Married Lovers Read Free

regarded his thirty-two-year-old Hollywood Princess wife with her compact body and glossy auburn hair pulled back into a girlish ponytail. Sometimes she managed to sound like a whiney teenager. Today was one of those days and he wasn’t in the mood to indulge one of her childish fits.
    She was obviously expecting him to say something. He didn’t. He kept his silence, it was safer that way.
    “I said I’m bored,” Mandy repeated, twisting several expensive diamond tennis bracelets on her delicate wrist while throwing him an accusing look. “Didn’t you hear me?”
    “Well,” he said at last. “If you’re so bored, why don’t you do something about it?”
    His reply did not please her. “ You’re my husband,” she said, throwing him a baleful stare. “Why don’t you do something about it?”
    Ryan was not slow. Once again Mandy was on the warpath looking for a fight, and once again he was target number one. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. “Sorry,” he said,edging toward a fast exit. “I got a shitload of stuff to take care of today.”
    Actually he didn’t have a shitload of anything, but getting out of the house seemed like a wise idea.
    “What stuff?” Mandy demanded, her back stiffening. “It’s Saturday, aren’t we supposed to be spending the day together?”
    “No,” Ryan said, a tad abruptly. “I thought I mentioned that I’m having brunch with that Argentinian director I’ve been waiting to meet–he’s flown in specially to see me. Then later I promised my sis I’d drop by to see the kids.”
    “Which sis is that?” Mandy sneered as if “sis” was a dirty word she could barely get out. “The one with the jailbird husband?”
    “Don’t go there, Mandy,” he warned, temper rising. Christ! It drove him nuts when she went after his family, and she knew it. “Marty got arrested for a DUI–it could’ve happened to anyone.”
    “His third DUI,” Mandy said pointedly. “Even Daddy couldn’t help with that one.”
    Yeah. Daddy. Mandy’s father. Hamilton J. Heckerling. Movie Mogul Supreme. Überproducer. Starmaker. Egocentric pain in the ass. Not a conversation took place without her bringing Hamilton up one way or the other.
    “Where is Big Daddy?” he asked, not really caring, but determined to steer the conversation away from his sister, Evie, whom he loved dearly, and whom Mandy couldn’t stand. He knew she was jealous because he and Evie were so close.
    “Hamilton is in New York,” Mandy said, uncrossing her yoga-pant-clad legs. “I suspect he has a new girlfriend.”
    “Another one?”
    “He’s divorced,” Mandy said, immediately jumping to her father’s defense. “He can have as many girlfriends as he wants.”
    “He sure can,” Ryan answered–adding a dry–“ How many times has he been married?”
    “You know how many times,” Mandy sniffed.
    “I’m no expert.”
    “Oh, for God’s sake!”
    “What?”
    “Perhaps that’s where I should be,” she said, hurriedly changing the subject because she did not appreciate discussing her father’s love life–especially with Ryan.
    “Where?” he asked, purposely needling her.
    “In New York with him,” she snapped.
    “Well, if you—”
    “No!” Mandy said, throwing her husband a sharp look. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d enjoy having me out the way so you could hook up with some little tootsie whore and play around.”
    Jesus Christ! Why did she say such things? Why did she go out of her way to piss him off?
    Seven years they’d been married. Seven long years, and not once had he cheated on her, although the opportunities that came his way were abundant. He was thirty-nine and not bad-looking, above average in fact. He was over six feet tall, quite fit–thanks to daily jogging. He had longish sandy-brown hair, extremely intense blue eyes–his best feature–and a slightly crooked nose busted in a football game when he was twelve. The vibe he had going for him was a