Contracted For Love: Famous Love Series

by Tracey Pedersen

  She pulled the pants on and dragged the top over her head, then discovered it was a lot tighter than she’d expected. Catching sight of herself in the full-length mirror, she let out a squeak of horror.

  That will definitely not do!

  Everything was showing. Her legs looked even longer than they usually did. The shirt was skin-tight, and her boobs seemed to be waving at her. If he saw her dressed like this, he might get the wrong idea, and that wasn’t what she wanted at all.

  Isn’t it? Wouldn’t you like it, if he wanted you? Maybe just a little?

  She brushed that thought aside before it could take hold. What was she going to wear to bed, now? She had no floppy shirts in her suitcase—not even a flowing dress that she could pretend was nightwear. As she stood there, in her skin-tight attire, her eyes fell on the dozens of shirts hanging beside the suits. She wondered just how much this would piss him off as she reached for the nearest one.

  Oh, this works.

  She pulled it on and was relieved to see that it fell halfway down her thighs. It was loose enough that it didn’t hug any of her curves and wouldn’t give him any ideas. Although, it didn’t seem like he’d even see anything: she could hear him faintly snoring.

  After switching off the light, she walked into the room, noting the lamp on her side of the bed was on. She crept into the bathroom and quietly closed the door before switching on the light to find her toothbrush. As she brushed, she looked at herself in the mirror. Everyone else saw the bravado on the outside that she wore like armour, but those same people wouldn’t recognise the wide-eyed girl cleaning her teeth in the mirror right now.

  Wiping her face, she pushed down her anxiety about sharing Jack’s bed and left the bathroom. After stepping lightly around the bed and switching off the lamp on her side, she pushed back the covers and slid between the sheets. The bed was huge—definitely king-sized. She didn’t dare roll over to face him just so she could sleep on the side she preferred. He might have been all the way on the other side, but it felt safer to be facing the wall, for now.

  As she closed her eyes and tried to relax into the gloriously comfortable bed, she had a sudden thought that made her eyes fly open.

  Please God, don’t let him be sleeping naked!

  ***

  Jay was on the phone early the next morning, and he was as excited as she’d ever heard him. “Is Jack there, Charlotte?”

  “He’s here. Why?”

  “Put him on. Better yet, put your phone on speaker, so I can talk to you both.”

  “Okay, you’re on speaker. What’s got your knickers in a twist this morning?”

  “Jack Fawkner, you are a genius.” Jay’s voice gushed from the phone on the table. “I don’t know how you did it, but I salute you.”

  Charlotte glanced at Jack in confusion. “What’s he talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the internet blowing up with the news of you two. Tell me you’ve seen it, Charlotte.”

  “I haven’t seen anything, Jay. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turned to Jack, “Did you put out a statement or something?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then what?” he looked innocently at her and sipped his coffee. She could tell he knew exactly what they were talking about, but he wasn’t going to give it away too soon. Maybe he was letting Jay do the honour.

  “Would someone please tell me what the fuck we are talking about?” her voice rose an octave or two.

  “Jack, here, who I just have to say, once again, is a genius, made it look like you were the love of his life last night. The photos of you two at the fountain—I could not have done better if I’d paid a professional photographer and released this through a PR rep. It’s gold.”

  “What photos?” she looked questioningly at Jack, who smiled benignly at her. “Oh. The kiss on the neck?” he nodded. “So that’s what that was about. I thought you’d forgotten who you were out with, for a second.” She turned back to the phone. “Where are the photos? Send them to me.”

  “I just did—check your email. Again, Jack, you have my undying devotion.” He hung up and Charlotte stood there for a second, speechless. She was speechless a lot around Jack Fawkner. After picking up her phone, she flicked to her email to see what Jay had sent her. Charlotte clicked on the link and gasped a moment later when she saw the images.

  A local online site had run the story with close-up images of the two of them. One shot showed Jack pulling her hair to the side; another had his lips on her neck. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, giving him access to her skin, and, shockingly, her eyes were closed. She didn’t remember tilting her neck like that or closing her eyes, and she stared at the photo, trying to remember. It was a bit of a blur, she had to admit, but the proof was right there in front of her.

  “How did you know?”

  “Know what? That you’d close your eyes when my lips touched your skin?”

  “No, you dick.” She blushed as he reminded her how it had felt when he kissed her neck. “How did you know there was someone around with a camera?”

  “There’s always someone around with a camera—you’d do well to memorise that detail. Nothing we do is private; there is always someone looking to take a picture and sell it to the highest bidder. If we’d gone to the buffet, there might have been photos of you stuffing your face, and they would definitely have printed how many times you returned to the dessert bar.”

  “Damn, I love dessert. That’s the real reason I wanted to go to the buffet!” She bit her lip for a moment, trying to decide if she was happy about the photos or not. She wasn’t sure, but in the pit of her stomach was the realisation that she hadn’t had time to tell her parents that she’d moved to Vegas. She also hadn’t come clean to Courtney or any of her other friends. Worst of all, she hadn’t been the one to tell her best friend. What would Nikki think of all this? She needed to call home.

