“So I’ve been told.”
“I know how much you loved her, we all did.” Genevieve shook her head, and her perfect bob brushed her chin. “Life just isn’t the same without Devon.”
“True.” Zach rearranged the hot dogs. “But somehow we manage to live on.”
Adele looked down in her glass of wine and almost felt sorry for Zach. He must have loved Devon a lot. For years she’d told herself that they were miserable together. That he’d only married Devon out of responsibilty. That they weren’t in love. Not really. Not the kind that lasted a lifetime. It made her feel better to believe it, but it wasn’t true. It had never been true.
She thought of the life-sized portrait in the living room. That scary freaky picture of a dead woman. Zach must have loved Devon. He must still love her a lot.
Chapter 6
Zach had wanted out of his marriage. An hour before Devon t-boned that garbage truck, he’d handed her divorce papers. After ten years, there’d been no love left. Just a civil, if not always peaceful, coexistence that had no longer been enough. At least not for him.
The difference between them had been that Devon had wanted to go on living that way forever. She’d loved living the life of an NFL quarterback’s wife, even a retired quarterback, far more than she’d loved him. She’d loved the cachet that it gave her, especially in the small Texas town. For a long time, he hadn’t minded living in a sham marriage. If he was honest, he’d admit to himself that it had worked for him. He’d lived in Denver. Devon in Texas. He’d lived his life. She’d lived hers. She hadn’t really cared what he did as long as it didn’t hit the news and embarrass her in front of her Junior League friends. He hadn’t cared what she did as long as it didn’t affect Tiffany.
By the time he’d filed for divorce, he hadn’t loved his wife. He hadn’t even liked her much, and he’d wanted out before that growing dislike turned to something stronger. She’d been the mother of his only child, and the last thing he’d ever wanted was a court battle, but that’s exactly what she’d promised that morning he’d handed her the papers.
“You can’t do this to me, Zach. I won’t let you,” she’d vowed, just before she’d slammed the door and sped away to one of her meetings. As he’d watched her go, he hadn’t been surprised by her response. He’d known the day he’d contacted his lawyer that he was in for a shitstorm.
Zach closed the lid on the barbecue and looked up. Through the smoke he watched Adele swirl the wine in her glass. He couldn’t say that he knew her, but he was pretty sure that she wasn’t the type of woman who wouldn’t care what the hell her man did as long as it didn’t hit the news.
Adele glanced up and again he felt like he was back at UT, staring at her from across a classroom. Like there was something about her that he wanted to know better. Something that drew his gaze and attention. Something more than the heavy pull of desire. Back then he’d wondered what her hair would feel like tangled up in his fingers. Tonight he wondered how long it would take him to make those eyes of hers turn a deeper blue. A smile curved his lips as he remembered a night when he’d kissed a little fairy she had tattooed on the right side of her belly just above her panties.
As if she read his thoughts, her cheeks turned pink, and she turned and moved toward the table a few feet away.
“I’m sure you’ll be interested to know that the governor will be attending the benefit,” Genevieve said, interrupting Zach’s thoughts, which he figured needed to be interrupted before he got too carried away and embarrassed himself.
“Really? Huh.” Zach had met a lot of governors and a few presidents, too. He’d been to the Playboy mansion and partied with a lot of famous people. Some he’d liked. Others had been pompous tools. If Genevieve knew him at all, she’d know he wasn’t easily impressed. Especially by stuck-up society women who married old men for their money, then cheated behind the suckers’ backs.
Genevieve had invited herself to the party, and he wasn’t fooled by offers of help. Not that she was trying to fool him. He’d been around women like Genevieve all of his career and most of his life. Women who offered up their bodies, and while he’d sometimes taken what they’d wanted to give, he’d never screwed around with married women nor women he didn’t even like. He wasn’t desperate enough to start now.
“I’ll go check on the girls,” Cindy Ann volunteered, and took off toward the pool house.
