by Alice Raine
Absently spinning my baseball cap on the end of one finger, I was thinking I might head back to the hostel to drop my shopping with Julie and then see if Allie had finished writing and wanted to hang out, when my thoughts were rudely interrupted by my pulse suddenly leaping in my chest.
The cause for my near heart failure was the dark brown head of hair bobbing out from the latest limo. That hair cut was awfully familiar. In fact, the more I stared at it, the more I became sure that I’d spent at least ten minutes staring down at the top of it very, very recently. As the stooped figure finally unfolded from the car and stood to its full height and waved to the crowd my suspicions were confirmed … it was Jack Felton.
As stupid as it was, I momentarily flattened myself against the wall in case he saw me, but then scoffed a dry laugh and rolled my eyes at my stupidity – with all the clamouring fans surrounding him the chances of him even looking this way were slim to start with, and then even if he did he was hardly likely to recognise me. Our encounter on Thursday morning had been so brief he probably didn’t even remember me.
Resuming my original position against the doorway, I found myself watching Jack with interest, and then promptly groaning as memories of our encounter – the ones I had been stringently trying to forget – flooded my mind. I pinged my elastic bands in an attempt to supress my body’s traitorous reaction, but unfortunately my eyes were still glued to him, so it didn’t seem to be working.
In the four years since I’d left my ex, I hadn’t so much as romantically thought about a man, let alone let one touch me. Jack’s touch as he’d cleaned the cut on my arm had been so gentle, tender, and as much as I might not like to admit it, it had made me feel … well, I’m not entirely sure what word would describe it, but I’d definitely felt something out of the ordinary.
The blush on my cheeks in no way dwindled as I continued to look at Jack, and it occurred to me that his beard was gone, leaving his angular jaw cleanly shaven and looking far more appealing than the facial fur had been.
He was fully decked out in a sleek, black tuxedo, white shirt, and black bow tie, and predictably looked absolutely gorgeous. Swallowing hard, I realised that my elastic bang pinging had now reached excessive levels and winced as I looked at the reddened skin. Looking back at Jack, I forced my hands into fists to stop the pinging temptation and then let out a long, low breath that sounded quite a lot like a lusty moan.
Lusty was probably about right, really, because the suit made his broad shoulders look even more impressive than the tight running T-shirt had, and I wasn’t even going to let my brain focus on how great it made his bum look. For a guy who was nearly forty, he looked pretty flipping amazing, and easily passed for thirty.
Tipping my head back, I stared at the pale pink dusk sky, drew in a breath, and then let it out slowly through my teeth, hating the way I seemed to be losing control of myself again.
Sod it, why hadn’t I left sooner? I could be tucking into a large pepperoni pizza and curled up on the sofa with Allie right now. The last thing I needed was a ridiculous and totally unrequited crush on a bloody Hollywood star. I knew I shouldn’t look, but I found my eyes drawn back to Jack again as he stood on the red carpet, one hand tucked casually in the pocket of his suit trousers as he waved to the crowd.
At that moment, an absolutely deafening roar went up and I turned in time to see Brad Pitt emerge from the next sleek black limousine at the kerbside. Blimey. Brad Pitt? Even I was quite impressed by his arrival. The crowd were going crazy for him, but I found my gaze sneaking back towards where Jack had been standing, and saw that he was now almost completely alone with a slightly ironic smile twisting his lips. It seemed that he had been deserted by the press and fans in their desperate attempt to get a glimpse of Brad. Poor thing.
Suddenly, like a ridiculously cheesy scene from a slushy movie, Jack’s head turned in my direction. The moment could only have been improved if it had occurred in slow motion, with some dramatic music in the background perhaps, and some hi-def colouring to improve the look of my clothes.
The next second he was looking straight at me, his head tilting slightly as he observed me, before a flicker of what might have been recognition sparked in his eyes and he broke into the most immense grin I had ever seen. Crikey, that man could smile. I actually felt my breath catch in my throat as I weakly attempted to smile back and nod a hello to him.
