If I Were Your Woman

Love. It didn’t figure into her life. Not really. She’d been in deep like. She’d even been in lust, but never in love. Truth was, she wasn’t sure if she knew how, or better still, if she was worthy of being loved.

She sighed heavily, lifted the tray from her lap and set it on the bedside table. Her experiences with men had been suspect at best. She’d always been too trusting, too giving, too naive time after time. There was never anything for her at the end of the rainbow except hurt and disappointment.

That’s why she wanted to take her time with Tony, and he was either along for the ride or not. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was forty-five years old. The days of doing things without thinking them through were over. She’d paid a high price for her actions and had no intention of overdrawing on her account again.

“I’ll call you later this afternoon.”

Stephanie looked up and for an instant her misgivings disappeared. But only for an instant. “Okay. Call me on my cell. I’ll be at Pause most of the day. Terri is coming by around one.” She watched him buttoning his white shirt. Tony loved some white shirts and they looked so good against his skin.

“So you’re really gonna take on a partner?” He gave her a quick look while he fastened his belt.

She reached for her juice and took a long swallow before speaking. “Since the opening of Pause, I’ve been getting calls left and right to do PR campaigns. The spa has gotten really good press and it opened the doors for me. So if I’m going to run a business on my own I’m going to need help to do it right. No way will I be able to handle everything on my own. Terri has what it takes and I think we will make a great team.”

“You know I’m behind you one hundred percent. I want to see you fly, baby.” He crossed the room, leaned down, and looked into her eyes. His voice lowered to a gentle rumble. “Besides, I get totally turned on by women in charge.” He winked.

Stephanie laughed and whacked his brick-hard biceps. “You are too silly.”

“That’s what all the girls say.” His kiss was sweet and tender. Stephanie’s stomach did a little dance.

“Later,” she hummed against his mouth before he backed away.

He snatched up his heavy camera bag, draped the strap over his shoulder, and strode out.

Stephanie touched her lips with the tip of her fingers and closed her eyes. Yes, it would be easy to let herself love Anthony Dixon—when she was ready. When would that be? It was a question that would remain unanswered, at least for now.

She hadn’t realized that she’d dozed off until the ringing phone stirred her awake. She blinked several times in confusion before sitting up and reaching blindly for the phone on the nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Stephanie Moore?”

Must be a telemarketer, she thought through the cobwebs of sleep. “I don’t want any—”

“This is Marilyn Hendricks, Conrad’s wife.”

Stephanie was wide awake now. She sat up in bed. “I told you not to call here again. I have a restraining order—”

“I don’t give a damn what you have. You ruined my life and you’re not going to get away with it.”

“We have nothing to talk about, Mrs. Hendricks. I didn’t ruin your life, your husband did.”

Marilyn laughed in that manic way loonies do in the movies. Stephanie shuddered.

“If you thought for a minute that I was going to let your affair with my husband, the father of my children, slide by without a fight—think again.”

“I don’t want your husband. I told you and I told him as much. Don’t call—”

“If you think this is over, you are sadly mistaken,” she said, her voice suddenly dropping to an eerie monotone.

The dial tone suddenly hummed in Stephanie’s ear. Stunned, she slowly hung up the phone, staring at it as if the instrument were the true offender.

“Crazy bitch,” she muttered, then vigorously rubbed the goose bumps that swiftly rose along her arms like an attack of hives.

She pushed up from the bed and marched across her bedroom floor, uttering a string of expletives all directed at Mrs. Conrad Hendricks.

Stephanie had never met the woman and Conrad never brought her to any company events, which at the time was fine with Stephanie. She was pretty sure she would have been hard-pressed to pull off an innocent act while chatting with the woman whose husband she was sleeping with.

She’d seen pictures of Marilyn. An average-looking white girl: big boobs, blond and blue-eyed, rosy cheeks and a toothy grin. She looked like she could easily play in a commercial for shampoo or something. Not overly pretty but good-looking enough.

Stephanie went into the bath for a long hot shower, determined to wash all thoughts of Marilyn and her husband out of her system.

It was a little past noon when Stephanie arrived at Pause for Men. The 125th Street four-story brownstone was innocuous enough from the outside, but the inside was a masterpiece. The ground floor housed reception and registration along with a cozy health food café, an exercise room, and backyard dining when the weather was nice. On the parlor floor was the weight room and treadmills, complete with personal trainers. The third floor held several lounge rooms with soft music piped in—a great place to relax and chat. The top floor was a full apartment, which Ellie, one of the four coowners, occupied since leaving her philandering husband of twenty-five years. The basement level held the steam and massage rooms, as well as a Jacuzzi and the Pause office.

Every time Stephanie walked into Pause she was overwhelmed by what four friends had accomplished after a few drinks and a dream. Even in the middle of the workweek, the exclusive spa for men only was busy. After less than a year in business they already had a waiting list.

Drew Hawkins, the security guard they’d recently hired, was at the door. His presence immediately brought to mind why they’d had to hire him in the first place—Conrad Hendricks.

Stephanie tugged in a breath. “Hey, Drew. How’s it going?” She forced a smile.

“Busy as usual, but quiet.”

“Uh, no uninvited guests?” Her gaze darted around the space, then settled back on Drew.

“Nope.” His brow crinkled. “You okay? Everything cool?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She started to walk off, then changed her mind. She looked up at him. “Listen, if…” She shook her head. “Never mind.”

He touched her upper arm. “Don’t worry about anything, Ms. Moore. Nobody is coming past me who’s not supposed to.”

She pressed her lips into a tight smile. “Thanks.” She gave a short bob of her head to punctuate her appreciation, then headed to the front desk. An instant before she arrived, a hand clasped her shoulder and she yelped in fright. She spun around only to come face-to-face with Barbara.

“Relax, girl. What has you all wound up?”

Stephanie pressed her hand to her chest and shook her head at her own foolishness. “Sorry. You startled me, that’s all.”

Barbara pursed her lips. “You sure that’s all it is?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” She took a moment and actually looked at Barbara. “You changed your hair!”

Barbara grinned like she’d won something and did a slow pirouette. “You like it?”

“Love it, very becoming. The short look is definitely in and it does wonders for you.”

“Why, thank you, my dear.”

Barbara Allen was the mastermind behind Pause for Men, but more important, she was the voice of reason for the quartet of friends.

Stephanie put her leather briefcase on top of the registration desk and leaned her hip against it. She folded her arms. “And what does Wil think about this new look?”