Maryanne opened the door to her apartment and glanced at her cell phone. “It’s almost time for lunch. I can take a quick shower and meet you at your place?”
“Actually, I’m busy the next few hours.”
There she went again, being too clingy. Vera said men were like bars of soap. Squeeze too hard, and they slip away. She took her bag from him and backed into her apartment. “Oh, that’s right, you’re going for a run.”
“That’s later in the afternoon. I uh… already have plans for lunch.” He wiped the back of his neck and gave her an apologetic look.
“Anyone I know?”
“Nah, I’ll call you later.” He kissed her lips and jogged down the stairs, whistling.
Maryanne tamped down the embryonic worm of jealousy. She had been told by ex-boyfriends that her possessiveness drove them away. Of course, Lucas had a life before meeting her. It was probably his training partner or maybe one of his special-ed kids.
She slumped the duffle bag onto her bed; the ache of loneliness gnawed in her stomach. Damn! If she didn’t watch it, she’d choke this relationship before it budded. She took deep breaths. Guys didn’t like to be smothered. She counted to ten. She missed him already and wanted to hear his voice.
Better get busy. She sorted through her clothes and put the dirty ones in the wash, and unpacked her toiletries and accessories. The pumpkin was wrapped inside a towel. Wait! She’d left her glass heart in his glove compartment. Now, she had an excuse to call him.
Maryanne entered the number to Lucas’ cell. He picked it up on the second ring.
“Hey, Lucas? It’s me.”
“Who’re you?” A woman’s annoyed voice fried to the roots of her hair.
“Ummm. I must have hit the wrong number.”
“Sure you did.” The call ended.
Maryanne tried again. This time it went to voice mail. She was about to leave a message when his number popped up on the display. Maryanne switched over.
The same woman said, “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Maryanne. Who are you?”
Maryanne’s heart jolted and she hung up. Sandra? Would she be the woman he was having lunch with?
That did it. A grinding feeling descended to the pit of her stomach. She wasn’t going to put up with another cheater. She grabbed her car keys and ran down the stairs. After punching Lucas’ address into her GPS, she drove the twelve miles to his building and checked the directory. Fortunately, she didn’t have to be buzzed in the gate. She stalked up the outdoor stairs and tiptoed down the landing.
Lucas’ apartment window was wide open. Maryanne pressed herself against the wall and peeked in. A black woman in rollers, wearing fluffy pink bunny slippers and a robe danced with her iPod.
“Hey, Sandra, get in the shower. We’re going to be late.” Lucas came down the hall with a towel around his waist.
Maryanne’s knees turned to jelly, and her back slid down the stucco. No wonder he had such great control. He had a woman living with him, satisfying his sexual needs. And all this time she thought him a saint, a sweetheart, a knight in shining armor. Maryanne squeezed her fist and punched her thigh. The only idiot around was her.