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“Jonas and Hendrix are friends,” Viv said mildly as she flipped through a few more pictures that mercifully did not include North Carolina’s biggest scandalmonger. “They went to Duke together. I’ll try not to let him corrupt me if we socialize.”
As far as she could tell, Hendrix had scarcely noticed her at the wedding, and he’d seemed preoccupied at the cocktail lounge where they’d gone to have drinks after the ceremony. The man was pretty harmless.
“Just be careful,” Hope implored her, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her skirt. “You married Jonas so quickly and it appears as if he may have some unsavory associations. I say this with love, but you haven’t demonstrated a great track record when it comes to the men you fall for.”
That shouldn’t have cut so deeply. It was true. Bu
t still.
“What Hope means is that you tend to leap before you look, Viv,” Grace corrected, her eyes rolling in their sister’s direction, but only Viv could see the show of support. It soothed the ragged places inside that Hope’s comment had made. A little.
“It’s not a crime to be passionate about someone.” Hands on her hips, Viv surveyed the three women, none of whom seemed to remember what it was like to be single and alone. “But for your information, Jonas and I were friends first. We share common interests. He gives me advice about my business. We have a solid foundation to build on.”
“Oh.” Hope processed that. “I didn’t realize you were being so practical about this. I’m impressed that you managed to marry a man without stars in your eyes. That’s a relief.”
Great. She’d gotten the seal of approval from Hope solely because she’d skirted the truth with a bland recitation of unromantic facts about her marriage. Her heart clenched. That was the opposite of what she wanted. But this was the marriage she had, the one she could handle. For now. Tomorrow, Jonas would take her to his father’s house to meet his grandfather and she hoped to “practice” being married a whole lot more.
Thankfully, she’d kept Jonas in the dark about her feelings. If he could kiss her like he had last night and not figure out that she’d been this close to melting into a little puddle, she could easily snow his family with a few public displays of affection.
It was behind closed doors that she was worried about. That’s where she feared she might forget that her marriage was fake. And as she’d just been unceremoniously reminded, she had a tendency to get serious way too fast, which in her experience was a stellar way to get a man to start looking for the exit.
That was the part that hurt the most. She wanted to care about someone, to let him know he was her whole world and have him say that in return. It wasn’t neediness. She wasn’t being clingy. That’s what love looked like to her and she refused to believe otherwise.
But she’d yet to find a man who agreed with her, and Jonas was no exception. They had a deal and she would stick to it.
* * *
The house Jonas had grown up in lay on the outskirts of Raleigh in an upscale neighborhood that was homey and unpretentious. Jonas’s father, who had changed his name to Brian when he became a legal US citizen upon marrying his American wife, hadn’t gone into the family business, choosing to become a professor at Duke University instead.
That had left a hole in the Kim empire, one Jonas had gladly filled. He and Grandfather got along well, likely because they were so similar. They both had a drive to succeed, a natural professionalism and a sense of honor that harbored trust in others who did business with Kim Electronics.
Though they corresponded nearly every day in some electronic form, the time difference prevented them from speaking often, and an in-person visit was even rarer. The last time Jonas had seen Grandfather had been during a trip to Seoul for a board meeting about eighteen months ago. He’d invited his parents to come with him, as they hadn’t visited Korea in several years.
“Are you nervous?” Jonas glanced over at Viv, who had clutched her hands together in her lap the second the car had hit Glenwood Avenue. Her knuckles couldn’t get any whiter.
“Oh, God. You can tell,” she wailed. “I was trying so hard to be cool.”
He bit back a grin and passed a slow-moving minivan. “Viv, they’re just people. I promise they will like you.”
“I’m not worried about that. Everyone likes me, especially after I give them cupcakes,” she informed him loftily.
There was a waxed paper box at her feet on the floorboard that she’d treated as carefully as a newborn baby. When he’d reached for it, she’d nearly taken his hand off at the wrist, telling him in no uncertain terms the cupcakes were for her new family. Jonas was welcome to come by Cupcaked next week and pick out whatever he wanted, but the contents of that box were off-limits.
He kind of liked Bossy Viv. Of course he liked Sweet Viv, Uncertain Viv, Eager-to-Help Viv. He’d seen plenty of new facets in the last week since they’d moved in together, more than he’d have expected given that they’d known each other so long. It was fascinating.
“What are you worried about then?” he asked.
“You know good and well.” Without warning, she slid a hand over his thigh and squeezed. Fire rocketed up his leg and scored his groin, nearly doubling him over with the sudden and unexpected need.
Only his superior reflexes kept the Mercedes on the road. But he couldn’t stop the curse that flew from his mouth.
“Sorry,” he muttered but she didn’t seem bothered by his language.
“See, you’re just as bad as me.” Her tone was laced with irony. “All that practice and we’re even jumpier than we were before.”
Because the practice had ended before he started peeling off her clothes. Ironic how his marriage of convenience meant his wife was right there in his house—conveniently located in the bedroom next to his. He could hear her moving around between the walls and sometimes, he lay awake at night listening for the slightest movement to indicate she was likewise awake, aching to try one of those kisses with a lot less fabric in the way.
That kind of need was so foreign to him that he wasn’t handling it well.
