Free Much More Than a Mistress by Michelle Celmer Page A

gone ten seconds when James appeared at the table. He addressed Jordan by name, listed the specials, then took their beverage orders. Jane ordered a Perrier.
    â€œAre you sure you wouldn’t like a glass of wine?” Jordan said. “Or better yet, champagne, since it is your birthday.”
    â€œI shouldn’t while I’m working.”
    He grinned. “I promise not to tell your boss.”
    She was about to decline, and had to remind herself that this was not about her “job” at Western Oil. This was about the investigation, and pumping Jordan for information. For that, she could be the type of woman who imbibed at lunch.
    She smiled and said, “In that case, I’d love some.”
    He ordered an entire bottle and the waiter trotted off to fetch it.
    â€œI take it you eat here often, Mr. Everette,” she said.
    â€œOften enough to know that the boeuf bourguignon is to die for.”
    She looked at the menu, which was written entirely in French. And since she couldn’t read French, she set it aside and said, “Then I think I’ll have that.”
    â€œI have an idea,” he said. “How about, when we’re not in the office, you call me Jordan?”
    â€œOkay. Jordan.” It was completely ridiculous, but using his first name seemed so…intimate. “Does Tiffany use your first name when you’re not in the office?”
    He grinned. “No. And in answer to your next question, no, I don’t take her out to lunch either.”
    â€œThat wasn’t my next question.”
    â€œWell, I figure it was bound to spring up eventually.”
    James reappeared with their champagne and poured them each a glass, then he took their orders. When he was gone, Jordan held up his glass and said, “A toast, to your…twenty-third birthday?”
    He definitely knew what to say to make a girl feel good. “Twenty-ninth,” she said, lifting her glass.
    â€œGet out. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”
    She clinked her glass against his and took a sip. Of course it was delicious.
    Jordan took a sip, then set his glass back down. “So, what was your next question?”
    She opened her mouth to answer him, glancing past him at the the man walking in her direction from the restrooms. Her breath caught and her heart dropped, and her first instinct was to slide out of her chair and hide under the table. This could not be happening.
    Please don’t let him see me, she begged silently, willing herself to be invisible.
    â€œJane?” Jordan said, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay?”
    The man passed by the table, glancing briefly at her, and she held her breath…then he did a double take and stopped in his tracks.
    Her heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach.
    â€œ Jane? Is that you?”

Seven
    J ane cursed silently, but pasted on what she hoped was a pleasant, yet slightly disinterested smile. “Oh, hello, Drake.”
    Her ex looked her up and down and laughed. “Oh my God, I hardly recognized you. You look… Wow. What happened to you?”
    What he meant was, what happened to drab, Plain Jane at whom men never cast a second glance? Well, Drake wasn’t exactly God’s gift to women. He wasn’t particularly tall, or well built, or even all that good-looking, and the hairline that had begun to recede in his early twenties was now a full-fledged bald spot.
    She ignored his question and instead asked, “How have you been?”
    â€œGreat! I don’t know if you heard, but Megan and I are engaged. We set a date for this spring.”
    â€œOh, congratulations,” she said, digging her acrylic nails into the meat of her palms. She knew she was betteroff without him, but the news still stung. She had been with him for five years, two of those living together, but they had never once talked marriage.
    After only nine months with Megan they were already