What happened next couldn’t have shocked me more than being slapped in the face by a huge cream pie, because without so much as another glance at the preoccupied crowd, Jack was suddenly vaulting the rope barrier and making his way hastily towards me with a rod straight back and easy strides.
Swallowing loudly, I pushed off from the wall, my mouth hanging open in shock as I wondered if I was hallucinating, but no, after several forceful blinks it seemed that Jack Felton was indeed making a bee line for me, and … what on earth was he doing? I watched as he began loosening his bow tie with one finger, and then quicker than was surely possible he had removed it and begun work on undoing his jacket and shirt as well.
Holy heck … Was he going to completely strip? Had he lost his mind? Both of these questions were answered seconds later as Jack stopped his strip tease after revealing a sky blue T-shirt hiding under his dress shirt, and then he was at my side.
‘Can I borrow that hat? Thanks.’ Jack didn’t give me time to respond. Instead, he simply grabbed the baseball cap from my hand, jammed it on his head, shoved his jacket and shirt into my shopping bag, and proceeded to steer my stunned body away from the theatre.
‘So, how’s your elbow?’ he asked casually, as if he hadn’t just leapt over a barrier and run away from an awards ceremony.
Dazed by his actions, I found his words caused me to blink back to reality and blush as my stomach dropped to my boots. Well, that settled that then; he definitely did remember me, but I was too flabbergasted by the events of the last few seconds to even speak.
‘You thought I didn’t recognise you, didn’t you?’ he quipped lightly, but I was apparently still struck dumb. ‘I might be getting on a bit, but my short-term memory isn’t that bad. Besides, I wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours in a hurry.’
I immediately narrowed my eyes and felt myself tense. So, a smooth talker, was he? I was particularly sensitive to anything remotely complimentary, even if there was a chance that the sentiment was genuine and non-sleazy, so his words had effectively raised my defences within seconds.
Since Jack’s leap from the red carpet, everything had happened so quickly that I had barely registered we were moving, my feet on autopilot as he slowed down and started to walk casually, as if we were a normal couple out for an evening stroll. We could probably get away with it too if it weren’t for his ridiculously shiny dress shoes and my stiff posture, which was so tense he practically had to drag me.
Small tremors of awareness began to dance across my back, and to my horror I realised that at some point Jack had placed a hand on my lower spine. How had I not noticed that immediately? Normally even a light contact from a man passing me on the street would have me stiff as a board. But no, this one had definitely escaped my attention, because his hand remained planted almost territorially as we walked and I felt my entire frame stiffen. At least it felt territorial to me, but that was because when Greg had placed his hand there he had been marking his property, not that I’d realised that at first.
My reaction wasn’t quite as violent as it had been last time Jack touched my back, but how he managed to place his hand in exactly the same spot that Greg had favoured I had no idea. It was creepy, and certainly made my mind recall elements of my past that I’d rather forget. Swallowing hard, I remembered how Greg had started shoving my lower back to knock my balance, then tugging me toward him so I’d had no choice but to grab him for support. He’d always claimed it was accidental, but now I knew better. Controlling fucker.
Sidestepping jerkily, I moved away from Jack, and thankfully his hand eventually dropped
away from me, allowing me to sigh in relief and give one instinctive pluck at the elastic band on my wrist to clear my mind. I noticed him giving me a quizzical glance and felt my face flush as I turned away, tucking my head down. Frowning, I avoided his gaze, keen not to give any indication of the torrent of emotions flying through my mind and body at the moment.
As we walked I saw Jack’s eyes moving back to mine, and now that I had marginally reeled in my minor panic, I met his gaze. I couldn’t quite summon a smile, I was still too tense for that, but I was at least looking at him, which was a step in the right direction, and one that I didn’t usually make. He was staring at me intently, his brown eyes glimmering as if he were curious about something – probably my neurotic elastic band tugging – but then he shook his head and the trace of a smile curled his lip.
