Marrying Mister Perfect

by Lizzie Shane

  She looked amazing wearing another of those little stretchy dresses like the one she’d worn last time. Her hair was down around her shoulders again, curling around her face. Her pale blue eyes leapt out at him, meeting his.

  For a moment, something intangible stretched between them—a question or a hope, he didn’t know which—but then the kids must have sensed something with their Adult-Connection-Radar. They jumped up and down, each grabbing one of his hands with both of theirs as they demanded his attention.

  “Dad, can we go to the zoo today, can we?”

  “Can we please, Daddy?”

  Jack glanced at Lou with raised eyebrows.

  She shrugged and gave a slight nod—their I’m-okay-with-it-if-you-are signal. “The driver mentioned there’s a new baby tiger at the LA zoo. It’s not San Diego, or anything, but the kids really latched onto the idea.”

  “Yeah, Dad, we’re latched,” TJ declared, in his I’m-one-of-the-grown-ups voice.

  Jack ruffled his hair and grinned. “If we’re latched, I guess we’d better check out this baby tiger.”

  After the week he’d had, a day at the zoo with Emma, TJ and Lou sounded like heaven on earth.

  Lou shifted Emma’s limp form in her arms as she followed Jack, who carried an equally boneless TJ, up the stairs. After their day running around like monkeys at the zoo and pigging out on dried-out burgers and stale fries at the zoo food court, the kids had immediately conked out on the drive home—almost before they made it out of the parking lot.

  It had been a great day—without a single mention of Marrying Mr. Perfect and not a camera in sight—but now Lou felt like she’d been run over with a steamroller. Every muscle she had was sore and she was weary down to her marrow.

  Kelly had sent her off with instructions to seduce the hell out of Jack as soon as the kids were asleep, but a hot shower to work the aches out of her muscles and a rendezvous with her fluffy pillow were the only things on Lou’s mind as they trudged to the top of the stairs and down the hall to the room where the kids usually slept.

  She and Jack were still being too careful with one another, dancing around and pretending they weren’t constantly tense around one another.

  He shouldered open the door and held it open with his foot until Lou carried Emma into the room. They silently changed the kids into pajamas and settled them into bed. There was nothing unusual about the bedtime ritual, but Lou was overly conscious of Jack through it all—the brush of his hand against hers when she handed him TJ’s pajama pants, the strength in his shoulders when he lifted the six-year-old to slide him under the covers, and the half-smile he shot her when their eyes met.

  Lou slipped out into the hallway and Jack quietly clicked the door shut behind them. Only minutes ago she’d been desperate to get some sleep, but now she lingered in the hallway, hoping Jack would give her an excuse to stay up with him, held silent by that strange tension.

  He laid his hand on her elbow and guided her down the hall away from the kids’ room. She didn’t know what to say, seemed to have forgotten how to talk to him, but he solved that problem by bringing up their one universally safe topic: Emma and TJ.

  “The zoo was a great idea. They really went nuts for that baby tiger.”

  “The chimpanzees were a real hit too.” Great. She’d been reduced to itemizing the animals at the zoo.

  “I must be getting old,” Jack grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I used to be able to go nonstop and it didn’t faze me a bit. Now after one measly afternoon at the zoo, I ache all over.”

  Lou eyed the muscles shifting beneath Jack’s T-shirt as he worked the kinks out of his neck. “Oh yeah, you’re geriatric, all right. Mister Perfect, the nursing home edition.” Lou glanced around, suddenly realizing why the house felt so quiet. “Speaking of Mister Perfect. Where is everyone?”

  He grinned. “They’re taking the day off. Almost the entire crew got a free day today before we start traveling again. Even the house staff get a break, so I hope you weren’t expecting turn-down service.”

  They were alone. Completely alone. An inappropriate shiver of delight ran across Lou’s nerve endings.

  Not that anything would happen. Of course nothing would happen.

