“Honey, are you ready for bed?” Maizie channeled her inner seductress as she struck a pose in the door.

No response.

“Clayton. Did you hear me?”

“Sure,” he answered, but didn’t take his eyes off the T.V. screen. “Let me catch the rest of the news and I’ll be right with you.”

The moron would rather watch the weather than make love? If that didn’t beat all! She counted to ten and decided to give him one more chance.

All Southern belles had an arsenal of tricks, and Maizie was no exception. She treated her oblivious husband to a little swish, a more pronounced sashay and a coup de grâce—a naughty hip grind—all done right in front of him for maximum effect.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. This was war. Clay didn’t know it yet, but he was going to live to rue this day.

Dear Reader,

Have you ever thought about spicing up your love life? After more than twenty years of marriage, Mary Stuart “Maizie” Walker is ready for a little rockin’ and rollin,’ and that’s when she comes up with the perfect plan. She’s going to make her hubby jealous by flirting with the handsome tennis pro. However, that scheme, like the best-laid plans of mice and Southern belles, backfires—big-time.

Welcome back to Magnolia Bluffs, the hometown of Maizie and her cohorts in mischief—Liza and Kenni. There’s never a dull moment when the Steel Magnolias are up to their antics, and this time Mama and the aunts get involved. The Man She Married is fun, it’s funky and I hope it makes you laugh out loud.

Ann

Here’s a great snack for football parties.

Georgia Munchies

6 cups popped popcorn

1 (6-ounce) bag corn chips

2 cups bite-size pretzels

1 (3-ounce) can Chinese noodles

1 stick margarine

2 teaspoons Worcestershire

1 teaspoon Tabasco

1/8 teaspoon garlic powder

Combine popcorn, chips, pretzels and noodles. Melt margarine; stir in sauces and garlic. Pour over popcorn mix and toss to coat. Bake at 250 degrees for 1 hour. Stir every 15 minutes. Cool and store in airtight containers. Yields 12 cups.

The Man She Married
Ann DeFee

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ann DeFee’s debut novel, A Texas State of Mind (Harlequin American Romance), was a double finalist in the 2006 Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Awards.

Drawing on her background as a fifth-generation Texan, Ann loves to take her readers into the sassy and sometimes wacky world of a small Southern community. As an air force wife with twenty-three moves under her belt, she’s now settled in her tree house in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, their golden retriever and two very spoiled cats. When she’s not writing, you can probably find her on the tennis court or in the park with her walking group.

Ann loves to hear from her readers, so please visit her Web site at www.ann-defee.com. Or contact her by snail mail at P.O. Box 97313, Tacoma, WA 98497.

This book is dedicated to the terrific folks at

Harlequin who make our books a reality, with

special kudos to Megan Long, Paula Eykelhof and

Kathleen Scheibling. And a special thanks to my

good friends Geri Krotow and Debbie Macomber.

Without the help and support of these extraordinary

ladies I’d probably still be writing comprehensive

plans. And this is a whole lot more fun!

Contents

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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter One

“Do these jeans make my butt look fat?” Mary Stuart “Maizie” Walker realized she was asking a no-win question. And she knew she was being unfair—honestly she did—but the devil on her shoulder kept poking her.

Clay, her husband of twenty-two years, glanced up from the paper. The expression on his was face was classic “deer in the headlights.” It was so typical it was almost humorous, and that partially explained why Maizie was going out of her way to shake up their “we’ve been married forever” life. She was determined to inject some rockin’ and rollin’ into their intimacy.

Intellectually she recognized she was in the middle of an empty-nest crisis. Hannah, her baby, was a freshman at Emory University in Atlanta. And although the school was only fifty miles from Magnolia Bluffs, she was missing her daughter like crazy. Okay, she wasn’t being rational, but who could blame her?

“Uh, well, uh.” Clay threw up his hands. “What do you want me to say? Lately, I can’t seem to get it right. I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of a pop quiz and I didn’t even know I was in school.”

Poor Clay. Maizie had loved him her entire adult life, and a good portion of her adolescence. That love hadn’t changed, so why was she being such a shrew? Lord love a duck, was she going into early menopause? Or was she merely losing her mind? For months there had been this pervasive sense of dissatisfaction that she couldn’t seem to shake.

Stop it right this minute! She had a wonderful life and it was time to get a grip.

“No answer?” Clay asked before giving her the same sexy wink she’d fallen for in the sixth grade.

“No,” Maizie admitted. She sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I’m just feeling funky.”

Clay nestled her against his chest. “I know, baby. I know.”

And he probably did. Over the years they’d achieved a Spocklike mind meld. Besides completing each other’s sentences, they were also able to communicate without saying a word.

Clay nuzzled her neck, paying special attention to her favorite erogenous zone behind her ear. When he did that Maizie couldn’t help but melt into a puddle of lust.

He was a laid-back kind of guy with a quirky sense of humor, which was only one of the many things she loved about him. Clay had the same twinkly blue eyes and shaggy blond hair that had caught Maizie’s attention in elementary school. Way back when he thought a spit wad attack was foreplay. Thank goodness his technique had improved since then.

“I don’t have to be at the shop until ten.” Maizie tried her best flirtatious smile. “Do you think you could stick around for a while?”

Clay gave her neck one last nibble. “Oh, honey, I wish I could. Honest to God I do. But I have an important meeting with the Department of Transportation people.” Clay and his partner, Harvey, owned Magnolia Bluff’s premier engineering firm. “I can’t miss it.” He kissed the end of her nose. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“No big deal,” Maizie said as she jumped up and sashayed out of the room.

CLAY WATCHED MAIZIE walk away. Despite what she said, he knew it was a big deal. He was a smart guy and he’d been married long enough to recognize high dudgeon when he saw it. Lately he seemed to be screwing up all the time. Everything he tried blew up in his face, especially when it came to his wife, the sexiest, funniest, most appealing woman he’d ever met.

Maizie reminded him of a 1950s movie star—a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Pamela Anderson, sans surgical enhancements. She griped about the few pounds she’d gained, but as far as Clay was concerned her curves were perfect.

Straying had never entered his mind. His theory was why go out for chicken nuggets when you had cordon bleu at home, but lately, whew! The trouble had started when Hannah left for college and the situation was rapidly going downhill.

Maizie was the owner/operator of Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir. Her boutique was the emporium of all things girly in Magnolia Bluffs, Georgia, and it truly was the happening place. So if boredom wasn’t the problem, what was it—other than missing her baby?

Then Clay froze as a horrible thought struck him. Was his wife getting tired of him? Maizie and Hannah were his entire world. He didn’t think he could survive without them.

God, he didn’t need this right now, not on top of the trouble at work. Thinking about the debacle at the office made him want to beat his head against the wall.