  She glanced at the clock and did a quick calculation in her head. It was eight in the morning in Vegas, which meant it was one in the morning at home, in Melbourne—way too late to call her parents without panicking them. Nikki might still be up, but the middle of the night could be a difficult time to have a deep and meaningful talk.

  It had been two weeks since their last chat and Charlotte was dying to talk to her. She now had the added complication of not being able to tell Nikki the truth, though. She’d need to think that through before she called. Resolving to call her family tonight, she told herself that the news wouldn’t hit home by then and there would still be time for her to get in first. Instead, Charlotte turned her annoyed gaze on Jack.

  “Could you warn me the next time you’re aware we’re being photographed, please? I’d like to be in on the secret.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “I thought maybe you’d like to enjoy the anonymity as long as possible. Your life will be different, once you’re famous.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she snapped. “It seems a bit rich, though, coming from you, who is trying his best to become a successful rock god.”

  “But I’m already famous—it won’t be as much of a change for me. I could continue making movies where I’m adored for my smile and my blue eyes, but I want something else, now. For you, it’s the end of every private moment you’ve enjoyed up until now. Take my advice and guard your privacy as much as possible. Years from now, you’ll be glad you did.”

  “I don’t really need to be famous, if that’s what you think of me. I could just go ahead and make that sex tape, if I was after fame.” He pursed his lips when she mentioned the tape. “I want to be an actress, Jack—a successful and well-respected actress. I’m not here for the hangers-on, the paparazzi, or the public’s adoration. I’ll deal with all those things as they come along, but that’s not my aim.”

  He watched her pick at the runner on the table as she made this small admission. Maybe he’d underestimated her. Perhaps she was going to be okay here in crazy land, after
all.

  “I think you’ll be a great actress, when the time comes.”

  She looked up at him. “How do you know that? Nothing I’ve been in has been released, yet.”

  “No, but I have connections, remember? I’ve seen the rushes of Down To Me, and they’re good.”

  “You’ve seen them? You liked them?”

  “Not exactly. The movie is awful and it’s totally going to tank at the box office, if it even gets released at all, but you, my wife-to-be, were great. You were the shining light in a toxic waste of rubbish lines that were written for you.”

  To his surprise, she burst out laughing. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she did so. He smiled uncertainly as he watched her finally get control of herself and sit at the table.

  “Oh God, you’re so funny. You looked like you were being so careful not to offend me, but I totally agree with you. The script was one of the worst I’ve ever seen, but I needed to get some screen time, no matter where it came from, and that was all I was being offered. That movie could turn out to be my mini tuxedo moment.”

  He joined in her laughter, this time. “That bloody tuxedo follows me everywhere. You should thank the mini tuxedo, though, because it’s the reason I decided to go through with this hair-brained idea. It was one too many times being called Jackie and one last view of that video that tipped me over the edge.”

  She smiled at him and felt a tiny connection that she hadn’t been able to dredge up before now. “Well, it was an awful casting couch moment that led me back to that room, eager to sign a marriage contract, so you can thank a lecherous Hollywood movie executive that you’ll soon be marrying the fabulous acting talents of Charlotte Shipton.”

  “What did you just say?” his voice rumbled like thunder, and it wiped the smile right off her face—just when they were getting along, too.

  Shit, what did I say wrong?

  “Um… I had an awful experience at an audition and I suddenly realised no one was going to take me seriously while I was so young. So, I agreed to marry you.”

  “Who?” from the look on his face, she knew it would be a bad idea to tell him Richard’s name.

  “Err… no one. Forget I even mentioned it, okay?”

  “No, not okay. Absolutely not okay. Did you tell someone? Press charges?” He was gripping her arm tightly, not far from hurting her.

  “No way; I’m not stupid. I’d never get another audition, if I was the girl who dished on the ‘establishment,’” she raised her hands and made air quotes. “It didn’t go that far, anyway; I kicked him in the balls, slithered out of his grip, and then made him believe I’d recorded it all on my phone.” Jack looked at her in shock as she continued, “My contract arrived the next day, and I’d even had a tiny pay increase.” Charlotte smiled uncertainly at him as he finally let go of her arm and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

  Jesus, man, put your arm down. That model stance makes my knees go weak.

  “You really did that?”

  “I did. Don’t underestimate me, Jack. I can take care of myself.”

  “So I see. I guess you’ve learned it now, but make sure you’re never alone with any man from the movie industry, alright? Promise me, Charlotte.”

  “Okay, okay, I promise. That doesn’t include you, right? Since you’re a rock god, now?” she teased him and hoped he’d take the bait and lighten up.

  “No, that doesn’t include me… although, sometimes, I wonder,” he said cryptically as he turned away from her and went sit on the couch. “So, when does your movie start shooting?” She was so relieved that he appeared to have calmed down that she missed the calculating tone in his voice and the way his eyes watched her.

  “Four weeks. I have to be at Power Studios in the second week of shooting.”

  “Power Studios? Perfect. We have a few weeks to keep exploring Vegas, then, around our trip to Paris. You’ll need to book your flights to LA, but we can do that later.”

  “I need to search the cheapest fares. I don’t want to pay too much,” she said sheepishly as she looked out the window at the pool.