  Together, they paused in the hall outside her room. Lou wracked her brain for something to say, some way to prolong the evening. Why was she so terrible at this? She’d never been good at small talk. Lou’d never really felt it was such a terrible thing not to be chatty, but now she’d sell her soul for a conversation starter.

  Jack nodded toward the pool. “I’m going to take a soak in the hot tub before I call it a night. Care to join me?”

  Lou tried not to cut him off in her eagerness to agree. “Sure,” she said, going for nonchalance, as if wild horses could keep her away. “Meet you down there in ten?”

  “Perfect.”

  When Mister Perfect disappeared down the hall in search of his swim trunks, Lou ducked into her room, debating one of the single most important choices of her life to date: one piece or bikini?

  The one piece was a simple black racer-back suit that covered her from collarbones to hips. Jack had seen her in it before, every time they went to the Y with the kids, and it had never elicited an I-must-ravish-you-this-instant response.

  The bikini, on the other hand, was brand new, fire-engine red, and designed with the words va-va-voom in mind. Kelly had insisted Lou buy it as part of the original Ultimate Seduction plan, but when Lou fished the scarlet scraps out of her overnight bag, she couldn’t believe she’d let herself be talked into purchasing anything so overtly come-and-get-me. Could she really wear it?

  The black one hid all her faults. Lou kept herself in pretty good shape, but she was no swimsuit model. How was her amateur va-va-voom supposed to compete with someone who looked like a goddess for a living?

  The image of the busty blonde kissing Jack on the magazine rose in her mind and she tossed the red scraps back into the bag.

  He would think she was ridiculous if she tried to be sexy for him. Especially when he was surrounded by real sexy.

  Lou laid out the black one piece, but hesitated.

  Safe or bold? Maternal or sexual? If she put on the bikini, was she announcing to Jack and the world that she was more than a carpool chauffeur? If she went with the black, was she giving up on ever having Jack as anything more than a friend?

  Her wardrobe had never seemed more complicated.

  Lou closed her eyes and reached for her suit of choice. Now or never.

  Jack groaned as he sank up to his neck in decadently hot water. He’d left the patio lights off, so the glittery lights atop the gazebo were the only illumination, providing a soft glowing oasis in the warm California night. Behind him, a bottle of champagne left by a forgetful crew member sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi. The ice chilling it had long since melted and the wine was undoubtedly lukewarm, but he wasn’t picky. A glass of anything alcoholic sounded pretty damn good right now. A great way to unwind after the long day.

  He let his eyes fall closed and dropped his head back against the lip of the hot tub. Bliss. He stayed like that, letting the warmth work into his muscles, until he heard the sound of the sliding door whooshing open.

  Jack opened his eyes. And nearly swallowed his tongue.

  Holy hell.

  Lou stepped out of the house and into the moonlight wearing a fragment of a scarlet bathing suit designed to incite dirty thoughts. Very dirty thoughts. And Jack was far from immune.

  He must have sex on the brain from the show, but he couldn’t help appreciating the view as she walked toward him. The mile-long legs, the smooth curve of her waist flaring out to her hips, and the full, perfect handful of her breasts straining against the ties holding them in place. She was a feast for the eyes. He’d never seen her wearing so little, or looking so edible. He felt like he’d never seen her at all. Blood already warmed by the water surged hotter.

  “Hey,” she said softly as she climbed the step
s up to the hot tub. Her hands were flaring and clenching nervously at her sides. Jack felt something tight in his shoulders release at the sight of the fidgeting. It proved his no-frills Lou was still there beneath this sex goddess’s gleaming alabaster skin.

  This was Lou. Just Lou. Though there was no just about how she looked tonight.

  She sank slowly into the hot tub, giving a soft sigh as the water rose up around her. Jack loved that sound, the helpless pleasure of it, as if she couldn’t not make the noise. He’d heard it before—that was her chocolate moan—but never before had it triggered thoughts quite so sinful as it did now.

  “Mmm, this is heavenly,” she murmured.

