Free Paradise Found by Mary Campisi

time, stripping them of their self-esteem, stealing their self-respect. Taking and taking, until there's nothing left.” Her next words were flat, emotionless. “That's when they dump them like trash in the street, and move on to their next victim.”
    Talk about an attitude. “Some women set themselves up,” he said, feeling a need to defend the ordinary Joe. “Some women meet a guy and remake their whole life for him.” He'd known a few of those in his time. “They eat what he eats, think like he thinks, wear only what he wants them to wear. Forget ever hearing an original idea from them again. It'll never happen. They're banking on the guy to give them everything. Love, happiness. Even self-respect.” He shook his head. “And then they wonder why he leaves.”
    “You seem to have quite an opinion,” Sara said, her tone cool and distant. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”
    Matt laughed. “Not necessarily.”
    “From what I've read, you're quite familiar with that territory,” she snapped.
    What the hell was her problem? “You shouldn't believe everything you read. Besides, when you're in the public eye, you become a target for all kinds of people. Especially desperate women.”
    “That may be true, but I've found most men don't even entertain the word desperate until after they've had their fill of these very same women.” He opened his mouth to disagree, but the sound of Rosa's voice stopped him.
    “Mister Matt, what you like for lunch?” The woman was always happy when she was around food. Cooking, cutting, cleaning, it didn't matter what it was as long as she could be near it, smell it, touch it.
    “Damn, Rosa, we just finished breakfast.”
    “But now Rosa needs to think about lunch. It does not hop on table.”
    “What are you offering today?” he asked. “Hot dogs? Pork Lo Mein?”
    She laughed. “I make your favorite. Steak fajita with peppers, onions, and cheese.”
    Otherwise known as a Philly cheese steak in a tortilla. Rosa would be crushed if he told her he preferred a crusty, six-inch hard roll to the soft corn wrap. She ‘Mexicanized’ everything she cooked, from hot sauce on scrambled eggs to chilies in spaghetti sauce.
    “I will set up your table in the usual place. And Miss Sara, she will be joining you?”
    “No.”
    Sara's rapid response left no room for doubt. So, she couldn't wait to get away from him. Not that he was in the mood for another minute of her company either, but it irked him to hear the vehemence in her voice. “Thank you for asking, Rosa, but Miss Sara will not be joining me today.”

Chapter 6
    Matt leaned over the elaborate exercise bike, sweat pouring from his body. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, held it, and exhaled through his mouth. Damn, but he'd needed this workout tonight. His neck muscles were still tense, though he'd massaged them and even tried basic range of motion techniques. They hadn't helped. Stress tended to do that to him, bunching up his muscles and tying them into knots even a modern-day Houdini couldn't untangle.
    Sara Hamilton was responsible for the tightness in his neck, the kink in his shoulders, and the pounding in his head. He'd been in a bad mood since lunchtime when she’d whisked out of the hot tub with nothing more than a mumbled good-bye.
    Now, several hours later, her actions still grated. So he'd pushed and probed a little. Well, maybe a lot more than a little. So what? She'd done the same thing to him. Those were the rules, his rules, and she couldn't handle it. And what was all that high-and-mighty ‘save the feminine soul’ talk about? For Christ's sake, you'd think she'd been one of those women. He'd bet his last buck no one had ever gotten close enough to take advantage of her.
    He grabbed the towel from around his neck and dragged it over his face. It felt good to sweat again. He needed to do it more often, not just when he was pissed and stressed, which he’d been since Sara