Page 35 of Miss Understood

“Finances, belongings, nothing changes.”

He tips his chin. “Agreed.”

As a managing partner, it’s no secret that Jesse has a lot of money on the line, but I hope he knows I don’t want a cent. I work for what I reap. I don’t need what’s his.

“What about family? You haven’t told yours yet,” he says.

“Family and close friends can’t be in the dark. I’m not lying to them about what this is. So, our inner circles can know the truth.” The last thing I need is my dad and brothers under some misguided impression I’ve actually fallen in love. “But that’s it. Only people we trust.”

“Works for me.” Jesse’s eyes darken. “That leaves one more thing. Married couples…you know.” He swirls his hand in a circle and tips his head toward my bedroom.

“No way.” I straighten up. “I’m not having sex with you.”

Jesse laughs at my reaction. “That’s not what I was saying. But in public, they’ll expect us to at least act like we don’t despise each other. Hold hands, kiss, even…cutesy, lovey-dovey crap.”

He has a point. Happy couples can’t keep their hands off each other. Look at Kennedy and Zac, or Monica and Carson. If we continue to act like the Great Wall of China sits between us, people will start talking. Getting a little physical is nonnegotiable if we want to sell it. But PDA is as far as I can let it go.

“Fine, but we only do what’s absolutely necessary to seem believable. Including kissing.” My face puckers.

“Wow, don’t look so disgusted by it.” Jesse laughs.

He doesn’t need to know how I really feel when I think about what it would be like to kiss him. Just the thought of those lips on my mouth—my body—makes my heart thump harder in my chest.

I force a smile. “Just keep your hands to yourself when possible, Mr. Davis, and you’ve got yourself a wife.”

He leans in and brushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I like the sound of that.”

Jesse takes my hand and brings the back of it to his lips, planting a kiss on my feverishly warm skin. The brush of heat sends me tumbling down a rabbit hole of thoughts I shouldn’t be having about a man who is basically a husband for hire.

“There’s actually one more thing,” I say, twisting a thread around my fingers. I wish I didn’t have to bring this up, but I know from work experience that there’s no way around it.

“What do we do about dating other people?” I ask. “Will you at least be discreet about it?”

Jesse’s entire body stiffens.

“I just mean, if we’re pretending to be a happy couple, it’s not going to look good if one of us is caught with someone else. That’s how half our cases start, right?” I try to bury my uneasiness about the fact that I don’t like the idea of Jesse with other people for lots of reasons right now. But this seems like the only valid enough point to make.

“I’m fine not dating,” he says.

“You are?”

“Of course. It’s just five weeks; give me a little credit.” He inches closer. “Can you hold off?”

I nod. If I didn’t want a relationship before, there’s no way I can attempt one now. Wearing out my vibrator is going to have to do.

“Good.”

“Good,” I repeat, like there’s air back in the room.

Boundaries might have been drawn in the sand, but somehow I’m a lot more uneasy than I was before we set them.

“On that note,” he says. His body is somehow moving closer with each passing minute. My legs are curled up, but he’s close enough that my toes are warmly settled beneath his thighs. “I have a wifely favor to ask of you. Come with me to a gala Friday night? It’ll look odd if my blushing new bride skips it. Plus, I have it on good authority they’ll have a dessert bar.”

“You know I love a good dessert bar.”

“I know you do,” he says with a grin that makes my stomach tumble.

Stop it.

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