Madeleine Wakes (A Wife-Watching Romance): Book One of the Madeleine Trilogy Page 5

  Was Madeleine feeling the same temptation to experience life that Ray had apparently felt most of his marriage? Had she been thinking of ‘strange’ while sitting on that window seat late at night? Imagining the thrill of somebody different, the buzz of dating again?

  There was something very attractive about the idea of Madeleine being allowed to experience life, for some reason. It pandered to his feelings of guilt, but it also played on his very real need for her to be happy, to feel good, to be sexually satisfied.

  *

  Hugo had two drinks too many at the bar, partly out of the sense that he was fortifying himself in preparation for a Heavy conversation with Madeleine in which he might or might not accidentally let slip knowing that she was flirting with other men in order to help with her recovery.

  He swayed a little on his walk back to the subway.

  He wasn’t used to drinking a lot. He didn’t go out socially much at all, and during his months and years taking care of Madeleine, he’d been embroiled in some kind of self-imposed Prohibition. At least he’d managed to prize himself away from the others before they’d gone on to the strip club.

  He was shaking, all the way home. Uncertain what he was going to say to her, nervous that he would make her angry. Terrified that if he played it wrong, it might destroy any hope of her full recovery. He was also nervous that misplaced words might make her stop this new flirtatiousness. And as much as he thought about that, he never thought that he wanted it to stop.

  Hugo got off the subway a stop early, hoping the extra burst of night air might help him burn off some of the alcohol before he got home. It was a few blocks away from the station that he realized his route would take him close to Madeleine’s bookstore.

  His strategy seemed almost fully formed as soon as it entered his head. Swinging by the bookstore, perhaps trying to see for himself what Madeleine was like with her co-workers and customers, keeping himself hidden. It was a bad plan—he knew that much. Creepy. Stalkerish. Grounds for divorce.

  But here he was, a slave to curiosity. His heart-rate picking up as he diverted off the direct route home, Hugo decided it had to be a positive thing: it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Madeleine to keep her flirting under control. He wanted to see it.

  To know she was flirting with other men was one thing, but to see it actually happening—that would help him to ascertain how he really felt.

  *

  It was just gone 9 pm by the time he reached the store. The darkness of night was complete, though the street lighting didn’t offer much by way of shadow to cover Hugo as he hovered across the street. All he could do was put his cell phone up to his face and make up fake conversations whenever anyone came near him on the street.

  A call to a fake mother concerned at her fake son never coming round to visit her at her fake house in fake Brooklyn seemed to do the trick.

  God, he felt like such a stalker. That same mixture of exhilaration and shame as when he’d been watching her personal time on the window seat.

  Madeleine would be livid if she realized what he was doing.

  But he couldn’t help himself. He had to know what she was up to at work, he had to check she was okay, that she was safe—but he also had to satisfy his curiosity and that weird burning lust. So here he was lurking on a street corner, peering across at the bookstore while chattering to a made-up parent.

  There she was.

  A burst of heat erupted from Hugo’s heart as he laid eyes on her, shimmering in between the bookshelves and sales tables like some kind of siren. That golden hair tied up in a loose bun that gave her the sweet girl-next-door look. She was wearing dark pants for once, which amused Hugo in that he found he was surprised she wasn’t flashing around one of her new teeny-tiny skirts.

  Yet even from across the street he saw that her pants were tight enough to offer a tantalizing idea of the shape of her legs. Her top was sleeveless, a blend of various shades of blue. Refined, and yet cut so that it appeared to show off her cleavage to maximum effect.

  She looked elegant, and yet still sexy. Moving from here to there, she was drawing the eyes of male customers with her, which made Hugo feel a hint of excitement and jealousy.

  Even from this distance, he could see that dazzling smile breaking out as she glanced at a co-worker, or spoke to a customer. What was she saying to them?

  He crossed the street, eyes darting this way and that, though the traffic was light at that time of night.

