Chapters (35)
- The Great Escape
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Epilogue
- About the Author
- Author’s Note
- Also by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
- Credits
- About the Publisher
He flipped open the lid of the garbage can next to the garage, flicked his wrist, and sent her pork chop tumbling to its death. “No cooking unless it’s something Temple can eat, too.”
“No cooking? What do you mean, no cooking!”
“The smell was going through the house. She’s supposedly doing a cleanse, and you’re not going to torture her.”
“Me! You gulped down a thousand calories in front of her!”
“Natural consequences. What you’re doing is different.”
She threw up her hands. “I don’t believe you!”
His mouth twisted. “Maybe you’d better call Mommy and have her send in the SEALs to protect you.”
Had she really kissed this man? Let him—let him—do that? Viper was beyond pissed, and she pointed a chipped charcoal fingernail right in his face. “You,” she said, “are going to pay.” And off she went.
HE WAS ALREADY PAYING. JUST being near her again was torture. He still remembered his first sight of her. The night of the rehearsal dinner. She’d been standing at Ted’s side in a ladylike blue-green dress, her shiny hair many shades lighter than it was now. All he could think about was how impeccably matched the two of them were, the perfect all-American couple. It wasn’t until almost two weeks later, the night at Caddo Lake when she’d finally called her family, that he’d realized she truly wasn’t going back to Ted. Stupid.
You weren’t that good anyway.
What a fricking lie. He was the one who’d been inept—rushed, clumsy, out of control. Lucy had been giving and natural, with none of that phony porn star posturing women seemed to believe they needed to bring to the bedroom.
He’d counted on her taking off as soon as she saw that he’d come back, but instead of jumping on the ferry the way she should have, she’d decided to cook pork chops in his kitchen. Now he had two problem women on his hands, both of whom wanted to use his house as their hideaway. One of them was a demanding pain in the ass, but he’d handled Temple before, and he could do it again. The other was a different kind of pain in the ass, and the way he most wanted to handle her was naked.