The Temporary Wife - By Jeannie Moon Page 0,29

Jason could recover from the two kisses, they’d said their good-byes and left.

Holy hell. Who was that woman?

“You’re going to marry her?” Harper said on a laugh. “Your mother was right. She looks like a stripper.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Jason said, turning and pointing at her. “And don’t ever say that again.”

“I don’t think she looks like a stripper,” Nate said to Owen. “Do you?”

“Nah, she’s hot, and she’s got a great rack, but not a stripper. She’s too short anyway.” Owen popped a piece of shrimp in his mouth.

“True, too hard to work the pole,” Nate agreed. “But the heels do help.”

Owen nodded.

“Stop. Just stop. Shit. She’s going to be my wife in a week. Show some respect.”

Harper was grinning, her arms folded. Jason was so angry, if she were a man, he’d knock that smug look right off her face.

“You’d better get used to it. It’s going to happen every time you take her to a function, a dinner party, for cocktails at some new bar.”

“What’s going to happen? She’s beautiful.”

“She’s flashy. The wild hair, the body, that face. She’s gorgeous, but she doesn’t belong in your world, Jason.”

Jason sat on one of the stools at the island, thinking about Harper’s words. Thinking how Meg would feel at the kinds of events that Harper mentioned. He remembered years ago taking Meg to baseball and hockey games where she wore a jersey and screamed her head off for her favorite teams. She was fun and enthusiastic, and that wasn’t the type of world he lived in.

Last week he talked to her about taking her and Molly to a Giants game and she couldn’t contain her excitement about the idea—until she found out they would be in his company’s luxury suite. Meg wanted to sit in the stands, in the cold.

This was the same thing he faced in high school, only worse. He wanted Meg to be happy, but he didn’t know how she was going to be part of his life. She was fun and down-to-earth and she didn’t have any love for the pretense that swirled around him. She was different from everyone else, and rather than being worried about it, Jason liked it that way. The only thing he truly hoped was that he had as much nerve as she did. Jason didn’t want to blow this up, but his assistant had to know Meg wasn’t going to let anyone walk all over her.

“You know,” he began, glaring at Harper, “I underestimated her once, Harper. Just once. I’ll never do it again.” Picking up a folder off the kitchen table, he headed for his office. “Trust me, you shouldn’t underestimate her, either.”

***

“She thinks I’m marrying him for his money.” Meg paced around her bedroom, talking to her sister on the phone. “But everyone thinks that.”

“She sounds like she’s going to be trouble.”

“More than likely. It seems no matter what the circumstances, there is some woman in his life who hates me.”

The doorbell rang, and Meg checked out the upstairs window to see Jason’s car in her driveway. Molly poked her head in. “Can I let him in?”

“Answer the door the way I taught you.” Molly took off, and Meg followed to the top of the stairs to watch her. “He’s here. Early. He must be scared.”

“That’s different. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what you thought last time.”

“He has grown up, you know.”

“Hmmm. So tell me about the Harpy.”

“Oh, I like that.” The name would be used again. “Well, she’s tall, dark-haired.” Meg bit into a black and white cookie from her shower that afternoon and looked at it, disgusted. “She’s skinny. Perfect.”

“She’s not perfect. Far from it.” Meg turned toward the door, and there stood her gorgeous, sexy fiancé holding a five-year-old’s hand like it was a piece of glass. He was smiling at her in the way she imagined husbands smiled at their wives when they knew they were in trouble. And it made Meg both happy and sad because she didn’t know what was real between them and what wasn’t.

“Carly, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Go get him, tiger,” said her sister before ending the call.

Jason leaned over and whispered something in Molly’s ear, and she took off toward her room. That’s when he stepped inside her bedroom and looked around the space.

Meg loved her room. It was beautiful and feminine, with soft cream walls, a tan patterned rug, and a lush paisley comforter with shades of blue, tan, and yellow. She had lacy sheets and pillowcases,