Almost Married Page 4

  She barely resisted smacking that smug smile off his face. “Do you have the papers with you?”

  “Nah. They’re in L.A. with Paulie D.”

  That was his lawyer. That meant he wouldn’t sign them until after he left. She’d have to take his word for it that he would. But what choice did she have? She needed to move on with her life.

  “Fine,” she snapped. She reached for her purse on the floor, pulled out her cell, and dialed Dave. Thankfully she got him and not his voicemail. She spoke fast. “Hi, it's Steph. Don't be mad, but Griffin showed up today. I had no idea he was coming.”

  “Hi, Dave,” Griff called cheerfully.

  Steph covered Griff’s mouth with her hand, and he flicked his tongue rapidly over her palm. She quickly dropped her hand and gave him a death stare. “He says he wants to meet you before he signs the divorce papers. Could you please come over? I would really, really appreciate it.” She held her breath. “Okay. Bye.”

  “What did he say?” Griff asked.

  “He's coming right over.”

  Griff rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Good. So now what?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What should we do until he gets here?” He gave her a slow, sexy smile that infuriated her.

  “You should just sit there and think about how you're going to treat Dave with the respect he deserves. I'm going to call a friend. And don't answer the buzzer. I'll do it.” She headed for her bedroom.

  “Love it when you’re bossy, wife,” he called.

  She looked over her shoulder to find him texting. Probably to one of his harem. She slammed the bedroom door behind her. She heard his low laugh and groaned in aggravation. This might all be a game to him, but she was serious, and damn if she was going to let him turn her life upside-down.

  She was about to call Amber—Jaz would still be teaching dance class—when her eye caught on the framed picture of her and her younger brother, Joey, on the nightstand. She grabbed the picture, sank to the bed, and stared at her cheerful brother. Joey was twenty-eight and had Down syndrome. He lived at Horizon Village, a private community for adults with Down syndrome. He loved it there and often spoke with pride of his job cleaning hotel rooms and the nights he was in charge of dinner at his group home (with the help of the house mother).

  Griff was the one that paid the tuition.

  Joey was the only reason she’d held out hope for so long that Griff might still love her, might still come back to her. Not only did Griff pay the tuition, every celebrity charity event he did, he sent all the proceeds to Horizon Village. She’d never asked him to do any of that.

  Shortly after she married Griff, her mother had lost a long battle with breast cancer. She suspected her mom had held on just long enough to see her daughter married. Her dad had left right after Joey’s birth, unable to handle having a son with special needs. So that left Steph to care for Joey. Her mom had spoken often of Horizon Village as a way for Joey to live as an independent adult and for Steph to live her own life. When her mom got sick, her mom put Joey on a long waiting list for scholarship residents.

  In the meantime, Joey had lived with her and Griff for the first few months of their marriage at her mom’s house. Then Griff got that big recording contract, and the first thing he did was hand her a check for the first year of Joey’s tuition. They’d moved her brother into his new home, and Steph had spent the next three months by Griff’s side as he toured. Then his music video went viral, his popularity exploded, and he sent Steph home to wait as his tour went global. He’d said it would be a grueling pace, and he wanted her to relax at home. He wanted her to go back to her job before she lost it, in case this rock ’n’ roll gig didn’t pan out. And he’d promised regular visits.

  That was the beginning of the end.

  She had to tread carefully with Griff. She knew he’d prepaid the next two years of Joey’s tuition with the winnings from his last celebrity poker tournament. Would he keep paying the tuition out of consideration for her? Would Joey be upset if he had to move in with her and leave the people he felt so comfortable with? He had friends there. Would she be able to handle a life spent caring for her brother and still live her own life? Would Dave want any part of that?

