Blake could feel his blood pressure rising. It was bad enough that Jeni was being as loud and obnoxious as a fishwife; she was also wearing the most outrageous outfit he'd ever seen--what kind of woman wore fishnet stockings and a skin-tight leopard print mini-dress that left none of her ample, obviously pregnant figure to the imagination? Her navel, protruding from the distortion of her belly, was definitely not a turn on. How could she be so crass? He knew she reveled in attention, but although everyone in the restaurant was staring at her, it was not in a good way. At least he'd been able to talk her into going to the city for dinner. Had they been at Taverna, the humiliation would have been unbearable.
When the waitress came to their table, Jeni didn't hesitate with her order. "I'll take the surf and turf special. And a gin martini with an olive."
"A martini, ma'am?" the waitress asked, glancing briefly at Jeni's bulging midriff.
"Yeah, a martini. You gotta problem with that?"
The waitress looked at Blake, who merely shrugged. He'd had this argument with Jeni before.
"I'm not letting this kid run my life," she'd said. "If I want a drink, I'll damn well have one. Or two. Or four."
After the waitress departed, he sat staring at his well-manicured hands, wondering what demons had possessed him that he was now stuck with this horrible woman. In his darker moments, when he thought about how he had ruined his life, those demons came back and taunted him. "The only way you'll ever be free is if you kill her," they would chant. He was beginning to agree with them.
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