Then Clay had a brilliant idea. Even he could admit it was time to call in an expert and who better than her fraternal twin, Liza. They were about as simpatico as two people could be.

Add in their cousin Kenni Whittaker and you had the Three Musketeers. Yep, Liza and Kenni would know what to do.

Pleased that he had a game plan, Clay grabbed his car keys and headed off to work. He’d call Liza when he had a spare minute—not that he had many of those.

Chapter Two

It had been a lousy morning. Maizie hated fighting with Clay, but sometimes it felt like a black mood hijacked her brain. And when that happened, dealing with it was worse than getting rid of a bad case of fleas.

Maizie was doing some deep breathing exercises in the back room of the Boudoir, getting ready to put on her happy face, when she heard a screech followed by a crash. Then someone growled, “Let’s go outside and settle this.” That was something you’d hear at the Honky-Tonk Inn, not at Miss Scarlett’s.

Enough was enough. Damn it all! Maizie threw her half-eaten Godiva bar in the cabinet and stomped out into the shop. A quick look revealed there wasn’t much to worry about. The combatants were two middle-aged women armed with nothing more lethal than their razor-sharp tongues. Her employees, PJ and Bambi, stood by helplessly.

“What in the Sam Hill do you two think you’re doing?” Maizie demanded, slamming her hands on her hips for emphasis. She had at least a seven-inch height advantage on both women and she wasn’t afraid to use it. “This isn’t a junior high cafeteria.”

Sue Belle Pennington and Lucy Albright had been mortal enemies since cheerleading tryouts in the eighth grade. Add the unfortunate fact that neither had the sense God gave a turnip—and voilà—they were an incident waiting to happen.

Maizie tapped her toe. If they weren’t going to behave they could get out of her store. “I’m waiting for an explanation, and it had better be good.”

“She, she…” Sue Belle pointed a bony finger at her archenemy. “She thinks she’s smart enough to run the Girl Scout cookie sale. God knows she came out of the shallow end of the gene pool.” The commentary was bad enough, but her wicked-witch cackle was the icing on the cake.

Lucy lunged for Sue Belle, ready to draw blood, but Maizie grabbed her in midflight.

“You’re having a catfight, in my store, over who’s going to be the cookie mama?” Maizie would’ve slammed their heads together if she’d thought it would do any good.

Sue Belle raised her hand in preparation for a rude gesture, but obviously reconsidered when Maizie shot her a lethal glare.

Lucy, however, didn’t know when to quit. “Her mama stole the Brownie money when we were in third grade. And everyone knows the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” She accompanied her snarky remark with a smirk.

Oops! The ass whoopin’ was about to commence.

“Grab Sue Belle,” Maizie yelled to PJ, praying that her assistant manager would be able to restrain the enraged woman. Considering Sue Belle outweighed PJ by at least seventy-five pounds there wasn’t much hope of that.

“Call my brother-in-law.” Maizie tossed the cordless phone to Bambi, her after-school clerk. “Tell him to send someone over immediately.”

Zack Maynard, Liza’s husband, was the county sheriff. Sometimes it was handy to have a relative with a badge.

“Stop it right this minute!” Maizie screamed. Lordy, she hadn’t yelled that loud since her own cheerleading days. But it worked. Everyone in the shop went stock-still.

“Sit down. I will not tolerate a brawl in my store.”

Lucy sputtered and Sue Belle straightened her blouse where PJ had latched on to her arm. Although the combatants looked as if they’d rather have tea with Satan, they reluctantly complied, settling on opposite ends of the brocade Victorian fainting couch near the change rooms. The cease-fire, however, didn’t stop them from shooting baleful looks at each other.

“The dispatcher said someone would be here soon. But not to worry, the doughnut shop’s not too far away.” Bambi punctuated her report with a typical teenage giggle.

From her lips to God’s ears.

Ten minutes later Deputy Bubba Watson strolled in, a trail of white powder dribbled down his uniform, and it wasn’t cocaine. The poor man wasn’t the sharpest crayon in the box, but he was the law. And if he could scare the bejeezus out of the nitwits, everything would be fine.

“What’s this I hear about a fight?” he drawled, snapping his suspenders in unison with the popping of his gum.

Maizie indicated the two women. “There they are.”

“Whatcha gals up to?” Bubba asked. His interrogation techniques weren’t exactly FBI approved.

Sue Belle started to speak, but Lucy interrupted. “She wants to—”

Not to be outdone, Sue Belle launched into her own spiel.

“That’s it! Bubba, get them out of here before I do something I’ll regret,” Maizie demanded. She turned to Lucy and Sue Belle. “You two are permanently banned from the Boudoir. Do not darken this door again. Do you hear me? Never ever come in here again.”

“Aw, Maizie. Don’t be that way,” Sue Belle wailed.

She was on the verge of tears, but that was too darned bad.

“Yeah.” Lucy never had been able to keep her mouth shut. “If we can’t shop at the Boudoir, we’ll have to drive to Atlanta to find decent stuff. You can’t really mean it.”

“Oh, I do. Believe me.”

Lucy’s next words sealed her fate. “I’ll sue you. Sure as shootin’ I will.”

Maizie managed to suppress a belly laugh. “Go ahead. My lawyer’s a lot meaner than yours.”

Cousin Kenni’s husband, Win, was a former member of the D.C. legal scene. He was also Magnolia Bluff’s newest and finest attorney and even though he specialized in criminal actions, he was perfectly capable of handling himself in civil court. That man could jump into a pool of sharks and come out without a scratch.

“Bring it on, baby.” Maizie waved her fingers in the universal sign for “come and get it.”

Bubba might’ve been a little slow, but even he recognized a good exit line. “Okay, ladies, let’s go.” He indicated the door. “One at a time, please.” He gave Maizie a conspiratorial wink and a piece of advice before he escorted the offenders out. “Be good, now, ya hear?”

Maizie plopped on the couch, suddenly aware that her knees were knocking. “I can’t wait to tell Clay. He won’t believe this.”

“Such dimwits.” PJ shook her head in disgust. “Can’t you just picture them rolling around on the floor and yankin’ each other’s hair out?”

PJ had been working for Maizie since she graduated from high school. When she wasn’t helping run the boutique she was the happily married mother of two little mop-heads. A chubby version of Rachael Ray with curly blond hair and Hershey-brown eyes, PJ was as cute as a speckled pup. Plus, she had a ready smile, a sharp wit and the common sense of Solomon.

“On that note I think we deserve some chocolate.” Maizie strolled to the back room and returned with a box of Belgian candy.

“Eat up,” she said. “To heck with the calories.” Maizie saved her “good stuff” for emergencies and celebrations, and this situation definitely qualified.

