The Secret Mistress Arrangement. Kimberly Lang

noises mostly, with the occasional muttered curse as she either dropped or tripped over something.

      “Sweet home Alabama. Specifically, Fort Morgan, where I grew up. It’s down on the Gulf Coast, about three hours east of New Orleans.”

      “So you are a Southern girl. I knew I heard a drawl.”

      “I know. Even after ten years, people know I’m not from around here the second I open my mouth. It catches them off guard, and it’s kinda funny to see them react.”

      He heard a muffled thump, followed by another string of muttering. “Take your time. There’s no hurry. Why are you going back to Alabama?”

      “I’ve accepted a job with a company in Pensacola, actually, and it’s just across the state line. It’s an easy commute, and I can still live on the beach.”

      Unable to sit calmly, thanks to a raging erection, he wandered around the room, taking in the framed prints and canvases on the walls, hoping to distract himself. Ella, or maybe it was Melanie, had good taste in art. Nothing so mainstream as to be a cliché, but nothing too out there, either. Everything was edgy enough to be interesting, and the pieces made a tasteful and eye-catching collection.

      Leaning against the wall, obviously demoted from wall space, based on the dust on their glass, were Melanie’s and Ella’s college degrees. Curious, he pulled Ella’s out for a look.

      There was a BS from Northwestern, and a master’s from the University of Chicago, both in computer science and both awarded to Ella Augustine Mackenzie. Augustine? Heck of a name to be saddled with.

      Computer science. That seemed a bit odd, because Ella didn’t really strike him as a computer geek. He looked around for evidence to the contrary. A table in the corner held a laptop, but it looked like any other laptop—nothing fancy or complicated. People who spent that amount of time in college studying CS didn’t flip burgers, that’s for sure, but Ella just didn’t fit the usual mental picture.

      Drill sergeant, wedding planner and now computer geek. Ella was full of surprises.

      Chuckling as another loud thump—followed by a muffled curse this time—echoed from the next room, Matt wandered over to the bookshelf where Mel and Ella had a collection of framed pictures. There were snapshots of Brian and Mel on the beach somewhere, as well as a more formal pose he recognized as their engagement photo. There were many pictures of college-age Mel and Ella—group shots at parties, one of the two of them in front of a Christmas tree and another of them dressed to go to some kind of formal dance. He found family pictures of Mel and her brothers and parents. Ella was in most of the casual shots of Christmas and birthdays. He finally noticed a picture of a teenage Ella, braces and all, posed with an older couple to whom she bore a slight resemblance.

      “Those are my grandparents.”

      Matt jumped as she spoke from directly behind him. He turned and lost the ability to speak. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard at the sight. The robe was gone, replaced by a dark-blue dress that skimmed over the curves of her body. Her shoulders and neck were bare, but she carried a sparkly wrap in one hand. The short dress and high heels only accentuated the incredible legs he’d seen earlier. All those remarkably erotic thoughts he had worked to cast out of his head returned full force.

      Ella seemed completely unaware of his reaction to her as she leaned in to take the photo he still held in his hand. As she moved close to him, he caught a whiff of the perfume she wore—a light, but slightly musky, scent—and the erection he had only recently gotten under control began to stir to life again.

      “I was sixteen when that picture was taken. My really bad hair aside, it’s one of my favorite photos of us.”

      Matt struggled for something intelligent he could say as he tried to get the blood flowing back to his other head. He settled for, “Do they still live in Alabama?”

      “No.” Ella shook her head. “Gran died when I was in high school, and Gramps passed about five years ago.” She smiled at the people in the picture fondly.

      “And your parents? Are they still down there?”

      “My parents both died when I was very young. My grandparents raised me.” She didn’t sound sad, only resigned, like someone who’d come to terms with the loss long ago.

      Belatedly he remembered Melanie mentioning that to him before. Unable to think of anything less lame to say, he settled on, “I’m sorry.”

      She nodded and placed the picture back on the shelf where he’d found it. “Are you ready?”

      “Ready.” He cleared his throat. “You look fantastic, by the way.” He was pleased to see that his ability to talk sensibly was coming back. “Well worth the wait.”

      Salvador’s was still the place to see and be seen, and Ella got more than one envious glance from the other women there. Matt just seemed to attract stares from beautiful women, but, to his credit, he did nothing more than return an uncommitted smile. He proved early on he was more than just arm candy and a nice guy: he was a charming and fun date, as well. Their table had an amazing view, situated so neither of them had a back to the window. The chairs were close enough to each other to create an intimate feel while still giving them room to eat.

      They ate ridiculously fattening food and talked easily about the wedding and people they both knew. It was, she realized, the best “date” she’d been on in a very long while. And it had been a long while, indeed. She and Stephen had parted ways over six months ago in the ugliest way imaginable. It had been a new low—even for her. But then the wedding plans kicked into high gear and the job from SoftWerx came through, leaving her with little time to think about anything else, much less men.

      Just enjoy this for what it is.

      As they sat finishing their wine, Matt asked her, “How did a girl from Alabama end up in Chicago? I thought Southerners were allergic to snow.”

      “We are.” She laughed and swirled her wine in her glass. “First you have to understand something about kids who grow up in lower Alabama. Their entire teenage years are preoccupied with one thing—getting the hell out of Alabama. I wasn’t any different. So when Northwestern offered me a track scholarship, I jumped on it and moved up here.”

      “That explains those amazing legs of yours.”

      Ella blushed at the unexpected compliment. He thinks my legs are amazing. She self-consciously uncrossed and recrossed her legs under the table. When she did, she accidentally slid one leg against his. He didn’t move, so she simply enjoyed the pressure of his leg against hers as she sipped her wine.

      “Are you fast?”

      “What?” She choked on her wine and moved her leg away from his quickly, bumping the table hard as she did. Glassware rattled.

      “On the track. Are you still fast?”

      Oh, she thought, relieved. “I never was really fast. I ran cross-country. I’m a bit out of shape now, but I do still run for fun.”

      “Ah, stamina instead of speed. That’s a good thing.”

      Was he flirting? That kind of put a new twist on the evening if he was. Her flirting skills were a bit rusty these days…

      “Did you meet Melanie at Northwestern?”

      The change in subject jarred a little, but she welcomed it. “We were roommates our freshman year. We lived together all through undergraduate school, then got an apartment together.”

      “You two are an unusual pair. You’ve got kind of a yin and yang thing going.”

      That caused her to laugh. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before. But, yeah, we make a good team. Things were rough at the beginning, though. Melanie was out all night majoring in boys and beer, and I had to be up early for track practice. Unfortunately—or in our case, fortunately—University Housing didn’t allow for room switching until a few