  She dropped her head in her hands. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t hold back because of what might happen. She’d handle it. Her marriage wasn’t real. It was time to end it. She made a quick call to Amber to fill her in and to calm herself. A short time later, she heard the buzzer, and her heart raced. Dave was here.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dave drove like a maniac from Eastman where he'd just finished up his extra-help session for some students after school. He couldn't believe the hold this guy Griffin held over Steph. Like he had any right after a five-year separation. He'd spent most of the night going over Steph’s shocking news, reminding himself this was nothing like Sherri, this was a real separation, but still feeling uneasy about it. And really not happy about the dishonesty. Were there other things she’d kept from him? A relationship couldn’t work without honesty.

  But, dammit, when she called and he heard the pleading in her voice, the near desperation, he knew he had to show up at her place. He could tell she didn’t want to be alone with Griffin. He would go because she needed him.

  Hell, who was he kidding? He loved her. He missed her after just one day of being apart. Him showing up at Steph’s place would help her. Griffin would sign the divorce papers, and Steph would be free to live her life. With him.

  He pulled up to her place, parking on the street behind a stretch limo. A prickling of unease went through him. Was Steph's husband a multimillionaire? He got out of his Ford Fusion and walked briskly up the steps. So what if her husband was rich? Money wasn't everything. Steph wouldn't care about that. They were both teachers. She understood the intangible rewards of teaching, like that moment when a student's face lit up as they grasped a new concept. Those moments were gold.

  He hit the intercom. “It's Dave.”

  “Come on up,” Steph said, buzzing him in the front door.

  He took the stairs two at a time, smoothed his hair, and knocked.

  The door swung open. “You got here fast,” Steph said.

  “I might have broken the speed limit a few times,” he admitted. He was usually careful never to break any traffic laws. He’d never even gotten a ticket before.

  She kissed him on the cheek. “I missed you,” she whispered.

  His chest ached. “I missed you too.”

  A voice drawled from the sofa. “Aww…isn't that sweet?”

  Dave strode in to meet the man who stood between him and his woman. The other man stood, nearly as tall as Dave, but with more bulk. There was something familiar about the guy—the leather, the tattoos, the long hair. Shit.

  “You're Griffin Huntley,” Dave said. He only knew this disturbing fact because his sister, Christina, was a Twisted Star fanatic. Chris went to all of their concerts on the East Coast. She even had a poster of Griffin in her bedroom like a teenaged girl.

  Griffin flashed a smile that held little warmth. “In the flesh.”

  Dave turned to Steph in horror. “Your husband is a freaking rock star?”

  Steph put a hand on his arm. “It's no big deal.”

  “And what do you do?” Griffin asked.

  Dave stood tall and proud. “I’m a math teacher.”

  Griffin raised a brow. “Sexy.”

  Dave saw red. What he did wasn't glamorous or sexy, but it was important work. And Steph, also a teacher, was the woman he loved. How dare Griffin put down both of them in their chosen professions? This guy probably wouldn’t know a square root from a binomial.

  He got in Griffin's face. “You got a problem with teachers? Because in case you hadn't noticed, Steph and I are both teachers.”

  “I don't got a problem with teachers,” Griffin shot back. He put his hands on Dave's chest and gave him a shove. “I got a problem with a guy horning in on my w
oman.”

  Dave shoved back, but Griffin didn't budge. Dammit. He vowed to begin lifting weights this weekend. “Then there's no problem because she's not your woman.”

  “Maybe we should take this outside,” Griffin said, challenge in his eyes.

  Steph stepped between them. “Enough! Griff, you've met Dave, so now you can sign the papers. I won't ask for a cent from you.”

  Griffin eyed Dave. “I’m not losing my wife to a geek like you.”

  “She deserves better than a player like you,” Dave spat.

  He’d seen Griffin on plenty of tabloid covers at the supermarket with models in bikinis. Steph was more beautiful than any of them. And he’d been lucky enough to see her in her underwear, so he knew. This guy was a complete and total moron not to see what he’d had in Steph. Plus she was smart and nice, which was also important to a guy seeking a partner, not just a fuck buddy, though he still wanted to be both to Steph. Badly. Dammit. Why did Griffin have to show up before Dave had managed to get Steph into bed? Him and his stupid morals. What kind of chance did he stand against a famous rock star? Rock stars could do whatever the hell they wanted and get away with it.