THE REMAINDER OF THE afternoon went by without incident. It was a typical Friday at the Boudoir—purchases were made, returns were processed and customers were accommodated.

The gold-leafed sign on the window read Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir, and if the inventory was any indication, Miss Scarlett had had herself a grand old time. It was a treasure trove of lace pillows, frothy undergarments and feminine apparel. Even the bell above the door sounded girly.

It was kitschy, it was fun and it had something for everyone. The blue-hairs loved the bath and beauty selection and the teens were hot for the trendy collection of jeans. Best of all, Maizie and PJ were known throughout the area for the exclusive line of French cosmetics they applied with a flourish. If you were in the market for a makeover, the Boudoir was definitely the place to go.

Under normal circumstances the boutique was a fantastic place to work, but this day had been a doozey and Maizie was dead on her feet.

“PJ, would you close the shop today?” she asked. “I need to run by the grocery store. We’re having a family football party at my house tomorrow.”

“No problem. It’s almost six o’clock anyway.”

“I won’t be in tomorrow. Bambi and Jerry Sue will be here to help you.”

“Gotcha. Don’t worry about a thing.”

MAIZIE PULLED INTO THE Piggly Wiggly parking lot. She was hoping to run in and out quickly but the chances of that happening in Magnolia Bluffs—where everyone knew everyone else’s business and loved to discuss it—were slim.

Before Maizie could make it to the cash register, Laverne Hightower, the town’s rumor maven, had managed to share a play-by-play of her gallbladder attack. Not to be outdone, Shirley Smith had launched into a full rundown on her daughter’s wedding preparations. And everyone wanted to talk about the commotion at the Boudoir. The next time Maizie needed food she’d go to the big box store out on the bypass.

By the time the groceries were bought, the errands were run and the day was over, she was ready to pull her hair out. No doubt about it—today had been one of those days.

Maizie breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled up to the detached garage behind her rambling white turn-of-the-century bungalow. Her home was typically Southern with green shutters, a wraparound veranda and a trellis of honeysuckle.

When things got too hectic, Maizie loved to sit on the porch swing with a frosty glass of sweet tea and watch the world go by. It was her way of sweeping out the mental cobwebs. However that was an indulgence for another day.

“Clay!” Maizie called as she dropped her purse and a bag of canned goods on the kitchen table. “I need some help.”

The television was blaring in the family room, and hubby dear was missing in action.

“Clay, where are you?” Maizie was perfectly capable of carrying in the rest of the food, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Clayton!”

That apparently got his attention. “What do you need, Babes?” he answered, not bothering to move away from the television.

“I want some help with the groceries.”

“Can you wait a minute? I’m watching something.”

Maizie stomped into the family room to see what was so important. Bass fishing? Clay wasn’t waiting for a touchdown to be scored or a home run to be hit. No—he was sitting in his favorite leather chair with his feet propped on the ottoman, watching some guy in an expensive boat troll for fish.

Maizie was normally even-tempered—except when she was in a snit, and she didn’t really count that—but she grabbed the remote, hit the Off button and marched out. Making a grand exit was a talent she’d learned at her mama’s knee, and she happened to be darned good at it.

CRAP. CLAY KNEW HE was in a mess of trouble, again. What had he done this time? All he’d wanted to do was see if Skeeter Jackson would win the tournament and the hundred-thousand-dollar prize. He could have used that kind of cash himself. It would go a long way toward solving at least one of his problems.

But immersing himself in that pipe dream had only irritated his sweetie, so clearly Clay had to make amends. Should he go with the “I’m so sorry, I’m an insensitive jerk” defense? That usually worked, especially if he followed up with some heavy necking—and a promise to do the dishes, take out the trash, clean the bathroom, yada, yada, yada.

“I’m sorry.” Clay was honestly remorseful. He hated upsetting Maizie.

“Why don’t you sit down and let me get you a Coke,” he suggested. Without waiting for an answer he retrieved a soft drink and handed it to her.

Clay was about to give himself a big pat on the back. Then he saw his wife’s face. Something was drastically wrong, and it had nothing to do with bringing in the groceries.

“Clay.” Maizie sat at the pine trestle table, rubbing the cold can against her face. “Is this all we have to look forward to?”

That question scared Clay silly. When your wife got philosophical, all hell was about to break loose.

Chapter Three

It was a beautiful October Saturday, the leaves had changed, the air was crisp, and the University of Georgia was in the hunt for a national football title. Everyone in town was infected by gridiron fever and the Walkers were usually no exception. Back in the dark ages, Maizie had been a UGA cheerleader and Clay had been a star linebacker on the team. Needless to say, they were huge fans.

Regardless of the hoopla, Maizie was having a hard time getting into the “rah rah” mood. In fact, she was in more of a “kick ’em in the knee” frame of mind. On that depressing thought she answered the annoying ring of the phone, hoping it was a telemarketer, not someone she’d actually have to talk to.

“What’s wrong?” Only her twin would pick up on trouble from a simple hello.

“Nothing. I’m just feeling out of sorts.” Maizie normally shared everything with her sister, but this situation felt different.

“Is Hannah okay?”

Maizie chuckled, thinking about her flower child. “She’s fine, but her dad almost flipped when she told him she was considering majoring in pottery.”

Maizie was inclined to be a bit zany. Liza, on the other hand, was a lawyer and practical to the max, so she probably didn’t understand the pottery thing, either.

“Well, uh.” Liza paused. “I didn’t know they offered that major at Emory.”

“It was news to me, too,” Maizie said. “That’s why I decided to worry about it later. Next week she’ll have changed her mind again.”

A fan of Gone With the Wind, Maizie had long ago adopted Scarlett’s fiddle-dee-dee attitude, and so far it had worked perfectly. “What time are you guys coming over?” She could segue at the drop of a hat.

“The game starts at six, so how does five or five-thirty sound?”

“That works. Kenni and Win won’t be here until around seven. He has to meet with a client.”

“The only thing they’ll miss is the pregame hype. What do you want me to bring?” Liza asked.

A casual observer might assume Liza had forgotten about her sister’s funk, but Maizie knew better.

“See you soon,” Liza said. “Oh, by the way, don’t get smug. We’re going to have a little chat when I get there.”

Darn, that girl was like a dog with a juicy bone. No wonder she was an attorney.

THE GUYS WERE BONDING over the pregame show and pigging out on chips and salsa. That allowed Liza carte blanche to start the inquisition. Before she pulled out the thumb screws, though, she grabbed two bottles of Heineken from the fridge and a couple of frosty mugs from the freezer.

“Sit.” Liza handed Maizie a beer as a peace offering. “Now spill your guts.”

Maizie was a smart girl so she could tell when it was time to surrender. Liza might be no bigger than gnat’s eyelash, but she could be real mean. Well, maybe determined would be a better description, but whatever—Liza almost always got her way.

