My hands are sweating and my brain is scrambled. I continue staring down at her, mute, considering all the possibilities. I blink hard but Imaginary Allie doesn’t vanish. She’s real. She’s standing in my front yard declaring her love for me. She loves me.
“You said it and I should’ve said it back, but I was shocked,” she explains.
I know the feeling, considering I can’t move my lips or any of my limbs at the moment. It’s like paralysis, those words. Three words I never thought I’d hear from Allison’s mouth again after the last time she said it years and years ago. And then, she’d said it after she broke up with me. Maybe that’s the paralysis factor.
“Unless you…” She shakes her head as a pink flush steals up her throat. “Oh God. You were…You didn’t mean that, did you?” That pink heat continues to her cheeks until her face burns with embarrassment. “You were helping me out and I thought…I thought for sure you couldn’t fake something like that. But you did. And you did it…why did you do it? Jax, why did you say you loved me when—?”
“Mini,” I interrupt. “Shut up.”
In two strides, I’m down the stairs and scooping her into my arms, hugging her close and burying my nose in her hair. She smells as good as she always has. She smells like home. Like she’s mine.
I’m never letting her go again.
She’s hugging me back so tight I almost can’t breathe. I don’t care, though. I don’t care because she’s here and she’s in my arms and that’s all that matters.
“I told Catarina everything.” Her voice is watery with hope. “I told her I was set up to take the fall and Xavier is a horse’s ass and when I came home to my parents you were there instead. I told her that I fell for you…”
Overcome, she trails off, a small sob eking from her throat. I shush her and palm the back of her head, pulling back enough so I can look at her beautiful face, and fall into those dark eyes.
I’m looking at my future.
“I can’t let you quit being famous, Allie. You love it too much.”
She absorbs that and not in the way I want her to. She sounds devastated when she concludes, “You want me to go back to California.”
“Yes,” I tell her, bringing my thumbs up to swipe away her tears. “And I’m coming with you.”
The joyous alarm on her face is worth teasing that announcement out.
“I need you to listen to me carefully, Mini,” I tell her as I study her shifting expressions. “I love you. I want you. Forever. For good. I want you in my life and if that means I have to uproot my job and sell my house to follow you and your dream, this time I’m going to do it. I’m not losing you again. I can’t lose you again. If I let you go you’ll take the rest of my heart. You already took half of it, which means you’ll leave me with none. I need my heart, Allie. I need you.”
She laughs, tears streaming.
I laugh, too, which feels fucking amazing.
“The passcode to my cellphone is your birthday,” I say.
She crushes her lips into mine, holding me tight. When we part, her eyes are closed and her fingers are in my hair.
“It’s all here,” Jules says. Allie and I both turn to look at her and to my everlasting awe, I find my sister smiling in approval. “Allie told Catarina Everhart how she felt about you, and she said that Xavier set her up.” She waggles her phone. “You have a time stamp now, Jax. She meant it.”
I look down at Allie. “I didn’t need proof. I’ve always been able to tell when you were telling me the truth.”
“Except for today. I screwed up,” she repeats.
“It turned out fine.”
“I couldn’t ask you to move to California, Jax.”
“You didn’t.” I kiss her again, reveling in the feel of her in my arms. Never again will I let this girl go.
Shooting star or no, she’s mine to keep.
Epilogue
“Ready?” Allison turns her gorgeous smile on me. She looks famous, glittering in her red gown, her makeup perfect, her hair in a silky, shiny updo.
The limo rolls forward, taking the place of another before it. I’ve always considered myself a laid-back kind of guy—as comfortable under someone’s scrutiny as I am outside of it—but I’m feeling the pressure of our first public appearance.
It doesn’t get much more public than the Academy Awards.
“Was that—?” I ask as flashes erupt outside our tinted windows.
“Yep. In the flesh. I know his daughter. I can introduce you.”
“You’re going to introduce me.” My voice is toneless with awe. “To my favorite action hero of all time. Yeah, you do that.”
“First we have to step out and have our pictures taken.”
