ONE WIFE TOO MANY Read online

  "That sounds good, Wilson." She had trouble standing, so he helped her to her feet.

  She gazed up at him. Oh how she wanted to please him. Just looking at him made her all wet inside. Goodness!

  She had a nervous habit of twirling things around her finger. Needing to release tension, she resorted to the childhood habit and coiled a lock of her short blonde hair until it was tightly wound.

  Her father hated this habit. But then again, what didn't he hate of hers? He'd also demanded she dye her hair this bright shade of blonde.

  She grinned. She had a new man in her life to please. No longer did she have to jump to Randolph Andrew Ernst's tune.

  Thank God.

  Wilson leaned down and captured her lips with a gentle kiss, soft like butterfly wings.

  Andrea didn't want the kiss to end.

  He pulled away and gave a little laugh. After a moment, he grazed the tip of her nose with his finger. "All right then. You rest and I'll be back."

  She followed him with her gaze until he left the honeymoon suite. What a hunk! She allowed the biggest sigh in the world to escape. The sigh turned into a yawn.

  She was the luckiest girl in the world.

  Plopping down on the bed, Andrea snuggled under the covers. She extended the fingers of her left hand and examined the opulent gleam of white gold on her distinctive, cross-weave wedding band.

  After another sigh, she closed her eyes to dream of her new life as Mrs. Wilson Struthers.

  * * * *

  Upon entering the yacht's compact casino, Will received congratulatory slaps, nudges in the ribs, and sly winks, just as he'd expected.

  That he was being applauded under false pretenses didn't bother him. His lack of marital consummation was only temporary. He'd accomplish the bedding in but a few short hours.

  He smiled. As a matter of fact, he was looking forward to it.

  "Here's the man of the hour now." Kevin, dressed formally in a suit and tie, staggered over, then pounded him on the upper arm.

  The stagger could've been caused by the rough seas. In just thirty minutes, the waves had transformed from mild to forceful. On the other hand, Kevin's unsteady walking could've been from overconsumption of whisky.

  Will rubbed at his shoulder. The man literally didn't know his own strength.

  "How about a game of blackjack?" Kevin pulled him toward an elliptical table. The tuxedoed dealer--Hiuwe, from this afternoon's dolphin sighting--was busy laying cards down for three players. Coincidentally--or not, all three players worked in the law firm's billing department.

  "Sure. Why not?" Will joined the players and sat at the kelly green-topped table. Kevin sat to his left.

  Will's mind wasn't on cards, though. Andrea's revelations concerning Randolph Ernst clamored for his attention.

  Hiuwe dealt a card. Will checked it. A ten. He tapped on the face-down card for another hit.

  Hiuwe complied, dealing a queen. "Another hit or a stand, Sir Wilson?"

  "Stand."

  As the play continued with the other players, Kevin leaned closer to Will. "How prophetic. You got a Queen of Hearts, m'laddie. Just like the fair Andrea. So how was sampling our young heir apparent? Did she allow you to cross-examine her? Or was she a hostile witness?"

  "You're an ass, Kevin."

  "Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial, counselor." Kevin signaled to a hula skirted server. "Two whiskies, please."

  After the drinks arrived, he set a glass next to Will. "See, my good man? I'm sharing with you. It's your turn to share with me."

  Will downed some whisky, then looked around the noisy casino. It contained typical gaming fare, with thirty or so slot and video poker machines along with five other tables for cards, plus the ubiquitous roulette wheel. Blaring music, swirling cigar smoke, and flashing colors all bombarded the senses.

  And if the sensory overload was a problem, the open bar's libations took the edge off.

  The anything-goes festivities were a far cry from the somber atmosphere of courtroom proceedings usually associated with Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen. Inhibitions, usually under lock and key, at least at the office, now had been checked at the door.

  Will quickly turned away from the sight of several carousing law firm partners and employees in various stages of partial undress who provided an unintentional floorshow. He wasn't interested in who was getting off with whom. He was looking for the tall, commanding figure of Randolph Ernst.

  No full head of silver hair stood over the slot machines or sat at the gaming tables. The big man must be busy elsewhere.

