Inconveniently Wed!. Jackie Braun

We go our separate ways. An annulment, especially since we both want it and I’m already a resident of Las Vegas, can be handled quietly. By the time it’s public record I’ll be old news.”

      “And if you win?” Her gaze remained direct.

      “We would have to stay married a little longer. It would look pretty suspect if my bride ditched me the day after I was sworn into office.” He offered a charming smile to cover his desperation and the uncomfortable realization that she’d already ditched him once.

      “How long, Jonas?”

      “For…For…”

      Forever. That was how long he’d asked her to stay the other night. He shoved the thought away now, no longer sure that was what he wanted, even if it were possible, and given the way she’d dashed from their hotel room it didn’t look likely.

      After clearing his throat, he said, “I don’t have a timeframe etched in stone. A few months or so.”

      Actually, Jameson had insisted on at least a year. That length of time, he’d said, would help silence the skeptics and create sympathy for Jonas when the marriage dissolved, upping his chances for a successful first term and re-election if he chose to run again. Since Serena appeared to be on the fence, Jonas decided a little vagueness was in order. The length of time was negotiable.

      “What would I have to do? A few public appearances? Kiss a baby or two?”

      There was more to it than that—press interviews and the like—but he nodded. “Sure.”

      “I guess I could fly up on weekends, and maybe here and there during the week if you had a special engagement that you need me to attend in the evening.” She grimaced, glanced away. “I’d…um…need some help covering travel expenses, though. My budget is pretty tight right now, and I’m not due a raise for a while.”

      Jonas scratched his cheek. “Here’s the thing. To make it believable, you couldn’t stay in San Diego and commute up now and then. You’d have to live in Las Vegas. With me.” He swallowed. Only after saying it aloud did he consider all of the ramifications and disturbing possibilities of setting up a household with her.

      Serena blinked a few times in rapid succession. “Let me get this straight. Not only are you asking me to put off our annulment, you want me to move to Las Vegas and live with you as your wife for the foreseeable future?”

      “Yes.” At her raised eyebrows, he added, “It’s a lot to ask, I know.”

      “A lot? Gee, you’re just full of understatements today. What about my apartment, Jonas?” She motioned wide with her arms. “What about my job?”

      “I’ll continue to pay the lease, or if you’d prefer you can sublet it.” The job was more difficult, but he’d anticipated it being a stumbling block so had an answer ready. “As for the job, I think you should quit.”

      He hadn’t known Serena long, but in their short time together he’d seen her experience dozens of emotions. Rage was new. And, damn, it looked good on her.

      “So you think I should quit?” she began slowly, softly. Both the pace and volume of her words picked up considerably when she continued. “Because you find yourself in a bind, and because your dream job is on the line, you think I should be more than happy to throw in the towel on the only job I’ve ever found that I can see myself doing five years, hell, twenty years from now?”

      “Serena—”

      She talked over him. “I don’t suppose any of that matters to you. Decorating cakes isn’t rocket science. Certainly it’s not as important as running for public office,” she drawled.

      “Serena—”

      “Or maybe you share my parents’ attitude that this is just a fad and will wind up as one more gig on my long and eclectic résumé?” She exhaled sharply and her eyes turned bright. “When I told them I wanted to open my own cake shop someday they laughed.”

      “I’m not laughing.” Jonas crossed to her, and though he knew it wasn’t wise he touched her, cupping her elbows and drawing her closer. “You told me your dream the other night. I didn’t laugh then. I’m not laughing now. It’s important to you. That’s obvious.” She was wearing the same perfume she’d had on when they met. No florals for her. It was citrusy, bold. It made it hard to think. Jonas forced himself to stay focused. “I’m not asking you to give up your dream.”

      “Good, because I won’t.” Her chin notched up. “Even in the short time I’ve been at Bonaventure I’ve made a name for myself. Today I’m meeting with a client who specifically requested me, and that’s not the first time it’s happened—despite my lack of professional training. If I quit now, it would be like starting from scratch.”

      “Your current position and the business you’d like to one day own are not mutually exclusive, Serena.”

      “One leads to the other.”

      “Not with the right financing and contacts.”

      That got her attention. Wary green eyes studied him. “What do you mean?”

      “What if I could guarantee access to both at the end of our…arrangement?” The word left a sour taste in his mouth, but he plodded ahead. “What if, between now and then, you were able to—I don’t know—maybe take some classes and get some of the training you say you’re lacking? After we…um…wrap things up, I could set you up with a list of potential clients and the capital to start your own shop.”

      “That sounds like…” He waited for the word heaven, or something along that line. Serena’s take on the matter was, “Prostitution!”

      She shook free of his grasp and marched half a dozen steps away. Rage was back, and though it looked good on her he didn’t want to see it now.

      “I realize the oldest profession is legal in some parts of your state, but if I wanted to sell myself in order to open my own cake shop I could do that here, Jonas. No pimp necessary.”

      She wasn’t the only one angry now. He wrenched at his tie, since it seemed to be constricting his windpipe. “That’s not the kind of arrangement I’m suggesting!”

      She crossed her arms and blinked slowly in challenge. “No?”

      “No! What I’m suggesting, what I’m offering, is a business opportunity. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

      The shouted words echoed in the tiny apartment. If Jameson, the self-proclaimed king of spin, were on hand to witness the exchange, he would be sorely disappointed in his protégé. Jonas had botched this, and badly. He fully expected Serena to tell him to go to hell and then show him the door.

      “Let’s be clear on one thing. I don’t want your money. I’m not looking for a shortcut to a big payday—especially one that involves selling my soul or anything else.”

      “I know.” He shoved a hand through his hair and expelled a breath. “I apologize if what I’m offering sounded like payment for services rendered. That wasn’t my intention. It’s just that I felt that since I was getting something of obvious value out of the proposed arrangement, you should, too. And I know how much you enjoy having free creative reign when it comes to decorating cakes.”

      “You know?”

      “You aren’t the only one who was listening the other night.”

      That took the wind out of her sails. “How is it possible that you get it?” she asked softly.

      “Excuse me?”

      She shook her head. “Nothing. I…it’s madness.”

      “Would offering you a low-interest loan make the offer more palatable?”

      “Jonas, I…I don’t know. God! I can barely think.” She rested her fingertips against