“James and I,” she continued, a becoming blush breaking out across her cheeks.  “We . . . didn’t wait to have sex.  Not at all.”

“But I’d bet money you weren’t hooking up that soon after you met him,” Candy pointed out.

Bianca’s blonde brows shot straight up.  “You’d be losing money on that bet.  He was going down on me in an airplane galley, it had to be, God, like only the third time I ever ran into him.”

That was met with a pregnant moment of shocked silence, then a brief burst of awkward laughter as everyone came to the conclusion that she was putting us on.

She was not, her expression told us.

“Him getting you off is a far cry from you getting him off, in terms of keeping him on a string,” Candy shot back.

“That is fucking hot, though,” someone put in.  I glanced at the source.  It was Sandra.  She was a bit older than I was and worked in the Cavendish art gallery with Danika.  It was a well-known fact that she was semi-obsessed with Bianca’s husband.  She was always a little too fascinated with the subject when he came up.

Bianca’s blush got a few shades darker, her eyes darting around the room.  “I’d already gone down on him, by then.  Technically, I think that was the second time we ran into each other.  Still turned into a relationship.  A marriage.”

Danika let out a low, appreciative whistle.  “Wasn’t he your first?” she asked her, sounding impressed.

We were getting a rare gem if even Danika hadn’t known about that, as the two women were close friends.

Bianca nodded.

“That brazen fucker,” someone muttered.  Frankie, I think.

We were all just staring at Bianca.  I, personally, wanted to hear the rest of the story.  I’d read some of the tabloids about them, but this was different.  This was the real story, the most I’d ever heard from Bianca about her much talked about relationship with one of the hottest men on the planet.

“What about actual intercourse?” Sarah asked, like it was a perfectly reasonable question.

“That same night, after the galley incident,” Bianca answered matter-of-factly.

“Brazen fucker,” Frankie repeated.

“He’s so fucking hot,” Sandra muttered.

“How’s it going, in general, and also with your ex-husband?” Jackie asked me, bringing the subject back around since it’d clearly gotten out of hand.  Bianca had started to look uncomfortable.  “Is he still being antagonistic?”

“He is, but it’s tapering off, I think.  And things in general have been good.  It took some time.  The divorce was a big readjustment for me, but now I’m . . . content with having him gone.  I have more free time now.  Free time that I value.  I find that I enjoy a good book over a bad husband.  No contest.”

That was met with a round of elaborate toasting.  We had some enthusiastic readers in the group.

“What about your kids?  Has there been any communication between your ex and the kids lately?” Lucy asked.

I shook my head.  “He alienated his children when he mistreated their mother, and rather than take responsibility for that, he’s decided to blame me.  It’s baffling, to be honest.  I knew how my boys would react.  I don’t understand how he’s surprised by it.  They’re overprotective and loyal to a fault.  Frankly, I’m a little worried that they’ll never forgive him.”

“It’s not your job to mediate their relationship with their dad,” Lucy told me in her no nonsense voice.  “That is their business.”

I nodded that I understood her.  I tried to take her words to heart.  It was a burden I’d be happy to set down for good.

CHAPTER SEVEN

When the gathering wound down at an early hour, I was still wired.  I did not want to go home to an empty house.

I told Danika so.

She grinned.  “Me neither.  Tristan’s working tonight, and he has a good hour left of his show.  We should take a taxi to the casino and enjoy another round.”

“No need to take a taxi,” Bianca added, having overheard us.  “I have a car and driver right outside.”

We all smiled.  Sometimes it was very cool to have filthy rich friends.

But still, I mulled it over.  My oldest son, Rafael, worked at our friends’ bar there, and I didn’t think he needed to see his mother tipsy.

“Rafael . . . ” I began.

Danika waved her hand in air.  “Your boys adore you, we all know that.  He’ll be happy to see you.  Stephan and Javier both work tonight, too, so it’s the perfect time to do it.”

Stephan was Bianca’s best friend, and Javier was his husband.  They owned the best bar on the Cavendish property, and soon after meeting and hitting it off with them, they’d offered Rafael a job there when they’d heard he was looking for a bartending gig.

They were delightful, and Danika was right, it was perfect timing as I was always looking for an excuse to see them.

“Sold,” I said easily, as it had not been a hard sell.

We tried to talk Frankie and Estella into joining us, but they had plans that involved not waiting an extra hour or two to get home to their St. Andrew’s cross.  They were heavy into kink, to put it simply.

We said goodnight to them with hugs and airy cheek kisses.