Free One True Love by Barbara Freethy Page A

person.
    She was the one with the guilt, the one who hated to even change seats at the baseball game for fear of getting caught. And she usually did, because she wore guilt like a scarlet letter. Keith believed some rules were made to be bent. But changing a seat at a baseball game could not be compared with having an affair. The rules of marriage were unbreakable, at least in her mind.
    As Maggie stared at Serena’s door, she remembered the trips Keith had taken in the months before he’d died, trips to another lab in Santa Monica, and a couple even further up the coast in San Francisco. She’d never called him while he was away. He’d always insisted on phoning her, because he didn’t know where he’d be at any given time. Whereas he always knew where she would be—right there in his house, taking care of his children.
    Maggie’s imagination took over. She couldn’t stop the suspicious thoughts from running through her head, the doubts, the uncertainty.
    Had she married an imposter? She remembered seeing a movie where a man had kept three wives in three different cities and none of them knew about each other, until the man had gotten hurt and all three had ended up at the hospital together.
    But that wasn’t Keith. Until this last job, he’d barely travelled at all. He’d been content to come home every night to her and the children.
    At least she thought he’d been content. Maybe not. Maybe he’d yearned for a different life from the one they’d had.
    The doubts ran around and around in her head until she felt dizzy. She had to do something to stop them. She’d driven two hours to meet Serena Hollingsworth. Wasn’t it about time she knocked on the door?
    Maggie strode forward before she could rethink her decision to act. She rang the bell and waited. There was no reply, no rustling sounds of someone hurrying to get the door, just silence. Serena wasn’t home.
    Maggie felt the wind go out of her sails, the resolve go out of her head, the strength go out of her shoulders. She felt so weak she had to sit down on the step, the white envelope still clutched between her fingers. She’d driven all this way for nothing. Nothing!
    Not that she even knew what she would say to Serena, something about the letter, something about Keith’s death, something…
    A man came jogging down the path dressed in tight black bicycle shorts and a peach-colored tank top. He looked to be in his early thirties and was in great shape with lean runner’s legs, a broad chest, sexy moustache and hair almost long enough to be pulled back in a ponytail.
    Maggie couldn’t help but smooth down the skirt of the floral sundress she’d exchanged for the jeans she usually wore. Her hair was actually brushed, and she’d even worn lipstick. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t give her a second look.
    She was wrong. The man smiled at Maggie and slowed his pace as he approached Serena’s town house. “If you’re waiting for Serena, you’re going to have a long wait.”
    “I am?” Maggie asked as he jogged in a small circle in front of her.
    “Is she away?”
    “Saturday is her spa day. Are you a friend of hers?”
    Maggie hesitated. She didn’t make a habit of lying. But then, she didn’t make a habit out of chasing down women who wrote to her husband, either. “Yes,” she said finally. “I live out of town. I thought I’d surprise her, but I guess I should have called first.” She got to her feet, feeling as if her nose had grown two inches with that lie.
    “I’m sure you could find her at the spa.”
    “Which spa is that?”
    “The Olympia Spa on the corner of Sycamore and Doran. You can’t miss it. There are Greek statues of gods and goddesses along the driveway. It’s pretentious as hell, and you have to sell your soul to get in, but it’s a happening place. Serena swears there’s nothing better than a day at the spa—not even sex.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “You don’t look like the spa type,