“Thanks,” Zach said, and watched her go. Cindy Ann Baker was a perpetual volunteer mother, a former gymnast, and a woman who had it bad for Joe Brunner. Once Cindy Ann had seen Joe’s truck parked out front and noticed Genevieve, she’d quickly volunteered to “stay and help out, too.” Only Joe was so oblivious during football season, that he wouldn’t recognize an attractive woman if she tackled him. And while Cindy Ann wasn’t Zach’s sort of woman, she was cute and perky and athletic.
The barbecue sizzled and sent smoke into Zach’s face as he flipped a few more burgers. He waved the smoke away with one hand and glanced over at his defensive coach standing at the end of the table, chatting it up with Adele. The spatula paused in midflip, and a burger fell on its side on the grill. Maybe he’d been wrong about Joe. He watched Adele smile at his friend, then Joe leaned in and said something that turned her smile into soft, sexy laughter. Adele shook her head and patted Joe on the upper arm. Zach wondered if she’d be so friendly if she knew Joe had been married and divorced twice. If she’d be so touchy-feely?
Zach had invited the defensive coach over to help him out with the barbecue, not hit on women.
A frown pulled Zach’s brows together, and he righted the burger on the grill. Joe was a good guy and a great buddy who had a bad habit of dating and marrying the wrong kind of women. He needed someone who was as much into sports as Joe was. Someone like Cindy Ann. Not a woman like Adele, who could not care less. At least she hadn’t cared fourteen years ago.
Adele was beautiful, with a wonderland of a body, and Zach really couldn’t blame Joe for chatting her up. And really, why should he care who talked to Adele? He shouldn’t, and he didn’t.
Across the lawns, the door to the guesthouse opened, and twelve hungry thirteen-year-olds headed his way. Their hair was dried, and they all seemed subdued, whether from exhaustion or hunger, Zach wasn’t sure but was very grateful. They each grabbed a plate and loaded up on pasta salad, chips, hamburgers, and hot dogs.
“Did you burn mine black?” Tiffany asked as she moved next to the grill.
“You know it.” Zach speared the darkest hot dog on the grill and shoved it in a bun. Once the girls were all seated at tables beneath the heaters, he loaded Joe up with a double burger, Cindy Ann with a hot dog, and Genevieve just took pasta salad. “What’s your pleasure, Adele?” he asked. “Hot dog or hamburger?”
She looked up from the seat she’d taken a few feet away. “Neither thanks. I ate a huge lunch.” She stood and pointed to the side of the house. “Can I get to the driveway through that gate?”
“If I unlock it. Why?”
“I left my cell phone in the car and I have to call my sister and tell her we won’t be able to visit her until after six.”
Zach shoved a black hot dog in a bun and closed the lid to the grill. “Use the phone in my office. It’s closer.” He took a big bite and chewed. “It’s through the room with the big TV,” he continued, and pointed to a set of big glass doors. “Down the hall. Last door on the left.” As he watched her walk toward the house, his gaze moved from the top of her head, down her curly hair, to the angel wings and heart on the nicely rounded ass of her sweatpants.
Just before she disappeared inside, he lifted his gaze to the small of her back. He’d touched a lot of women there. It meant nothing. Just being a polite gentleman like his momma had taught him. But earlier, when he’d touched Adele, his thoughts had been anything but polite.
He took another bite of his hot dog and washed it down with Lone Star. Like Tiffany, he liked his dogs crispy on the outside, but unlike his daughter, he didn’t like ketchup. With his beer in one hand and hot dog in the other, he took a seat next to Joe and the two bullshitted about their Super Bowl picks. Joe was a die-hard Cowboys fan, but Zach liked the look of New England’s offensive line.
“I don’t care if they have Owens,” Zach argued. “You can’t build a team around one player.” He polished off his hot dog. “Especially a pain-in-the-butt whiner.” Most wide receivers complained about not enough ball time, but Owens took it to the media.
