Valentine Vendetta

The American drawl deepened. ‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s me, Sam!’

‘Well, why the hell didn’t you say so?’ roared Cormack. ‘How the hell are you, man?’

Sam had a few things he wanted to get off his chest to the man who over the last few years had become a close friend, but he needed to check that Cormack’s life was running smoothly before he unburdened himself. ‘Tell me first, how’s Triss?’

The Irish voice softened into a purr. ‘Beautiful. Glowing like a jewel. And hardly showing at all. Just the tiniest swell around her belly, but she won’t rest enough. I can see that I’m going to have to chain her to the sofa!’

‘Or the bed?’ suggested Sam.

Cormack laughed. ‘Well, that too!’

‘And Conor?’

The deep, Belfast accent became as soft as a pussy-cat’s. ‘The most incredible child ever to be born! As handsome as the day is long, and my heart’s needle!’

Fairly safe to say, then, that Cormack’s life was mill-pond smooth.

Sam opened his mouth and just lost it.

‘That Fran Fisher—’ he began menacingly.

Cormack interrupted with a whistle. ‘Gorgeous, isn’t she? In that very English way. Cool and collected. Never a hair out of place. The sort of woman where you wonder what goes on beneath the surface. You know, if I weren’t a happily married man—’

‘Cormack! You aren’t listening! The woman is a conniving, manipulating, out-and-out—’

‘Well, women are sometimes,’ said Cormack indulgently. ‘It’s the way they’re made!’

‘Bitch!’ Sam finished violently.

There was a stunned silence. And when he spoke again, Cormack’s voice was positively frosty.

‘Did you have something in particular you wanted to say to me, Sam?’

‘Don’t freeze me out, Cormack!’

‘Then don’t call a woman I like and respect names like that!’

Sam drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I liked her, too!’ he stormed. ‘I liked her a lot! Until she lied and cheated and tried to make a fool of me!’

‘How?’

‘How? Cormack don’t you ever read the papers?’

‘Never!’ came the smug reply. ‘What happened?’

Sam sighed. ‘It would take more time and more energy than I have to explain. Remember that ball you couldn’t come to because you were working?’

‘Don’t blame me for that, Sam—you missed Conor’s baptism for exactly the same reasons!’

‘I’m not blaming you! I’m blaming her! She set me up! She made me look a fool! And suffice to say that I’m mad. No, I’m not just mad—I want to get even!’

Cormack sucked in a long breath. ‘Listen, man, the revenge thing never gets you anywhere. Ask my wife. If Fran has hurt you and got under your skin, then my advice to you is either to forget her—’

‘Or?’

‘Or marry her.’