Mama said their stubborn streak was the only thing the twins shared. Liza was petite and dark while Maizie looked more like a Viking goddess. They were so different it was sometimes hard to believe they’d actually shared a womb.

Maizie reluctantly sat down. “I honestly don’t know what my problem is, I wish I did. At first I thought it was empty-nest syndrome, but lately I’ve been wondering if it’s the twenty-two-year itch.” She shrugged. “All I know is that I’m feelin’ a bit blue.” Maizie didn’t mention her stale love life. Even for a twin that was too much information.

“Oh, honey. You need something to cheer you up. You’re simply having a hormonal crisis.” Liza raised a finger in her favorite “aha” signal. “I have an idea. We’ll talk Kenni into going with us to Lennox Square for a girls’ day out. We can rummage through Nordstrom’s shoe section and then indulge in some decadent chocolate. Think about it, imported chocolate and sexy sandals. What more could you want?”

Maizie couldn’t resist a grin. “Are we talking fattening and expensive?”

“Absolutely.” Liza held up her hand for a high five.

Although Maizie wasn’t sure a spending spree would do the trick, she was willing to try. Pessimism was new and rather unwelcome territory.

The party was a smashing success, partially because of the company, but equally because UGA won the Southeastern Conference championship. The next step was to wait for the football bowl selections to see if UGA would be fighting to be number one in the nation. For die-hard college football fans that was a huge deal.

The kitchen was clean, the family room had been tidied and the company had gone. Clay was on a football high and Maizie was feeling, well, to put it delicately, a bit amorous. Or to be blunt, she was ready to fool around.

A long bath, a flute of bubbly, a sexy teddy and a spray of perfume later, she was hot to trot. But was Clay?

“Honey, are you ready for bed?” Maizie channeled her inner seductress as she struck a pose in the door.

No response.

“Clayton. Did you hear me?”

When he didn’t respond Maizie decided it was time for more action and less talk. She walked slowly over to the couch and seductively nibbled on the back of his neck.

“Let me catch the rest of the news and I’ll be right with you,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“What?” Maizie couldn’t believe she’d been rebuffed. The moron would rather watch the weather than make love? If that didn’t beat all! She counted to ten and decided to give him one more chance.

All Southern belles had an arsenal of tricks, and Maizie was no exception. She treated her oblivious husband to a little swish, a more pronounced sashay and the coup de grace, a naughty hip grind, all done right in front of him for maximum effect.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing! This was war. Clay didn’t know it yet, but he would live to rue this day.

Maizie stalked to the bedroom and pulled on an oversize Atlanta Braves T-shirt and a pair of faded boxer shorts. To hell with sexy.

Then she had a brilliant idea. She’d make Clay pea-green jealous. Not that she’d ever do anything more than flirt, of course.

Clay was the only man for her, but a little flirtation couldn’t hurt. All she had to do was show him that other men found her attractive. It was a surefire way to jump start the passion.

It sounded simple, but could she really pull it off? Magnolia Bluff’s selection of single, desirable men was limited. Who was she kidding? It was almost nonexistent. Kenni and Liza had managed to find a couple of supersexy guys, but Zack and Win were imports. The pickin’s were slim when it came to the home-grown product.

So, where could she find a guy, preferably someone under sixty who still had his teeth? This would take some thought, but she’d never shied away from a challenge.

Once that was decided, Maizie padded to the kitchen for a snack. Clay was still glued to the TV in the family room. What she really wanted to do was to curl up in his lap and run her fingers through his hair, but that wasn’t on the agenda, not after the last rejection. They had to get some zing back in their life, and she knew just how to do it.

Pigging out on a glass of cold milk and a chocolate cookie seemed a good strategy to get some perspective. Unfortunately, the sugar rush gave way to a smidgen of doubt.

Was this jealousy scheme a flash of brilliance or was it one of the silliest ideas she’d ever dreamed up? Only time would tell.

CLAY TRIED TO IGNORE his sense of impending disaster, but the banging and muttering in the kitchen didn’t help. Once again, he’d made Maizie mad and that honestly hadn’t been his intention.

The party had been sheer hell. It had taken every ounce of energy Clay had to smile and prattle on about football and national championships. Especially since he hadn’t slept more than three hours a night for the past two weeks.

Every time he closed his eyes all he could envision was the bankruptcy court and what would happen to their employees if they went under. He should come clean with Maizie. They’d always shared everything, but he and his partner had made such stupid, naive mistakes, he was embarrassed to tell her.

It would all work out. It had to. God, he was exhausted. That was the last thought Clay had before he fell asleep in his chair.

Chapter Four

When Monday finally rolled around Maizie couldn’t wait for her workday to start. She needed some info and there was no better place to get it than her shop. The right guy for the jealousy gig was out there, all she had to do was find him.

Maizie fluffed her hair, put on her best Miss Georgia third runner-up smile and prepared to greet her customers. Jeannine Crabtree was scheduled for a makeover. The crazy old bat expected a miracle. Too bad miracles were in short supply.

The good news, if there was any, was that Jeannine was related to at least a quarter of the people in town. So if the perfect guy was around, she’d know about him. The only question was whether she’d share.

“Maizie? Are you here?” PJ called as she opened the front door. Hmm, that girl could charm anyone—even Jeannine Crabtree. She could interrogate the old witch without her even realizing what was happening.

“I’m here.” Maizie threw a smock over her dress. “I’ll be out in just a sec.”

“I stopped in at the bakery on my way to work. I brought beignets.” PJ displayed a white sack that had a slight smudge of grease on the bottom. “They’re hot.”

Maizie groaned. “You’re a wicked, wicked woman. You know I’m trying to lose a couple of pounds.”

“Fiddlesticks, you look fantastic. I wish I had a little more, um…” PJ made a bouncy motion with her hands in front of her chest. “Cleavage,” she finished with a giggle.

Maizie grabbed the bag, retrieved one of the New Orleans doughnuts and took a big bite. “Oh my God, this is better than sex.” She almost purred in ecstasy. “I think I’ll give you a raise.”

PJ arched one eyebrow. “Really?”

“No, not really. But if you do Jeannine Crabtree’s makeover I’ll be eternally grateful.”

Village legend had it that you could walk into Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir looking like Cinderella’s ugly step-sister and walk out as Carmen Electra. Maizie claimed it was all in the magic of a mascara wand. Whatever it was, women of all ages had turned into believers—even the crabby Ms. Crabtree.

PJ snorted. “I’ll just bet you would. That woman’s as mean as a junkyard dog. If I can stay out of her way, I do.” She graced Maizie with her best insincere smile. “Sorry, my schedule is completely booked.”

