by Lizzie Shane
“Heavenly,” she admitted. A dream day in Paris. “Just promise me we’ll go walking along the Seine at night.”
He grinned and linked their arms. “I think that can be arranged.”
The lights of Paris glimmered, twinkling off the river. A light rain had started while they were at dinner, but Jack was as good as his word and took her strolling along the Seine in spite of the drizzle. Every once in a while, the thin sliver of the moon would find a break in the clouds and cast a silvery glow over the already magical city.
The cameras followed them, but Jack was right, after a day being trailed by them, she’d almost forgotten they were there. And this was all just practice footage. She didn’t need to feel self-conscious because why would the show ever use this material?
Jack’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she was tucked so snugly against his side, she barely felt the chill. Lou leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed, not wanting this day to ever end.
They didn’t speak much, but Lou didn’t think any words could possibly have been more beautiful than the sounds of their footsteps and the voices of the people passing by. A couple passed them, walking quickly and arguing, and a giddy bubble of laughter rose up in Lou’s throat.
“What?” Jack asked quietly.
“Everyone’s speaking French,” Lou explained, knowing how ridiculous and inane that comment sounded, but too delighted by being in France, where everyone spoke French, to care. “I’m eavesdropping in French.”
“Have you thought about going back to teaching?”
“French?”
Jack stopped them at the apex of a bridge that arched over the river. He turned Lou to face him, gently tugging the collar of her jacket up against the rain. His thumbs brushed along the line of her throat. “You obviously still love languages. When you love something that much, you don’t walk away from it, Lou.”
Her breath caught. Were they still talking about art?
“I never get to see you like his,” he murmured. “When you see the magic in everything.”
Lou felt the urge to apologize, as if she’d let him down by letting the magic in her life get swallowed by practicality. She opened her lips to speak—
—and he sealed them with a kiss.
It was not the frenzied rush of the Jacuzzi, nor the tentative, accidental brush from weeks ago. The touch of his lips was sure, coaxing a rush of warmth through her body from the top of her head all the way down to her toes. A Parisian kiss. He took his time with each smooth, slow, drugging pull of his mouth on hers, drawing her deeper until her entire world narrowed down to his lips, so much so she almost didn’t feel his arms closing around her to hold her closer to his warmth.
When he lifted his head, Lou’s eye flickered open to meet his. The piercing blue was almost as dazed as she felt.
“Are you ready to go back to the hotel?” he asked, his voice scratchy and low.
She knew he was asking her so much more than if she was ready for her day in Paris to end. The entire day had been leading up to this, a slow, unavoidable slide to the point of no return.
If she said no, they would keep walking. When they were ready to call it a night, they would head back to the hotel and their separate rooms in the penthouse suite.
If she said yes…
Yes meant no more hiding her heart. It meant risk and kisses and adventure. Yes was leaping into love with both feet and damning the consequences. Yes was terrifying.
Lou took a deep breath and jumped off that cliff, free falling and hoping Jack would be there to catch her. “Yes.”
Perhaps she was pretending again, but maybe Jack was pretending with her this time.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Anticipation was their silent companion on the ride back to the hotel. Jack sat close, his thigh pressed warm against hers, as the car zipped through the late night Parisian traffic. Lou wanted to savor every moment; she was almost disappointed when the car pulled up under the awning of the Hotel Pont Royal.
Jack quickly stepped out, extending his hand to help her from the car. She set her fingers on his palm, feeling that small contact far more than she should have. He didn’t release her hand as the doorman held the door for them, nor as they waited for the elevator, or rode in silence up to the top floor. The entire time, his thumb traced patterns on the back of her hand, and she felt each swirling touch keenly. Four years of foreplay could do that to a girl.
He had to release her hand to unlock the door. He held it open, his palm grazing the small of her back as he guided her inside in front of him. Neither of them reached for the light, leaving them in the ambient glow of the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall.
The camera crew had followed, but now—just like with the overnight dates on the show—they stayed outside as the door clicked shut.
The sound of the door closing was unnaturally loud in the hush.
Lou waited, her breath short and her heart hammering noisily in her chest. Want stretched like a tether between them. She felt the connection through his hand on the small of her back, like he’d wrapped his hand around the most essential parts of her and would never let go.
Lou hesitated, unsure what came next. Should she step farther into the room? Turn to him and kiss him? Perhaps they should have a glass of champagne on the balcony first? That had certainly loosened things up in the Jacuzzi.
But she wasn’t certain she wanted to be loose. She liked the delicious tension coiling in the room too much to want to do anything to dissipate it. Lou leaned back slightly against the palm splayed across the small of her back. That was all the encouragement Jack needed.
Suddenly he was there, spinning her, his hands cradling her face, holding her steady for his kiss.
And what a kiss. Lou’s toes curled in her shoes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her breasts suddenly felt heavy and her nipples tightened, though he hadn’t even looked at them yet.
Her entire body responded to the call to action in that kiss. He commanded. He consumed. And she was right there with him. Her hands burrowed into his hair, clinging to his scalp. Her tongue tangled with his, stroking into his mouth. When he applied a little suction to the tip of her tongue, drawing it between his lips, Lou felt the tug straight down to her womb. Heat pooled between her legs in a sudden rush.
