Read The Perfect Husband for Free Online Page A

brow.
    “Real,” he supplied.
    “What?”
    “The iguana. That's Glug. He's alive.”
    “Oh.” She looked at Glug for several seconds. The creature didn't move.
    “Where's Freddie?” she asked.
    “I gave him the day off.”
    “
Gave
him the day off?”
    “Yep.”
    “So there's no one here?”
    “Rosalita probably doesn't like to be called no one.”
    “But she doesn't live here, does she?”
    “Nope.”
    “So only you'll be around today?” She was clearly nervous. Her stance went from relaxed to prepared. Legs apart, shoulders back, hips rotated for balance. Just as it had last night, it tugged at his brain.
    Abruptly recognition came to him.
    “Cop.”
    She froze.
    “Uh-huh. I noticed it yesterday — you stand like a cop. Feet wide, chest out for balance. Left leg slightly back to keep your holster out of reach.”
    She looked cornered.
    He frowned, angling his head more so Rosalita could attend better to his cheek. “You're not a cop though. You can't even hold a gun.”
    “I'm not a cop,” she muttered.
    “So just who are you,
Angela
? And what about your daughter?”
    “What daughter?” Her voice had gone falsetto.
    “Oh, give it up. You can't lie worth a damn.”
    She smiled tightly. “Then you'll have to teach me how.”
    “
Idiotas
,” Rosalita interjected. She grabbed the hand towel and rubbed the remains of the shaving cream from J.T.'s face with more force than necessary. “
Hombres y mujeres? Bah. Perritos y gatitas
.”
    With another shake of her head she flattened her palm on J.T.'s chest and tried to launch herself from his lap. He clamped one hand over Rosalita's wrist.
    “Wait.”
    He twisted her lush form on his lap, bringing her ample hips intimately against his groin. Angela had gone still, as if expecting some new form of attack.
    “Look at her,” he said, pointing at Angela. “Look at that haircut, Rosalita. We can't have her running around like that.”
    Rosalita raked Angela up and down with a scathing eye. She was clearly unimpressed.
    “I can't take it any more, Rosalita. With that do, she might as well pin a ‘fugitive' sign on her coat. Fix it for me, will you? We'll consider it my good deed for the decade.”
    “You're too kind,” Angela murmured.
    J.T. continued focusing on Rosalita. “I'll pay, of course.”
    Payment was the magic word. Rosalita started out asking for twenty but settled for ten. J.T. took the money from a highly skeptical Angela, pointing out that Rosalita certainly couldn't do any worse than Angela had. Moments later Rosalita had Angela positioned in J.T.'s chair, the green towel wrapped around her neck. While she washed Angela's hair and set about snipping with expert flair, J.T. propped himself up on the edge of the couch and opened a fresh beer despite Angela's disapproving frown. He could see her wrist, now on her lap. It was badly bruised.
    So now you're beating up on women, J.T. Just how low do you plan on sinking?
    In the disconcerting quiet of his living room he didn't have an answer. He'd never considered himself a great man, not even a good man. But he had his few principles and they gave him comfort. Don't lie and don't pretend. Don't hurt people weaker than yourself — there are enough SOBs out there who deserve it. Never, ever hurt a woman.
    If Rachel could see him now, she would be ashamed.
    He crossed over to the sliding glass door and watched the sunlight dance across the rippling surface of his pool.
    “
Terminé
!” Rosalita announced.
    Reluctantly, J.T. turned to inspect Angela's new look. He froze, too stunned for words.
    Rosalita had hacked off most of Angela's hair. Now intricately layered strands darted before her ears, wisped at the back of her neck, and fringed around her eyes. The short-cropped hair should have made her look like a teenage boy, except teenage boys didn't have cheekbones that high, noses that small, or lips that full. Teenage boys didn't have saucer-shaped eyes of liquid brown, framed by thick,