She didn’t look a bit contrite. “Oh, all right.” Maizie was a smart girl. She knew when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

“I almost forgot,” PJ said as she prepared the cash register for the day. “I saw Liza at the post office this morning. She wants to meet you for lunch. You’re supposed to call her at work.”

“Thanks.” Maizie picked up the cordless phone and punched in her twin’s number.

“Liza Hender…Maynard speaking.”

“Forget your name?”

“Up yours.”

“That’s not very lawyerly. You should try to be more professional.” Maizie broke into giggles. She was the elder by a mere ten minutes but had embraced the role of big sister.

“Seriously, PJ said you want to do lunch. Where and when?”

“Hold on a second.” Liza must have put her hand over the receiver because the voices were in the backyard muffled. Several seconds later she came back on the line. “Okay, that’s taken care of. Don’t you hate Monday morning crises?”

“Yep,” Maizie said as she rummaged through her makeup kit. Multitasking was her specialty and spiffing up old lady Crabtree was going to require every trick she knew.

“Zack said there’s a new barbecue place out near the highway. Do you want to try it?”

Maizie laughed. Today was the first day of her new diet and she’d already gorged herself on a deep-fried doughnut and now she was booked for some down-home barbecue. She could almost feel the fat cells multiplying on her derriere.

“Sure, why not? How about one o’clock? The noon rush should be over by then.”

“I’ll see you there,” Liza said, and then almost as an afterthought she continued. “You might want to change into something old. I hear the food’s pretty greasy.”

Wonderful—big globs of grease, too. Just what she needed. On that cheerful note, the bell over the door heralded Ms. Crabtree’s entrance.

“Okay. I’ve gotta go. See you soon.” It was time to paste on a smile, pull out the white-glove manners and get on with life.

“Jeannine, how are you doin’? I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.” Maizie snapped a plastic cape open with a flourish. “Let’s get you seated.” She led her customer to a chair at the back of the boutique. “And make you beautiful.”

Maizie could’ve sworn she’d heard PJ giggle, but when she looked over, her friend wore a benign smile.

Jeannine’s face, on the other hand, was set in a perpetual scowl. Maybe there was something to the old wives’ tale about frowning.

“Tell you what, Ms. Crabtree.” Maizie smoothed some of the tension out of the older woman’s forehead. “I’m going to give you a complimentary refresher mask. It’ll make your skin as soft as a baby’s bottom.” And if she believed that, fish were going to start walking on their hind legs. Maizie slathered pink gel over her client’s face, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. In this case, she had to trust the placebo effect to get the job done.

“You relax while the mask dries. Don’t talk or it’ll crack.” Maizie patted Jeannine’s shoulder before strolling up front.

The only other customer was a woman with a baby in a pram. Maizie recognized her from the country club as one of Magnolia Bluff’s newest transplants from Atlanta. She was petite, tan, blond, beautiful and stylishly dressed. Yep, this young matron had the potential to become a good customer—very good, indeed.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met.” One of the reasons Miss Scarlett’s was so successful was the friendly atmosphere and personal service. “I’m Maizie Walker. I own the Boudoir.”

The blonde extended her hand. “I’m so glad to meet you. I’m Paige Butler. I just love your store,” she gushed. “And this town is terrific. We’ve only been here six months, but I feel as if I’ve known people forever.”

Maizie glanced at PJ who was already loaded down with clothes that Paige had pulled off the racks in the few short minutes she’d been there. “If there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”

About that time the baby decided to join the party by letting out a wail.

“This is Ali,” Paige introduced her daughter. She was obviously a proud parent. “She wants me to hold her all the time. My mama says I’m spoiling her but I can’t help myself. I want to eat her up with a spoon.”

Paige’s daughter was a little dumpling. She was dressed all in pink and had a bow tied in her straw-colored hair.

“Do you mind if I pick her up?” Maizie tickled the baby’s chin.

“Be my guest, please.” Paige leaned over to readjust Ali’s frilly dress. “I’ve been fantasizing about having fifteen minutes to myself.”

“Ms. Crabtree’s mask won’t be ready for another ten minutes,” Maizie told Paige, ignoring her client’s grumbling in the background. “You two go on back to the dressing room and take your time.”

“Yes, ma’am. I surely will. Thanks.”

“Hey, Snookums,” Maizie cooed to the baby. “What a little cutie you are.” Ali’s crying stopped almost immediately when Maizie lifted her out of the pram.

When Hannah was a baby Maizie had spent countless hours in an antique rocking chair she’d inherited from her Grammy Nelson. On a whim she’d put that lovely old chair in Miss Scarlett’s. It was a beautiful addition to the décor as well as a perfect place for meditation when time allowed.

Maizie hummed and rocked while “Crabass’s” mask hardened. Baby Ali fell asleep almost immediately. Maizie kissed the top of the baby’s head, breathing in that sweet infant smell. There was nothing quite as innocent as a sleeping angel—awake was a different story. Ten peaceful minutes passed before Maizie admitted she had to do something about her client.

“PJ, Paige,” she whispered, trying to be as quiet. “I need to take care of Ms. Crabtree.”

“About time,” Jeannine muttered.

“We’re finished.” PJ appeared with an armload of clothing. “Paige found lots of stuff,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.

The young mom tucked the sleeping baby back into the pram and then pulled out her platinum American Express card. “Miz Walker, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking care of Ali.”

“You’re very welcome. We like to think of ourselves as a full-service operation. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to rinse off my client’s mask.”

“It’s about time!” Mrs. C exclaimed when Maizie rejoined her.

Who could mistake those dulcet tones?

“Your skin’s going to feel so soft that you won’t mind the wait.”

“I doubt that, but get on with it.” The woman’s gravelly voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Here we go.” Maizie dabbed cleanser on Jeannine’s face. Although she’d used her very best product, she couldn’t see a dime’s worth of difference.

“How is that? Doesn’t your skin feel better?” Maizie turned Ms. Crabtree’s chair toward the mirror.

She employed her best shopkeeper’s voice to make certain she didn’t utter anything particularly vile. Fortunately Maizie was saved by the bell—the one on the front door.

“Hey, Paige. How’s it going?” The sound of a man’s voice in Miss Scarlett’s was unusual enough to be remarkable.

“Trip, my goodness, what are you doing here?” Paige sounded more like a lovesick teen than a mom. Or maybe a femme fatale.

When Maizie glanced up to check out what all the fuss was about, she was almost bowled over. Heavens to Betsy. The man talking to Paige could be Pierce Brosnan’s younger brother. Even the vestal virgins would be cheering.

“Maizie, PJ, this is Trip Fitzgerald. He’s the tennis coach at the country club. A bunch of us take lessons from him.”