My brain is jumbled with tips from her stylist, who advised me about how to stand and warned me not to smile too big. I shove the thoughts out of my head and decide I don’t care. I’m not the big deal tonight. Mini is. As long as I make her look good, nothing else matters.
She leans close and straightens my bow tie, her expensive perfume tickling my nostrils. I’m wearing a tux that is insanely expensive and has a designer name sewed into it. I had to learn how to pronounce it in case I’m asked who I’m wearing.
“This is nuts,” I tell her as the driver arrives at her door, waiting a beat for the photographers to get into position. “I want to kiss you but your lips are too perfect to mess up.”
She smiles, white teeth and bright red lips to match a bright red dress. Not unlike the shade of red on the night we didn’t make it to Cooper’s. I won’t be taking kitchen shears to this one when we get home, though. It’s on loan from Mr. Keith himself. The sequins sparkle and her eyes do a good job of sparkling, too.
“You can mess up my makeup later.” She leans in and gives me an Eskimo kiss, which is sweet.
The limo door opens and I’m temporarily blinded by camera flashes and shouts of “Nina! Over here, Nina!”
There is at least one opportunistic photographer who shouts, “Jackson!” but I ignore him. It’s Sunday night, which means my family is gathered in the TV room rather than around the dinner table for a late supper. I know because I FaceTimed them before Allie and I left. They’re crazy excited that I’m famous now, which I continually and constantly remind them isn’t true.
I promised Jules a shout-out, so I give her one, looking into the crowd of cameras and brushing my jaw with my thumb.
She’ll love that.
Allie poses and tilts her head this way and that, one slender, toned arm propped on a jutted hip as she reveals one leg through a slit in the skirt of her dress. She’s classy and beautiful and I’m mesmerized by her. I can’t tear my eyes away. A moment later her assistant palms my back and gestures that I need to move. I zoned out on Allie in this mess.
Amazing.
Even in the midst of the people who run this city, she sucks me in and doesn’t let go.
Xavier McCormack exits the limo behind ours and steps onto the red carpet, his date a guy I’ve never seen before. The crowd goes nuts and Allie shoots him an approving smile. Xavier came out about three months ago, and then he used that attention to clear Allie’s name. He’d claimed that hiding from his own life and sexuality made him drink too much at events, and that he’d swiped that Oscar on a whim. He publicly apologized to both Allie and Millie, and Millie issued a public statement that she loved Allie (only she called her Nina) with all her heart and promised to see her at the Academy Awards. Millie’s the reason Allie landed the role in the movie that she’s currently filming. She’s playing Millie’s daughter in a drama based on a bestselling book. Millie promised her a nomination next year, and Allie told me she didn’t care if she’s nominated or not.
Lie.
She loves this shit.
And I love her for loving it.
As much as I love
our house we bought and as much as I love that we’re remodeling it together using the money I earn remodeling stars’ homes. She knows a lot of actors who hate their closets. And I know a lot of hardworking guys who are happy to go out and remodel them on behalf of Burke Builders.
There’s only one thing left to do, really. When Allie finishes the interview she’s doing and turns to look for me, I see my window of opportunity and take it.
On the red carpet, in the middle of a sea of famous people, I drop to one knee and open a velvet box in my palm. More flashes. More shouts. But that’s all background noise. My focus is on Allie. Her palm grazes her collarbone, the borrowed jewelry sparkling at her neck. Her red mouth drops open in slack-jawed surprise that quickly melts into a wide, approving smile.
I don’t have to say a word.
“Yes!” she shouts and then lifts her long dress, running to me in tall, spiked heels. I catch her—as I intended. And then she ruins her makeup anyway, transferring red lipstick to my mouth as her assistant runs toward us with a makeup bag, her face a mask of panic.
Allie and I? We don’t care. We hold each other’s gaze even when her assistant produces a small black brush and starts batting at Allie’s face with it.
“You’re crazy, Jackson Burke.” But she’s all approval and smiles.
“Crazy for you, Allison Murphy. Are you going to marry me or what?”
“I’m going to marry you.” She reaches up to swipe the lipstick from my mouth. I didn’t need the confirmation but it’s damn good to hear. So is what follows.
