by Stacy Wise
The parking lot seems to have expanded since we arrived, but we finally reach the truck, and keeping the dog over my face, I scramble into the passenger seat. Before my seat belt is clicked, Jack tears out of the lot, leaving behind a cloud of dust that muffles the cries of, “He’s on the move!”
Once on the road, he takes the curves too fast, giving us a good head start. I plead with him to slow down, since it appears they aren’t in pursuit, but he talks over me. “Get Matthew for me, right now!” After dialing, I place the phone in the cup holder and pray his publicist will answer. After the third ring, he does. “Matthew here.”
“It’s me. We have a paparazzi situation, and I need your expertise, man.” As Jack fills him in, I dig through my purse for a mint, or anything that might calm my churning stomach. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Jack this upset—since my first day on the job, really.
Matthew’s voice crackles through the speaker. “We’ll handle it. The first thing that comes to mind is we diffuse your leaving a hotel with your assistant and shine a light on a new relationship. Nichole Antocci is the perfect partner for you. She’s represented here, too, so it’ll stay in-house. We’ve discussed it once before, in terms of promoting the film. Maybe we’ll get a jumpstart on it. Stay tuned.”
Jack ends the call and checks his rearview mirror. He should be checking on me after that horrid conversation. “So they’re going to make it look like you and Nichole are dating? How does that work?”
He flicks a sideways glance at me before focusing back on the road. “Uh. By taking her to places like The Ivy and Chateau Marmont, or hiking Runyon Canyon—the usual celeb hangouts where the paparazzi lie in wait.”
So he’ll spend his nights pretending to date his disgustingly attractive costar, sharing romantic dinners, drinking wine. And they’ll never once feel an ounce of attraction for each other. It’ll all be fake. Until one night, they’ll step out of a restaurant into pouring rain. He’ll slip off his coat and hold it over her head while they giggle at the absurdity of a sudden storm. Her tiny designer dress will get soaked, revealing sexy La Perla lingerie. He won’t be able to help himself. And I’ll be…what? Waiting in my flannel pajamas for him to come home? I subtly dab the corners of my eyes with the dog’s floppy ear. Kissing Jack was stupid. Pieces of my heart are already cracking, prepping it for the inevitable break. There’s no way to escape it. Tennyson’s line, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all” drifts into my mind. It’s a stupid idea and a stupid line, and I’m sure that’s blasphemous of me to say, but that’s how I feel. The truth is, it’s better to keep the heart intact, not allowing it to splatter across the vineyards of Central California.
“You’re quiet.”
“Just thinking.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
Ha! I’m sure you are, Jack McAlister. You’re probably already planning your first faux date.
I pick up his phone and open the photo stream. With one quick click, I delete the picture he took of me yesterday and drop the phone back into the cup holder.
He steals a glance at me. “What’d you do?”
“Deleted a picture.”
With a hesitant laugh, he says, “Which one?”
“Just the one you took of me.”
“Why?” He takes his eyes off the road to look right at me.
I shrug. “Less proof if your phone gets hacked. You wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re dating your assistant.”
“That’s such bullshit. I loved that picture of you.” He slams a hand against the steering wheel, and with a deliberate move swerves his truck off the road, landing us in a dusty path next to a field of strawberries. A cold feeling slithers through me, and I brace myself for an outburst. I bite my lip hard, unable to look at him even though his eyes are fixed on me, waiting for a response.
The silence lies between us, pulsing with uncertainty. “Jessica, will you look at me?”
“What?” I say, turning to him.
His eyes burn, but whether he’s angry at the photographers, or the situation, or me, I don’t know. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Everything I want to say gets caught in my throat. The image of us tangled together last night, burning up the sheets, makes my stomach flutter. It unnerves me, making me want to crawl into his lap and escape into the comfort of his arms. But Matthew’s confident voice streams into my mind, and the feeling goes up in flames.
