Gone With a Handsomer Man Read Online Free PDF

sidewalk was empty except for a long-legged brunette. She was busily hammering an ornate sign into the strip of grass between the sidewalk and street.
    It was the naked badminton player, the pretty one Bing had kissed and kissed, only today she wasn’t naked. She wore a blue silk dress, high heels, and an ankle bracelet.
    “You!” I cried and unlocked the iron door.
    “Stay away from me!” She lifted the hammer.
    “Put that damn thing down,” I said. “You’re liable to hurt someone.”
    “ Me ?” She stepped back.
    “Does Bing know I’m at the Spencer-Jackson House?” I asked. Stupid question. Of course he knew. And he’d sent this woman to do what? Attack me with a hammer? I repressed an urge to snatch off her ankle bracelet. If throwing fruit was criminal battery, stealing jewelry would slap me in the state penitentiary.
    “I’m not telling what he knows.” The woman lowered the hammer. “But I’ll tell you what he said. He told me your folks were pygmies.”
    “They were not,” I cried. “For your information, Miss Tall Gal, five foot two isn’t tiny.” Actually, I was more like five foot one and three quarters. I wanted to defend my genetics but I couldn’t. I’d never known my dad. He could have been a pituitary dwarf.
    “Bitch,” I said.
    “My name isn’t Bitch. It’s Natalie Lockhart. And I refuse to be verbally abused by a garden gnome.” She shoved her hand into a straw handbag. “I’m calling Bingo. I’m calling him right now.”
    “Bingo?” I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
    “Shut up. What do you know about lovers and their nicknames?”
    “Not much,” I admitted. “What do you know about decency?”
    “I’d love to chat, but I’m late for the day spa.”
    She would go to a place like that. I glanced at my unpainted toenails. A day spa wasn’t long enough for me. I needed a year-long immersion in Pond’s cold cream.
    A horse-drawn carriage filled with tourists clomped down the street. A lady in a straw hat stood up and clicked a digital camera in my direction. Natalie flashed an irritated glance at the carriage. She ran to her BMW, climbed inside, and drove toward the Battery.
    I walked back to the sign. It was black, surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron border:
    For Sale
    Jackson Realty
    by Appointment Only
    Natalie Lockhart, Broker
    I went inside and called Bing’s office. His secretary said he’d taken the day off, that he’d been attacked by a crazy girl. The judge had forbidden contact, but he hadn’t been specific. I dialed Bing’s cell phone. He didn’t answer, so I called his house. When he didn’t pick up, I wondered if he’d disconnected his answering machine, the one we’d taped together in happier times. I started to hang up when Bing answered with a curt hello.
    “It’s me,” I said.
    “When did they release you into the wild?” he asked.
    “Last night.”
    “Big mistake,” he said. “I just hope your debt to society is a big one.”
    “Big enough,” I said.
    “I just got home from the hospital,” he said. “They did a CAT scan on my head. I’m waiting for the doctor to call, so make it fast. What the hell do you want?”
    A good question. I wanted a lot of things. I wanted to know if he was hurt or putting on, I wanted to know why he needed other women. I had questions for myself, too. Did I want Bing or a life by myself making cakes?
    “Your secretary said you weren’t feeling good.”
    “It’s feeling well ,” he said. “Not good .”
    I hadn’t called to discuss my swamp grammar. A few months ago, Bing took a business English course. He was self-conscious about his Southern accent and wanted to show off to all the Yankees who came down to the Carolinas to buy beach houses. He wanted me to talk better, too, but when I got excited, I just had to speak what was in my heart.
    “If you called to apologize, forget it,” Bing said.
    I sighed. What I’d wished he’d said was I love you, Teens. I’ve always loved you. And