How interesting. No wonder the gorgeous hunk had tanned legs and broad shoulders. Trip Fitzgerald was exactly what the jealousy Cupid had ordered.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, you’re new in town, too, right?” Maizie walked over to shake the newcomer’s hand.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve been here a month. I’m originally from Atlanta.”

“Really. Well, welcome to Magnolia Bluffs. I hope we’ve been hospitable.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better.” His grin was boyish, charming and damned near perfect—an orthodontist’s dream.

“I need to get a birthday present for my mother,” he said, looking around. “Several of my students said you’re the best place in town.”

“We certainly try to be. PJ—”

PJ almost tripped over her own feet racing to his side. “I can help you. What does your mom like? We have all kinds of pretties.”

Before he could answer PJ was setting up a display of gift items that would be daunting for a seasoned shopper.

“Wow. That’s quite a selection,” he said, showcasing that grin again. “You ladies should come for tennis lessons. We have something for everyone. Groups, privates, semiprivates, you name it, we’ve got it. I think you’d really like it. It’s good exercise and a great way to get a tan.”

Maizie’s mind was whirling a mile a minute—which generally landed her in a heap of trouble.

“Tennis lessons sound like exactly what I need.” Were they ever.

Chapter Five

By noon Maizie was more than ready to tuck into a plate of juicy barbecue. It had been an interesting morning and she was tempted to treat herself to a frosty brew when she arrived early to meet Liza, but the thought of the carbs held her back.

The Crabtree ordeal and meeting Trip Fitzgerald had been followed by an “I’ve worn this at least a dozen times but now that it has a stain on the front I want to return it” and an “oh my, you mean you can’t dry it on hot” complaint. Retail wasn’t for sissies.

“Hey.” Liza breezed in and gave her twin a hug. Lately she did everything with a spring in her step, and why not? She was a newlywed and madly in love. Not that Maizie was jealous or anything.

“Have you ordered?” she asked as she took a seat on the picnic table bench.

“Nope. I was waiting for you. I’ve been studying the menu and I think I’ll go for the rib plate. See?” Maizie made a point of displaying her casual attire. “I changed into a T-shirt and jeans.”

“Good girl. Let’s see, what do I want?” Liza picked up the menu. “I think I’ll try the rib plate, too. I—”

Before she could continue her thought, the waitress appeared armed with two huge containers of iced tea. “I was bettin’ you gals would like a cold drink.” She set the glasses down and pulled out her order pad. “The ribs are looking mighty good, and the peach cobbler—whew.” She jokingly swiped her forehead. “I can put on five pounds just smellin’ that stuff. It’s downright sinful.”

“Both of us want the rib platter. We’ll discuss dessert later.” Liza put the menu back behind the Tabasco sauce.

“Excellent choice. If you need anything else, give me a holler.”

As soon as the waitress strolled off, Liza got down to why she’d wanted to do lunch.

“I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this, and I’m not convinced a shopping trip is what you need. I suspect there’s something more serious going here. You’re usually Little Miss Sunshine, and darn it, I want you to be happy again.”

Maizie fiddled with the salt shaker. Should she or shouldn’t she involve her twin? Not only was Liza a newlywed and desperately in love, she was also managing a huge property development project. She didn’t have time to listen to Maizie moan about her marital status.

As a matter of fact, both Liza and Kenni were acting like love-struck loons. It was enough to make a person gag. Deep down, Maizie had to admit she was jealous. She and Clay used to share that kind of passion, and by gosh, she wanted it again.

“I’ve decided to take up tennis,” she blurted.

“Tennis?” The look of confusion on Liza’s face was priceless. “You? Are you serious? The most strenuous thing you do is paint your nails.”

“I’ll have you know I played tennis in high school.” Sure, she wasn’t all that athletic, but Liza’s comment ruffled her tail feathers.

“Oh, I forgot. You were a regular Martina Navratilova.” Liza laughed at her own joke. “But what does that have to do with you being depressed?”

It was show time. Could she look her best friend, her twin in the face and lie? Or should she confide in her?

Confiding won, hands down. “Actually—” Maizie chewed on her bottom lip and screwed up her face.

Liza waited a few moments before speaking. “Actually what?”

“Actually, I have an ulterior motive.”

“Duh.” Liza crossed her arms. “Sweating isn’t exactly your thing, and believe it or not, Sweet Cakes, when you exercise you glow, big time.”

Every Southern girl knew that horses sweated, men perspired and women glowed. Maizie didn’t bother to suppress her grimace. “I have some waterproof makeup. It stops up your pores so I don’t normally wear it, but in this case I’ll give it a shot.”

“Look.” Liza propped her chin on her hand. “What is this really all about?”

“I want to make Clay jealous.”

“What?”

Maizie couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable. “Clay’s been ignoring me lately and I want him to realize that even though I’m middle-aged and plump, some men find me attractive.”

Liza massaged her forehead. “Let me get this straight. Please God, tell me I’m understanding this. You’re planning to flirt with some dude on the tennis court to make Clay jealous?”

“Sort of.”

Liza smacked her hand on the wooden table. “That’s one of the dumbest schemes I’ve ever heard. Let me make one thing perfectly clear. You are a gorgeous woman. And plump, please! Women all over the country pay good money to have what God’s given you.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Maizie leaned forward to let Liza in on a secret. “It’s perfectly innocent. All I’m going to do is flirt with the new tennis pro. I checked him out, he’s not married, or engaged or even dating anyone.” She’d researched his relationship status by calling a friend who was a member of the club and a tennis fiend. “I’m certainly not planning to do anything other than get Clay’s attention. How can anything go wrong?”

Chapter Six

Maizie had tried to sound confident when talking to Liza, but to be totally truthful she wasn’t that sure her plan would work. And no matter what Liza said, she had gained several pounds—most of it right on her caboose.

However, she’d learned early in her beauty-pageant career that self-confidence could mask a ton of deficiencies, and fortunately that included a sizable derriere. It also required a certain amount of assistance, and in this case that meant a sexy, new tennis outfit.

Maizie and Clay were having breakfast when she volleyed the first shot in her “make my hubby jealous” campaign. “I’m going into Atlanta this morning to do some shopping.”

“Okay,” he answered.

“Just okay?” Why was she being so snarky? She frequently went to Atlanta, so why should this trip be different?

Clay put down the paper and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Maizie said. “That was uncalled for.”

He stared at her a few seconds and gently laid his hand on her cheek. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

The tenderness of his touch gave Maizie pause.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No! Uh, I mean, that’s not necessary.” Having him along would screw up the purpose of her shopping trip.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” Clay took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. Darn that man. He knew how to push every one of her buttons. She just wished he’d do it more often.

MAIZIE PULLED INTO THE parking lot of a tennis and golf superstore. It was a gigantic warehouse filled with sports equipment and clothing. She was more familiar with tony boutiques than places like the Tennis and Golfarama. Maizie was out of her element and didn’t have a clue where to start.