“You made me feel like shit, and I hate it. I’m so sorry being seen with me is cause for such alarm. It won’t happen again.” I face him, my eyes burning. “Trust me on that one. You can have your party with Nichole, and you two can become America’s favorite couple.” The better part of me knows I should shut my mouth, but now that I’ve started, I can’t hold back. “The tabloids can come up with a cute nickname for you, like NicJack. Or Jackhole.” Laughter spills out of me. “That’s it! They can call you Jackhole. Perfect!” I offer him a crazed smile.
My hurt turns to fear when he throws open his door and jumps from his truck. He kicks the ground, stirring up a cloud of dust. His hands are balled into tight fists, ready to punch something. Short of his truck, there’s nothing to hit, and he leans down, grabbing a handful of rocks that he chucks, one after the other, into the field of strawberries. He wipes his hands down the front of his jeans and strides to the passenger door, pulling it open.
“Do you know why I panicked? Do you have any clue? No. You don’t, obviously. I lost my fucking head because I was worried about you. You, Jessica. The thought of those assholes coming after you, stalking your every move because they think you’re connected to me kills me. If someone so much as laid a hand on you, I’d beat the hell out of them.” He places his hands on my cheeks and searches my eyes. “Don’t you see?”
Without waiting for a response, he puts his mouth on mine, kissing me. My heart gallops, and I respond greedily, all the anger and hurt imploding. We pause to catch our breath, and he places his hands on my hips, lifting me from the truck. As soon as my feet touch ground, his lips find mine again. He pushes me up against his truck, his mouth on mine, his hands tangled in my hair, anger fueling his fiery kisses.
He trails his fingers along my face when our kiss ebbs to a leisurely end. “You’re all I want. We’ll figure this out in a way that works for both of us.”
“Once you stop running, there’s nothing for them to chase.”
He nods. “‘Wave, smile, and move on.’ Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yeah.”
With a laugh, he kisses me then turns to the sprawling field behind us. “Hey, strawberries, check this out!” He grabs my face and plants a kiss on my lips, making me giggle. “It’s a start.” Turning serious, he says, “I’ll talk to Matthew about our options. The thought of having to spend any more time with Nichole than necessary makes me want to punch something. And the last thing I want is for you to worry about where you stand, okay? You stand with me.”
“Thanks. It means a lot.”
“Come on, let’s go home.”
We roll back onto the quiet road, uncertain what realities will greet us upon our return, but holding onto the knowledge that whatever it is, we’ll face it together.
Chapter Thirty-Two
A New York cheesecake chills in my refrigerator. I never made one for Jack after our night of darts, and the day had been stretching out in front of me with too much potential for disaster. Jack has been in meetings with Matthew since we got back, discussing their plan of action. He assured me it’d all work out, but I can’t hold back the tendrils of worry. Baking was really the only solution. That and calling my parents. On the drive home, Jack insisted I tell them about us, because if we’re going to come out to the world as a couple, it’s only fair they know first. Of course he was right.
When Mom answered, I said I had something important to tell her. She immediately called for my dad, who picked up on another phone.
“What’s going on, J
ess?” he asked. I could picture him waving a hand at Mom, telling her to calm down.
“Nothing bad,” I rushed. “Jack and I started dating, and I wanted you to know.” I held my breath, waiting for their response.
Mom exhaled with a tittering laugh. “Oh, sweetie. That’s great news. I had a feeling you were falling for him the way you ranted about him over Thanksgiving.” She paused. “Anything else? The way you prefaced it, I got the idea you had bad news.”
“Some paparazzi took pictures of us this morning. My face was covered, but Jack and all his people are worried they’re going to dig up whatever they can on me, including possibly trying to come after you guys.”
Surprisingly, my parents took the news in stride. Dad even made a joke, saying he’ll finally be discovered when people see his handsome mug in magazines.
My phone dings, and I smile at the text.
I’m making dinner. Join me?
Yes! I have dessert. Did the meetings go okay?
