Divorced, Desperate and Dead (Divorced and Desperate Book 5) by Christie Craig

not laugh, but she carefully moved to his bed and yanked free a sheet and held it out.
    “Just drop it,” he said, unwilling to move his hands with her this close. That brought on more laughter from the other three women.
    Wrapping the sheet around him, he reached for the bed to pull himself up. When she offered to help him, he said,, “That’s okay.”
    Giving the crowd his back, he rose. Probably not covering everything if the chorus of giggles was any indication. That, along with the cool air on his ass.
    This time, even Chloe might have contributed to the chorale.
    He planned on going straight to the bathroom, but he heard Kelly pose the question again. “So, how do you know my brother?”
    He did an about-face and sat on the edge of the bed, arranging the sheet so he wasn’t giving peek shots, and waited to hear Chloe’s answer.
    Her expression turned into one of pure panic. “I. . .” She glanced back at the woman with pink hair as if pleading for help. So, they knew each other, huh?
    “Well. . .” the woman started speaking, pretty much proving his theory that they knew each other. “Chloe doesn’t know him, but she just learned that they were both involved in accidents caused by the same man. I’m Sheri, Chloe’s publicist, by the way.”
    Chloe nodded then her gaze returned to him. And stayed there. Was the pink-haired woman telling the truth? Did Chloe not remember him?
    One look into her blue eyes and he’d bet his twice-bruised right ball that it was a lie.
    She remembered Room Six.
    Remembered him showing up in her bedroom.
    Remembered his secrets.
    Did she also recall their kiss?
    “Although,” Chloe said, in an unsteady voice, “you do sort of look . . . familiar.” She brushed some specks of beef stew from her arm. “Have we met before?”

Chapter Ten
     
     
    Have we met before? Her own question rang in her head.
    Was it Chloe’s imagination, or was that panic she spotted in his eyes. And if panic, why? Well, other than he’d flopped around on the floor naked in his lunch and in front of his sisters and her publicist. And she’d hit him where she shouldn’t have—twice.
    Not that she’d meant to do it. But she knew exactly when she had. A man’s package had a distinct feel to it, and even when your knee, or as it was in the first case, her hand, came into contact with that certain loose kind of feel, a woman knew it.
    And she’d been both humiliated and terribly sorry.
    “I’m sorry.” Those words leaked off her lips, and more than anything, she wanted to tuck her tail and run. But that would look strange. Maybe not any stranger than things already seemed, but. . .
    “No,” Cary said in the heavy silence.
    “No, what?” one of his sisters asked, but Chloe was pretty sure what he meant, she just wasn’t completely sure she believed him.
    “No, I don’t think we’ve met.” He only shot her one look and then glanced away.
    “Well, I just . . .  I wanted to . . . stop in and say I hope you’re okay.”
    “That was so nice of you,” one of his sisters said, glaring at her brother as if telling him he had bad manners.
    “Yes, thank you,” he said, sounding almost sarcastic as his hands moved over his lap, remembering her crushing blows.
    “Oh, it was nothing. We were in the neighborhood. And . . . we should be going.”
    “Oh, wait, can I have a picture of you and me . . . for my daughter?” Kelly handed Cary her phone and then pulled Chloe to her side.
    Chloe wasn’t sure, but Cary didn’t look happy about the photo op. But he pointed the phone and clicked.
    Then, smiling as big as she could, she said goodbye again, and shot out. She didn’t slow down. Not even when she came to the elevator. She found the stairs instead. Sheri followed behind her, still giggling.
     
    • • •
     
    J.D. parked his car in the hospital parking lot. Carlos, the only person he actually liked in the Black Bloods, called him while he’d been parked in the back of his