An Inconvenient Husband
Divorce solutionIt wasn't that Nicky hadn't loved her husband - quite the opposite. By leaving, Nicky had hoped to provoke some kind of reaction. Blake Chandler was the strong and silent type. He didn't show much emotion behind those impassive gray eyes.Of course, Nicky's plan had misfired - Blake had been only too happy to sign the divorce papers. Now, four years later, Nicky is abducted by her ex, and this time Blake is far from silent about his feelings.
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“You wrote me we didn’t have a marriage at all.”About the AuthorTitle PagePROLOGUECHAPTER ONECHAPTER TWOCHAPTER THREECHAPTER FOURCHAPTER FIVECHAPTER SIXCHAPTER SEVENCHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINECHAPTER TENCHAPTER ELEVENCHAPTER TWELVECopyright
“You wrote me we didn’t have a marriage at all.”
Nicky’s nails were digging into her palms. “I suppose it was more like an...arrangement ”
The silence was deafening. “I see,” Blake said at last, his voice ominously low.
“A convenient arrangement for you,” she heard herself say. “You’d go on your trips, and whenever you came home I was conveniently there for you, to cook your meals and be available in bed.”
“I don’t think,” he said at last, “that this is a fruitful discussion.” Hie voice was cold with barely restrained fury. “I have no desire to have an argument over something that’s been dead and gone for over four years.”
Ever since KAREN VAN DER ZEE was a child growing up in Holland, she wanted to do two things: write books and travel. She’s been very lucky. Her American husband’s work as a development economist has taken them to many exotic locations. They were married in Kenya, had their first daughter in Ghana and their second in the United States. They spent two fascinating years in Indonesia. Since then they’ve added a son to the family. They live in Virginia, but not permanently!
PROLOGUE
NICKY’S hand trembled as she reached for the phone on her father’s desk, pushing aside the tiny cup of thick black coffee the servant had brought her a few moments ago. She had all the jitters she needed without the caffeine.
She dialed the number and heard the ringing of the phone on the other side of the world. Her heart was beating so frantically, it was frightening. She stared out the window as the phone kept ringing, at the view of palm trees and the tall minaret of the mosque silhouetted against the cobalt blue Moroccan sky.
Finally the ringing stopped and a female hotel employee answered the phone in English, her voice accented and cheerful. The line was clear, as if the voice came from the house next door rather than from Manilla in the Philippines.
Nicky closed her eyes and braced herself, her chest heavy with anxiety. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Blake Chandler, please. I don’t know the room number.”
“One moment, please.”
The phone rang again. In Blake’s room. Finally, his voice—short, clipped, deep. The voice she loved more than any other in the world. The voice of her husband.
Yet her heart was not racing with love and excitement. It was thundering with trepidation.
“Blake, it’s Nicky,” she said.
“Nicky?” He sounded surprised. “I’m glad you’re calling. I was about to call you. How are you?”
She swallowed. “I’m fine.”
I’m not fine, she corrected silently. I’m scared. Blake, I’m so scared.
“And your mother?”
“She’s doing much better.”
Nicky was in Morocco with her parents because her mother had become ill and she’d wanted to be with her. Her father worked for the U.S. Agency for International Development and he and her mother had lived in Marrakech for the past year.
Nicky tried to relax her hand gripping the receiver. “Why were you going to call me?” she asked. Please tell me you miss me. Please tell me you love me and can’t wait to be home together again.
“There’s a problem with the project,” Blake said instead. “It will take a couple of days to straighten out. I’ll be home two days late, on Saturday, same flight schedule.”
Disappointment tasted bitter in her mouth. He wasn’t telling her what she needed to hear. She swallowed. “It’s all right. As it turns out, I’ve changed my plans, as well.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact. “I’m going to see Sophie in Rome on my way back to the States. She’s having her baby and I... I think it’s nice for me to be there.”
“How long will you stay?” A businesslike question. His voice was expressionless.
She swallowed hard. Go ahead, do it, urged the little voice inside her.
Next week Blake would come home and the plan had been for her to be back in Washington, as well. She closed her eyes, steeling herself. “Three weeks,” she said, feeling her heart grow cold.
A slight pause. “We won’t see each other, then,” came his voice. “You won’t be back home until after I leave again for Guatemala.”
Her hands shook. She clenched her left one hard around the receiver. “Right.” She gulped in air. “Do you mind?”
They had not seen each other in almost three months and if she didn’t go straight home next week they wouldn’t see each other for another month or so until Blake came back from his next consulting trip to Guatemala. And she was asking him if he minded. “You have to be there for your friends,” Blake stated. There was no inflection in his voice. “I’ll manage. I’m a big boy.”
She felt as if she were suffocating. He doesn’t care! came the desperate thought. He didn’t care last time and he doesn’t care now. What was it he had said last time?
If your mother needs you, then of course you have to stay. That had been five weeks ago when she had called him and told him she wouldn’t be home when he came back from his business trip because her mother still wasn’t very well.
