Beneath the Covers (Kimani Romance) Read Free Page B

him before his fame when Peter used to create documentaries for public and cable television, traveling the world to give voice to the voiceless. They’d gotten malaria together; he’d been at Frank’s wedding and commiserated with him through Frank’s divorce. Peter credited Frank as the man behind his fame.
    Peter’s bestselling book Your Bed or Mine?: Tips from the Ultimate Bachelor had started out as a dare when Frank was tallying up his legal fees after the breakup of his three-year marriage.
    “I didn’t know a divorce would cost this much,” Frank had said, spreading papers out on the dining table. He was staying at Peter’s expansive bachelor pad while he tried to get his life back in order. Peter came from money, although he never talked about it. He let Frank stay with him rent free and wouldn’t discuss payment of any kind. Frank was glad, because he needed all the money he could get. His ex-wife had ended up with the house (Frank hated the rambler, anyway), the dog (a purebred Pomeranian named Zou Zou) and all the china (what the hell did he need expensive china for, anyway?). They had split the rest.
    “That’s the price you pay for dreaming,” Peter said as he lay on the couch and flipped through the TV channels.
    Frank looked up from his bills. “What?”
    “Weddings, marriage. They’re all a big fantasy meant to prevent us from seeing the truth.”
    Frank rested his arms on the table, curious. “Which is?”
    “If you want to stay happy, you don’t get married.”
    “I had to get married.”
    Peter shook his head. “No, you didn’t.”
    “But she wanted to get married. I would have lost her otherwise.”
    “You believed that you would.” He held up his forefinger. “That was your first mistake. Never let a woman know your fear, or she has the upper hand. She sold you a myth that you paid for. Ultimatums are manipulations. I never fall for them.”
    “But I loved her.”
    “And you told her, right?”
    “Yes.”
    Peter shook his head. “That was your second mistake. There are only three times to tell a woman you love her. In the heat of passion (few women take that declaration seriously, so you can retract later), when you don’t mean it (just to see what she thinks of the relationship) or three, when you want something.”
    “Like what?”
    Peter sat up. “Say you’ve been seeing a woman for three months and she’s still skittish. You tell her that you love her, and in an instant—” he snapped his fingers “—you’re in. She feels special and safe with you.”
    “Isn’t that cruel?”
    “No. You can love a lot of things without being stuck with it forever, and don’t be fooled—women play the same game. Tamika said she loved you, too, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “But you’re sleeping in my guest bedroom. Most women care about the ring more than the man. Again, it’s about not falling for the myth. The moment a woman knows your weakness, you’re a lost man.”
    “But if you really love a woman…”
    “You remind yourself that there’s always someone better. And if that doesn’t work, remember the definition of love by Ambrose Bierce: ‘Love: a temporary insanity, curable by marriage.’ ”
    Frank sat back and shook his head. “You don’t really believe that. You were the best man at my wedding! You were the one who gave a speech that left half the women in tears.”
    “I know how to be sentimental.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
    “Because you wouldn’t have believed me. Back then you were blinded by love. Now your eyesight has been restored.”
    Frank folded his arms. “Haven’t you ever been in love?”
    Peter paused. “Once.”
    Frank waited, but when Peter didn’t expand on his answer, he shook his head again and gave a low whistle. “She must have been some woman to turn you off love completely.”
    “I believe in love. I just don’t believe in forever.”
    Frank rubbed his chin. “Everything you’ve said sounds nice