NYC Angels Flirting with Danger - By Tina Beckett



Not this time. Still, Chloe Jenkins yanked the belt of her beige trench coat tighter, until she was sure it would cut her in two—much like her heart had been. What had seemed sexy a half-hour ago now seemed unbearably pathetic and sleazy. The New York City subway station was jammed with bodies, even at this hour, and she shoved wet hanks of hair from her eyes, glad to finally be out of the rain.

What was she supposed to do now?

Hurling your wedding rings at your cheating bastard of a husband with the words “Consider this our divorce!” may have seemed like the perfect exit line—the only way to escape with a shred of dignity—but charging out of that hotel room had left her with few options. She was in a huge city where she knew no one.

Except …

The air shuddered from her lungs. There had to be some other way.

She could always go home to Connecticut.

And face her brother? Her family? They’d known the truth all along, but she’d been too much of a naïve sap to listen.

The doors opened and she stepped into the train, careful to keep her bare toes far from the nearest occupant.

She could head to a car rental facility. She had her purse and her wallet, thank heavens.

But she’d foolishly left her shoes behind in the room, and it was illegal to drive like this, even if they’d lease her a car. And if the tie on her coat came loose, she’d be totally exposed.

Her face burned hotter. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t be totally exposed, but the peek-a-boo black negligee and sheer panties left little to the imagination.

Even for her ex, who—when she emerged from beneath the cocoon of covers, fury spilling from every pore—had allowed his eyes to crawl over her body, a spark of interest finally coming to life in the drunken depths.

God. Why had she even bothered to try?

Because she didn’t believe in giving up. At least, she hadn’t before now.

The train suddenly slowed as it came to its next stop, and she lost her balance for a few frightening seconds, scrabbling to regain her handhold while keeping her coat from coming open.

Someone bumped into her from behind as they tried to exit, the hard shove sending her reeling a second time. She bit her lip and tasted blood.

“Sorry.” Hands came out to steady her, but Chloe flinched away, terrified someone would find out what she’d tried to do. She checked with the tip of her tongue the damage her teeth had caused. Not exactly the way she’d planned to spend the night.

You’re right, baby, she does look frigid.

Travis’s current paramour had clung to his arm and giggled at the sight of Chloe under the covers, the duvet pulled up to her chin.

What had been meant as a last-ditch effort to save her marriage had turned into a guillotine instead, one that had nicked her, even as she’d released the cord and let it drop—cleaving what had been one into two and setting her free.

Travis hadn’t even blinked in the face of her rage. Probably too full of whiskey to care. He’d suggested she stick around … implied she might even want to join in the fun. Her fist had balled up tight, ready to deliver the mean right hook her brother had once taught her, before she stopped herself, realizing it would do no good.

It was over.

A wave of nausea washed up her throat.

She could call her brother and … do what exactly? It was almost midnight, and Jason was a couple of hundred miles away. Besides, he’d ask all kinds of questions. Was she really ready to publicly admit that Travis had wanted the family’s money? He certainly hadn’t wanted her. Not really. No matter how charming he’d been during their courtship. No, he’d wanted a leg up in the financial investment industry, which he’d gotten … and more.

God. She’d saved herself for him. And for what? Love sure hadn’t been any sweeter on the other side of the marriage bed.

She tried to think.

If she called Jason right now, he was liable to go all big-brotherly on her. She didn’t need defending. She needed to get away. For a while, anyway. To plan her next move—at least the one beyond filing for an actual divorce, which she planned to do first thing Monday morning.

So, until then she could just get a room at another hotel.

In her nightgown? Strains of “Pretty Woman” began playing in her