‘I didn’t even say hello, did I? How rude of me. Hello again. Meeting you twice in a week, what a small world, eh?’ He sounded relaxed and genuine and I nodded jerkily, thinking along much the same lines. Thankfully, he didn’t mention the fact that I’d practically run away from him last time we’d met, an omission I was immensely grateful for. His voice might be light and casual, but his warm brown eyes seemed to be burning into me and holding me captive as he continued to assess me.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he then totally blew me out of the water by smiling. Oh, that smile. It was so lovely that it knocked the wind out of me. I really needed to not look at him when he smiled like that, but it just seemed too difficult to drag my eyes away.
I started to squirm, feeling well and truly under scrutiny, a sensation I found quite confounding because I really shouldn’t like it – it certainly wasn’t something I was used to, but with Jack I didn’t mind as much as I thought I would.
The way this man made me question the very rules by which I lived my life was distinctly unnerving. Why couldn’t I look away from him? His gaze was almost bloody magnetic. As we continued along the pavement I actually started to wish that he would make the first move and stop looking at me with those captivating eyes of his, because that might help me settle down a bit. It didn’t look like I’d get my wish though, because he was even managing to stare straight at me as we walked. Clearly Jack favoured eye contact way more than I did.
Trying to calm my rampaging nerves, I straightened my back – a habit that helped to improve my confidence – and plastered a small smile on my face. ‘Hello, Jack. It’s, uh … good to see you again,’ I lied feebly. It wasn't good to see him again. In fact, it was terrible; my heart was pounding so hard that my chest hurt, the back of my neck was starting to sweat, and to top it all off, my body was reacting to him in that same strange way as it had last time, heating and imploring me to move closer to him.
Nope, after trying desperately hard to forget our run-in at the park I could safely say that all in all, it was not good to see him again – it was disastrous.
As we walked I realised he didn’t even know my name and was just wondering if I should introduce myself when he spoke again. ‘Did I get away with it?’ he murmured, but at that moment I think I might have been slipping into a mild state of shock and had to work particularly hard to process his question. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the theatre was some way away now, but I could still see the huge crowds busy snapping Brad Pitt in various poses. It certainly didn’t seem as if anyone was looking for Jack.
‘Uh, yeah, I think so …what exactly is it that you’re doing?’ I asked in an almost accusing tone, still annoyed at myself for the confusing way I felt around him. After I’d left him in the park I’d blamed my peculiar reactions on the shock of my fall, and assumed that if I’d met him under normal circumstances I’d have been fine. But I was far from fine, and the way my stomach was clenching and my heart was racing was definitely not normal.
‘I bloody hate those events but I promised my manager I would come along to be seen. Well, I came along, didn’t I? I was seen, wasn't I? I never said I would stay for the whole thing,’ he said in a rather proud tone, a satisfied smile sitting on his lips.
Just then, my eyes caught a glimpse of a huge mountain of a man, dressed in a smart black suit, and pushing through the crowd with a thunderous expression on his face as he charged toward us.
‘Uh … actually … there’s a guy that seems to be looking for you,’ I whispered, wanting to cower away from the obviously angry man who was now almost upon us.
Stopping, Jack turned and watched as the suited man reached our side. He was tall, even taller than Jack, broad shouldered, and very red in the face. If he hadn’t been so furious then he might actually have been quite good looking in an older man kind of way, with grey-blond hair, an angular jaw, and crystal clear blue eyes. But he was livid, his eyes were narrowed on Jack and his brow pulled into such a deep frown that they almost met in the middle.
‘For fuck’s sake, Jack. I was on the other side of the red carpet, you can’t just divert from the plan like that.’
Rather confused by the entire situation – first Jack’s appearance by my side, and now this random man – I stood in shock, my eyes flicking between the two of them as my nerves built up and I began to wonder how I could discretely make my get away.
‘My apologies, Flynn, you’re right. But I’m not going back in there, so have a few hours off. I’ll call you when I need you,’ Jack said calmly, his composure opposing Flynn, who looked like he might combust at any second.