  He was still mentally berating himself when Griffin snapped his fingers right in Dave’s face. Dave met his eyes and scowled.

  Griffin crossed his arms. “I said,” he drawled, “game on, geek.”

  Dave's hackles rose. He was very competitive and always won the online chess and scrabble games he played with the best players the Internet had to offer. “Game fucking on!”

  “Dave!” Steph exclaimed.

  Dave glanced at her and went back to staring down his opponent. “I'm not afraid of a little competition.” Bluffing was very important in one-on-one male confrontations. He lifted his chin to look down at the enemy. “I was a mathlete in high school.”

  Griffin burst out laughing.

  Dave shoved him. Caught off guard, Griffin stumbled back.

  “You’ll pay for that,” Griffin said, charging toward Dave.

  Dave quickly took refuge behind the sofa. Griffin leaped over it, grabbed him, and they hit the floor with a thud.

  “Griff!” Steph shouted. “Get off him this minute!”

  “Ahh,” Griffin moaned, grabbing one of Steph’s hands. She had both her hands in his long hair and was pulling pretty hard if his eyelids lifting into weird, curving slits was any indication. He got off Dave, assisted by Steph’s grip on his hair.

  “Both of you get out,” Steph said, hustling them toward the door. “There's a ridiculous amount of testosterone in here. I can't believe two grown men are acting this way.”

  Griffin grabbed his jacket. “This isn't over,” he told Steph before walking out the door.

  After the door shut behind Griffin, Dave turned to Steph to explain his manly display. “I can't let him treat you that way.”

  Steph shook her head. “Just go.”

  “I’m not giving up,” Dave said fiercely. “He doesn’t deserve you.” He would fight for the woman he loved. And he would win.

  “Bye, Dave.” She pushed him through the doorway and shut the door in his face.

  He stood there for a minute, calculating his chances of getting back into her apartment, decided they weren't good, and headed downstairs. Thankfully, the limo was already pulling away. He needed time to formulate a plan. The most romantic sweep-her-off-her-feet plan that didn't involve money or rock-star sex appeal.

  That should come easily, he didn't have either.

  Chapter Four

  Steph collapsed on her sofa with a Lean Cuisine for dinner later that night, completely dumbfounded that the two men in her life were actually fighting over her. First, the fact that Griff thought he even had a chance with her was laughable. No communication for years, and then he suddenly claimed his rights as a husband. Ha! And Dave going all caveman and in Griff's face was shocking. She'd never seen him act tough or macho the entire time she'd known him. He'd always been a perfect mild-mannered gentleman. What had gotten into him?

  When she'd first met Dave at the state teachers' conference, he'd been running a workshop on the new math standards and how to implement them. Steph had felt it especially important to attend his workshop to prepare her fifth grade students for middle school math. He'd been adorable at the podium, wearing a navy blue T-shirt with a giant pi symbol on it. That had caught her attention right away in the sea of business-casual outfits. And he’d been so enthusiastic too, with big hand gestures as he spoke.

  “Hi, I'm Mr. Olsen,” he said with a wave, “but all of you past puberty can call me Dave.”

  She giggled. A teacher joke. The rest of the teachers stared blankly at Dave.

  “Thank you,” Dave said, pointing at her. “I'll be here for the next ninety minutes.”

  She smiled. He smiled back.

  Dave cleared his throat. “Anyway, I heard it's always good to start a lecture with a joke, so here goes.” His palms went up. “Why did the chicken cross the Moebius strip?”

  “Why?” a man in the back row asked dryly.

  “To get to the other…er, um…” He scratched his head.

  Silence. Steph smiled.

  Dave grinned. “Thank you smiling woman in the front row.” He swept his arms forward. “Moving right along with number bonds…”

  After the workshop, she'd approached him with a few others on the pretense of asking him a question. Up close, she liked his size, taller than her, his lean build with broad shoulders, the deep blue eyes she finally saw behind those black-rimmed glasses when it was nearly her turn to speak to him. He was cute. Geeky cute.

