Page 27 of Reckless Chance

I better call my yacht broker and postpone my purchase until after this marriage is undone. Otherwise, I could be gifting Lowri millions with a single signature on that contract. Don’t get me wrong, I like her considerably, but I wouldn’t give my best friend half a yacht.

What’s wrong with me? She wants the annulment as much as I do. It’s all going to work out. I’ll get through the next three months. If I make it easy for Lowri to stay, she should be okay with it. The plan Gabe laid out is sound. Time to execute.

Me: How about dinner at Prime Claw tonight?

Lowri: Are we celebrating the annulment?

Me: Not yet. Making progress. I’m in the mood for seafood. Does 8 work?

Lowri: Can we make it 8:30? I have a memo to write for work first. You can give me an update on the progress over dinner.

Me: Deal. Meet me at the restaurant.

Lowri: Okay.

What the hell am I going to tell her about the “progress”?

The even bigger question is, what am I going to do with a wife for the next three months?

19

LOWRI

My memo is finished and emailed to the team, but I’m regretting agreeing to a fancy dinner tonight. The stress of work and the events of the last couple of days are getting to me. A pint of pralines and cream, a comfy tank top, and sleep sound much better. If I shared that guilty pleasure with Sean, it would ruin my party-girl reputation. Those nights are reserved for when I’m by myself, which is more often than most would believe.

That’s fine with me. I’m alone by choice, which is far better than ending up bitter like Mom.

I could feign a headache and bow out of dinner. That would mean waiting another day to hear about Sean’s meeting with the lawyer. That’s not going to happen, so I splash cold water onto my face, apply my makeup, slip on a little black dress, and hurry to the restaurant.

Sean is waiting for me.Pulling me into a gentle hug, he whispers in my ear, “You’re a goddess. I can’t wait to worship you later tonight.”

Had anyone else said that, I’d be laughing. But he says it with such heat and sincerity that chills run down my spine.

“That’s an invitation I can’t resist, but food first. I’m starving.”

“We’ll take care of that,” he says, turning to the host. “Amber, is our table ready?”

“Yes, sir. Right this way, please.”

Seated in a corner booth for two, the low lights, velvety leather, and dark wood create a warm and cozy atmosphere.

“Did you and Cassie catch up with each other today?”

“We did. We went to the spa, which is out of this world, except for one thing. Cassie made me promise to tell you that we hate the cucumber water they serve.”

“Why? Isn’t that a spa standard?”

“It is, but we both agree it shouldn’t be. They should change it to something that tastes better—perhaps orange or strawberry water.”

“I’ll pass that along. What did you do for the rest of the day?”

“Buried myself in work in my suite. It’s a case where we’re certain the former employee is faking a back injury. We’re having trouble proving it though.”

“What makes you think the injury isn’t real?”

“This is the third company he’s worked for where he claims to have been injured during the first month on the job. The coincidences are becoming too frequent to believe, and he can’t point to a specific accident where it happened. That makes it suspicious. If he’s in pain, he deserves compensation. If not, it’s fraud.”

Why am I sharing work-related stuff with Sean? I don’t do that. Business and pleasure are meant to be kept separate in my world. Time to change the subject.