  Will finished his drink. After what Andrea had told him, he would never look at his boss--and father-in-law--the same way again.

  "Your card, Sir Wilson?" Hiuwe called Will's attention back to the game.

  Glancing around, he noted everyone's cards, then the dealer's two kings. Will turned over his card to reveal the Ace of Spades. "Twenty-one."

  As an avalanche of chips headed his way, Kevin pounded on his back again. "Will, baby, you are golden. Lucky in love, and now lucky at cards."

  "I hope you're right." Will lifted another drink from a server and helped himself to a liberal gulp.

  His head buzzed, which was no surprise given the number of whiskies he'd ingested today. Despite the fact that he was well on his way to intoxication, he felt odd. A strange feeling settled over him.

  Perhaps it was time to leave this den of iniquity and return back to the cabin, back to Andrea.

  He slid his stash of winnings over to Kevin, and then stood, albeit unsteadily. "You talked about sharing, so here you go. I'm doing my part. Enjoy."

  "But--"

  "No buts, buddy boy." Will grinned at his friend's look of total shock. "You have fun with the chips. I'm turning in for the night."

  He resisted the group's noisy persuasion to stay. Still holding his drink, Will carefully maneuvered past annoyingly loud slot machines and equally annoying drunken passengers until he walked out the casino doors.

  Once in the carpeted corridor, he stood a moment to get his bearings. Wrong move. A giant wave crashed against the starboard side of the ship. He lost his balance, and his drink, and smashed into the wall.

  While his crystal tumbler harmlessly bounced on the carpeted floor, the glassware inside the casino wasn't as lucky. The tinkling of breaking glass was loud enough to be heard out in the corridor. Evidently everything that wasn't nailed down on the bar counter had slid to the other end, and then landed down onto the floor.

  What a waste of booze.

  Will grinned, righted himself, took a step. Another wave crashed into the ship, knocking him full force back into the wall.

  Damn. The shit just got kicked out of him. If Andrea had been seasick before, there was no telling just how badly she was feeling right now. Urgency fueled his movements.

  He waited until the ship righted itself. As he took another step, he felt a strong tug on the sleeve of his shirt. Looking over, he saw his boss leaning across the threshold of a private lounge.

  Randolph Ernst was a big man. When he entered a room, people always took notice. Impressive, powerful, embarrassingly rich, he was also a handsome man. The complete package. For any age, and his totaled sixty-three years.

  "Come in here and take a seat, Will. Sit this blasted ride out. You don't want to be bouncing from wall to wall like a pinball machine, hey?" Ernest took his own advice and fell into a colorfully upholstered chair near a large window.

  Will walked inside the lounge and took a curved-back chair opposite his boss. He hadn't had a chance to confer with the man since they took off from the Richmond International Airport on this honeymoon extravaganza. Since the lounge, with its snug atmosphere of intimate groupings of single chairs plus two sofas located at the end of the room, was empty of other passengers, this was an ideal time to have a candid talk.

  He glanced out the window at the darkness beyond. Inky blackness. Only splashes of white from savage waves breaking against the window cou
ld be seen.

  Ernst leaned back in his chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him. He wore casual khaki Dockers and a deep blue shirt that matched the color of his striking eyes.

  His daughter's eyes were striking as well. More so. As Will remembered the pure turquoise color, he smiled.

  "This infernal sea's even worse than normal. Captain said we're smack dab in the middle of the Pailolo Channel, between Molokai and Maui. One of the windiest and roughest seas around, blast it. Storm came up suddenly. Too suddenly," Ernst growled, as if the weather was a personal affront.

  "It will pass, sir." Will ran his hand over his hair. Where to begin? He started with neutral ground. "I haven't had an opportunity yet to tell you, sir, that I appreciate you entrusting Andrea to me."

  Ernst barked out a laugh. "All those sirs, Will. We're family now. You don't have to brown-nose me anymore."

  Will raised his eyebrow. "That's certainly blunt, at any rate--"

  "Randy, call me Randy." Ernst pursed his lips and a thoughtful expression came over his face. "It's my hope that eventually you'll find it in your heart to call me Dad."