Flynn’s eyes darted to me and narrowed even further, before he let out an irritated breath, spun on his heel, and walked away without another word. What a charmer.
‘That was my delightful bodyguard,’ Jack explained sardonically, giving the gigantic man an amused glance as he stormed off.
Bodyguard? Blimey. ‘You have a bodyguard?’ I asked, surprised, the very idea of it seeming peculiar to me. But then, thinking about it, he was pretty famous, so perhaps it was run of the mill for someone like him.
‘Yeah, not for day-to-day things, but I have a few slightly crazy fans, so at big events like this Flynn comes with me. Sorry for his abruptness, he doesn’t have the best manners, but we were in the military together years ago so I know I can trust him.’
Wow. Bodyguards, crazy fans, and now I discover that Jack used to be in the military? This was information overload.
Moving closer again, Jack somehow looped my arm through his so we were joined at the elbow. A spike of terror pulsed trough me at his sudden touch and this time I couldn’t be casual about my reaction; my entire body jerked away as my eyes flashed to his in panic.
‘Please don’t keep touching me!’ I squeaked, rubbing at my elbow joint as if the skin was burnt before lowering my hand and beginning a frantic picking at the elastic bands by the poor abused skin of my wrist.
My eyes were darting around restlessly, and I saw confusion on his face, followed quickly with concern as he held up a palm in a placating gesture. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to s … shock you.’ Given my wildly over-the-top reaction I’m sure the phrase he’d wanted to say was ‘I didn’t mean to scare you’, but he was no doubt attempting to be discreet.
Immediately, I flushed with embarrassment, but when I said I hadn’t let a man touch me in four years, I meant it, and now Jack had done so numerous times in the space of a week. It was very unnerving.
What was worse was the muddled feelings it swirled in me. Yes there was the fear, but there was something else, something deeper, that felt almost … appealing.
Intrigued by this curious reaction in my body, I risked another glance at him, but what a mistake that was. He was all half smart, half casual, with that shaved jaw and those dark eyes burning into me. Oh God, he was too handsome to be real, and yet here he was, right in front of me. Again. How could that be possible? It had to beat some serious odds to not only run into him once, but to meet twice in the same week. If my luck was running this high then perhaps I should buy a lottery ticket this weekend.
I was staring. I knew I was … but my body was
non-responsive to the orders my mind was yelling at it. Forcing a mental shake, I decided that this incredibly surreal event had gone on long enough, and I ran a shaky hand through my hair and stepped back, not missing the way Jack’s eyes zeroed in on the tremble in my fingers and narrowed with curiosity.
Dropping my gaze, I drew in a long breath and cursed myself for my crazy behaviour. I must seem completely neurotic. I was completely neurotic. When I finally raised my eyes, however, I was surprised to see a kind smile on Jack’s face, and not the pity that I had been expecting, which made me warm to him a little and helped me, marginally, to relax.
‘OK, well, you’re away from the theatre now. I should get going, can I get my bag back please?’ I asked almost stubbornly, determined to put some distance between myself and Jack flipping Felton.
It would definitely be best if I got away while the going was good and my common sense was still intact, but surprisingly, Jack frowned at my words, looking crestfallen at my remark, which threw me completely. In fact, I felt utterly confused, because surely after my near meltdown, he’d be keen to get as far away from me as possible.
Swallowing hard, I glanced over my shoulder again. Catching a brief glimpse of Jen and the other girls from the hostel still bobbing up and down in the crowd, I indicated in their general direction. ‘My friends are heading back to bake some cakes and I have some of the ingredients so I need to go.’ This was a bit of a lie – they could no doubt survive without the packs of serviettes, plastic cups, and paper plates in my bag, but it seemed a good enough excuse.
As I went to sidestep Jack, he leant down close to me and managed to whisper in my ear, and although he was behaving casually, I noticed just how careful he’d been not to touch me again. ‘Walking away from me again? I'm wounded. I suppose I should be grateful that you aren’t scowling at me this time,’ he said, a half smile playing on his lips as he clutched his chest dramatically.