  From the store window, he could conceal himself behind a poster to avoid Madeleine’s detection while making it appear that he was checking out the window display. From this distance, she seemed to be the picture of innocence—and yet with an edge of seduction that Hugo could see getting under the skins of her customers.

  He smiled as he watched them sneaking surreptitious glances at her. The 50-something professorial guy who entered the shop and just stopped to look at her as though he recognized her and couldn’t place her name.

  They all wanted her. Hugo teemed with pride and lust. Men circling her like sharks around a raft.

  Madeleine herself seemed to have something of a glow about her, and she never seemed to stop moving. Talking to this guy or that guy. Helping her co-workers point out where this title or that title could be found.

  From what he could see, Hugo was reassured to some degree—she was only doing this for fun, not actually to pick up any of the guys. But the looks she gave those customers brave enough to go up to her, and the way she edged in on their personal space, made it look so real that she was actually interested in them. She was having fun—it must turn her on, Hugo thought. Is she imagining being with them when she leads them innocently on?

  They were certainly imagining being with her.

  Hugo slipped inside the store, finding a corner where he could stake out a subtle presence away from any meddling store staff.

  The store was quite large—in this day an age of Amazon, a book store had to be, he supposed. Though it was so marvelously convenient to shop for books online—and read them electronically—it was a shame that places like this were dying out. The atmosphere was so warm and inviting, with its relaxed lighting, the occasional potted plants, the easy chairs welcoming readers into their open arms.

  It was, as he had hoped, the perfect place for someone to recover from stress, from pain, from melancholy.

  Hugo monitored Madeleine, but managed to keep from being seen by her as she sidled up to a tall Latino man standing behind the checkout desk.

  He couldn’t hear what she was saying to him, but she was immediately smiling as she approached him, one hand on her waist as though to help push out her chest, her shoulders pushed back to emphasize her feminine shape. She looked up at him as though she really admired him, and it sent a jolt of burning jealousy through Hugo’s chest.

  And yet, he did not dislike it. The feeling inside him, the bite, the squeeze, as he saw her giggling at something the guy said, flicking back rogue strands of hair to subconsciously point his gaze toward her face—it was like the bittersweet tang of a very fine wine. He could appreciate the conflicting sensations swirling around inside him to watch her engage with this faintly intimidating rival. The guy was not only tall, but appeared effortlessly powerful under a button-down white shirt and dark pants. He oozed cool charm, but concealed the kind of athleticism that might cause a shiver or two in women around him, while gaining instant respect from the men.

  He saw the way Madeleine jinked her hip, tilted her head, casually stroked her collarbone. Was it really so innocent, the way she was with this guy?

  The Latino guy was happy enough to edge into her personal space, and when he did so, she did not pull away. Smiled, as though encouraging it. Hugo found all the eye contact between them breathtaking. They were stripping off each others’ clothes with their gazes.

  She gently brushed his forearm while making a point. A few moments later, he was touching hers as though explaining something to her, reassuring her about somet
hing. God, it was like open adultery going on right in front of his eyes.

  And yet, she hadn’t done anything wrong. No divorce court in the land would take this as grounds.

  She leaned up to whisper in his ear, and her Latino friend stooped to hear what she was saying, clearly drawing a chestful of her perfume, his eyes firmly focused down her shirt.

  Did Hugo see Madeleine shiver just a little? God, she really was feeling it for this guy.

  But then she was walking away again, and neither of them were looking at the other—not a single last lingering look, or a glance over the shoulder. As though this kind of encounter happened every day, it was nothing significant.

  Hugo let out his breath. Jesus.

  “D’you need some help, sir?” A young woman, maybe 25-ish, with long mousey hair and the kind of short skirt and hose combination that made Hugo suspect she might have been influenced in her fashion choice by a certain new co-worker. This would be “Sasha” according to the brassy pin on her lapel.

  “Uh… no, thank you.”

