Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,60

you again this morning.

Me: Damn it Cox, you scared me. I thought you meant what happened last night.

Cox: How could I regret fucking my wife?

I wanted to tell him to stop calling me his wife, except… I kind of didn’t. He was so cute when he said it. I just needed to remember that he was only teasing.

So why not tease him back?

Me: Aren’t you glad you married me?

Cox: Hell yes, I am.

Me: You’re only saying that because you got me into bed last night.

Cox: If I recall, you came into my room.

Me: I just wanted to cuddle.

Cox: With no panties?

Me: Okay, fine, that wasn’t all I wanted.

Cox: Did you get everything you needed?

Me: Yes. And then some.

Cox: I’m happy to hear that. I hope you’re ready for more when I get back because I’m not done with you yet.

Not done with you yet. I tried not to let his choice of words bother me. We were just flirty-texting. But I couldn’t help but wonder what was going to happen when he was done with me.

It was too late now. I was a little bit smitten with Camden Cox. And who knew; maybe this wouldn’t blow up in my face.

Except this was me. And things always blew up in my face. But I was an unfailing optimist. Maybe I’d get lucky this time.

I glanced up from my phone. A woman in a business suit, her platinum blond hair pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, stood outside the restaurant across the street. Her arms were crossed and she tapped a stiletto heel, clearly impatient.

It was Althea McLellan. Again.

That was weird.

And then it got weirder.

A man in a dress shirt and slacks approached. At first I thought he might be her husband, meeting her for brunch—although I didn’t know whether or not she was married. And if he was her husband, she wasn’t acting very affectionate toward him. In fact, she looked irritated, like he’d kept her waiting.

He started speaking to her and I caught sight of his face. I knew him from somewhere. Why did I recognize him?

Wait, was that…

I Googled and sure enough, it was him. Cox’s former business partner, Dominic Coates. The one who’d been caught doing coke off a prostitute’s ass.

They went inside the restaurant, leaving me to wonder, why was Althea with him?

“Sophie, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

I jumped, clutching my chest, and almost dropped my phone. Nora grabbed my hands, helping me keep hold of it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just…” I glanced across the street again. “Thinking about something.”

Nora was dressed in the cutest burgundy cardigan over a t-shirt and distressed jeans. She always looked so fabulous.

“Sweetie, what happened there?” she asked, tapping her chin.

I touched the scrape. It didn’t look as bad as I’d thought it would, but it was still noticeable. “I fell yesterday, but it’s fine.”

“Poor thing. Listen, I’m sorry for being late, and for…” Her eyes flicked behind her.

That was when I saw him approaching. Nora’s half-brother, Jensen Lakes.

Never in my life had I encountered another man like Jensen. I’d met him a few times and always found myself reduced to a blubbering dork-face who couldn’t do anything other than bat her eyelashes and stare. And sometimes drool.

Don’t judge me. He was that spectacular.

Today he wore a leather jacket over a dark button-down shirt and slacks that fit him so perfectly, they had to be custom made. He whipped off a pair of sunglasses and flashed that impossibly sexy grin at me.

“Hello, my sweet Sophie,” he crooned in a smooth British accent.

“Hi, Jensen,” I said, then blinked in surprise. Wait, had I just given him a normal greeting, like he wasn’t the personification of every dark sexual fantasy I’d ever had and would never admit to?

Why yes, yes I had.

He looked as surprised as I felt, but only for a second.

“As usual, Jensen doesn’t understand the concept of invitations and decided to come to brunch,” Nora said, casting a glare at her brother.

“It’s not my fault you had plans when I came over,” he said.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind,” I said.

He smiled again, the corners of his lips turning up in a devilish grin. “Of course you don’t.”

For some reason, the suggestive look in his eyes didn’t leave me a babbling, drooling mess. No dork-face here. Go, me.

We went into the restaurant and the host seated us at a round table next to the window. Jensen slid his chair closer to mine but Nora moved it