Their jackets hit the floor and he kicked them aside, backing her farther into the suite with his hands bracketing her hips. Lou couldn’t stop kissing him. She didn’t care where he was leading her, everything she needed was right here in front of her, driving her to distraction with each touch.
They stopped moving and his hands brushed over her back and her sides, the quick skimming touches so teasingly erotic it took her a moment to realize he was searching for the fastenings on her dress.
Lou broke the kiss and pushed back out of his arms. She bumped into the back of the sofa, her hands falling to either side to brace herself.
“Lou?” Jack took a step toward her, but she put her hand up to stop him. He obeyed instantly, though confusion scrunched his brows.
Lou reached beneath her arm and drew the hidden zipper down the side of her dress. It wasn’t exactly the sexiest way to strip, but Jack didn’t seem to mind. His eyes stayed locked on that zipper like his life depended on it, even as his hands went to work unbuttoning his own shirt.
When the dress was loosened enough, Lou shimmied it off over her head, relieved she’d given in to Kelly’s demands to wear the sexy lingerie when Jack’s eyes went dark and his fingers froze on the next to last button.
“Let me help you with that,” Lou murmured, barely recognizing the sultry rasp of her own voice.
Apparently she was the kind of girl who could do sexy after all.
She drew her nails gently down his chest until she reached the buttons, slipping each one free slowly, ensuring her fingers rubbed frequently against the undershirt-covered abs beneath. She then slid her hands back up across his chest and
over his shoulders, shoving the shirt over Jack’s shoulders until it fell to puddle on the carpet. He toed off his shoes, but she kept her heels on. The difference in their height was too great without them and Lou didn’t want anything to stop her from kissing him.
She leaned up and pressed her mouth against the stubbly underside of his jaw. She breathed in the raw, masculine scent of his skin. No cologne. Just Jack.
His hands found their way back to her body with the feather light touches, but now the skin of her back and stomach was bare and she knew he was teasing her on purpose. Two could play at that game.
She untucked his undershirt and slipped her hands beneath, tracing her nails across the plane of his abs in a random pattern. He sucked in a hissing breath whenever her touches spiraled down toward his zipper, but she made him wait four passes before she pressed her hand against the ridge straining against the fabric of his trousers.
Jack groaned and dropped his forehead down to rest against hers. “If you want to do this in a bed, pick one and get there fast,” he growled.
A delectable shiver shot down her spine at the command. She twisted away from him, darting toward the nearest bedroom door. She kept looking over her shoulder and half-turning to watch him prowl after her. He yanked his undershirt over his head and tossed it aside. The sight of Jack shirtless never failed to make Lou’s knees go wobbly. He looked so damn sexy with his hair mussed by her hands, his abs so damn tight and his eyes honed in on her like blue lasers.
Then he started to unfasten his trousers as he stalked in her wake and Lou remembered to hurry. She stopped gawking and made a break for the bedroom. She threw open the French doors, sparing barely a glance for the opulent furnishings of the room. Jack was right on her heels.
She almost made it to the bed before he caught her. Jack spun her around and snared her mouth in another mind-numbing, bone-melting kiss. He pressed against her until the back of her legs hit the mattress and he fell with her onto the downy soft comforter, their arms and legs tangled around one another. Her bra and his boxers seemed to vanish between one thought and the next—but she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. The only words streaming through her brain were mine, yes, and Jack.
Luckily, she didn’t need more words than that. Jack knew exactly what she needed.
Never breaking the kiss, he hooked one of her knees over his hip, opening her to him. A slow stroke up her inner thigh found her wet and ready beneath the peek-a-boo lace of her panties. He circled her nub with his thumb, gently flicking it through the fabric until she arched up off the bed, tearing her mouth free of his to gasp his name. She quickly shimmied out of her panties to hurry him along. A girl could only take so much. She reached down between them to take him in her hand.
Jack cursed and leapt off the bed. In the sudden chill without him, Lou twisted onto her side. “Jack?”
She heard him swearing in the darkness at the other end of the room, then a low grunt. “Found it.”
He appeared back at the side of the bed, rolling a condom into place. Lou didn’t have time to wonder that safety had completely slipped her mind. Jack was already pulling her to the edge of the mattress. He guided her to bend her knees, her legs splayed with a wild disregard for modesty. Lou had a moment of squirming insecurity until Jack leaned down and licked into her heat with a firm swipe of his tongue. The shout that ripped out of her throat at the jolt of pleasure was probably heard in Marseilles.
Standing at the edge of the bed, with her spread like an offering atop it, Jack fitted himself to her. Lou closed her eyes as every particle of her being focused on that one point of connection between them. With a slow, sensuous thrust, he slid high inside her, and Lou lost her grip on reality. There was only Jack, pulsing deeper into her with each rocking thrust, the friction of their bodies tightening a spring inside her until she felt like her soul was on the verge of splitting apart at the seams.
Then she opened her eyes and saw him, the dark curl falling over one eye, his jaw tight with effort, his eyes piercing her with their focus and heat. Jack.