  “We close at 10.”

  “Sure... I mean, I know.”

  “Let me know if you need any help, huh?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  The way she smiled at him, the way she attempted to get close to him, the way she dressed—it reminded Hugo of Madeleine’s new persona, made him wonder if it was some kind of store policy to have staff flirting with customers in order to maximize sales, or whether this was merely a young girl’s admiration for a slightly older co-worker who clearly had every male in the room under her spell.

  The bookstore was getting fairly empty by now, and Hugo was feeling more and more vulnerable hovering there in his corner.

  If he was discovered, he didn’t have much explanation other than to suggest he’d been on the way home, and thought he’d drop by to take a look at her store, but didn’t want to disturb her at work.

  For a moment, he thought he saw her glance his way—but then another customer drew her away.

  She was so good with them, so engaged in their conversation, flattering in her apparent interest. Playing with her hair a little while she listened to them, never failing with the eye contact.

  “You could definitely be an actor,” she said to the young guy now. “You have that look.”

  He could see her reaching up the shelves to retrieve something for the guy—two books, actually. Showing off her curves to her customer, who wasn’t bashful in his appreciation.

  “I’m buying something for my girl,” he was saying as she scouted out another title for him. “She read that book, you know, the dirty one.”

  Madeleine’s giggle cut Hugo to the bone, but made him throb between the thighs.

  “Fifty Shades of Grey, huh?” she said. “We have more like that in the back. Top shelf over there.”

  The guy trying it on. “You want to show me which ones’re any good?”

  Hugo feeling certain the old Madeleine would have laughed off his suggestion, dodged the rest of the conversation.

  New Madeleine saying, with that flirtatious lilt: “Sure, I’ll show you. Just don’t tell my husband I read ‘em.”

  Going off with the guy to pick out some erotica titles—Hugo was a little taken aback, but then he guessed it was simply more sales she was attracting. Kind of sweet she mentioned her husband as a way of cooling down the flirtation.

  A few minutes later that guy was leaving the store with a truckload of books.

  Hugo was actually thinking about slipping away, leaving her to it. Then he saw her appear from the back of the store, and flash a glare his way.

  Damn.

  He froze to the spot, his head spinning as he scratched for the pre-planned explanation he’d concocted but now entirely forgotten regarding how he came to be lurking in her bookstore like this, without letting her know he was there.

  Hugo involuntarily took a step back, edging in closer to the bookshelves as though he might be able to blend in with the rows of multi-colored spines, of disappear within the pages of the books. To his surprise, Madeleine’s annoyed gaze did not follow him.

  He glanced to the side, and saw another man breeze into the store as though he owned it—and realized quickly that Madeleine’s acid glare was reserved for this guy. She still hadn’t seen Hugo.

  Hugo smiled to himself, but looked away briefly to check he was not being observed by anyone else in the store. Reassured of his safety, he resumed his stakeout. Madeleine had apparently turned her back on the newcomer, to fill out some kind of paperwork over at the checkout counter. She wasn’t skipping over to flirt with him and point him to all number of interesting volumes as she had been doing with other customers in the place all night.

  Hugo edged around the bookshelves to see if he could get a little closer without being spotted. Easier done than said, since she’d turned her back on the front of the store.

  Taking up fresh position daringly within earshot, he watched the stylish-looking young gentleman saunter up to the counter to stand beside Madeleine. He was probably late twenties, tall and strong, with a bearing and outfit that suggested that he was moneyed.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi.”

  No smile from Madeleine. She didn’t even look up from her paperwork. Just an awkward greeting. Did she know this guy? Was he someone who had irritated her in some way?

  “Can I help you?” Her voice was cutting, not flirty.

  The man, whoever he was, was not put off. He stood there with his hands in the pockets of his tailored-yet-understated dark jacket, and said: “I just came to flirt with you a little at work. That is allowed in book store rules?”

