MUSIC woke Jonas the next morning. It wasn’t soft or soothing, but pulsating and loud—the hard rock equivalent of the military’s reveille. It blasted in all its static glory from the direction of the guest room for a full sixty seconds before finally shutting off. The silence that followed was punctuated by footsteps and muttering.
Serena.
It was just after seven o’clock on a Saturday morning. Apparently his wife was an early riser.
Jonas got out of bed and hurriedly pulled on the same clothes he’d worn the day before. When he opened the bedroom door Serena was just coming out of her room across the hall. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, her hair a sexy rumpled mess. She was wearing plaid boxer shorts and a wrinkled white tee-shirt that sported the silhouette of a bronco rider. She might as well have been wearing clingy lingerie the way his body responded upon seeing her. He was glad he’d left his shirt untucked. The tails offered some camouflage for his condition.
“Good morning,” he managed at last.
She crossed her arms over her chest, the gesture born of modesty rather than defensiveness, and mumbled, “Sorry if I woke you. My clock has a battery backup and I never turned off the alarm when I packed it. I had to shove through a couple of boxes to find it.”
Jonas smiled. “I would have gotten up eventually anyway.” Like in two or four hours, given the fact he hadn’t fallen asleep until well after two a.m.
“Well, I was just on my way to the…” She pointed in the direction of the bathroom.
“Right. I’ll start the coffee.”
They both stepped into the hallway at the same time, nearly colliding.
“Sorry.” The apologies were issued simultaneously.
“This is awkward,” Serena said.
“I know.” He shoved a hand through his hair as he exhaled.
“I’m sure it will get easier,” she offered. “It’s just a new routine for both of us to get used to.”
As Jonas watched her disappear into the bathroom, he was sure of no such thing.
They met up in the kitchen half an hour later. Serena was fresh from a shower and dressed. Unfortunately for Jonas he found her outfit to be no less sexy than her sleepwear. He liked just a little too much the way the ruffled detail that ran down the front of her white blouse drew attention to her breasts. And while her embroidered shorts were a respectable length they left enough of her toned thighs exposed to turn his breathing labored.
“Coffee’s ready.” The words came out reedy. If she noticed, she didn’t comment. Instead, she was looking around.
His kitchen was small, though maple cabinetry with glass inserts helped to make it seem larger. It didn’t have room for a proper table, since it was adjacent to the dining room, but the breakfast bar, which seated two, was perfect for his needs. Jonas ate most of his meals there, and even though he had a computer on the desk in his office he tended to read his email on his laptop, seated on one of the tall stools.
The breakfast bar was in front of a window that offered an excellent view of the downtown area, including the revitalized Fremont Street. Even at this early hour it had a similar energy level to that of the Strip. It was one of the things he loved about living here. One of the things Jonas loved about Las Vegas in general.
“This is a nice room. Great appliances. Do you enjoy cooking?”
A laugh escaped before he admitted, “I can’t boil water.”
“Oh.”
“I assume you know your way around a kitchen?” he replied.
Serena shook her head. Damp curls bobbed invitingly, and some of her sass was back when she said, “You assume wrong, Counselor. I can bake, and of course I can decorate a cake, but I’m not much of a chef.”
“What about the tofu you offered to make last night?” he teased.
She grinned. “I lied. Not only can’t I cook the stuff, I don’t like it.”
“I guess that means we’ll be eating a lot of takeout.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I can manage a couple dishes. I’ve mastered omelets, for instance.” She crossed to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she said, “Let’s see what you’ve got to work with.”
Though he knew it was a risk, Jonas walked over to peer inside with her. While the scents of soap and citrus flooded his senses, Serena was busy plucking a bell pepper and a green onion from the crisper. She snatched up the carton of eggs next.
His stomach growled loudly and she laughed.
“Someone’s hungry.” She sobered when their gazes met.
So much for thinking he’d been successful in hiding his interest. “Serena—”
She stepped around him before he could figure out what to say. “Grab the milk and shredded cheddar, okay?”
While she chopped the vegetables, and whisked the eggs and milk together, he set out plates and silverware and poured them each a cup of coffee. To an outside observer the scene was one of domestic harmony. For Jonas it was an absolute nightmare. He felt ready to explode.