Her release sprang free, coils of sensation breaking through her body in waves. He leaned over her to take her cries into his mouth, giving two more hard thrusts before his own climax hit and he shuddered against her.
Now that’s what I call Mr. Perfect.
Jack tugged on jeans but left his shirt unbuttoned as he crept silently out of the bedroom, leaving Lou sleeping amid the tangled sheets. Between time zones, jet-lag, their busy day in Paris and the fact that he hadn’t let her get much sleep last night, she deserved the chance to sleep in before her flight back to the States.
He felt a smug smile curling his lips as picked up the phone and called down for room service. The woman who’d been a part of his family for years had taken over his heart. He couldn’t actually say the I-love-yous yet, but he knew Lou wouldn’t be going anywhere—except moving from the guest room into the master with him. They could get married right away, just a quick, private ceremony with a few family and friends. Or, if Lou wanted, they could do the big white wedding in a few months. The details didn’t matter.
If life got any better than this, he didn’t know how.
He was debating sneaking back into the bedroom to wake Lou up with a kiss—though he’d promised himself he’d let her sleep—when a sharp knock sounded on the penthouse door. Jack crossed to the door, expecting the world’s fastest room service. What he got was a much less pleasant surprise.
“Miranda.”
Talk about a buzz kill.
The producer smiled. “Sorry, Mister Perfect. Lufthansa waits for no man. You’ve gotta get your ass on a flight to Switzerland.”
“Do I really need to go through the motions? We both know I’m not going to pick Katya. Lou isn’t even awake yet—”
“You still can’t profess your undying love yet. When she’s standing in front of you at the final ring ceremony, you can do whatever you want—personally I vote for a big sappy proposal—but until then, you have to go to Switzerland. You don’t have to lead Katya on. Since this will all be part of the final episode you can actually dump her as soon as you arrive if you want, but you have to do it in person. That’s for your own good. Public opinion would kill you if you get rid of her via text or some such bullshit.”
Jack frowned. “What do you mean about Lou and the final ring ceremony?”
Miranda smiled innocently—and he knew he was in trouble. “Didn’t I mention that? You have to pick a winner and give her the final ring. It’s in your contract. But I read the fine print and it doesn’t have to be one of the original Suitorettes. You’re welcome to use that time to propose to Lou. Unless you want Lou to watch you pick one of the other girls.”
“Lou won’t want to be a spectacle.”
“Would she rather you proposed to someone else?”
Jack glared. “Are you descended from Macchiavelli?”
“Probably. So we’re good?”
He didn’t like it. He’d never been the kind of guy who thought proposing on the jumbo-tron at a ballgame was romantic. It was a private decision, it should be a private moment. But he couldn’t afford to have the show’s lawyers come after him. TJ and Emma’s college funds would be a fond memory if he broke the contract.
“Fine.”
“Excellent!” Miranda crowed. “I always liked you, Jack. Now, let’s get you on a plane.”
The last thing he wanted was to leave Lou now that he’d finally succeeded in breaking down her walls—even if it was only for three days until the final ceremony. He didn’t want her questioning his affection while they were apart. But the next time he saw her, he could tell her the truth. He could say those three little words.
In three days it would all be over and hopefully he’d be engaged to Lou—if she could forgive him for dragging her into the show—and free to go back to the life he loved.
Chapter Thirty
Lou woke in the softest bed on the planet, which only amplified the feeling that she
had died and gone to heaven in the last twenty-four hours. Angels didn’t have it this good.
The feeling was only somewhat diminished when she opened her eyes and realized she was alone. She heard voices in the main room of the suite. Jack must have slipped out so he wouldn’t disturb her.
Lou arched in a spine-popping stretch, reveling in every delicious ache she’d acquired last night. Jack had been everything she could have wished for in a lover and then some. She blushed as she remembered his inspired use of her red silk scarf. Blindfolds really did make every other sense come alive—not that Jack needed any help awakening her senses.
She rolled out of the bed, bundling herself in a hotel bathrobe and padding toward the door in search of Jack. Judging by the clock on the bedside, they had a good hour before she had to go to the airport and she planned on making good use of that time.
The door to the main room was cracked open. Lou realized a second before she pushed it open farther that the voice in the other room was definitely not Jack’s. It was female and familiar.
Miranda. So much for a morning quickie.
Lou hesitated behind the mostly closed door, debating hiding out in the bedroom until Jack came to find her. Then what Miranda was saying—seemingly to herself—registered.
“Are you kidding? This has been in my back pocket from the beginning. In three days, the best season of Marrying Mister Perfect ever will be in the can and I’ll be an executive producer.” Miranda seemed downright gleeful, which never boded well for the rest of humanity. “I am officially a genius. If I don’t get an Emmy for this, there is no justice in the world.”
She laughed, the sound high and bright—and in sharp counterpoint to the heavy feeling congealing in Lou’s chest.
“Jack is completely on board. I’ve never seen a Mister Perfect more ass over ears in love. It’ll be sappy in the extreme, but it’s going to make fantastic television.”
Lou leaned against the door frame. She’d known he would go back to the show. Of course she’d known. This had just been their little day of pretend.