You’re dessert. ;) And yes. I’ll fill you in.
His response makes me shudder with anticipation. I remove the cheesecake from the fridge, along with a box of fresh strawberries, and hurry across the yard to his house. The absence of Leo greeting me with a snort hits me. “I miss you, little guy,” I say to the spot where he used to lie on the patio.
Jack is in his kitchen, his hair damp, looking hot and huggable in a navy thermal with his well-worn jeans. “Hey, handsome.”
He turns, the paring knife in his hand clattering to the counter as he eyes the cheesecake. “No way. Did you make that?”
“Yeah. It’s your victory cheesecake from the dart game.”
“And here I thought you’d forgotten.” A smile curves his mouth, reaching his eyes. “The things that crossed my mind before suggesting the cheesecake…” He takes it from me, setting it on the counter before linking his hands around my waist. “I had some wicked ideas that night.”
I spring a kiss on his lips. “It’s never too late to share ideas.”
He groans, eyeing me with a lusty look. “Oh, I plan on it.” Cupping my face in his hands, he kisses me until I’m breathless. “That’s just for starters. Now, where was I when you so pleasantly surprised me?” He skims the center island, pulling a colander of fresh vegetables to him. “Ah, yes. Slicing radishes.”
“Radishes?”
“Yeah, the cute little red root vegetable? High in folic acid and potassium?”
I punch his arm, euphoric after our make-out session. “I know what they are. They just aren’t high on my list of favorite foods.”
“I’m going to make you love radishes,” he says, slicing. “I’m going to make you love them so much you won’t know how you existed without them.”
“You make radishes sound really, really good.”
“Wait ’til you try my Romanesco.” He tilts his head toward mine. “I’m roasting it with olive oil, pecorino cheese, and red pepper flakes.”
“Now you’re trying to seduce me with your cooking? Have you no mercy?”
“Trying? I see how you’re looking at me.”
I laugh and take the paring knife from the counter. “Okay, I’m slicing now. We need to get serious, or we’re never going to eat. But if you’d like to spice things up and cook shirtless, by all means, don’t let me stop you. I could look at your naked torso all night long.”
He whips his thermal over his head and tosses it aside. “Anything to make my girl happy.” He grins. “I told Matthew, by the way, that I’m not going along with the dating Nichole route. He was pissed because of the press it could create around the film, but I convinced him.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. If it’s okay with you, we’re going to lie low for the next week or so, not going out in public together. Does that sound okay?”
I nod. “The truth is, I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. But you’re worth the risk.”
“Thank you. That makes me feel…I don’t know. You’re amazing, Jess.”
His words wash over me. A feeling of love floats through me, but I shove it away. It’s too soon to think that. But damn. This man. I touch my lips to his.
“You better stop that or I’m going to burn dinner,” he says with a laugh. “Let’s eat fast.”
Our dinner is long gone, and Jack and I lounge on the couch, kissing lazily. He pulls back and looks at me. “I liked what you were wearing last night.”
“My undies?”
“Yeah. I’m real curious to see what you have on tonight.” His words make my heart speed up.
“Are you, now?”
“Yeah.”
“Play your cards right, and you’ll get to see them.”
He smiles. “Will you stay here tonight? I want you in my bed with me.”
My stomach does an Olympic-worthy flip. “Yeah.”
He stands and takes my hand. “Let’s go.”
As soon as I stand, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me down the long hallway to his room. I can’t wait to get lost in him. He pushes through the door and lays me on his bed.
“This is better,” he says. “You look good here.”
I start to giggle as I remember the day he doctored my knee. “Are you going to ask me to take my pants off again?”
A smile sneaks across his lips, lighting the room. “I may rip them off.” He kneels above me, grinning like a fool. “You know, it took everything I had to keep cool that day. I kept repeating the Pledge of Allegiance in my head so I’d have something else to focus on. But now, I get to focus on you.” He eases himself on top of me, touching my face and kissing me gently.