  Will raised both eyebrows. So the hard-as-nails Randolph Ernst viewed him as a son?

  Interesting.

  The wood-paneled room creaked and groaned from the strain of the constant wave bombardment. For an uneasy minute, Will considered the possibility of the yacht capsizing.

  His new bride might be terrified alone in the honeymoon suite.

  "I'd better get back to Andrea, er, Randy. When I left the cabin, she planned to take a nap. The seas were calmer then. She might be a bit unwell now."

  "Not a sailor, my Andrea. Sicker than a dog on the water, and in the air." Ernst sighed, which seemed to deflate the larger-than-life size of his persona. "Even in a car. But stay and have a drink with me. Just one. To cement our gentleman's agreement, hey?"

  "Sure. I'll get--"

  "No need." Ernst raised his head and projected his voice toward the back of the room. "Dahlia? Do wake up, dear."

  The fetching face of Dahlia Meyers, law clerk and handcuff expert extraordinaire, peeked over the back of a couch.

  "Yes, Randy?" Her jet-black hair wildly mussed, her dark eyes flashing, she looked at the boss, then slid her gaze to Will. "Hello, Will."

  "Dahlia." Damn. During this trip, he had gone out of his way to avoid the dallying Dahlia with her taste for handcuff bondage. Too bad the room hadn't been empty, as he'd believed.

  As she slowly stood, revealing her generously curved body in a tight, sheath dress, he averted his eyes. This woman had the equipment to raise men's blood pressure several notches. He wasn't immune, and by the rapid breathing coming from the opposite chair, neither was Ernst.

  "Dahlia, dear, we're parched," Ernst ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. "Bring us a bottle of that fine Chivas Regal, would you?"

  She sashayed over behind Ernst and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. Naturally, the neckline of her dress gaped open, affording Will a front row view of her deliciously rounded breasts.

  "I'll be right back." She straightened, brushed back her unruly hair. With a smile, she swayed her peach-like rear until she was out of the lounge.

  Ernst removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. "Watching that woman is going to give me a heart attack one of these days."

  Will had to agree. "Dahlia does know how to move, doesn't she?"

  "Hmmn." Ernst shifted in his chair. "Never mind her. Let's you and me discuss business."

  Will gave his complete attention to the lead senior partner of Ernst, Scargill, and Petersen. The business mentioned had to have been about Will's upcoming transition to partner--a much coveted position.

  He allowed the buzz from attaining partnership to mingle with the alcoholic buzz from whisky. Today was turning out to be a good day, after all.

  * * * *

  Andrea stretched languidly in the cabin bed. One arm out, then the other, then arching her back off the mattress. Mmmm. She felt good, happy, in love. The nap had been just what her doctor would've ordered, had she consulted him.

  Through her haze of contentment, she heard the walls around her moan, protesting being subjected to violent rocking on the water.

  Rocking? She sat up and felt herself moving from side to side.

  Oh no! Her stomach rose to meet her mouth.

  Clapping her hand over her lips, she made her way to the bathroom. Once inside the marble floor and wall sanctuary, she remembered something. Something important.

  Where was Wilson?

  She immediately forgot about her seasickness, and checked the time. Wilson had been gone about three hours.

  Something welled up in her throat and it wasn't bile. Panic welled within her. Was she destined to be a forgotten bride on her honeymoon?

  No. Wilson wouldn't do that to her. She was convinced of it. Perhaps he'd just lost track of time at the casino.

  Andrea looked in the mirror, then brushed back her sleep-mussed hair. No matter how hard the pitching and rolling of the yacht, she'd get dressed, find Wilson, then lure him back here...to bed.

  She smiled. Good plan.

  Fifteen minutes later, at almost ten o'clock, she was ready. She slipped on leather thong sandals. Her strapless smocked sundress felt too revealing, so she draped her favorite lacy shawl over her bare shoulders.

  She glanced over at the wall mirror. She looked sexy. She felt sexy.

  Grinning, she left the suite.

  Although staying on her feet was a problem, she managed to get to the stairway and headed up one level for the casino deck.

