The Man She Married

A long bath, a flute of bubbly, a sexy teddy and a spray of perfume later, she was hot to trot. But was Clay?

“Honey, are you ready for bed?” Maizie channeled her inner seductress as she struck a pose in the door.

No response.

“Clayton. Did you hear me?”

When he didn’t respond Maizie decided it was time for more action and less talk. She walked slowly over to the couch and seductively nibbled on the back of his neck.

“Let me catch the rest of the news and I’ll be right with you,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“What?” Maizie couldn’t believe she’d been rebuffed. The moron would rather watch the weather than make love? If that didn’t beat all! She counted to ten and decided to give him one more chance.

All Southern belles had an arsenal of tricks, and Maizie was no exception. She treated her oblivious husband to a little swish, a more pronounced sashay and the coup de grace, a naughty hip grind, all done right in front of him for maximum effect.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing! This was war. Clay didn’t know it yet, but he would live to rue this day.

Maizie stalked to the bedroom and pulled on an oversize Atlanta Braves T-shirt and a pair of faded boxer shorts. To hell with sexy.

Then she had a brilliant idea. She’d make Clay pea-green jealous. Not that she’d ever do anything more than flirt, of course.

Clay was the only man for her, but a little flirtation couldn’t hurt. All she had to do was show him that other men found her attractive. It was a surefire way to jump start the passion.

It sounded simple, but could she really pull it off? Magnolia Bluff’s selection of single, desirable men was limited. Who was she kidding? It was almost nonexistent. Kenni and Liza had managed to find a couple of supersexy guys, but Zack and Win were imports. The pickin’s were slim when it came to the home-grown product.

So, where could she find a guy, preferably someone under sixty who still had his teeth? This would take some thought, but she’d never shied away from a challenge.

Once that was decided, Maizie padded to the kitchen for a snack. Clay was still glued to the TV in the family room. What she really wanted to do was to curl up in his lap and run her fingers through his hair, but that wasn’t on the agenda, not after the last rejection. They had to get some zing back in their life, and she knew just how to do it.

Pigging out on a glass of cold milk and a chocolate cookie seemed a good strategy to get some perspective. Unfortunately, the sugar rush gave way to a smidgen of doubt.

Was this jealousy scheme a flash of brilliance or was it one of the silliest ideas she’d ever dreamed up? Only time would tell.

CLAY TRIED TO IGNORE his sense of impending disaster, but the banging and muttering in the kitchen didn’t help. Once again, he’d made Maizie mad and that honestly hadn’t been his intention.

The party had been sheer hell. It had taken every ounce of energy Clay had to smile and prattle on about football and national championships. Especially since he hadn’t slept more than three hours a night for the past two weeks.

Every time he closed his eyes all he could envision was the bankruptcy court and what would happen to their employees if they went under. He should come clean with Maizie. They’d always shared everything, but he and his partner had made such stupid, naive mistakes, he was embarrassed to tell her.

It would all work out. It had to. God, he was exhausted. That was the last thought Clay had before he fell asleep in his chair.

Chapter Four

When Monday finally rolled around Maizie couldn’t wait for her workday to start. She needed some info and there was no better place to get it than her shop. The right guy for the jealousy gig was out there, all she had to do was find him.

Maizie fluffed her hair, put on her best Miss Georgia third runner-up smile and prepared to greet her customers. Jeannine Crabtree was scheduled for a makeover. The crazy old bat expected a miracle. Too bad miracles were in short supply.

The good news, if there was any, was that Jeannine was related to at least a quarter of the people in town. So if the perfect guy was around, she’d know about him. The only question was whether she’d share.

“Maizie? Are you here?” PJ called as she opened the front door. Hmm, that girl could charm anyone—even Jeannine Crabtree. She could interrogate the old witch without her even realizing what was happening.

“I’m here.” Maizie threw a smock over her dress. “I’ll be out in just a sec.”

“I stopped in at the bakery on my way to work. I brought beignets.” PJ displayed a white sack that had a slight smudge of grease on the bottom. “They’re hot.”

Maizie groaned. “You’re a wicked, wicked woman. You know I’m trying to lose a couple of pounds.”

“Fiddlesticks, you look fantastic. I wish I had a little more, um…” PJ made a bouncy motion with her hands in front of her chest. “Cleavage,” she finished with a giggle.

Maizie grabbed the bag, retrieved one of the New Orleans doughnuts and took a big bite. “Oh my God, this is better than sex.” She almost purred in ecstasy. “I think I’ll give you a raise.”

PJ arched one eyebrow. “Really?”

“No, not really. But if you do Jeannine Crabtree’s makeover I’ll be eternally grateful.”

Village legend had it that you could walk into Miss Scarlett’s Boudoir looking like Cinderella’s ugly step-sister and walk out as Carmen Electra. Maizie claimed it was all in the magic of a mascara wand. Whatever it was, women of all ages had turned into believers—even the crabby Ms. Crabtree.

PJ snorted. “I’ll just bet you would. That woman’s as mean as a junkyard dog. If I can stay out of her way, I do.” She graced Maizie with her best insincere smile. “Sorry, my schedule is completely booked.”

She didn’t look a bit contrite. “Oh, all right.” Maizie was a smart girl. She knew when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

“I almost forgot,” PJ said as she prepared the cash register for the day. “I saw Liza at the post office this morning. She wants to meet you for lunch. You’re supposed to call her at work.”

“Thanks.” Maizie picked up the cordless phone and punched in her twin’s number.

“Liza Hender…Maynard speaking.”

“Forget your name?”

“Up yours.”

“That’s not very lawyerly. You should try to be more professional.” Maizie broke into giggles. She was the elder by a mere ten minutes but had embraced the role of big sister.

“Seriously, PJ said you want to do lunch. Where and when?”

“Hold on a second.” Liza must have put her hand over the receiver because the voices were in the backyard muffled. Several seconds later she came back on the line. “Okay, that’s taken care of. Don’t you hate Monday morning crises?”

“Yep,” Maizie said as she rummaged through her makeup kit. Multitasking was her specialty and spiffing up old lady Crabtree was going to require every trick she knew.

“Zack said there’s a new barbecue place out near the highway. Do you want to try it?”

Maizie laughed. Today was the first day of her new diet and she’d already gorged herself on a deep-fried doughnut and now she was booked for some down-home barbecue. She could almost feel the fat cells multiplying on her derriere.

“Sure, why not? How about one o’clock? The noon rush should be over by then.”

“I’ll see you there,” Liza said, and then almost as an afterthought she continued. “You might want to change into something old. I hear the food’s pretty greasy.”

Wonderful—big globs of grease, too. Just what she needed. On that cheerful note, the bell over the door heralded Ms. Crabtree’s entrance.