They became real popular after the royal wedding. A lot of ladies are wearing them to church. They’re not nearly as hot in the summer. The one with the blue feathers is made from the feathers of my friend’s tiger macaw—”
“I’ll take it,” Natalie said. “And give me that black fancy one with the jewels and netting.”
“Where are you going to wear that?” Deanna asked in a low tone.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Vance’s funeral?”
“Oh, boy,” Deanna said.
“Did you say you’re going to a funeral?” Edna asked, her face twisting with concern.
“My aunt recently passed,” Deanna quickly said before Natalie could speak. “My sister was saying this would have been a nice fascinator to wear to the funeral.”
“Or any funeral,” Natalie added.
Not that she wished Vance dead.
Well, not particularly. She didn’t plan to participate in a voodoo ritual to ensure his painful demise.
The purchases paid for, Deanna all but hustled Natalie out of the store. “Retail therapy is over. I say we go home, and you get into a hot bath—”
“Natalie Cooper?”
At the sound of her name, Natalie instinctively turned. It took her a moment to recognize that the woman moving toward her was the same one who had earlier approached Michael Jones. Natalie’s eyes went lower, to the microphone the woman had in her hand.
“How do you feel about the news that your barely ex-husband has just gotten engaged?”
Natalie was too stupefied to speak.
“You did hear, didn’t you?” the woman asked, sounding almost gleeful. “The ink is barely dry on your divorce papers, yet Vance has already proposed to Olivia Markson. From what I understand, she was your former best friend, right?”
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Deanna asked, stepping in front of Natalie.
“Please don’t sensationalize this story,” Natalie said. “No one in Cleveland cares about me and Vance.”
“But the people of San Antonio most certainly do.”
“San Antonio?” Natalie asked, not understanding.
“I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. I’m Hyacinth Hamilton, from the San Antonio Times.”
A reporter from San Antonio was here? A reporter had tracked her down in her uncle’s hometown? Natalie glanced around nervously, wondering if there were more reporters lurking nearby. When she and Vance had announced their separation two months ago, the reporters had converged like vultures.
“So how do you feel about what’s transpired?” the reporter went on.
“I—I—” Natalie’s head was spinning. God help her, she didn’t want another media spectacle made of her life. Hounded wherever she went…
“You didn’t know,” the reporter surmised.
“Of course she knew,” Deanna snapped, “but she doesn’t care. Now, if you’ll leave my sister alone.”
“Deanna Hart,” the reporter said, grinning as though she was a little star struck. “When will you come out with a new CD? Your fans have been waiting for what, nearly three years now?”
“Leave us alone,” Deanna reiterated, sounding sterner, and Natalie couldn’t help thinking that Hyacinth had hit a nerve.
Deanna took Natalie by the arm and hurried in the opposite direction toward where the car was parked. Natalie almost made it there, but stopped and turned. It hit her suddenly, the severity of Vance’s betrayal. And Olivia’s. The ink wasn’t even dry on the separation papers, much less the divorce papers. And already Vance was moving on?
How dare the two of them so publicly flaunt their adulterous relationship at that hotel in Vegas, where Vance had presented Olivia with a huge diamond. According to this morning’s paper, witnesses had heard Vance tell Olivia that he loved her “more than anyone he had ever loved in his life.”
“Here’s what I have to say,” Natalie began as she reached Hyacinth. “Vance and I are divorced. He’s free to do what he likes. And as far as I’m concerned, he and Olivia deserve each other. I won’t take a guess as to how long their marriage will last, but you know what they say about cheaters. In any case, I couldn’t care less about the two of them because I’ve moved on,” she finished with finality.
Then she whirled around—and bumped smack into the hard wall of a masculine chest.
“Excuse me—”
“I’m sorry—”
Natalie slowly looked up. The silk shirt she had seen earlier. The sleek sunglasses.
Michael Jones put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. And then a slow grin formed on his perfectly full lips as he looked down at her.
“I’m sorry,” Natalie repeated.
Michael’s eyes swept over her, leaving her skin feeling flushed. Or was that the Cleveland sun?
“No need to be sorry,” Michael said in a voice that was deep and smooth. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip before speaking. “In fact, I am the exact opposite of sorry. Sweetheart, you can bump into me any time, any day, any hour.”
I get it, Natalie thought, and stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “All the same, I apologize. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
She sidestepped him and began to walk toward the car, and was surprised when Michael took her hand. “Oh, no,” he said. “I can’t have you walking away from me, not when fate had us meet. What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Natalie didn’t speak, just checked out the smile he likely thought could charm any woman into his bed.
“Angel?” he guessed when Natalie stayed silent. “Yeah, I bet you looked just like a little angel when you were born, and that’s what your mama named you.”
Now Natalie did roll her eyes. Wow, the guy really did think he was smooth.
“All that matters,” she began calmly, “is that I know your name, Michael Jones.” She smiled. “You have yourself a good day.”
Natalie slipped her hand from his and jogged this time, hurrying to the car where Deanna was waiting.
“What does that mean?” Michael called out to her. “Come on, sweetheart—you really gonna walk away from me like that?”
“What’s going on?” Deanna asked when Natalie got into the car.
“Drive,” Natalie said. “Now.”
* * *
For the rest of that day
