Love the One You're With (Sex, Love & Stiletto 2)

His tone was teasing, but she could tell he didn’t understand. And why would he? She hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

“Um, that’s not quite the end of it.”

She pulled her knees toward her, and he released her feet so she could lock her arms around her legs, curled up in a ball in the corner of his couch.

Jake shifted so that he could face her, one hand reaching out to play with her hair. “What am I missing?” he asked softly. “What had my Grace running out into the rain without so much as a jacket?”

My Grace.

At that, 1.0 fanned herself, and 2.0, while cautious, miraculously held her tongue.

She licked her lips nervously, trying to keep her head clear. “He, um, he kind of proposed.”

There was a beat of silence. Which stretched into five beats. Ten beats.

Finally Jake cleared his throat. “You

mean, like … marriage?”

His tone was casual, but his hand had pulled back from her hair, shifting so that he had both feet on the floor, his hands clasped loosely between them. She didn’t need to be a relationship columnist to know that as far as body language went, this posture was a big fat warning sign.

“That’s usually what proposed means, yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is cheating ex-boyfriends popping the question while current boyfriend waits idly by a common thing I’m supposed to know about? Do they write about that in Stiletto?”

He stood then, grabbing his coffee mug with enough force that its contents sloshed onto the coffee table before he stomped to the kitchen and dumped the liquid in the sink even though he hadn’t taken so much as a sip. Jake braced both hands on the counter, his head dipping down slightly as though trying to rein in his thoughts.

Grace didn’t know whether to be annoyed at his childish behavior or entirely thrilled by what she thought might be motivating it. He’d referred to himself as her current boyfriend. Did that mean …

“Hey,” she said softly, getting to her feet and holding tightly to the waistband of his too-loose pants as she padded into the kitchen. “I expected you to be mad because I ditched you, not because Greg surprised me with the whole down-on-one-knee thing.”

“He what?” Jake’s knuckles were white where he gripped the counter.

Grace softy touched his bare back. “You know, the whole no-shirt thing is a little obvious, don’t you think?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She huffed at his curt, bossy tone. “Fine. I don’t quite get how this amount of personal detail is any of your business, but yeah … he got down on one knee. Had the pretty speech and the even prettier Tiffany ring.”

He turned his face toward her then. “And how exactly is that none of my business?”

“I just meant that it’s not part of our Stiletto/Oxford assignment. Or at least I hope it won’t be.”

Jake gave a harsh laugh. “You know, believe it or not, that stupid website really wasn’t my first thought when you told me some other guy proposed.”

Neither of them said anything for several seconds.

“You said no?” he said finally. And even Grace 2.0 was at a loss for snarky things to say, because there was desperation in his voice.

“I said no,” she said.

“But you thought about saying yes.”

She hesitated, her face flooding with color. Damn this guy and his voodoo women-reading skills. “Um …”

“You can’t be serious.” He was incredulous. She didn’t blame him.

“I don’t want Greg,” she said, her voice sure and steady. “But I did want what Greg was offering. I refuse to be ashamed of the fact that I want the wedding and the wife title and the eventual family. Call me old-fashioned, but I want that, Jake. I thought I was over it. I even invented this new man-hating ball-busting version of myself named 2.0, but …”