  Jack needed to remember how to form words. He was never tongue tied around Lou. She’d start to wonder what was wrong with him if he didn’t get his act together.

  Alcohol. That would loosen the knots in his tongue. “Tepid champagne?” he asked as he reached behind him for the bottle and glasses.

  Lou laughed. “Of course. You make it sound so appetizing.”

  Jack pressed against the cork with his thumbs, wanting for some inexplicable reason to impress her with his champagne-opening prowess. The pressure released suddenly with an explosive pop, sending the cork rocketing across the gazebo. He was lucky he didn’t take her eye out. Champagne gushed out in a river of bubbles.

  The producers would probably have made him reshoot. Lou just laughed. Wading through the water to his side, she grabbed one of the glasses from him and tried to catch the bubbly spilling out the top of the bottle. “Are you sure the show won’t mind that you’re wasting good champagne on someone who isn’t a perfect Suitorette?”

  “Hey, you’re perfect to me.”

  The words popped out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying—or considered how she might take them. But now that they were out there, hanging between them, Jack waited to see how she would react.

  Lou’s mouth fell open, her stunned eyes locked on his. “I…”

  When no more syllables followed that one out of her mouth, Jack began to get nervous.

  Maybe it was the kids asking why he didn’t just marry Lou, maybe it was Miranda forcing him to assess his fucking feelings on an hourly basis, maybe it was being forced to date a bunch of women who couldn’t quite seem to compare to the one he’d left back home, but he’d started to wonder if all these years the reason why he’d never wanted to date anyone else was because he’d been suppressing feelings for Lou all along.

  But he’d vowed he wasn’t going to pressure or guilt her into anything ever again. If there was going to be anything between them, it had to be because she wanted it, not because, as he’d said to the kids, she was too nice to say no.

  But all it took was one look at her in that mouth-watering red bikini and his resolution went straight to hell.

  “Lou, I’ve been thinking—”

  His words broke her spellbound gaze. She jerked her chin down, focusing on the champagne. The eruption had slowed, but the flute she’d been using to catch it had overflowed onto the back of her wrist. “Oops!” She pulled the glass back and quickly retreated to the opposite side of the hot tub, turning her back on him.

  Well, shit.

  He filled the second glass and set the bottle on the lip of the Jacuzzi. “Cheers.”

  Lou turned back to clink her flute against his, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Smooth, Jack. Very smooth. He downed half his champagne in one swallow, trying to think of something, anything, he could say to get them back to normal.

  If there was such a thing as normal anymore.

  Lou sipped her champagne and sat down on the bench on the opposite side of the Jacuzzi, as far as she could get from him without leaving the water. She inclined her glass in his direction. “Not bad.”

  The champagne. Good. Nice, safe topic. “You should try it when it’s chilled. Nothing but the best for Marrying Mister Perfect.”

  The show did have its benefits. Fabulous house. Amazing experiences. The chance to sip champagne with Lou sitting a few feet away from him in a red string bikini…

  He sighed. “I have to say, there are days when I almost love being Mister Perfect.”

  “Of course you do. You have all the power.”

  There was a bite to her voice. Jack didn’t know what he’d just stepped into, but that was Lou’s my-patience-is-up-someone-is-getting-punished voice. He had never once heard it directed at him—or anyone above the age of six.

  “It’s not the power,” he began, but she cut him off before he could explain the drift of his thoughts.

  “You said it yourself. You have gorgeous women fighting for your attention twenty-four-seven and not one single person is saying no to you. That’s heady stuff, but it isn’t love. That isn’t a relationship, no matter how much they try to brainwash you into thinking it is. It’s a game designed to play with people’s emotions and you’re the one holding all the cards.”

  “Lou…” He tried to interject, but she talked right over him.

  Maybe he should just let her get it out of her system. She’d obviously been bothered by this since day one. She’d spoken against the show before, but this was her first all-out rant. He might as well let her purge it all.