  He had a deep, seemingly cultured voice. Confident, masculine.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Hugo edged around and saw the man from the side, his dark brooding eyes, the long black hair that swirled up in a nonchalant quiff not unlike an early Elvis—a guy needed real self-belief to pull off this kind of look.

  Madeleine seemed to bristle in his presence, and it amused Hugo, though he found himself on guard in case he needed to step in to protect his wife on any account. Her new flirtatious attitude might give her a buzz, but there was always the risk that she’d draw the wrong kind of man. She could turn out to be the bait that lures the predator instead of the decent catch.

  “You always seem pretty good at it,” he said.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” that sharp tone of hers again. It fair made a man wince. “If you’re not going to be buying books right now, I have customers to serve.”

  She gave a flick of her hair and walked away from the brooding man, who was perhaps a few years younger than her, though old enough to target her.

  “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you?” the man said as he casually followed her.

  She paused, glanced over her shoulder, offering him a sigh and an eye-roll. “Why are you following me?”

  A shrug from the young pretender. “My father always told me to follow my dream.”

  Hugo coughed to stifle an escaped chuckle. Attempting a line like that, you had to hand it to the guy.

  “This is how you think you’ll get me to have a drink with you?” she said, turning to look at him with pity in her eyes. “You usually have much luck approaching women like this?”

  “I’ve never had to before.”

  “Right, they just flock to your banner.”

  The guy paused, nodded, said: “You’re curious about my banner. I suppose it’s only natural.”

  Another eye-roll from Madeleine. Hugo was enjoying this show, though it wasn’t along the lines of the flirting he’d hoped to witness. Call it the down side of her getting in touch with her sexy side.

  “One of these days, you will tell me your name,” he said. “And you will make me a very happy man.”

  Hugo was slightly confused. Didn’t all of the bookstore staff have their names prominently displayed on buttons. Hello my name is Ryan. Hello my name is Jennifer.
Hello my name is Dan. Hello my name is… Madeleine had been wearing hers earlier, but must have removed it the moment this young cavalier had arrived.

  “Why do you come here, you never buy books?” she said now.

  “Talking to you is my favorite part of the day.”

  She was blushing, and Hugo sensed that she wanted to knock this guy’s teeth out—but she was doing supremely well to keep her calm. Quietly, Hugo made the judgement that she was perfectly adept at holding her own, and that this young guy with his hair and his refined dress sense probably wasn’t a real threat. He turned and slipped out of the store, thinking it a good time to escape before she noticed him.

  He’d seen enough. She was bright, chirpy, sexy, in her new flirtatious attitude—and it had been a complete turn-on to see her like this. But she was maintaining her cool, she knew where the line in the sand was. Oddly, that felt faintly disappointing to Hugo.

  That evening, there hadn’t been any sign of any of those college students who lived across the street from their apartment—but then what were the chances that the half-hour Hugo would actually be at the book store, Madeleine’s crush would also be there?

  Six

  On the way home, and then waiting for her to come home, he was thinking about how she’d been with that Latin man. Was he her boss? He had carried himself with an air of authority. Was she drawn to his power, this air of confidence in a tall, strong, dark-haired, tan-skinned demigod of the bookstore?

  If he chose to show her some attention, would she be tempted by him?

  Watching him towering over her, the way she seemed to melt in his presence, her smiles free and easy with lots of teeth and eyes and flicks of the hair. Was she imagining what it might be like to have such a tree-trunk of a man between her thighs?

  Hugo shivered at the thought, his heart all a flutter.

  He wasn’t a small man himself, though he appeared decidedly average in that man’s presence, and Madeleine had seemed downright small. Hugo wondered if the man’s darker complexion appealed to her, since her husband was pale and mousey. His obvious physicality, his easy charm, the clear difference from Hugo’s averageness, his middle-of-the-road normality, it all caused little ripples of jealousy in him as he watched her in his presence. Was she craving someone so obviously different from her husband?