“I won’t miss the appointment,” Serena promised. “But something important has come up.”
“What could be more important than your job?”
She glanced over at Jonas again. This time their gazes met and, just as she had in Las Vegas, she felt that wild jolt.
Heidi’s voice snapped her back to the matter at hand. “Given your serious lack of experience and formal training, I took a huge chance when I hired you.”
Actually, she’d hired Serena as a glorified gopher slash receptionist. She’d only given Serena her current responsibilities out of necessity nine months ago, when her assistant had quit without notice, leaving Heidi in the lurch. Serena had shown promise and an eagerness to learn, staying late without pay if it meant acquiring new skills. Indeed, she was still paid the same lowly amount she’d made coming in. She wisely chose not to point any of this out as her boss’s tirade continued.
“Since then I’ve offered you the sort of opportunities that many a culinary arts student would kill for. Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
“See that you don’t.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, and I promise I’ll arrive before the client does.”
Heidi snorted. “See that you do. In the meantime, I suggest you rethink your priorities.”
“Everything okay?” Jonas called from the couch as Serena dropped her cellphone on the counter.
“Fine. Just my boss.” She rolled her eyes. “She’s better at making me squirm than my mother is. And, believe me, that’s saying a lot.”
His smile was awkward. Because he’d gotten her into hot water at work? Or because she’d mentioned the woman who was, for the time being at least, his mother-in-law? Serena wasn’t sure which. She only knew she felt awkward now, too.
“So…” She took a seat on the thick-armed chair that was perpendicular to the couch, discreetly brushing aside a stray popcorn kernel.
“So…” he repeated, and folded his hands over one knee.
Two nights ago the conversation had flowed endlessly, seamlessly. Now neither of them could string together a complete sentence. Clearing her throat, Serena attempted it again. “How long…um…will it take to, you know, undo what we did?”
Though the question was far from eloquent, she figured her meaning was clear. Jonas frowned, though, as he repeated, “Undo what we did?”
“Yeah. Undo the…um…the ‘I do’ part.” She laughed nervously.
He studied her a moment, before rising to his feet. Then he paced to the sliding doors that led to the studio’s small balcony. When he turned to face her he was no longer frowning, but his expression was far from pleased.
“I’m afraid there’s a bit of a situation—a hitch.”
“To our getting unhitched? Sorry.” She scrunched up her face. Nerves had her saying stupid things. “Go on.”
“I’m not sure how to put this.”
“Well, whatever it is, say it fast—like you’re pulling off a bandage,” she suggested. Between his hesitation and turned-down lips her stomach was starting to churn like one of the commercial-grade mixers at the bakery.
“Okay, here it is. I want to stay married to you.”
She couldn’t have heard him right, Serena decided, which was why it took her a moment to realize that her mouth was gaping open.
Jonas tried to determine Serena’s reaction to his words. Beyond flummoxed, he couldn’t be sure. He took the fact that she wasn’t smiling, however, to mean she wasn’t thrilled with the idea. After the way she’d ditched him in Vegas the previous morning, he hadn’t exactly expected her to be. He ignored the vague sense of disappointment he felt, and assumed what one of his law school professors had called the litigator pose. Clasping his hands behind his back, he paced in front of the balcony doors.
“We don’t know one another well, but as you may recall from our conversations the other evening I’m currently running for election in Las Vegas.”
“Mayor,” she said.
He nodded. Good. She remembered that much.
“A lot of people, especially in the business community, believe your opponent lacks the imagination and vision to expand on the revitalization efforts that are currently underway.”
Jonas blinked. “I…yes.”
Her green gaze locked on him. “Surprised I was paying attention?”
He shrugged. “Politics can be dry—and, well, other parts of our evening were far more memorable than discussions of my candidacy.”
One side of her mouth quirked up. “Now, there’s an understatement.”
Serena was seated demurely enough, her legs crossed at the ankles. But for a moment a vision of her wearing nothing but his crumpled tie, with those long legs clamped around his waist, blasted free from his memory.
“Yeah.”
He took a step toward her, then remembered why he was there. He needed her to do him a favor. His political life could very well depend on it.
“Anyway, marriages are a matter of public record. As such, ours is guaranteed to become fodder for my opponent in pretty short order. This isn’t your problem, but once it’s out things could get ugly for my campaign.”
“How so?”
“Well, for starters, no one has ever met you. Nor have we ever been seen together. Add in the fact that my bachelor status has been duly noted in all of the previous profiles the media have done on me and…”
“It gets ugly,” she finished.
The afternoon before, his campaign manager’s face had turned a worrying shade of purple when Jonas had told him about Serena and their impromptu nuptials. The two of them had come up with an idea to salvage his political ambitions. It had seemed plausible then—reasonable, even. Right now, as he stared at Serena’s full lips, it not only seemed absurd but self-serving.
He blurted it out anyway. “I need for us to remain married.”
“For political purposes?”
“Yes.”
Serena was wearing a bright yellow silk tunic with elaborate beading and embroidery around the neckline. The rich flecks of green, purple and red suited her. She ran one hand over it absently now, apparently weighing his words.
“But we would go our separate ways eventually, right? We wouldn’t stay married…till death do us part.”
They’d already made that promise. He’d been sincere at the time. He wasn’t the sort to make a promise knowing he would break it. In the cold light of day, however, it seemed ridiculous to think either one of them could keep it. Sincerity aside, they barely knew one another.
“No. Not that long,” he assured her.
“How long?” She nibbled that plump bottom lip.
He remembered her doing the same just the other night.
“Jonas?” Her voice interrupted the memory. She didn’t look pleased with the prospect of remaining his wife, even if their stint of matrimony came with an early get-out clause.
“That depends.”
A pair of green eyes narrowed. “On?”
“The outcome of the general election. In the past the Mayor’s race has been decided in June, but this year the