Ladies' Man by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

tracing the scar alongside his right eyebrow. “Richard didn’t seem to be able
not
to cheat,” she told him. “He was so good at it, I probably never would have found out—if he hadn’t had to go into the hospital with a burst appendix. You have gorgeous hair.”
    Sam refused to be distracted by her fingers running through his hair. “Please don’t tell me you ran into his mistress at the hospital.”
    She stopped touching him, pulling back, out of his arms. Sam caught her hand before she moved too far away.
    “It was nothing that dramatic,” she told him. “Richard was in the hospital for nearly three weeks—there were complications from his surgery, nothing too serious, a slight infection, but they wouldn’t release him until it cleared up. While he was there, I realized that all of our bills were really piling up. He had been in charge of writing the checks to pay our bills ever since we were first married, but I figured that would be the last thing he’d want to do after he got out of the hospital, so I thought I’d surprise him and take care of it for him. I was the one who got the surprise—from his credit card bills.”
    She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “There were weekly charges made to a hotel that wasn’t more than thirty minutes from our house.”
    Sam knew exactly what was coming. He wanted to kill the bastard, but all he could do was hold Ellen’s hand. So he held it. And he listened.
    “I knew right away that I was looking at something Richard wouldn’t want me to see—so of course, I looked further. He kept meticulous files, and I was able to go back nearly seven years through his records, and I could see…” Her voice wavered, but she cleared her throat and started again, her voice stronger this time. “I could see through his credit card purchases exactly when he’d started each new affair. He would buy her—whoever she was—something from a lingerie catalog. He would buy her a pricey piece of jewelry. There’d be a flood of charges to expensive restaurants for lunches and dinners. And of course, there were those hotel room charges—sometimes two, three, or even four times a week. He wouldn’t stay overnight. He’d just use the room at lunchtime or whenever. Maybe right after work.” She laughed, but it was a dry, humorless sound. “Then he’d come home to me.” She imitated herself: “Hi, honey. You’re so late tonight. Tough day at work? Poor baby, let me rub your back for you….” She closed her eyes. “God! What a bastard!”
    “Finding out must’ve hurt so badly,” Sam murmured. “It must
still
hurt.”
    “I feel really stupid,” Ellen told him. “How could I not have known? I seriously didn’t have a clue. And he’d been doing this for at least seven years. I had the proof in those credit card bills. That pattern of purchases was repeated, over and over, nearly eight times in the past seven years. And I have no reason to believe that if I had access to the years before that, I wouldn’t find a similar pattern.”
    “What did you do?” Sam asked softly.
    “First I threw up,” she told him with a crooked smile. “And then I packed up his clothes and kicked the son of a bitch out. I got a lot of crap for that—after all, the man was in the hospital at the time. Needless to say, I felt more than a little bit betrayed and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought. I filed for divorce that same day.” Ellen reached for her champagne glass and took a sip. “You know, I
do
have something to celebrate. Day after tomorrow is the third anniversary of my divorce.”
    Three years. Sam was surprised it had been that long. Her wounds seemed much more recent.
    “I think we should have a toast,” Ellen said, filling her glass. “To a summer in New York City. Richard hated New York City. He hated Bob. And you know what? When he sees it, he’s going to hate that commercial I made. He’s gonna hate that I dyed my hair blond. He would have hated