He’d spent lazy weekend mornings with a woman before. In his kitchen and in his bed. Janet had stayed over so often during their years as a couple that she’d had her own key. But his ex hadn’t been much of a cook either. She’d grown up wealthy and pampered and, like Jonas, had continued to hire out most of the household chores. When they’d eaten breakfast in it had been cold cereal, or a couple of slices of toast while they shared sections of the newspaper in companionable silence. She’d never puttered in front of his stove with a dishtowel tucked around her waist, looking as delicious as a gourmet meal.
Serena glanced over her shoulder at him then. “I know what you’re thinking.”
He nearly choked on his coffee. “You do?”
“I added too much cheese.”
“Uh…”
“You can never have too much cheese. I think it’s an unwritten rule. Besides, cheese is loaded with calcium. Good for your bones.”
He wasn’t worried about his bones, but he nodded. “Anything you need me to do?”
“Nah. I’ve got it all under control.”
It was just after Serena made that assurance that the smoke alarm went off. Its high-pitched squeal rent the early-morning quiet just as effectively as her clock radio had. They both rushed to the far counter, where smoke spiraled up from one side of the toaster. While she tried to jemmy free a stuck piece of burned toast, Jonas grabbed the dishtowel from her waist and began frantically fanning the air just below the detector. It seemed to take forever before it quit. When it did, they looked at one another and burst out laughing.
“Way to go, Red.”
“I’d better get back to the eggs before I burn them, too.” She nodded to the blackened bread. “I’ll leave this in your capable hands.”
He stopped her before she could turn away. “Wait. You forgot your apron.”
Jonas didn’t hand her the dishtowel. He put it around her waist and tucked the ends into the band of her shorts in the back. His hands settled there afterward, not quite holding her. Even so, she didn’t move. Slowly she brought her gaze up. Slowly he tilted his chin down. She rose on tiptoe. He held his breath. Her arms came up, rested on his shoulders. Jonas closed the last bit of distance between their mouths. The kiss lasted until the smoke alarm blared a second time. The kitchen reeked of burnt eggs and cheese. The omelet was unsalvageable. They wound up forgoing breakfast and making do with just coffee, but as the day wore on Jonas knew that wasn’t why he felt so damned famished.
Serena was putting away the last of her clothes when Jonas knocked at the door to the guest room. She’d closeted herself inside with the boxes Jonas had brought up from the SUV just after their aborted meal. She’d needed to regain her equilibrium. Their kiss had knocked her off her foundation. No matter how many times she reminded herself that she needed to keep her distance, she found herself drawn to Jonas—a moth to the flame…and certain doom. Even if she were the sort of woman who believed in happily ever after, he’d already made it clear their relationship was temporary, and that was what she had agreed to as well.
“Come in,” she called.
Jonas opened the door, but remained in the hallway. His expression was wary—and no wonder, given the earlier fireworks. Still, if he’d come to apologize—
“About what happened in the kitchen…I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Damn him! Serena opened a small box and began untangling pairs of earrings. “Forget about it,” she muttered.
“You’re mad.”
“I said forget about it.” She took the box to the dresser, presenting him with her back. Not that it mattered. She could see him clearly in the mirror.
“You also made me promise this would be a marriage in name only.” He motioned with one hand. “I…I got carried away.”
“I was there, Jonas. You didn’t get carried away all by yourself.”
His gaze sharpened. He was every inch the lawyer when he asked, “Is that why you’re mad?”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend I’m not attracted to you, Jonas. You know I am. That’s why we’re in the predicament we’re in.”
“Is it the only reason we’re in this predicament?”
“You tell me?” she demanded as she turned.
“I…I…”
He was off balance. Well, welcome to the club, she thought. Serena pressed her advantage. “Why did you want to marry me? The night we met you said you wanted me to stay with you, but why marriage?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question,” he admitted. “I’ve also wondered why you said yes.”
She remained silent now.
Jonas sighed. “Look, I didn’t come in here to pick a fight.”
“No, you came to apologize.”
He ignored her tone. “And to give you this.”
Jonas stepped into the room and held out his hand. Cradled in his palm was a small leather box. Serena knew what she would find inside before she opened it. The platinum wedding band was accompanied by a brilliant-cut solitaire diamond that was big enough to have cost a small fortune. But it was the irony of the timing that had her gasping. They had no explanation other than moonlight and madness for why they’d gotten married in the first place, yet here he was presenting her with a rock and a band that were supposed to symbolize his undying devotion.
Of course the rings were just a prop, she reminded herself. His constituents would expect the wife of the candidate to be wearing them. Despite the stab of disappointment she felt, Serena decided it was a good thing no real meaning was attached to them. After all, they were so not her taste.
