Marrying Mr. Wrong (Dirty Martini Running Club #3) - Claire Kingsley Page 0,62

start looking for a new place to live. I’d offer up mine, but you’re far too tempting and you’re a married woman now.”

I was about to say, It’s not like the marriage is real. But I stopped. I didn’t really want to say it.

“I’ll figure something out,” I said instead.

Our breakfast arrived and the conversation turned to other things. Nora was having some disagreements with her boss. Jensen had been planning a business trip to London, but it had been canceled. Nora didn’t appear to be thrilled that he was staying in town.

I took a bite of my eggs benedict and glanced out the window. Althea and Dominic were outside the restaurant again. They said something, then turned away from each other and left, heading in opposite directions.

“Have you ever had a feeling about something, even though you can’t necessarily explain it?” I asked.

“Definitely,” Nora said. “Why?”

“There’s a woman who works for Cox; her name’s Althea McLellan. I saw her go into that restaurant across the street last weekend when I was here with my dad. And I just saw her again, except this time she was with Cox’s old business partner, who didn’t leave under the best circumstances. It gives me a weird feeling.”

“Who’s his old business partner?” Jensen asked.

“Dominic Coates.”

He scowled, like the name offended him.

“Do you know him?” I asked.

“Only in passing,” he said. “He’s an insufferable cliché. Man gets wealthy, thinks he can get away with anything. Then he’s shocked when he gets caught and actually has to pay the consequences.”

“That was a very mature statement, coming from you,” Nora said.

“I have my moments,” he said. “Apparently, he spent a month in rehab and just hired a PR firm to stage his comeback story.”

“Really?” I asked.

“I have a lady friend who works for the firm,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

I tapped my finger on my fork. “So he gets caught with hookers and blow and loses his job. Goes to rehab, then hires a PR company to fix his reputation. And now he’s meeting with Cox’s lawyer.”

“It’s suspicious,” Nora said. “Are you going to tell him?”

“I could mention it when he gets back on Friday. Although it kind of feels like it isn’t my business.”

“You are his wife,” Jensen said.

“Stop,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s bad enough when he says it.”

He sighed dramatically. “Lucky bastard. I hope he appreciates you.”

“That’s for sure,” Nora said. “And no more pulling your pigtails. Unless you want him to.”

With a soft laugh, I absently fingered my hair. All this talk about Cox was making me miss him, and he hadn’t even left town yet. The thought of not seeing him all week was so disappointing.

I really needed to get my head on straight or my heart was in big trouble.

22

Cox

After seeing Sophie off from her apartment, I took her things back to my place and unloaded them. I wasn’t exactly pleased that I had to go out of town this week, but at least I knew Sophie would be safe and comfortable at my house.

I packed my bag and put it in my car, since I’d leave to catch my flight right after my golf date with Mom. Then I headed to the golf course.

She was at the clubhouse waiting for me, dressed in a polo and Bermuda shorts. Georgia Cox is a pint-sized firecracker with silver hair she keeps short, a sharp wit, and a lifelong obsession with golf. She’s very happily single, enjoying an active social life with friends she met golfing, at her favorite beauty salon, and the local senior center.

I got out of the car and shut the door. “Hey, Mom.”

“There you are. Hurry on up now; we don’t want to miss our tee time.”

“I’m here on time.” I hoisted my clubs out of the trunk and brought them over to her golf cart.

“Even so.”

I gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then we got in her cart. She drove. I still wasn’t allowed behind the wheel of her precious golf cart.

She gave me the rundown on all the gossip in her social circle while we drove out to the first green and started our game. Her neighbors were putting in new landscaping and the HOA was up in arms over the types of trees they’d chosen. Her friend Charlene Lafferty had tried to dye her own hair and it had come out purple. And the men at the senior center had all flocked to the new dance class, on account of the instructor