“May I help you?” a clerk asked when she walked in. The young woman was tanned brunette wearing skintight warm-up gear. There wasn’t an ounce of cellulite on that buff body.

“I need some tennis…uh…stuff.”

“A racquet or clothes?”

“Both. Actually, I haven’t played in years so I need everything, right down to the socks and bloomers.”

Maizie’s admission elicited a laugh from the saleswoman.

“I’m Cindi,” she said, sticking her hand out for a shake.

Maizie would just bet she dotted the “i” with a heart.

“I’m sure we can find exactly what you need.”

An hour later Maizie’s credit card was limp from exhaustion and she was the proud owner of three new tennis outfits—all super sexy, of course—a top-of-the-line racquet and a pair of shoes guaranteed to put a spring in her step. Now all she needed was a plan, preferably one that had a chance of working.

MAIZIE’S FRIEND AT THE TENNIS club had also informed her that Trip Fitzgerald wasn’t as young as he looked. He was actually closer to her age than to the young matrons who swarmed him like bees to honey.

But even so, Maizie had serious doubts about her ability to attract his attention. She wasn’t twenty anymore, nor was she a size zero. Would he think of her as nothing more than a middle-aged groupie? The last thing she wanted was to come off as a pathetic cliché.

That would be incredibly humiliating.

Maizie was closing in on D-day, or T-day, as the case may be. She had the clothes, the racket, the shoes and she’d signed up for a series of lessons. The only thing she lacked was confidence. So naturally she made an impromptu visit to Cousin Kenni’s salon, Permanently Yours.

Liza wasn’t on board with her “make Clay jealous” plan. Perhaps Kenni would be more encouraging. What would Maizie do if her cousin jumped aboard the “ohmigod, that’s a bad idea” bandwagon?

The Permanently Yours salon clientele ranged from senior citizens with tight perms to trendy adolescents and everyone in between. Like Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir, it was a happening place.

“Hey, Toolie, what’s up?” Maizie said as she walked in. Tallulah—aka Toolie—was an ex-pat from Atlanta, cute as a button and totally cool. Today she was sporting a spiked purple do that showed off her multiple earrings.

“Not much. Kenni’s in the back doing Laverne Hightower’s hair.” She made a face to indicate her “ick” reaction.

“Gotcha.” Maizie gave her a high five before heading toward the back of the salon.

“Hey, Raylene.” Raylene was Kenni’s other stylist. She specialized in the curly styles that were de rigueur with the over-eighty crowd. The hairdresser responded with a three-fingered wave.

“Hi, Kenni.” Maizie smiled at her cousin in the mirror.

“Hello, Mrs. Hightower. How are you doing?” She knew when to suck up.

“Hello, Maizie Walker. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, ma’am. You haven’t been to the boutique lately. We’re about to have a sale. You need to drop by, now ’ya hear? I always have gourmet coffee brewing.”

“Gourmet, huh?” Laverne was renowned for grazing through the free samples at the Piggly Wiggly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kenni secured the last pink foam roller and twirled her customer around. “I’m going to put you under the dryer now.”

Kenni made sure Laverne was comfortable under a hood that looked like an old Saturday Night Live cone of silence and then crooked her finger at Maizie.

“Let’s go to the office.” The salon’s office/break-room was really a storage area filled with boxes of beauty products, but there was a comfortable enough Goodwill couch and adequate refreshments.

“Sit, girl. You look like you’re ready for a discussion.”

“Yeah.” Maizie moved a stack of hairstyle magazines and sat down in an old vinyl chair.

“How about something to drink?” Without waiting for an answer, Kenni rummaged in the refrigerator and came up with two cans of iced tea.

Before she could hand over the drink, Maizie blurted out, “Clay and I aren’t exactly burning up the sheets anymore and I plan to do something about it.”

Kenni froze. “Oo-kay.” She put the cans back in the refrigerator and retrieved a pitcher of fluorescent green liquid.

“That stuff looks radioactive. What is it?”

Kenni grinned at Maizie’s description. “It’s Raylene’s version of a margarita. I think we’re gonna need it.”

“What about Mrs. Hightower?”

“Raylene can finish her up. She owes me one, and that will keep both of them out of this conversation. I suspect the fewer people involved, the better.”

Once they were settled with plastic cups of Raylene’s brew, Maizie told her cousin everything. Including descriptions of her three new tennis outfits with the halter tops and plunging necklines.

When she finished, Kenni didn’t say a word. It was hard to speak when your mouth was hanging open.

“Are you serious?” she finally choked out.

“Absolutely.” Maizie placed her half-full cup on the low table in front of her. “I’ve tried sexy lingerie and romantic dinners.” She threw up her hands. “I’ve even done a striptease and you know what he did? He said he was dead tired and could we do it later. Later!” Maizie’s voice got louder with each word.

“Shh! Mrs. Hightower might be under the dryer, but I’m fairly sure people in the next county can hear you.”

“Oh, okay.” Maizie fell back in her chair.

“Let’s look at this logically. Is there something going on at work that he hasn’t told you? Maybe he’s stressed—or he could really be tired. He loves you like crazy. Everyone can see that.”

Clay hadn’t said much about work lately and that was unusual.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Kenni continued. “Go home, get dolled up, pull out all the stops on a romantic setting and ask him to take you away for the weekend. If that doesn’t work, I’ll reluctantly help you with this stupid scheme. What did Liza say?”

Maizie sighed. “She’s on the same page you are. But all right. I’ll give it my best shot.”

CLAY WALKER HAD HAD a hell of a day. In point of fact, it had been a hellacious six months. The engineering contract his company had with a public/private partnership road project had gone south in too many ways to count.

The private development corporation had insisted on changes the department of transportation bureaucrats had vetoed, and vice versa. Consequently, construction was so far behind schedule it was impossible to catch up, and everyone was blaming his engineering firm. During this debacle, Clay had put out so many fires he felt like a wildfire jumper.

He should have listened to his gut. He’d been hesitant to bid on the project, but the temptation was too hard to resist. It was their way to the big time. Uh-huh. If things didn’t improve soon their only option would be bankruptcy.

And then he had to add in the fact Maizie was making him nuts. They’d always gotten along so well, but lately it seemed she was constantly mad at him. He realized she wanted more attention, but he just didn’t have it to give. There were only so many hours in the day, and his had been maxed to the hilt for months. God, what he wouldn’t give for a week in the sun without emergencies and contentious situations.

Clay’s current schedule had been a nightmare of meeting after meeting. Tonight all he wanted was a cold beer and a quiet evening of TV. But when he walked through the front door, Maizie met him in the living room. There were candles on the dining room table and soft music playing on the stereo.

