Page 59 of The Marriage Mistake

“Another one of your conquests?” I asked, eyeing the woman and wondering how one could be running on the beach without a hair out of place. Mine was currently plastered to my neck and cheeks.

“I like when you get jealous, Ember,” Jack replied, jogging beside me. “It’s hot. Makes me feel like you care about me.”

“That’s demented.”

He laughed again, glancing over at me with twinkling blue eyes. His chest glistened with sweat, but his breathing was easy and he didn’t seem to be struggling at all. That spit of land wasn’t getting any closer, and I was overheating.

“Hang on,” I said, struggling with the sleeves of my sweater. Sweat had plastered it to my skin, and I got stuck with it halfway off, my arms pinned above my head, my vision obscured by black cotton. “Help.”

Jack moved closer, the heat of his bare chest washing over me. He tugged me free of my sweater prison, his gaze dropping down to the sports bra I’d worn beneath. I should’ve put a shirt on, but I hadn’t thought I’d take my sweater off at all.

Taking my time—I still needed to catch my breath—I grabbed the sweater and looped it around my waist. “What are you staring at?” I asked, throwing him a sideways glance. His eyes were intent as they coasted down my body, sending spirals of heat through my abdomen. I tightened my sweater over the soft part of my belly, hiding the curve I was most insecure about.

It was hard to feel insecure with a man looking at me like that, though.

“Just having a good look at my soon-to-be wife,” Jack murmured, gaze flicking up to meet mine. There was no laughter in his gaze.

My heart took off like a trapped bird. My throat burned from the exercise, and the next few breaths felt like fire as I gulped them down.

Then Jack’s gaze moved beyond me, and he smiled that wide, charmer’s smile. “Marigold! Good to see you out on this fine September morning.”

“Early bird, and all that!” the white-haired woman replied, piercing eyes flicking over to me. She nodded at me and kept walking.

I jerked back to myself and gave myself a mental slap. He hadn’t been checking me out at all; he’d been pretending. Hot with embarrassment—and what felt dangerously close to desire—I turned away from Jack and started running again. Well, it was more of a stumbling shuffle, but it was the closest I could manage to a run.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we reached the first boulders that marked the start of the spit. The point of land jutted out into the raging sea, and Jack jogged to a stop, then put his hands on his hips and turned to me with a smile. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

I put my hands on my knees and wheezed. Sweat dribbled down my temples and between my breasts. My back was drenched, and I was pretty sure my leggings had a big wet patch that looked just like I’d peed myself. Heck, maybe I had peed myself. It was hard to tell, because everything hurt.

“That was awful,” I finally replied between puffs.

Jack hummed. “You know, I usually go for a dip once I’ve finished my run.”

I frowned at the sand, watching a tiny crab scuttle away from our feet. “A dip? In the wa—ahh!” The world tilted as Jack hauled me up by the waist and threw me over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Come on, Ember. Live a little.”

“If you throw me into the freaking Atlantic Ocean right now, I swear to everything holy⁠—”

“Relax,” he cajoled, patting the backs of my thighs with his big hand. Heat arrowed up to my core, which I resented. “I’m going in with you.”

“Put me down!”

He stopped. “All right,” he said, just as a wave came in and crashed against his thighs. I slid down his front as the water splashed all over my butt, my legs clamping around his waist as I tried to avoid the freezing cold surge. “Not right here! Back on the beach!”

He laughed as I clung to him, his hands sweeping down to hold me up⁠—

“Your hands are on my butt,” I observed, still clinging to him with viselike legs.

A wild grin had taken hold of his mouth. “Yeah,” he replied. And then he squeezed it. At my glare, he laughed, the sound sending darts of pleasure through my belly. Darts of pleasure I tried my very best to ignore.

“This was not part of the deal,” I told him, hands clinging to his shoulders, his face inches from mine.

“You looked warm,” he said. “I’m trying to help.”

“You’re the most annoying man on the planet.”

“How annoying?”