Free Secrets of a Shy Socialite by Wendy S. Marcus Page B

lot younger than seventeen. Come on.” He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her down the hall. “I heard Mary tell you to eat your dinner.”
    In the break room, Jena washed her hands in the small sink and Justin collected their bagged meals from the mini-fridge. Then Justin washed his hands and Jena poured two cups of coffee which she carried to the round four-person table in the corner.
    In the process of unwrapping his deli sandwich Justin said, “Last night I promised you would have your bills sorted and paid, you would understand your investments and know how much money you had, and you’d be writing checks by Monday. That’s not going to happen if tomorrow you refuse my calls and pretend you’re not home when I knock on your door like you did today.” He bit into half of what looked like a twelve inch Italian combo sub.
    So he’d figured out the truth. Well, Jena had another bit of truth for him. “I’m not going to marry you,” she blurted out. There. She said it. No more thinking about his degrading non-proposal. “ Hell, five years isn’t all that long. I’ll marry you .” Or how much his I-can-put-up-with-anything-for-five-years attitude bothered her. Like she was a nuisance. Someone to be tolerated.
    Justin took his time chewing and didn’t respond until after he swallowed. “Funny, I don’t recall requiring marriage to help you with your finances.” He casually reached for a creamer from the basket in the center of the table, poured it into his coffee and stirred. “But since you brought up the topic, why not?”
    “You really want to get into this?” She entwined her fingers on the table. “Here. Now.”
    “No time like the present, don’t you think?” He took another bite of his sandwich.
    Jena had lost her appetite. This was her opportunity to tell him, to dispel any notion of them getting married. To reveal the truth. Soon she would no longer be an exact replica of Jaci and the only part of her he desired—her body—would be altered, her full womanly curves gone forever. Unless...no. She’d made her decision, would not change her mind. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Could not find the words, where to start, how to explain. She needed more time. Only she didn’t have time. So she settled on, “It would never work,” and busied herself by adding two creamers and a packet of sugar to her coffee so she didn’t have to look at him.
    “Why wouldn’t it work?” He stuffed more food into his mouth.
    So many reasons. For starters, “because each time we were intimate I’d know you’d rather be with my sister. That I’ll never be anything more to you than a poor substitute for the woman you really want.”
    He choked.
    Good.
    “That’s not true.”
    “You feel so good Jaci,” Jena repeated the words he’d uttered over and over when they’d been in bed together. “Do you have any idea how special you are?”
    “That’s not fair.” He placed his sandwich on the paper wrapper. “I said those things because I thought I was in bed with Jaci. Because you’d led me to believe I was in bed with Jaci.”
    “Which gave you the opportunity to pour out your true feelings.”
    “I was drunk.”
    “A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.”
    “This is nuts.” He slapped his hand on the table. “You won’t marry me, the father of your daughters, because of a bit of wisdom you found inside a fortune cookie?”
    “I won’t marry you because you don’t want to marry me.” She pushed away from the table. “I won’t marry you because making you a daily part of my daughters’ lives, knowing you plan to desert all of us in five years is cruel.” She stood. “I won’t marry you because Jerald’s right.” She scooped up her uneaten dinner and turned to leave. “I’d be miserable married to a man like you.” A man she would love who could never love her, one focused on physical beauty and incapable of monogamy. At least if she married Thomas terms