Page 43 of The Marriage Mistake

He rolled his hand toward me, a king giving permission. “Bat away.”

Not wanting to back down, I tilted my head and started fluttering my eyelids. He watched me for a beat, grimaced, then lifted his hand. “Stop, Ember. Stop. It looks like you got lemon juice in your eye and you’re trying to get it out.”

Despite myself, I snorted. “No good?”

“I think I just heard someone say they wanted to call 911 to help you with whatever medical emergency you’re having.”

I would not laugh. I rolled my lips together, then sipped wine between them. When I’d gotten control of myself again, I watched the man across from me. He lounged in his seat, utterly comfortable. His lips curled as he allowed me to study him, a brow arching as if to say, Like what you see?

“You never answered my question,” I said. “What usually happens when you bring a woman here?”

“Who says I bring women here?”

I gave him a flat look. “Jack. Please. The maître d’ asked you if you wanted your usual table.”

He grinned. I hated when he did that. He had a way of smiling that made me feel like he’d never smiled at anyone precisely like that before. Like it was a secret joke, just between us. I was the only person capable of drawing out that warm, mirthful look from him.

But I knew the truth.

Jack Mars used his good looks like a blade to cut through any resistance he encountered. Right now, the resistance was me.

“Usually we just talk,” he finally answered, then shifted his body forward. His hand moved across the pristine white tablecloth, fingers brushing the back of my hand. “Then I’ll make a move.”

I watched his fingertips as they ran across my skin, suppressing a shiver. “This is your move?” I asked, keeping my voice flat and unimpressed. I lifted my gaze to meet his, ignoring the way the touch of his fingers made my pulse rattle.

Sitting back, Jack used the hand that had stroked me to grab his wine. He lifted the glass as he shrugged, eyes steady on mine. The playful light was still there, but there was something else lurking in his gaze. The thrill of the hunt lending an edge to his stare. A bald, bare excitement as he studied my every reaction.

It was unnerving to be read like that. To feel like every movement was noticed and catalogued.

Something had shifted between us these past couple of days, and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was.

“I tend to date women who want my moves to work,” he finally said with a careless shrug. “They come here knowing what they want.”

“And what they want is you?” I couldn’t keep the sardonic edge out of my tone.

Another casual lift of his muscular shoulder. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement,” he said—and grinned. It was the smile of a man who was used to offering invitations, who wasn’t afraid of rejection. The smile of a man who always got what he wanted.

My body tightened, thighs clenching, skin prickling. It took me a second to realize what I was feeling was violent, visceral desire.

“You folks ready to order?” Our waitress was a young woman of about twenty, with a bright smile and a bubbly voice. She flushed slightly as Jack smiled at her, and I narrowed my eyes at him. He met my gaze, and his smile became sharper.

There were layers to this man, and I wanted to⁠—

No. No, I didn’t want to discover them. I wanted to stay on the very surface, convince his grandmother we wanted to file the certificate, get the inheritance, and get out of this marriage.

That was the plan. Anything else was riddled with unquantifiable risk.

“I’ll have the steak, medium rare, with the peppercorn sauce,” Jack said. “And the burrata to start.” He looked at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Unless you have some stats to share about the dangers of eating beef?”

“Only that it increases the probability of getting cardiovascular disease, colorectal cancer, and type 2 diabetes. I’d have to know how often you eat red meat to calculate the actual mortality risk, though.”

His smile was a wide, bright thing that made my heart thump so hard it was hard to think. “I’ll take my chances,” he said, and handed the menu back to the waitress, who tittered. “Hang on, let me check the wine list. I’ll have a red with my main.”

While Jack cracked jokes with the blushing server and ordered his wine, I tried to control my breathing. I ordered my chicken and shook my head when she asked me about an appetizer.

“We’ll share mine,” he said, and gave her a smile to dismiss her. Then his eyes turned back to me, and his smile transformed.

That’s when I realized that once again, I’d just watched him put on and take off the mask of the lady-killer that seemed so natural to him. With her, he’d been smooth and charming, but as soon as she was gone, his eyes turned canny. Assessing. Intelligent.