Please, please, please—not tonight. Any other time—at least any time other than the last six months—Clay would have been randy and ready, but not now. Please God, not now. He was so tired he wouldn’t be able to get it up even for the love of his wife.

Maizie was oblivious to his turmoil. But who could blame her? He hadn’t been willing to share. Not only had she gone to a ton of trouble, she was absolutely gorgeous in an off-the-shoulder pale blue silk blouse. Normally he’d have that blouse off in thirty seconds. And a heartbeat later he’d have her in bed, but not tonight.

Clay could tell she was getting ready to say something important. He hoped that in his addled state he could come up with the right answer.

“Clay.” Maizie put her arms around his neck. “I think we should go away for the weekend.” She emphasized the suggestion with a sexy shimmer up and down his body.

Oh, sheesh! He pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the top of her head. She was tall, but at 6’4” he still had a couple of inches on her.

“Maizie, sweetheart. I can’t. There’s nothing I’d love to do more than spend a weekend with you, preferably somewhere far away from telephones and e-mail and nasty clients. But right now it’s impossible. I’m up to my ass in alligators on this project.”

Clay was tempted to tell her about the precarious nature of their finances, but decided against it. He didn’t want to worry her. Why should they both get ulcers? But even he knew that was a crock. The truth was he was embarrassed.

It was several seconds before Maizie pulled away, giving him a glance he couldn’t quite decipher. If he was lucky she wouldn’t be planning something nutty. But lately Lady Luck hadn’t been smiling on him.

Chapter Seven

Maizie prided herself on excelling in almost every social situation. She could pull off a dinner party for twenty at the drop of a hat. Give her a couple of weeks and she could organize a formal ball. But being at home on a tennis court? Nope, that wasn’t even vaguely in her repertoire.

“Mrs. Walker, I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

Mrs. Walker? Was Clay’s mother behind her? “Call me Maizie, please.”

“Sure,” Trip agreed before turning to the rest of the class. “Ladies, this is Maizie. Please make her feel at home.”

She already knew many of the women—for the most part young matrons who lived in the new gated community. They were skinny, they were toned and she wasn’t, not by a long shot.

She felt like a klutz. It’d been a long time since she’d played tennis in high school, so Maizie had started off with a beginner class, and it was a darned good thing. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the stupid ball over the net.

To make matters worse, Maizie had long since passed the glowing stage. Even though it was a gorgeous autumn day, and not all that hot, she was sweating like a pig. Now that was a real turn-on.

Maizie hit an errant ball that pinged off the net before bouncing out of the court. This game was obviously not her bag, and she’d better improve—PDQ—or there would be a whole bunch of new tennis stuff for the next garage sale. Of all the schemes she’d concocted this one had to be the most ridiculous. And to be truthful, the chances of it working were almost nonexistent.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get better,” Trip assured her.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Maizie said with a chuckle. Everyone else had wandered off to the clubhouse in search of a cold drink.

“You’re doing fine. Just keep trying.”

That was easy for him to say. He could keep the ball inside the lines.

“Would you like some help gathering up the balls?” Maizie asked, wondering why the nubile young things hadn’t stuck around. This was clearly a prime flirting opportunity.

“That would be great.” Trip picked up one of the handled ball baskets that allowed for ball retrieval without bending over.

Maizie grabbed a ball sweeper that resembled a toy pop-up vacuum cleaner and went about corralling the tennis balls that littered the court. The pros made the game look easy, but the same could be said for gymnastics and ice skating. So even if her flirting idea was a bust, it might be fun to actually learn to play.

CLAY REALIZED HE WAS FRESH out of ideas about Maizie, so he decided to call in the cavalry—aka Liza and Kenni. He’d had to resort to cajoling and a smidgen of begging before they agreed to meet him at the Coffee Cup, a café at the opposite end of town from Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir.

Clay’s stomach was flip-flopping like a D.C. politician, so coffee was out of the question. What was the name of that tea Eleanor loved? Earl Grey—that was it. He ordered a cup and was about to take his first sip when his wife’s sister and cousin strolled in.

“Over here,” Clay said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. The rumor mill in Magnolia Bluffs was remarkably efficient, and Maizie would have a fit if she heard they were meeting behind her back.

“What can I get you ladies?”

“A small latté for me,” Kenni said.

“Make that two,” Liza agreed.

To an uninvolved observer this would be nothing more than a coffee date with friends, but appearances could sometimes be deceiving. It didn’t escape Clay’s notice that as soon as he walked off, Liza and Kenni put their heads together for a private conversation.

“Here you go,” Clay said when he returned with the drinks. The ladies were obviously not discussing the church social or even the price of tea in Timbuktu.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

Liza took a deep breath. “We really can’t tell you anything. I would if I could, honestly. But I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“A little of both.” She glanced at Kenni who nodded in agreement.

Clay rested his head on his fist. “Look, I’m not asking you to betray a confidence. I simply need some help. She seems angry with me all the time and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know what’s wrong.” He held his hands up in supplication. “I’m desperate.”

Liza rubbed the back of her neck. “Why don’t you tell us what you think the problem is. Maybe we can help you without really helping you, if you see what I mean.” Wink, wink.

Clay nodded. “Fair enough. I suspect there are a couple of things going on. First off, I think when Hannah moved out she started feeling unfulfilled. But she doesn’t want to admit it. You know Maizie, she’s always pooh-poohed the empty-nest idea.”

Kenni spoke up. “That’s a start, and for what it’s worth I agree with you. So we have an empty nest, what else?”

Clay couldn’t meet their eyes. “She wants me to spend more time with her.”

“What’s so hard about that?” Liza asked.

He sighed. “Maizie doesn’t know this, so you can’t tell a soul. Do I have your word?”

Although Kenni grimaced, she nodded. Liza followed suit.

“Our firm is in financial trouble. We won a contract that’s now in the middle of a huge crisis. We’re working on that new overpass on the interstate and the moron we’re dealing with at the Department of Transportation has required more change orders than we can deliver. Alter this, move that, do that—nope, that’s not right, try again. It’s been one thing after another. Frankly, I think he’s trying to tube the project. Consequently, the construction company has gone into a penalty phase and is about to go belly-up. If that happens, we don’t get paid. And we’ve spent well over six months on the project.” Clay massaged his temples. “After I’ve spent all day putting out fires, I’m too beat to do anything but fall into bed.”

“There goes my advice.” Liza huffed out a breath. “How about you?” she asked Kenni.

“Uh, me, too.”

Liza took Clay’s hand. “You need to tell Maizie what’s happening. She really, really needs to know.”

“I’ve waited too long. She’s going to be so pissed that I didn’t come to her right away. And to be completely honest, I’m humiliated that I let things get this out of hand.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.