  “They fawn all over you. They adore you, and you don’t have to do a damn thing! The producers picked you out as Mister Perfect, but from that moment on, your job was done. Every little romantic gesture is choreographed for you. Champagne chilled by the Jacuzzi—was that your idea? No. Of course not. Some producer thought it would be romantic. Why should you have to be thoughtful?”

  “Just because I didn’t do it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have thought of it,” he said defensively. Though, to be honest, he’d never thought of leaving champagne chilling anywhere. A six pack of beer, maybe…

  “Oh, please, Jack. Sell it to someone who doesn’t know you better. I’m not buying.”

  She drained the last of her champagne. He reached out with the bottle to refill her flute then topped off his own. “I can be considerate.”

  “You’re extremely considerate. Usually.” She took another swallow of champagne. “Sure, fine, you’re a prince among men, Jack, but you aren’t the hearts and flowers type. You never were. Not even in your perfect marriage with perfect Gillian.”

  “I never said—”

  “You love it here. I get it. But just because you love the way being here makes you feel doesn’t mean you love these girls. And it sure as hell doesn’t make this a realistic basis for a marriage. Do you have any idea the success rates of these shows? Sure the ratings are fabulous, but of all the seasons they’ve had only one—one, Jack—has ended in a successful marriage. And they’ve only been married a year. Divorce might be right around the corner and even if they stick it out it’s a fluke. You’d have just as much likelihood of finding your perfect mate in some pick-up bar.”

  “I know.” Though he didn’t think he would have met Marcy in a bar. “You about done?”

  “I am.” She sipped her champagne, then proved her statement a lie. “I just don’t want to see you propose to one of these girls, buy into all this bullshit, only to come home and realize your relationship was based on a photo op. She isn’t going to be competing for your love anymore, Jack, and then what are you going to do?”

  “I guess I’ll just have to find another show with fawning females to feed my massive ego.”

  Lou had been leaning forward as she ranted. With that, she sat back suddenly, so her back was pressed to the opposite wall of the hot tub. “Sarcasm. Lovely. I’m trying to have a serious conversation—”

  “This isn’t a conversation,” he interrupted. “This is you being pissed at me for going on this show and finally saying something about it.”

  “What was I supposed to say? You were martyring yourself for me. Going on the show for me, because we were so pathetic and codependent we needed this.”

  “You practically talked me into it.”

  “I know! And I was an
idiot. Do you think I don’t hate that I threw you into this viper pit?”

  “I came of my own volition.”

  “And now, what? You’re falling in love? This isn’t real, Jack. At best it’s courtship, infatuation—that perfect phase when your beloved has no faults and all you do is stay up all night dancing or sipping champagne in a Jacuzzi.” She waved her flute and he realized it was empty again.

  “Don’t knock sipping champagne in a Jacuzzi.” He caught the hand waving the flute and stilled it to refill her glass.

  “It isn’t love.”

  “Lou. I know that. For all the stupid things Miranda says, she’s right about one. It’s a process. It’s an experience. No one ever calls it a romance.”

  She looked down, studying the bubbles fizzing in her glass. “I just still don’t understand why you’re doing this. Why do you have to fly a thousand miles and make a spectacle of yourself on national television looking for love when everything—” She abruptly cut herself off.

  “Lou? When what?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  When everything you need is right in front of you.

  Lou frowned at the treacherous champagne that had nearly made her spill the embarrassing truth of her infatuation with Jack. She didn’t think she’d had that much, but those couple glasses had gone straight to her head. Her thoughts were swirling like a whirlpool, making her feel dizzy and off balance.

  It had to be the champagne’s fault. There was no other way she would have slipped and come so close to revealing her feelings. Not after the disaster of last time. It certainly wasn’t that she wanted Jack to know how she felt. It couldn’t be.

  “Lou?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “I don’t want to fight either, but I also don’t want you bottling everything up. You can always yell at me when I’m being an idiot. I know we tend to talk about schools and work and the day-to-day stuff more than the emotion stuff, but that doesn’t mean we can’t.”

  “We seem to always end up fighting when we try.”