Page 14 of Play for Keeps

She smiled, and he could have sworn she set the whole cabin ablaze. Or maybe only him. Either way, heat pumped through him with every thud of his heart.

“Nothing much to tell. Still alive. Still married to the first taker. My mom was a teacher, and my dad worked for a small appliance company. They were bought out by General Electric about twenty years ago, and he took an early retirement.”

“Golf?”

She shook her head. “He plays poker. Tournament level. She spends whatever he makes at the tables on crafting supplies.”

He grinned, wondering if Mrs. Jensen had passed the creative gene on to her daughter. “Do you do crafty things?”

“Well, some people would say I’m pretty clever with a press release, but other than knitting, I leave the crafty stuff to Mom.”

“And Mr. and Mrs. Jensen live…where?”

She laughed softly, then gave his attempt to draw her out a pitying, little head shake. “Well, last I heard, they were in Phoenix, but Mr. and Mrs. Piotrawski live outside Atlanta.”

He peered at her, confused. “What? Who?”

“My maiden name was Piotrawski. Jensen is my ex-husband’s name.”

“Ex-husband’s? You were married?”

This time she actually scoffed. “So hard to believe?”

“Yes. I mean, no!” He tripped over his tongue, then tried again. “No. Not hard to believe. I mean, I didn’t know.”

She looked him in the eye. “Why would you?” she asked with a bluntness so characteristically Millie she could trademark it. Still, the question felt like an accusation. He opened his mouth to reply, but she shut him down with an airy wave. “Ancient history. I haven’t seen or heard from John in, God, almost twenty years.”

“Right.” Ty digested the information. “No kids?”

“Not a one.”

He nodded. “But you kept his name?”

“Jensen is a helluva lot easier to spell than Piotrawski. Makes ordering pizza a snap.” She snapped her fingers to punctuate her assertion.

Taken off guard, he frowned at her. “It never occurred to me you might have been married before.”

Millie gasped softly, then pressed her hand to her throat in mock dismay. “You mean you thought I was a virgin?”

“No, I just…”

He didn’t complete the thought, so she jumped right into the gap. “…thought I was an old maid?”

“No!”

“…hoped maybe I was saving myself for the love of a good man?”

“Hardly,” he retorted dryly.

“…never dreamed I’d be the type to host orgies on the weekends?”

He sighed. “Nothing I can say to stop this now, is there?”

“Not much,” she agreed amicably.

“I suppose an invite to one of those orgies is out of the question?”

“I’ll put you on the waiting list.”

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