Page 29 of Miss Understood

Jesse laughs. “That.”

Jesse shifts. His knee brushes against my thigh, and I swear it starts a forest fire across my skin. He’s impossible to look at, with that light-blue blazer that brings out the warmth of his dark skin, paired with that perfectly buttoned-up white shirt and coral tie. All those layers, and I still can’t forget what’s beneath them.

I bite my tongue and try to focus on anything except the rubber band of tension that tugs from my chest to my core.

“What’s your proposition?” All I can do is hope the words don’t sound as dirty coming out as they do in my head, because he might be playing nice for this conversation, but he’s made it clear where I really stand with him.

This marriage is a sham, a business deal. Nothing more.

“A cease-fire,” he says. His gaze flicks between my eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow. There’s a hint of nervousness, like he’s not sure how to read my reaction. “As much as I enjoy our…whatever this is we’ve been doing for two years now.”

“Disagreements, hostility, bloodshed?” I list them off, and it makes him chuckle.

“All of the above.” He turns in his chair and kicks an arm up behind me, caging me in place. “I think it’s better for the case, and all involved”—he ticks his chin toward Serena and Mateo—“if we try a new approach. Especially given our current predicament.”

“You mean our drunken truth-or-dare wedding?” I grin. “And here I thought romance was dead.”

Jesse barks out a laugh. “Baby, I’ll show you romance, if that’s what you want.”

A smile stretches his cheeks, and it sends a flood of heat over me. I’m not sure when things with Jesse shifted from irritation to carnal need, but what used to grind my gears is suddenly sending signals through me that make me wonder how I’ve managed to go this long without noticing. His arms rippling the fabric of his suit. His jacket unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of his shirt, which is taut against his solid chest. At least when we were in battle I could divert my attention.

“Okay,” I agree, knowing it’s a slippery slope, and I’m already losing ground.

But I don’t really have a choice. Jesse and I agreed to at least six weeks of whatever this is we’re doing. If we’re going to pretend to be married, we need people to believe it. And that requires pretending to like each other. Which is getting dangerously easier the more time we spend together.

I’m not sure what to do with that fact.

Jesse may claim he’s looking out for both our interests, but he could just be trying to get my guard down. Who’s to say this isn’t just a game to him? A way to keep me in line, to make sure I don’t put his family in a position that he isn’t prepared to deal with.

Even if I want to believe his intentions are genuine, there’s a real possibility he’s pulling the wholekeep-your-enemies-closer type of thing.

I reach my hand out between us anyway. He might be playing for the upper hand, but I know how to keep us on level ground. He doesn’t need to know I’m walking in with my guard up and my knives out.

I’ll smile, play nice, be the sweet wife he’s looking for. But he’s crazy if he thinks I won’t be watching my back.

“Deal,” I say with a grin. “I’d say go draw up the paperwork, but I guess we already signed that at the chapel.”

He slides his hand into mine, and I wonder if I’m the only one feeling the electric pulse that races up my skin on contact. A reminder of the risk we’re both taking, no matter how strong our wills are.

“Deal,” Jesse agrees, not shaking, but not letting go either.

His eyes darken and his jaw clenches, but it’s not his usual irritated glare. This is something else. Something churning behind his eyes that makes him swallow hard.

“Aw, look at the newlyweds!” Serena’s voice cuts in. “Don’t you two look like a match made in heaven.”

“Awfully cozy,” Mateo agrees.

I pull my hand away quickly and straighten up, but Jesse turns like he’s unfazed.

Serena looks between Jesse and me, doing that same thing Jesse does when he’s reading people. She grinds her jaw with a smirk that says,I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Luckily, she lets it go.

The food arrives and I turn to my plate but my attention doesn’t leave Jesse. From the corner of my eye, he looks far too relaxed to be the man I’ve always thought him to be. He’s tapping his knee against mine, and something about the ease of it confuses me.

My enemy.

My boss.

My husband.

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