Your Bed or Mine? by Candy Halliday Page A

as a threat might actually work to her advantage.
    And women had always seen her as a threat.
    Or as her twin brother Alfie had told her more than once, “Face it, sis. All you have to do to piss other women off is walk
     into the room.”
    Well, dammit, she was tired of women acting pissed off. And even more tired of getting pissed on! Her famous ex-husband quickly
     came to mind. What a laugh her marriage to Edward Carlton had been. Except “tragic” was a better word.
    And as for her big two-million-dollar settlement?
    Nothing but Edward’s hush money.
    As if she had any interest in telling the world she’d caught the charming neurosurgeon—not with another woman—but going at
     it with their twenty-something Latino pool guy!
    She’d accepted the money only because she’d known how Edward agonized over parting with a penny. And though his betrayal screamed
     for revenge far exceeding a measly two million dollars, she was simply a better person than he.
    What Edward had done to her was unforgivable, but he was still a gifted neurosurgeon who saved people’s lives daily. Even
     her own wounded pride and her shattered faith in men, didn’t, in her opinion, justify ruining his career.
    She had to believe Edward would get what was coming to him in his own good time. She just hoped she lived long enough to see
     it happen.
    Alicia sighed.
    The brunt of everyone’s joke; that’s what she’d always been. Too smart. Too pretty. Too rich to fit in. And obviously too
     stupid to realize Edward was gay.
    Well, dammit, she was over it! It was time she stopped feeling sorry for herself, and took control of her life.
    Too menacing NOT to be included!
    From here on out, this was going to be her new motto!
    Rick looked up to see Charlie Marshall and Joe Jones heading down the path in his direction. Simon’s head came up instinctively
     when Rick stopped walking, his nose sniffing the air. The dog wagged his tail when he picked up the scent.
    When Charlie and Joe walked up and stopped in front of them, Charlie said, “Good to have you back, Rick. How does it feel
     to be home?”
    “Ask me later,” Rick said, “after I haul all of Zada’s junk out of the living room and back to the garage.”
    He shook hands with Charlie first.
    Then with Joe.
    That people often mistook them for brothers when they were together, was understandable. They were both around six feet tall,
     both had dark hair, dark eyes. Like him, they both worked out regularly and kept in shape.
    The three of them had formed an instant bond from the first day he and Zada moved to Woodberry Park. It had been the same
     for the wives—best friends on sight.
    Charlie said, “Yeah, I heard about Zada’s welcome home present.”
    “What present?” asked Joe.
    Charlie looked at Joe. “Didn’t Tish tell you?”
    Joe shook his head. “Tish gave me a rundown about the whole
Survivor
scenario, but it was late when I got home last night. She didn’t mention any present.”
    Rick said, “The girls trashed the living room last night. Zada’s way of letting me know what I’m facing if I try to stick
     it out over the next ninety days.”
    “Jen didn’t help,” Charlie was quick to say. “Jen was there, but she tried to talk Zada and Tish out of trashing the living
     room.”
    Joe looked at Rick in shock. “Tish really helped Zada trash your living room?”
    Rick shrugged. “Hey. Don’t worry about it. No real damage was done.”
    Joe frowned. “I’ll do more than worry about it,” he said. “If Tish helped trash the place, I’ll make sure Tish helps clean
     up the mess.”
    Charlie said, “Why clean it up?”
    Rick and Joe both looked at him.
    “Forget I said that,” Charlie said quickly, glancing over his shoulder for a second. He looked back at Rick. “Jen has already
     given me strict instructions we’re not taking sides in this game you and Zada are playing.”
    “But?” Joe asked.
    Charlie sent another nervous look behind