White Lies by Jayne Ann Krentz Page B

very romantic to her.”
    “Don’t know about that. All I can tell you is that she didn’t mention the problem until three months into the marriage.”
    “Any other complaints?”
    “I believe she may have mentioned that I was overly demanding.”
    “Overly demanding?”
    He looked at her. “In bed.”
    “Oh.” She gulped some wine and swallowed hard. “I see.”
    “Four months into the marriage she started talking about needing more space. Six months in, she went to see a divorce lawyer.”
    “Your marriage only lasted six months?”
    “It was a disaster from the start.” He drank some more of his wine. “I should have known better. The experts always tell you that strong parasensitives don’t do well with people who are not also sensitive. Hate to admit it, but I think they’re right.”
    “Maybe.” She settled back in her lounger. The wine was starting to have an effect. She was feeling much more relaxed than a few minutes before. A lot more insightful, too. “But in your case I’m not so sure that your marriage went on the rocks just because you married an outsider.”
    He raised one brow. “Got a better theory?”
    She contemplated the glowing pool. “You’re the take-charge type. Not your fault. It’s part of who you are.”
    Jake made no comment. Inspired by his lack of argument, she warmed to her theme.
    “The way I see it, your ex-wife was probably telling you the truth when she said that you were trying to run her life. Running things is what you do.” Clare raised a finger. “But your instincts weren’t the problem. Neither were your intentions. The real issue was that she didn’t know how to hold her own with you.”
    “Think that was it?” Jake asked in an odd tone of voice.
    “She probably couldn’t set boundaries and, when necessary, put you in your place. So, in the end, she panicked and fled the scene, leaving you confused and bewildered and wondering what the hell you did wrong.”
    “You sound very certain of your analysis.”
    “Yep.” She nodded, feeling very sage now. “You are what they sometimes call an alpha male. Leader of the pack. Trouble is, in the modern world, there aren’t a lot of packs to lead so your natural talents get applied to whatever comes into your orbit. Family, spouse, business, whatever.”
    Silence greeted that statement.
    Clare turned her head to see how he was taking her brilliant insights. A cold shock went through her when she realized that he was watching her with an unnervingly enigmatic air.
    “How did you know?” he asked evenly.
    She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Just a wild hunch, honest.”
    “How did you know?” This time the question sounded distinctly dangerous.
    “That you are a much stronger talent than you lead others to believe?” A trickle of unease penetrated the pleasant wine haze. “Uh, well, it really isn’t all that hard to tell. I mean, it’s sort of obvious.”
    “No, it is not obvious.” He put his half-finished wine down on the table. “And it isn’t in the Arcane Society’s genealogy files, either, at least not the ones that are open to the public. So how did you figure it out?”
    “I’m getting a little confused here, Jake. What, exactly, is so secret about you being a take-charge type?”
    “I’m talking about your alpha male comment. Don’t try to slide out of this. You know, don’t you?”
    Understanding finally dawned on her. “Oh. I see. You’re a hunter.”
    He watched her with the steady, unblinking gaze of a top-of-the-line predator.
    “Yes,” he said.
    “Actually, I hadn’t guessed that part. Just that you’re a high-end talent.”
    The corners of his eyes tightened ever so slightly.
    She cleared her throat. “Well, you have to admit that it does sort of explain your little problem with your marriage. Everyone knows that hunters are very difficult to match.”
    “Some people think that’s because our type of sensitivity is so damnedprimitive ,” he said. There was a gleaming edge on every word. “They used to call us throwbacks. Some people still do.”
    “Get over it.