Page 29 of The Marriage Mistake

“Anything, huh.”

“I’ve got a few ideas if you’re struggling to think of something.” His smile turned wolfish, his voice dropping low. The sound of it was like a caress.

I flushed hot from head to toe. “I can’t believe this usually works for you,” I said, reaching for my cup. “And judging by the women who have accosted us while we’re out and about, it works so well that they come back for more.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Ember.”

“Ha.” I took a sip, then set my mug down and stared out the window.

What, exactly, was I doing with my life right now? This whole endeavor was not like me. Maybe I was just a soft-hearted fool who didn’t want Etta to be disappointed in Jack and Darby. Maybe I was enjoying the domesticity of school drop-offs, dinners, and homework with a sassy teenager a little too much to give them up right away.

Or maybe I was a human woman who enjoyed the attentions of an attractive man. It seemed obvious when I thought about it logically, but I still found myself astonished at my own desires. I’d never felt so strong a pull toward someone before. I’d never been so easily led by devilish eyes and teasing smiles.

I knew he was a player. I knew his way of doing things was to charm his way into—and out of—trouble. I knew it, and I was still taken by him. I still wanted him to look at me. Smile at me. Laugh at the inane things that came out of my mouth when I was around him.

Dear God. I wanted him to like me.

“So tell me about the glamorous world of actuaries,” Jack said, his spoon clinking against the white ceramic mug as he stirred another little jug of cream into his coffee. At this point, it was more cream than coffee. His gaze flicked up to meet mine, that tempting smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You work long hours, but you could be doing anything up there.”

I scrambled to throw my walls up and told myself I was unaffected by the way he looked at me, because I enjoyed living in a state of permanent denial. “It involves a lot of math and spreadsheets,” I replied, touching my utensils to straighten them out while I waited for my food.

“I do like a woman who knows her way around a spreadsheet,” Jack noted. The word “spreadsheet” sounded downright lewd on his tongue.

And why did my stomach knot at the sound of it? Why did it feel like that smile was just for me, instead of what I knew for the truth—that it was a smile Jack deployed like a weapon when he wanted to demolish resistance in whatever conquest he had in his sights?

Why didn’t I ask the more salient question, which was: Why on earth was he pointing it at me? I wasn’t one of his conquests. I was his wife, and the bounds of our relationship were very clearly set out in the two contracts we’d signed. One written by his grandmother’s lawyer, and one written by mine. He didn’t need to look at me like that. We could convince people we were together without all this rigamarole.

So why was he doing it? Just for everyone else’s benefit? Or because he couldn’t help himself?

I ignored his smile—and my reaction to it—and continued answering his original question. “I mostly work as a consultant for insurance companies. I quantify risk so they can set premiums based on the likelihood of something happening.”

“What’s the biggest risk of our situation right now?” He leaned back as his eyebrow twitched at the question. He was still wearing that smile, and if I hadn’t known it was a mask, I might’ve thought he was enjoying himself. But men like Jack Mars did not enjoy meals with women like me when the topic of conversation was quantifying risk.

I glanced around the diner, then through the windows at the road outside. The diner was set back from the road, just on the edge of the town limits. Rain pattered on the open lot, beading on the old cars and the two motorcycles parked near the diner. The sky was overcast, and a distant roll of thunder was just audible over the noises of the restaurant.

Looking at Jack again, I said, “The biggest risk we’ve faced today is the same as most other days of our lives.” I nodded to the road. “The drive to and from our destination.”

“Thank God we made it safely,” he replied. “Now let’s hope we survive the food.”

We leaned back as the waitress put our plates down. Egg white omelet with whole-grain bread for me; sausage, bacon, and fried eggs for him. I decided not to tell him about the health effects of eating trans fats and kept my eyes on my plate.

“Thank you, Marge,” Jack said to the waitress. She was a round, soft-looking woman of about fifty, her ruddy cheeks curving as she gave us a friendly smile. The way she handled the plates let me know she’d probably been serving at this diner since she was Darby’s age.

“Enjoy,” she said. “I’ll come warm up your coffee in a sec. You two lovebirds need anything else?”

I flinched at the comment, then jerked when a big hand slid over my own. My body locked up, and all I could do was stare at the way his palm dwarfed mine and how warm he was—a warmth that seemed to spread out from my hand and rush through the rest of me, coalescing somewhere between my thighs.

“We’re all good,” Jack answered, squeezing my hand slightly as if to tell me to loosen the hell up.

“I have to say, Jack,” Marge said, smiling down at him, “it’s wonderful to see you with a good woman. You deserve happiness, after everything you’ve been through.”

It was Jack’s turn to stiffen. I wondered if Marge noticed it, subtle as his reaction was. It was only a slight tenseness in the hand that covered mine. A tiny tightening around his eyes. A momentary slip of the smile that graced his lips.

What had he been through? It must’ve been to do with Darby’s mom. Curiosity dug its claws into me, and I slowly pried them out, one by one. In two or three weeks, we’d be officially married, and I’d be on my way out of here. Whatever experiences had made Jack Jack were none of my business.

A second later, he recovered, and he looked once more like the Jack Mars that was charming and unruffled. “Thank you, Marge. That means a lot.”

The waitress turned to me. “I heard about what you did at the medical center. You can’t fake that kind of thing, you know. Throwing yourself in harm’s way to make sure someone you care about doesn’t get hurt. And to do it for a man you met that morning!” She touched her chest and shook her head. “I wasn’t sure about Etta’s plans. Thought she was crazy for hiring that computer guy to make that algorithm to find the perfect wives. But you can’t deny the evidence of your eyes and ears, can you? There’s gotta be something to it, because look at the two of you!”