Sommer Marsden - Muse

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Mischief

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

The News Building

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

An eBook Original 2016

1

Copyright © Sommer Marsden

Cover design: Head Design 2017, cover images: Shutterstock

Sommer Marsden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EBook Edition © Februrary 2016 ISBN: 9780008148843

Version: 2017-08-17

For Jim. Being with you always felt like coming home to me …

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page Muse SOMMER MARSDEN A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Mischief An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers The News Building 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF An eBook Original 2016 1 Copyright © Sommer Marsden Cover design: Head Design 2017, cover images: Shutterstock Sommer Marsden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. EBook Edition © Februrary 2016 ISBN: 9780008148843 Version: 2017-08-17

Dedication For Jim. Being with you always felt like coming home to me …

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

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‘And I don’t want you to be late, Dani. Not like the last time we went to dinner. I was ready to go sitting there like a prom date who’d been ditched—’

Dani hung her head. ‘Mother—’ she attempted. She clutched the silky white teddy in her hand, thinking she should put it in the ‘donate’ pile, but something in her heart clenched at the idea.

‘And then we were late to get the early menu. You know I like the early menu.’

She took a deep breath before finally breaking into her mother’s tirade. ‘I won’t be late. If you let me get off the phone. I have to finish bagging this stuff. I can’t show up at a clothing trade without actual clothing, now can I?’

Her mother humped into the phone and Dani couldn’t help it, she smiled.

‘Fine. Be here at two. Two sharp, Danielle!’

‘I will, Mom.’ She managed to say goodbye and hang up without tearing her hair out.

The room was bright now. She’d painted it yellow after her marriage to Bob had ended. Originally it had been a dark blue called December Evening, but now it was called Bright Eyed Susan. It suited her better, she thought. Suited the way she wanted her life to feel.

‘Fuck it,’ she said and tossed the white teddy in the pile for the clothing swap. It had been her wedding-night lingerie and she saw absolutely no reason to hang onto it. No reason in clinging to the past.

‘Now if we could just work on this future I’m supposed to have. A bright, fun, single woman breaking hearts and kicking ass.’ At least that was what everyone had told her. Everyone had assured her that her life would improve. That it would get better.

Dani picked up the teddy once more and ran the fabric through her fingers. She traced the lace at the edges, felt the hope this garment had once held lance through her. If she shut her eyes it was easy. Too easy, in fact. She could remember that night. The excitement, the buzz of alcohol and wedding festivities and being married. Belonging to someone.

She held it like a talisman, remembering the feel of Bob’s mouth on her mouth. Then the feel of it moving everywhere else. Kissing down her neck, licking at her collar bones, sucking one nipple and then the other. Then his hot breath and wet tongue on her navel before drifting lower. How he’d skated his teeth along the sharp jut of her hipbones and her pubis, before finally, blissfully, moving lower to where she needed it most. Settling his head between her thighs. Licking her until the entire world seemed to surge before crashing down in a wave.

How that night had seemed the beginning and the end. How everything looked shiny and new and seemed to hold magical potential.

‘Fuck,’ she said, opening her eyes and tossing it back in the pile.

That was another woman. Another life. Long gone and best forgotten. All that potential had fizzled like a soda left open. What had started as effervescent had ended up flat and cloying.

She shook her head, checked her clock and set about neatly folding the clothing she’d gathered and tucking it into boxes. Then she filled a bag with purses and another with shoes and a few belts.

‘Out with the old and in with the new!’ she declared to no one at all.

A quick shower and then she was choosing an outfit. Something her mother wouldn’t find issue with. Jeans – not too tight, not too loose – tall black boots, a smoke-grey tunic and a pendant that had been her grandmother’s. She tugged her auburn hair up into a messy topknot and added long earrings. She regarded herself in the mirror and tried on a smile. She loved her mother more than anything but sometimes she had to steel herself to spend long bouts of time with her.

‘She’s going to hate the hair,’ she told her reflection. Then she shrugged, gathered her bags, found her purse, and headed to her mom’s. She had plenty of time, she thought smugly. So there would be no reason at all for her mother to complain. Well, at least not about her being late.