Burning Down the Spouse by Dakota Cassidy

was a trophy wife. For eighteen years. Now I’m not. I’ve been replaced. Hardcore replaced. But you knew that because Maxine told you.” She fought not to make it sound like an accusation, but he wasn’t making this easy.
    Nikos frowned, delicious lines marring his smooth forehead. “Maxine didn’t tell me anything other than she had an applicant for an opening I have here at the diner for a prep chef. There was never any talk of a Mitch or a kitchen or for that matter, a display.”
    She rolled her eyes, brushing an impatient hand over her bangs. “Oh, she did, too. Please. You don’t really think you’re fooling me, do you? I mean, it’s very nice that you’re going out of your way to be so kind, but your performance isn’t exactly red carpet worthy.”
    “What exactly is a Mitch in the Kitchen anyway? Is that like the ShamWow guy?”
    Okay. She’d play along. “It’s a television show on the Bon Appetit Channel.”
    “The one with all those fancy chefs? Nuh-uh . . .”
    “Uh-huh. The one with all those fancy chefs.” And fancy women with names like Bamby.
    “Your husband had a show? Like a real television show?” His disbelief was growing more convincing by the second.
    Frankie’s head cocked to the right. “Yes. You really don’t know who Mitch Bennett is?”
    Nikos leaned forward on his desk and propped his hands on either side of his jaw, his mouth slack for a moment before he recovered and answered, “Nuh-uh. But I’m still in awe that you were married to a guy who had a television show. In fact, color me a little starstruck.”
    She was used to this kind of reaction when people realized she was married to a celebrity. You’re not married to a celebrity anymore, Frankie . She fidgeted with the tie at the waist of her sweater.
    “Do you have any idea the kind of customers the diner’d get if they knew a celebrity’s wife from the whatever channel worked here?”
    This wasn’t going according to plan. He wasn’t supposed to be excited. He was supposed to tell her she lacked experience, not to mention enthusiasm, and then politely respond by telling her he’d get back to her. “Are you kidding me?”
    Nikos slapped a large hand on his desk, sending papers scattering. “Not even a little. You’re rockin’ my socks off right now. That kind of experience alone is all golden and shiny as far as I’m concerned.” His words were followed by a hearty laugh, straight from his not as hearty hard-planed belly.
    Hello. What about her pain and suffering was rocking-your-socks worthy? Sudden anger tweaked her already raw nerves. “Did you hear me the first time, or did you miss the part about me being an ex- trophy wife? I’m no longer married to Mitch. So no celebrity.”
    Flapping his tanned hands, Nikos waved at her dismissively. His grin was wide and effusive. “That’s neither here nor there. You have infamy on your side, and you worked at the Bon Appetit Channel. Bet you have a bunch of secret recipes running around in your head. That’s all I need to know.” He shook his head and shot her a wry grin. “Damn, this is some awesome turn of events,” he stated with obvious glee, hopping up from behind his desk to head to the door in two strong strides.
    So cute and dense went hand in hand with Nikos Anta . . . Anta . . . Chakalakaboomboom. Whatever.
    “Max, c’mon back in here!” Nikos shouted out into the diner, his voice a cheerful bellow.
    Frankie shrunk farther down in her chair as she listened to the muffled words exchanged between Maxine and her employer-whoalmost-was.
    “Frankie Bennett?” he crowed back into the room.
    She rose to turn and take him in, pushing down the baggy folds her jeans created when she stood. Her face held a question she was too tired to ask.
    Nikos stuck out his hand to her while Maxine gave her the big thumbs-up sign behind his broad shoulder. “I don’t care if you can’t boil water. You’re hired.”
    Shut. Up.

CHAPTER THREE
     
    From the