His heart thumps against my chest, matching the beat of mine. The way he looks at me makes me feel beautiful. “I plan on having a little fun here tonight. Home court advantage and all.”
I giggle. “So does that mean you’ll have your A-game on?”
“I always have my A-game on,” he says, toying with the hem of my shirt. “I thought last night was amazing.”
“Yeah, it was all right,” I tease.
“Whoa, ho, ho. If that was just all right for you,” he says, kissing my neck, “I can’t wait to see how you respond to good.” He slips off my shirt and kisses my stomach. “And to great.” He kisses my breast just above my demi-bra. “And to fucking fantastic.” He kisses my mouth.
“Sounds like a good time, Jack McAlister.”
“Speaking of good times, I never finished with what I was going to tell you in the Fire Truck room, but I think I should tell you now.”
“What is it?” I ask, curious.
“We’re shooting in France starting right after the new year.”
“France? Oh my God. Wow. That’s…wow.”
“Yeah. It’s only for six weeks.”
“Six weeks,” I repeat slowly. Six weeks of no Jack. Forty-two days of loneliness. I want to feel happy for him, but it’s hard.
He looks at me, his blue eyes twinkling. How can he look so freaking happy when I’m going to be miserable? France is my place. I’m the one who’s been dying to go there. He leans in to kiss me softly on the lips. “I want you to come with me.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No, I’m not kidding. I found a pastry school in Paris. It’s one of the best. I made a few calls and secured you a spot in their four-week course if you want it.”
I sit up, dumbfounded. “You got me into a pastry school? In Paris?”
“Yeah.” He looks down and then back at me. “I wanted to do something special for you.”
I stare at him, taking in his gorgeous blue eyes. “How come you’re being so nice to me?”
“I don’t know how else to be with you.”
“You know you’re never going to get rid of me, right? I mean, this is crazy. You’re like, everything I’ve ever wanted in a man times a gazillion.”
“Good. Does that mean you’ll come to Paris with me?”
“Hell, yes.” I pull his face to mine and kiss him hard. �
�Get ready for fucking fantastic.”
We both startle when his alarm blares.
Jack moans. “Shit.”
“I thought your call time was four today.”
He stuffs the pillow under his head and looks at the ceiling. “It is, but I’m training with Shawn at nine. What the hell was I thinking?” Rolling onto his side, he kisses my forehead, my eyes, and finally my mouth. “Stay here and rest as long as you like. I’ll make you some breakfast when I’m finished.”
I stretch under the covers, wishing we could cuddle all day long. Jack rolls out of bed and moves around the room, gathering his shirt and shoes.
He catches me watching and smiles, his eyes brighter than I’ve ever seen them, even with the dark circles beneath them. Dumping everything onto his dresser, he climbs back on the bed, positioning his body over mine, teasing my lips with sweet kisses. My hands flutter across his back. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his lats.
With a sigh and a final kiss, he pads to the bathroom, where I hear him move through the ritual of washing his face and brushing his teeth.
After luxuriating in Jack’s bed a little longer, I finally decide to move. I slip on my clothes and take my time making the bed so it looks perfect. As tired as I am, there’s a spark in me that overrides my sleepiness. I walk out the back door to go to the guesthouse to get ready for my day.
“Jessica!”
Oh my God. Shawn is mere feet from me. “Hey, how’s it going?” I try for casual, but my voice sounds robotic.
“Maybe I should ask you that question,” he says, eyeing me up and down. It’s obvious I slept at Jack’s. My hair is a mess, and I have my shoes in my hands. I try to say something, but the words get stuck. Shawn clears his throat. “I’m confused.” He shakes his head. “What about the guy with the girlfriend?”
“I thought Jack and Corinne Dahl were dating,” I say quietly. “This just happened. I mean, we…”
“Ah, I see,” he says, as though everything finally makes sense. “I should’ve known something was up with the two of you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
