Page 34 of Miss Understood

“Not exactly.” I pause, not sure where his defensiveness is coming from. “But what about you? I wouldn’t want to cramp your single life. And this is—well, complicated,” I say, waving my hand between us. “How would this even work, exactly, for the next five weeks?”

“Marriage?”

“Yes.” I give him a sharp nod.

I’m not sure how he volleys around words like “marriage” and “wife”without expecting me to spike them to the ground.

Jesse tips his head back and closes his eyes. Even though he’s dressed to perfection in a smooth gray suit, he looks tired and not like himself. He’s got longer-than-usual stubble on his head that’s starting to curl and a five-o’clock shadow dusting his jaw.

I’m not the only one this is taking a toll on.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Jesse says finally, turning to me with cautious eyes.

“Us being married?” I say, trying not to laugh. “Good?”

“I know it sounds crazy.” He sits up and kicks a foot under his other leg so he’s facing me on the couch. “But people are taking this thing between you and me seriously. They’re looking at us differently, in a good way. Working together on this case, as a married couple, in love, it brings a level of trust. Besides, it’s not forever, obviously. Five more weeks, and we can get out.”

Out.

Like he’s got an eject button on standby and there’s no way we’ll both go down in flames. All things considered,heprobably won’t, no matter what we do. He’s a man. A powerful one at that. He’ll get a pat on the back followed by abetter luck next time. I’m the one who will get sideways glances and whispers.

There’s the slut who screwed the boss.

But the plan seemed solid at the time, and I agreed to it. Backing out now would make me a chicken, and I can’t let him be the “bigger man.” If only Jesse would give me something to work with and stop brushing this conversation aside like we don’t need to have it.

“If we’re going to do this for that long, we need some ground rules,” I tell him.

Pretending to be married is one thing. Making people believe we aren’t full of shit is another.

“What do you propose?” he asks with a smile.

I sit up and cross my legs. “Well, first off, how do we explain not living together?”

Jesse lifts an eyebrow. “We see that all the time.”

“Yes, in clients headed for Splitsville,” I remind him. “We’re supposed to convince people that we have so little self-control around each other that we got married on a whim in Vegas, but we don’t want to live together?”

“Good point.” He reaches his arm across the back of the couch, and his hand sits dangerously close to my shoulder. “You can come stay at my place.”

Of course, his place.

“Why? Because you’re the man? Why don’t you come stay at mine?” I fold my arms over my chest.

What is he saying about my apartment anyway? It might not be in the snobbiest part of the city, but it’s got character. Not to mention it cost me a fortune.

“I’ve got an extra master suite with its own bathroom, do you?” He bows his head and looks up at me.

I shake my head.

“So, unless you’re trying to catch me naked coming out of the shower in your place—”

I hold a hand up. “Point taken.”

Picturing Jesse walking around naked in my apartment is the last thing I need right now. Visualizing all those muscles moving and flexing.

“I’m not getting rid of my apartment though,” I say.

“Of course not. This is temporary.” He nods his head in agreement. “We’re living together to keep up appearances, but everything else is separate.”

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