That must have occurred to Jonas then, too. “My sister picked out the set.”
His sister. Though Serena had yet to meet Elizabeth, she pictured a woman who would be at home in a country club or standing on the deck of a yacht. Long straight hair, thick headband, tasteful designer clothes.
“The rings are nice.” Nice and traditional.
“Try them on,” he suggested.
The band slid over her knuckle with ease—a little big, but not too bad. When she slipped on the other ring, though, the heavy stone listed to one side.
“I guess it has to be resized.” He sighed. “I was hoping you could wear it tonight.”
Ah, yes, tonight’s fund-raising dinner, at which time Serena would be introduced to the public as his wife. Jonas had explained the plan during yesterday’s long drive, as well as the rationale behind it. His campaign manager felt that calling a press conference to announce their marriage would invite too much speculation. This would make it less of a big deal.
“I have an idea.” Serena went to her jewelry box and returned with a rectangular bauble that was intended to pass for blue topaz surrounded by diamonds and set in white gold. Nothing about it was pricey, let alone semi-precious. She’d bought it off a department store shelf for the bargain price of forty percent off retail a couple of months back. The main stone was bigger than the real diamond, and the ring eclipsed the delicately etched platinum wedding band. They didn’t go together at all, which in her book made them perfect. Serena smiled. “This is more me.”
Jonas stared at her in thoughtful silence before nodding.
She handed him back the pricey diamond, which he tucked in his pocket. “That reminds me. I have something of yours.” He coughed as he backed into the hall. “A couple of things, actually.”
He was back a moment later. “I found this on the floor next to the nightstand in our hotel room.”
It was one of the earrings she’d worn the night they’d met.
“Thanks. They’re my favorite pair. I’d given it up as lost for good.”
“I also…um…found this.” He held out his other hand, revealing crumpled lavender satin and lace.
It was her bra. Jonas had helped her out of it on their wedding night. Desire had made his hands clumsy and the act all the more endearing. Recalling it now sent heat spiraling through her. Her hands were the clumsy ones now as she took it from him. To keep from humiliating herself Serena quipped, “Gee, I feel a little bit like Cinderella. Which one should I try on for you first?”
Joke or not, it was the wrong thing to ask. Jonas’s eyes darkened. “I get a choice?”
“I…I…” It was her turn to stammer helplessly.
He saved her from answering. “So, what do you plan to wear tonight?”
“Worried I’ll embarrass you?” Though she said it lightly, Serena held her breath as she awaited his answer.
“Just wondering which tie I should wear.”
“Men have such easy choices,” she complained on an airy sigh as she crossed to the closet.
It was a walk-in number, with shelves and racks that lined three of its walls. Though Serena considered herself a bit of a clotheshorse, she had managed to fill up barely half of it. Even to her eyes the assortment of vivid colors and wild patterns made for a garish display. One look at his face and she knew he was concerned.
“So, what’s the dress code?” she asked.
“Nothing too fancy.”
“You’re wearing a suit,” she reminded him.
“Cocktail casual, then,” he amended, as if the description helped clarify things.
“Cocktail casual?” she repeated.
“A dress is fine.” He stepped into the closet with her and picked up one leopard-print high heel. Fingering its lethal three-inch spike, he added, “Something in a muted solid color would be best.”
Serena worried her lower lip. That left out the sleeveless number that was covered in purple and red geometric shapes, as well as the pumpkin-orange cotton sheath. The cocoa jersey dress might work, except it was cut a little low, and nothing about her little black dress could be considered appropriate for primetime.
As she flipped through the hangers she watched Jonas’s thoughtful expression turn into a frown. He cleared his throat. “What would you wear to meet your friends for dinner?”
“Depends on the place, but most of the time I’d wear blue jeans or a miniskirt.”
“A miniskirt.” His mouth went slack, she presumed in horror.
Serena ushered him out of the closet. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure something out.”
Alone, she did a second inventory of her clothes. Not everything was there yet. Some of the things she didn’t wear often were being shipped from San Diego. But it really didn’t matter. The sad fact was nothing in her wardrobe said “wife of the candidate.” She nibbled her nail. Most of it didn’t say wife of any sort, at least not the sort of wife a man like Jonas would have, and that meant she didn’t have anything acceptable to wear tonight.
She debated only a moment before snatching up her cellphone and punching in the number that Alex had given her. Serena was grateful beyond measure when her friend answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Alex. Thank God you’re there.”
