The Divorce Club by Jayde Scott Page A

kings."
    "If you don't mind," Sam says, "I'd like to
introduce you to a friend of mine."
    Jamie leans forward, serious. "Sure. What's
her name?"
    Sam whips something out of her purse.
"Brush."
    "You need to get her on the comedy circuit.
She'll make you a killing." Jamie laughs and ruffles her glossy
hair. She doesn't seem to mind.
    "I'm popping over to Kendra's for lunch."
    "Sure, sweetie. Would you like some cereal
before you go?" I offer her my bowl, but she shakes her head.
    "I'm in a hurry, Mum."
    Jamie winks at me. "Which is understandable.
On Sundays, the shops are only open until five. That's a mere total
of six hours to shop."
    Sam punches his shoulder and bolts out the
door again.
    "I don't know how you do it," I say. "She
would've cut my head off."
    "You're too scared of her. Children can smell
fear from a mile." Jamie pours us another cup of coffee and turns
to face me, a smile crossing his lips. He makes me uncomfortable. I
feel a strong need to avert my gaze, move my hands, shuffle in my
seat, do something so long I don't have to sink into his blue
eyes.
    "I've got to go," he says, his gaze still
fixed on me.
    "Thanks for staying over." My voice sounds
low and insecure.
    He reaches for me as though to touch my arm,
then stops. "I can pop over again tonight if you want me to."
    I shake my head. "Once is enough. I don't
want to pester you. You've already done too much."
    "Are you kidding? I want this job. It comes
with a lot of perks."
    What's that supposed to mean? I raise my
brows. "Such as?"
    "Breakfast, silly. You make delicious, thick,
fluffy pancakes to die for—or so I've heard. If there's anything I
can do to help, just call me." He stands and hesitates again. I get
up too but look away because I won't encourage him.
    At the door, our eyes lock and for a moment
his gaze brushes my lips. My breath catches in my throat. Before I
decide whether he's going to kiss me or not, he turns on his heels
and leaves, mumbling something that sounds like, "See you."
    "Thanks," I say, but he's already started the
engine and pulls out of the driveway without so much as a glance
back.
    I really can't figure him out. The more I
try, the more I fail, so I just push him to the back of my mind and
do what I've been planning to do all night. The breakfast dishes
can wait until I get back. I grab my purse and hop into my own
vehicle, then drive to a large shopping center a few miles away
because I know there's a shop that sells locks and security
cameras.

Chapter 10
     
    From inside, the shop seems small with little
variety, but that doesn't deter me. A middle-aged man clad in the
usual black pants and white shirt of a sales assistant stands at
the counter. As soon I enter he approaches me.
    "Hi, I'm looking for something to turn my
castle into a fortress. Any ideas?" I say.
    He flinches, probably taken aback by my
enthusiasm. After staying up all night and pondering over options,
my eagerness is understandable.
    "What about kicking him out and changing the
locks?" he asks.
    I laugh. "Did that right after the
divorce."
    His eyes twinkle. "We don't sell a moat,
alligators or an army of knights, but we might have another helpful
thing or two."
    "That's okay, I'm talking more this century
anyway."
    "I can make your house more secure than
Buckingham Palace or the Pentagon."
    "Now you're speaking my language." I start to
wriggle my hands because I can't wait to hear what he has to offer.
"There's one front, one backdoor and three windows. I need this
sorted out today."
    He hesitates, his eyes glinting at the
prospect of making money. "We can get you whatever you need today,
and then someone will pop over on Tuesday to install it."
    "Not good enough." I inch closer whispering,
"I'm being stalked. This person's even set up a website with photos
of me. If I don't get my house secured today you might see my
picture splashed all over the papers tomorrow."
    His eyes pop wide open. "Have you been to the
police?"
    I snort. "Aren't you the