Page 28 of The Husband Diet
He grinned shyly. ‘The spider bloke, yes.’
Oh, God, please kill me now. Just swat me out of my miserable existence and get rid of me for once. I slapped my hand over my eyes, waiting,wantingto die. I peeked up at him through my fingers. ‘I’m absolutely mortified you had to see that…’
‘Don’t be. I never thought I’d run into you again.’
Him and me both. Which was why it had been OK to fantasize about that encounter over and over in my mind, changing the ending to where we wound up at dinner together and then… well, let’s just say if you have to dream, dream big.
Now for something intelligent to say. ‘You must think I’m a total lunatic.’
He grinned. ‘Of course not. Well, maybe just… original.’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘So, how are you?’
‘Still hating spiders. And you? Still patrolling the ladies’ rooms for damsels in distress?’
Why couldn’t I just learn to keep my mouth shut? Now, my children’s principal would always remember me not only as the woman with the big bum, but also the one with the big mouth. And to top it all, this morning I even smelled like mothballs. Better run to repairs and show my human civil side.
‘I’m so sorry to have caught you up in that.’ Meaning between my thighs. Not that I minded. ‘And to have caused you such trouble with security.’
‘Nah they know me. I told you, I’m a regular there. And I’m so glad I got to see you again.’
I swallowed, trying to play it cool as that familiar rushy feeling sent all my blood from my brain, making the rest of my body hum. I can’t even describe how his presence overwhelmed me. He was extremely fit and his body reverberated masculinity. All I could do was swallow and stare back at him, my mind experiencing complete shutdown, except for the memory of his arms around me as we lay (him crouched, me kicking at the spider) on the cold bathroom floor, him whispering soothing words and me trembling like Jell-O and begging him to take off my pants. I wondered if that would work on him again, only without the spider.
I said nothing, taking in every possible detail of him, starting with the black hair that curled past his collar and the long dark lashes. Beautiful lips. Square jaw. Kindness. Pure male harnessed by polite manners. If he ripped off a lady’s clothes the same way he did mine, then the guy was a keeper for sure. Someone I might have fallen in love with a thousand years ago, before my body was sexually anaesthetized by marriage, children and everything in between.
I noticed he wasn’t wearing a suit as principals always do but graced a pair of khaki pants that barely hid the thigh muscles vibrating underneath and a dark green sweater that highlighted the broad shoulders even if it wasn’t fitted. You could just tell he was lean and ripped. I tried to remember the last time I’d met someone so gorgeous and kind, and then I knew. Never.
The temperature of my body rose considerably and I began to sweat again, making my skin so slick I almost slid straight out of my coat, like jelly from a tube, and off my chair twice. Almost. How high did this guyneedhis thermostat set? I unbuttoned my collar, then some more to clear my chest, which was swathed in layers of wool, so there was no danger in looking like I was exposing ‘the boobs’. That was my sister Judy’s department. But I was still boiling.
‘So,you’reMaddy and Warren’s mom. What fantastic children you have,’ he said.
As opposed to me, I mused, as he certainly looked surprised. ‘Thank you, Mr. Foxham—’
‘Please, call me Julian. After all, we’re acquainted outside school.’
Meaning he’d seen my underwear. I wondered how many other mothers he was acquainted with.
I nodded. ‘OK, I’m Erica, then.’
You know those plastic conference chairs, the ones for skinny people, where the only direction you can go is downward unless you plant your ass right in the center and your feet firmly on the ground? At the moment it was the only thing keeping me off the floor. And I looked like a bag lady, perched on the edge of a bridge, ready to jump, with no make-up (not that I wore much these days) as I fretted with my fingernails, conscious that I’d chipped one while backing out of The Farthington parking lot in my haste to get here. Nail polish was a no-no, because it would only be yet another deadline I had to meet. I was a total mess. And my hair – my arch-enemy – was in its usual face-lift-tight bun. I knew I looked like a harpy.
Mr. Foxham –Julian– noticed my uneasiness but pretended not to. Oh, he was very smooth. And all this time I’d been pining over someone I thought was a normal guy, not a professional parent-basher.
Why am I here?I wanted to blurt as he professionally assessed me behind a friendly smile. With horror, I felt myself sliding down my torture chair again and scrambled back up into my coat, which stood stiff of its own accord, planting my feet firmly on the carpet once again for purchase.
This could not be good. Something, I knew, was very wrong. And if fate would have it, then Mr. Spider-Whisperer here, who so obviously had it together, was going to give me news that would shatter my world…
‘Erica,’ he began, and I involuntarily said, ‘Uh-oh.’
He smiled, white teeth sparkling at me through dark red lips, supported by a square chin. And despite his effort to shave that morning, I could already see the dark stubble shadowing his cheeks.Tell me what’s wrong, damn you!
‘Coffee? Tea?’ he offered.
A basket case by now, I shook my head, wondering how long I could play it cool or whether I was about to fall apart.
‘Right, let’s not dally any further. Please forgive my bluntness but, in total confidentiality, is everything alright at home?’