  “We’ll put it on my credit card, Char—it’s fine.”

  “Oh, another nickname. You like those, huh?” she turned to stare at him and wondered why he was suddenly being so familiar by shortening her name. “Why would you pay for my flights?”

  “You’re the one always calling people names,” he reminded her. “I said I’d cover your expenses, which includes flying back and forth for auditions and filming. I already tricked you into moving; you didn’t think I’d expect you to pay for all the flights, did you? Once your first movie, or even the second, is released, I expect you’ll be flying a lot.”

  “Really? You really think that?”

  “I do. Being married to me will help that along, since I’ll introduce you to some of my contacts. Count on being super busy, if what I saw is an indication of what you can do.”

  Charlotte squealed and forgot where she was and who she was with. She rushed forward and threw herself into him as his arms wrapped around her. While she squeezed Jack in an enormous hug, he didn’t dare let himself relax, in case his body decided not to let her go. To distract himself, he thought about the damage he was going to do to Richard James, head of Power Studios.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As Jack sat, sipping his coffee at the dining room table days later, he tried to block out the sounds of Charlotte singing in the bathroom. God, the woman was like a walking noisemaker. If she wasn’t talking, she was banging something; if she wasn’t banging something, she was nagging him to fix something or show her how to use the stereo; and if she wasn’t nagging him, she was singing.

  It wasn’t that her singing was bad, because she was actually quite decent. Her singing in the shower was a reminder that she was in there, naked, and naked was a state he didn’t want to be considering Charlotte Shipton in at seven-thirty in the morning.

  He’d already endured his own cold shower to wipe away the naked body he’d been dreaming of this morning. Jack had woken up with an enormous hard-on and had been pissed when he’d realised he’d been dreaming of her. It wasn’t even his fault—she’d been prancing around the house half-dressed for days, now, and it was doing his head in.

  As he had that exact thought, she entered the room. A towel was on her head and she was rubbing her hair dry. She stopped near the couch as he secretly admired her legs. God, she had long legs. She bent over at the waist and wrapped the towel around her hair, like a turban. Of course, she was only wearing a shirt, and it now rode up to give him a glimpse of the tiny scrap of material masquerading as frilly, pink knickers.

  He groaned inwardly and dragged his eyes to the coffee maker at the side of the room just as she flipped her hair over and stood up. “Ooh, can I have one, too?” She made it sound like morning coffee was a treat and gave a little squeal when he nodded his head.

  “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?” she eyed him suspiciously as she sat at the table.

  “You have to put clothes on.”

  “What do you mean?” Charlotte glanced down at herself and he noted she was wearing one of his shirts, again. Wasn’t anything sacred around here? “I’m totally dressed, Jack.”

  “You need to cover up more. Get some pants,” he put emphasis on the last word as realisation dawned in her eyes.

  “Aah… Jack Fawkner truly isn’t gay, huh?”

  “Did you still doubt it?”

  “Yes, actually.” She watched him keep his eyes away from her as he stood to work the coffee machine. She still hadn’t been able to work that gadget out, yet. “I haven’t caught you looking at me once this week, so I thought, you know… ”

  “I’m not tearing your barely-there clothes off, so I must be gay?”

  “Something like that. I guess you really just don’t like me, huh?” she asked cheerfully. “So, you want me to put pants on. Any particular reason you think I have to cover up in my own house?”

&nb
sp; “My house.”

  “Our house,” she corrected him.

  They stared at each other, but Charlotte finally gave in and slid off the seat. She watched him breathe a sigh of relief and then she turned and headed toward their room. When she had just a few steps left to be out of his sight, she casually lifted the back of his shirt and ran her nails across her backside, scratching a fake itch.

  She imagined his eyes bugging out of his head, and Charlotte said over her shoulder, “Forget the coffee for me, Jack. I’d prefer to keep dressing how I like.” With that, she disappeared down the hall as he spilled milk down the front of his jeans.

  ***

  When Charlotte reappeared, fully-dressed, Jack was amused to see that she was wearing a sweater. It was far too hot for that, and he was sure it was her way of indicating to him that she had taken to heart that he wasn’t gay. Up until that point, she’d been wearing skin-tight shirts, tiny shorts, and he’d even had to endure a tiny, white bikini one day, when she’d decided to try out the pool. That had been the most difficult day since she’d arrived, and he’d imagined her in that bikini for days afterward. He hoped that image could be replaced by the sweater to give him a little respite, but he doubted his brain would cooperate.

  “What do you have planned today?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I might have a swim.”

  “Will you be wearing your sweater into the pool?”

  “No, stupid.” She glared at him as he called her bluff. “I was just a little cold in the air-conditioning.”

  “I can turn it down, if you like.”

  “No, don’t bother. I’m sure it will be great after I’ve been outside by the pool for a little while.”

  “I’m not sure the pool is such a good idea, today.”

  “Why?”

  “My band will be here soon. We’re having a rehearsal for the tour.”

  “Really?” Charlotte’s words dripped with the promise of trouble to come, and he immediately wished he had rented a studio somewhere else for the day. “I’d like to meet the band.”