poor, clueless Jake Sims.

The guy had no idea what he was walking into.

When Zada made her mind up, there was no changing it.

Zada called out his name.

“Coming, master,” Rick called back.

He grinned, shook his head, then skirted the stairs two at a time.

W
hen Candy Halliday first started sending manuscripts out to publishers, the rejection letters all said the same thing: too
humorous for our needs. It didn’t take Candy long to decide that romantic comedy was where she needed to be. Six years and
eight books later, Candy’s romantic comedies have been translated into six different languages and published in nine different
countries around the world. Candy lives in the Piedmont of North Carolina, loves to hear from readers, and can be reached
via e-mail at her Web site:
www.candyhalliday.com
.

WHAT’S YOUR FANTASY?

Even if you don’t have one, these naughty housewives have got one for you.

Please turn this page for a preview of the next HOUSEWIVES FANTASY CLUB NOVEL

Dinner First, Me Later

Available in mass market June 2007.

A
licia Greene grabbed her bedside phone on the first ring and said, “I’m running late this morning, Alfie. I’ll have to call
you later.”

“This will only take a minute, sis,” her twin insisted. “I have great news.”

Alicia sighed. One Alfie minute always equaled
thirty
Alfie minutes. And they both knew it.

“Then I’m putting you on speaker phone,” Alicia told him. “You talk. I’ll finish getting ready.”

Alicia slipped on her blouse and buttoned the buttons while Alfie rambled on about the new woman he’d met at Starbucks earlier
that morning. She was stunning. Absolutely the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“And you know I’m a sucker for beautiful women,” Alfie said.

“I won’t argue with that,” Alicia said, and walked across the bedroom toward her closet.

He’d seen her at Starbucks several times before, but he’d never had the courage to approach her. She really
was
that beautiful.
And
she was a redhead.

“And you know I’ve always been a sucker for redheads,” Alfie said.

“Uh-huh,” Alicia agreed, and reached into the closet for her skirt.

They had been the only two early birds at Starbucks this morning, so he’d finally found the courage to talk to her. He explained
he’d always been an early riser. She explained she was an emergency room nurse, and always stopped for coffee on her way to
the hospital.

“And, I hate to keep repeating myself,” Alfie said, “but you know I’ve always been a sucker for nurses.”

Alicia wrinkled her nose at any mention of the medical profession; her famous neurosurgeon ex-husband being the reason for
her frown.

Edward Carlton had fooled her completely during the entire year they’d dated before he proposed. Not once had Edward given
her, or anyone else, any reason to suspect he was marrying her only to preserve his sterling reputation. If she hadn’t caught
him in a compromising position with their twenty-something Latino pool boy less than a year into the marriage, she still might
be trapped in a tragic farce of a marriage.

That thought made Alicia shudder.

But she was past the ugly divorce now. Past her deep depression that followed the divorce. Past letting Edward destroy her
self-esteem. Thankfully, past Edward Carlton altogether.

“Her name is Gwen, and I really think she could be the one, sis,” Alfie said, but a needy please-let-it-be-so sigh followed
his statement.

And how many times had Alfie said that before?

Too many times to count.

Alicia refrained from pointing that out, however. If she argued, the conversation would quickly escalate into a full Alfie
hour. She didn’t have an hour to spare this morning. Not when her neighbor, Zada Clark, was determined to play matchmaker.
Not when Zada fully expected to set her up with the womanizing playboy who had recently moved into their quiet Woodberry Park
subdivision. And especially not when she intended to tell Zada at coffee this morning to back off and forget her matchmaking
idea once and for all!

“Good for you, Alfie,” was all Alicia said about her twin’s
great news.

“Good for you?” Alfie’s disappointed snort blared through the speaker. “I’ve just told you I think I’ve met the love of my
life this morning, and all you have to say is ‘Good for you?’”

“I told you I’m running late,” Alicia reminded him as she slipped her feet into her high heels. “But I’ll call you later and
we’ll talk as long as you like.”

Another snort echoed through the speaker.

“Let me guess,” Alfie said curtly. “The reason you don’t have time to talk to me, is because you’re hurrying off to have coffee
with the Housewives’ Fantasy Club.”

Alicia glanced at the speaker.

Her twin’s ability to read her mind always amazed her.

And yes, before she headed off to her real estate office, she planned to have coffee with the women in her cul-de-sac who
were fondly known as the Housewives’ Fantasy Club. Tish Jones, Jen Marshall, and Zada Clark had become her closest friends.

Which certainly hadn’t been the case six months ago.

Six months ago, she’d been depressed over the divorce. She’d been out pushed out of the loop. And she’d been downright bitter
toward Tish, Jen, and Zada, who were basically treating her like a piranha at the time.

“Those women wouldn’t give you the time of day six months ago,” Alfie said, again saying out loud exactly what she’d been
thinking.

Alicia frowned at the speaker this time.

Scary.

“What was it they said about you behind your back after your divorce?” Alfie asked, refusing to drop the subject. He mimicked
in a high-pitched voice, “Alicia Greene is what you’d get if you put Anna Nicole Smith and Pamela Anderson in a blender. Except
with ten times the class, old family money, and an MBA from Harvard. In other words, every wife’s nightmare.”

Alicia walked over, turned the speaker off, and picked up the phone. “Yes, Alfie. That’s exactly what they said about me after
my divorce. And in retrospect, I really don’t blame them. An attractive, wealthy divorcee doesn’t exactly fit in with the
suburban married couple’s social scene.”

“My point exactly,” Alfie said. “So why is attractive, wealthy, and divorced you still living in the suburbs with a bunch
of jealous housewives?”

“They aren’t jealous of me now, and you know it,” Alicia said. “We’ve all become good friends.”

“Are you sure about that?” Alfie cautioned. “Jealousy is the only motive I can think of that would make your so-called good
friends try to fix you up with the likes of Jake Sims.”