“Serena? Are you in Vegas?” Alex asked.
“I’m here.” She paced to the window. Outside it was sunny, and probably already scorching hot. “I’m desperate, Alex.”
That got her friend’s attention. “Desperate? Give me an address and I’ll be there to get you before you hang up.”
She would be, too. Alex would drop everything to help. That was the kind of friend she was.
“Thanks,” Serena murmured, touched and humbled. “But you don’t need to rush to my rescue this very minute, or even at all. I’m sorry for being so dramatic. This isn’t a matter of life or death.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. Though it sort of felt like it.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Jonas has a campaign function I will be attending with him tonight. The Las Vegas Citizens for Change,” she enunciated with a stiff accent.
“Sounds dry,” Alex commiserated.
“Probably,” she agreed, though Serena found herself oddly curious about the grassroots group of young urban professionals who called the city home and wanted an administration that would cater to their needs as much as it catered to the needs of the business community. “He’s going to announce our marriage—introduce me to the masses, so to speak. It will be all over the news after tonight.” Picturing herself in a roomful of suit-clad men and demurely dressed women, Serena collapsed onto the mattress and flung a hand over her eyes. “I’m having a fashion emergency.”
Her admission was greeted with silence and then laughter. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a few hours when I can slip free this afternoon. We’ll go shopping,” Alex promised.
A miniskirt!
Jonas stood under the cool spray of his shower. God help him, he could picture a little too clearly Serena wearing some thigh-baring number. In his fantasy she paired it with the dangly earrings whose mate he’d just returned, the lavender bra, and those sexy leopard-print stilettos.
He groaned, and even after he turned the nozzle all the way to cold his body remained on fire.
Between the kiss in the kitchen and the fantasy image of a miniskirt-wearing Serena dogging his libido, Jonas was in a foul mood when the woman in question tapped at his bedroom door half an hour later.
“I’m heading out,” she informed him. “My friend Alex and I are going shopping.”
“Now?” He glanced at his wristwatch. Women, he knew, could turn a routine trip to the mall into an all-day excursion. “We need to leave for the dinner no later than four o’clock. Jameson wants us there early, so he can meet you and go over what’s expected.”
“I won’t be gone long.”
“Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” he asked.
“No. I need to pick out something for tonight.” She batted her eyelashes. “It seems that all of my ‘cocktail casual’ garments are at the cleaners.”
The mention of clothing caused Jonas to recall his fantasy, and his libido was teased back to life.
“Just make sure it covers your butt and hits somewhere around the knee,” he snapped in frustration.
Her expression sobered at his surly tone and insulting words. He wanted to apologize, maybe even try to explain, but she was gone before he could.
Jonas’s parting barb stung. A lot. Serena might not be conventional, but she had agreed to help him. She understood what was at stake between now and the election, which was why she was leafing through rack after rack of dresses, looking for something appropriate to wear.
Unfortunately two hours of shopping had yielded only a closet full of options for the real Serena. For the Serena who was the wife of a burgeoning politician the haul included only one very staid taupe suit and some equally bland accessories.
Even Alex was surprised by Serena’s choices. “Pearls, hmm? And that suit? Taupe.” Her lips wobbled into a smile.
“So?”
Alex swallowed. “Don’t get me wrong, honey. It’s nice. But it’s a bit…boring. Especially for you.”
Serena agreed, but she shrugged at the description. “Then Jonas will consider it perfect.”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, he fell in lo—” Alex’s face colored.
“He fell in lust with me,” Serena finished. The blunt word caused a surprisingly sharp pain in her chest.
“He married you.”
“But he doesn’t have a clue why,” she replied, recalling their earlier conversation. On a sigh, she admitted, “Neither of us does.”
“But there was a reason, Serena. And it wasn’t lust. Maybe the two of you just need a little time to figure out what it was.”
Alex squeezed her hand and Serena’s defenses collapsed. “I’m so not what he wants in a wife—even in a pretend wife. He’s afraid I’ll embarrass him tonight.”
“Did he say that?”
“Not in so many words. But he instructed me to buy something that—and I quote—covers my butt and hits somewhere around the knee.”
Alex offered a commiserating smile. “Well, if that’s his only criteria this outfit fills the bill.”
“Perfectly.”
Serena fingered the strand of pearls. She could do this. But maybe there was more than one way to do it, she decided as her rebel instincts kicked in.
Her mood lifted along with her lips as she told Alex, “You know, now that I think of it, I saw something in the last store that would fit the bill, too.”