  Finally, they were face to face.

  “Hey,” he said. “Thanks for humoring me. It was just crickets out there. It’s like no one expects math to be fun.” His brows crinkled comically at the notion.

  “I hear ya,” she said with a laugh, though she wasn't crazy about math. She did appreciate him lightening up what was typically a long day of dry, put-you-to-sleep workshops.

  He grinned, and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses.

  “Any advice on the best way to introduce proofs at the fifth-grade level to prepare my students for middle school?” she asked.

  “I've got a lot to say on this subject.” He looked at his shoes. “Do you, uh, want to grab some lunch, and we can, uh, talk about it?”

  “I'd love to.”

  He met her eyes and grinned. “Great! What's your name?”

  “Stephanie Moore.”

  He shook her hand and warmth shot up her arm at his touch. Their eyes met and held. He’d felt it too. The chemistry.

  “Pleased to meet you, Stephanie,” he said in a husky voice.

  At Dave’s suggestion, they went to a restaurant down the street from the hotel for a quieter atmosphere. Their lunch had been informative. Dave, true to his word, had a lot to say about proofs as well as preparing students for middle school math. She loved his enthusiasm for teaching. She discovered they worked for the same school district, which meant he lived not too far from her. She already knew she wanted to see him again.

  They reached for the check at the same time, and they both blushed.

  “I'll pay,” Dave said. “As payment for listening to me yammer on.”

  “It was educational,” she said.

  A corner of his mouth kicked up. “That's me.”

  As they walked back to the hotel conference center, they chatted about the conference and the workshops they'd attended while Steph kept wondering if he'd ask for her phone number.

  He held the door to the hotel open for her like a perfect gentleman. They were about to rejoin the masses for the afternoon workshops when Steph did something she'd never done in her life. She asked him out.

  “You want to have dinner this weekend?” she asked.

  “You-you're asking me out? Wow. That would be awesome!” His smile was ear-to-ear, and she was glad she'd asked. “Give me your cell. I'll program my number in.”

  When he hande
d it to her, she glanced down. It read: Teacher Dave. She loved the way he was simply himself with no pretense, no pretending. A sweet guy who loved math, who wore what he wanted, who expressed exactly how he felt without hiding behind a macho guy façade. It was so refreshing.

  Now, with Dave going toe-to-toe with Griff, she wasn't sure if the real Dave had come out of hiding or if he was pretending to be something he wasn't just to impress her. Either way, she wanted the sweet Dave back. She had enough of testosterone overload with Griff.

  She grabbed the TV remote and stilled. What was that noise? It sounded like singing. She walked to the back of her apartment toward her bedroom. Yup, singing and an acoustic guitar. She pushed up the window blinds and stared down at Griff gazing up at her. She should’ve known he wouldn’t go away that easily. He never did listen to what she wanted. She opened her window. He was standing under the motion-sensor light in the back that was as bright as a spotlight. It was her favorite song of his—a ballad‚ “Once I Held You.” He smiled as he sang:

  You're hot like a dream

  Girl, what you do to me

  My insides melt like cream

  What you do to me

  Some of the other tenants came out to listen. Pete, a guy in his twenties, bobbed his head in time to the music. Someone in a hoodie stood next to Pete. Maybe his girlfriend? It was hard to tell, but the size of the person said woman. Roberta and Pauline, sisters who shared the first floor apartment, looked enthralled. Griff kept singing, right to her, his heart in his eyes.

  You make me whole

  You make me complete

  My soul, my heart calls to you

  Will you answer, or will I wait alone

  Once I held you, once you were mine

  Girl, what you do to me.

  Tears stung her eyes. Damn him and his thrilling music. This was the song he’d written for her in between gigs on his first tour.

  He finished the song and called up to her with a glance toward his audience. “That song was inspired by my wife, Steph.”

  Everyone stared up at her. The man loved an audience.