  The yacht personnel were prepared for this type of weather. Little white bags had been placed on each step by the wall, just in case.

  Thank goodness she didn't need to use one. Her stomach was behaving nicely. And actually, she had to admit, it was fun to be thrown from one side of the carpeted wall to the other.

  Andrea grinned. Maybe now that she was a married woman, she could handle things better than before.

  With that happy thought in mind, she tottered down the corridor leading to the casino. Just as she had the gambling area in sight, she spotted someone walking in her direction.

  Rats. It was that slutty Dahlia Meyers. Andrea had heard gossip about the woman, and by the way Dahlia was strutting her stuff, no doubt all the vicious rumors were true.

  To avoid being seen, Andrea ducked into a doorway leading to a private lounge. The Lizard Lounge, the sign on the door proclaimed. Not a very appealing designation.

  She withheld a giggle. Maybe Dahlia had come from the Lizard Lounge. Maybe she'd just had an assignation. Maybe--

  Andrea heard voices coming from the other end of the lounge. Her father's deep voice and someone else's. Whose? She had to find out. Quietly tiptoeing behind a pillar near the door, she then slowly peeped out from behind it.

  Wilson sat with his back to her, facing her father. Even though she'd only known him for a short while, she recognized his broad shoulders and his wavy dark hair.

  As his words drifted back to her, she closed her eyes and made an internal recording of the timbre of his voice. She smiled. Now she would always recognize his sound.

  She started to join them, but halted mid-step. What she heard froze her heart.

  "So, I congratulate myself on not only gaining a son, but more important, a partner in the firm. You're a good man, Will. You have intelligence, thorough knowledge of the law, and solid client relationships, not to mention common sense. Many attorneys seem to be deficient in that area."

  Her father paused, then continued, "You're dedicated to the business and you're quick on the uptake. And now, with your marriage to my daughter, you'll have stability in your personal life that you previously lacked."

  Andrea blinked back tears. 'Not only gaining a son, but more important, a partner in the firm.' Oh sure, she knew where she stood in her father's affections, but those words stabbed her in her heart.

  Was her marri
age arranged then? Had the prize of becoming partner been dangled in front of Wilson? Did he propose to her just to advance his career?

  Did she mean nothing to him?

  "I will not let you down, Randy. To tell you the truth, I'm looking forward to returning to Richmond. Chomping at the bit. I've got a wrongful death suit lined up that I'm eager to get started on."

  Well, there was her answer, wasn't it? How many men preferred to work rather than vacation in beautiful Hawaii? On a honeymoon?

  Wetness slid down her cheeks. She dabbed at the tears with the corner of her shawl.

  About to turn tail and run--but to where, who knew?--Andrea heard someone else enter the lounge from another door.

  "Miss me? I've got a bottle of twenty-five year old Chivas, just for you both."

  The clink of glasses being set down drifted back to Andrea. She took another peek to see the newcomer.

  Good God no. That Dahlia woman served whisky to both Andrea's men.

  She fell back against the pillar as if glued to it. She felt betrayed--by her father and her husband.

  "Save the toast until I get back. Men's room." He threw over his shoulder as he left the room.

  And that left Wilson and Dahlia alone in the lounge. Andrea wanted to leave but some perverse streak in her made her stay. Would anything happen? Would Wilson try to kiss the seductive Dahlia?

  The quiet stretched for several seconds. Well, quiet except for the groaning from the yacht's tortured frame. Andrea had to chance another look.

  If her heart had frozen before, now it was as if it was ripped from her chest. Will sat, as before, still facing away from her. But, Dahlia also sat on--or rather straddled--his lap, facing him and the back of the room.

  Andrea had an all-too-clear view of the woman's face, flushed with her eyes closed and her black hair flying. The left strap on her dress had slipped down, revealing a generous portion of her abundant breast.

  "Oh!" Andrea couldn't prevent the sob from escaping. Tearing out of the room, she headed up one level for the only place she could think of where she could be alone with her misery. Outside, on the observation deck. After all, who in their right mind would brave the wrath of the sea on a stormy night like this?