Love the One You're With by Lauren Layne Page A

going on to make Jake’s eyes go smoky.
    And if the tug of satisfaction in her belly had nothing to do with the article and everything to do with
him
, well … it didn’t matter.
    Grace 2.0 would have her head if she even thought about having sexy times with this guy.With
any
guy.
    Even if she wasn’t on a six-month hiatus from men, Jake Malone wasn’t for her. When she was ready to date again, it would be with someone tame. Someone who wouldn’t have her continually checking the bed for panties not her own.
    Emma was gone by the time Grace returned to the table, although a quick glance at the table by the window revealed that Julie and Riley were still there. Riley would never pass up the chance for food, even if the day’s entertainment was over.
    Jake moved to pull out Grace’s chair for her.
    â€œNice moves,” she said, placing her napkin back in her lap. “Your army of sisters taught you well.”
    â€œNah, that was all my dad,” he said. “He was determined that all of his daughters be little ladies and his son be a gentleman.”
    â€œIt must have been hard on you to have to disappoint him.”
    Jake let out a little surprised laugh. “You don’t think I’m a gentleman?”
    Grace lifted an eyebrow. “Are you?”
    â€œI’d like to think so.”
    â€œSo all of those articles about you … the overlapping women, the married women, the scorned women …?”
    He lifted his wine and studied her over the rim of glass. “Embellished.”
    Grace was annoyed to realize that she wanted to believe him. Badly. But of course, he had every reason to lie. All men seemed to find reasons to lie.
    â€œWhat about you?” he asked.
    â€œWhat about me? You want to know if I sleep with married women too?”
    â€œDid your parents raise you to be a little lady?”
    She fluttered her eyelashes. “Isn’t it obvious?”
    He didn’t flirt back. “It is. The excellent posture, the tailored clothes, the small-talk skills … you reek of class.”
    â€œGood nose, Mr. Journalist. I grew up in Scarsdale.”
    He whistled. “Whew, so your umbilical cord was basically made out of hundred-dollar bills?”
    Grace laughed, not the least bit offended. Scarsdale, New York, was a notoriouslywealthy town, and her family had fit right in.
    â€œIt was pretty much like you’re thinking. My dad’s family is old money, and my mom’s family is even older money. Athletic participation translated into tennis, golf, or horseback riding. And forget about that pesky process of deliberating on where to go to college. Cornell alumni dominated the family tree on both sides.”
    â€œAnd you never questioned it?” he asked as their lunches were served. “You just swallowed the prepackaged life?”
    â€œYou make it sound like I was a robot. But yeah, I guess I went with it. But I also liked it, you know? I didn’t know anything else. And while I’m glad I don’t live there now, I can’t say I regretted any of it. It was a good childhood.”
    Jake slid one of his ravioli onto her plate and then sampled her pasta. Grace blinked a little in surprise. Greg had
hated
sharing food.
    â€œCome on, not one little moment of rebellion?” he asked. “Tell me you at least have a microscopic tattoo, or went to prom with a boy who rode a motorcycle …”
    â€œI painted my nails navy once. Does that count?”
    Jake groaned and topped off her wineglass. “You’re worse off than I thought.”
    â€œWhat about you?” she asked. “Were you the boy on the motorcycle that took the nice girl to prom?”
    â€œNah. But I
did
look pretty cool picking Leslie Kalutz up in my parents’ station wagon, if I do say so myself.”
    Grace fanned herself. “Wow. Well, I’ll sure be putting
that
in my article under the