“I love you, Jax.”
“Love you right back, Mini.”
For anyone who’s ever felt misunderstood. May you find your tribe—the people in your life who love and believe in you no matter what.
Acknowledgments
Huge thanks to Sue and Gina and the rest of the staff at Loveswept who continue to support my books and my creativity. You all are incredible. Special thanks to Ohio native/Cali transplant Ben Keller for sharing details about L.A. You make it easy to root for your success! Mad props to Lauren Layne for an early-on chapter read and, as always, for your friendship. There’s a reason I named Allie’s closest friend in the biz “Lauren.” Thanks to Jules Bennett for brainstorming with me when I didn’t know which direction to turn. And as always, thank you to Nicole Resciniti for your care and concern over every bit of my career. I wouldn’t be here without you.
BY JESSICA LEMMON
Real Love
Eye Candy
Arm Candy
Man Candy
Rumor Has It
America’s Sweetheart
Lost Boys
Fighting for Devlin
Shut Up and Kiss Me
Other Books
Forgotten Promises
PHOTO: NICHOLAS LONG
JESSICA LEMMON, a former job-hopper, resides in Ohio with her husband and rescue dog. She holds a degree in graphic design currently gathering dust in an impressive frame. When she’s not writing about super-sexy heroes, she can be found cooking, drawing, drinking coffee (okay, wine), and eating potato chips. She firmly believes God gifts us with talents for a purpose, and with His help, you can create the life you want.
jessicalemmon.com
Facebook.com/AuthorJessicaLemmon
Twitter: @lemmony
Instagram: @jlemmony
Read on for an excerpt from
Big Stick
An Aces Hockey Novel
By Kelly Jamieson
Available from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Nick would rather be have his back, sack, and crack waxed than be go to a party, but it was his best buddy Hallsy’s birthday, and Hallsy had been through a rough time the last couple of years. Actually, so had he; they were a sad pair. Anyway, after what they’d been through he could at least do this. One little birthday party with all their teammates. He’d managed to get out of the Super Bowl party a few weeks ago at Rosser’s place, but he couldn’t turn down this.
Hallsy totally deserved this bash his new girlfriend, Kendra, was throwing him.
Seeing his friend happy and in love again was great, but it was February, which was almost March, which was a bad month for Nick. He knew he should just get over it, but it wasn’t that easy.
Kendra opened the door to him, a big smile on her face. He’d gotten to know her somewhat better over the last months, and she was…fantastic. He wasn’t one to get all excited about things, and he was irritated about having to be here, but even he didn’t have it in him to be an asshole to Kendra.
Her smile glowed, her long red-gold hair flowing back over her shoulders. “Hi, Nick!” She went up on her toes and hugged him.
He wasn’t a huggy person. His body stiffened, and he circled his arms around her body without really touching her. Shit. He was being an asshole. He couldn’t help himself.
She drew back, still smiling, like she hadn’t even noticed his awkwardness. “This must be for Max.”
“Yeah.” He handed over the parcel, an expensive single malt Scotch collection that included some Scotch stones and a tumbler, which thankfully had come gift-wrapped in glossy black and white paper, because he was good with his hands, but not when it came to flimsy paper and sticky goddamn tape.
“We said no gifts,” she admonished him.
“I know, I know, but it’s not much, really.”
She shook her head but smiled. “Come in, I’ll go put this away. What can we get you to drink? Beer? Scotch?”
“Scotch would be great.”
Kendra bustled ahead of him carrying the gift, and Nick followed her into the spacious living room of the condo Hallsy had bought last year. He’d been there plenty of times, but this was the first time he’d seen it like this—filled with people talking and laughing, music playing, the atmosphere warm and vibrant.
What a difference.
It was good though, really good for Hallsy.
He exchanged bro handshakes, hugs, and backslaps with some of his teammates and their wives, forcing smiles for them. “Hey, Benny. Jenna. Hi, Dupe. Army. Good to see you, Lovey. Amber.”
All three women were pregnant. They looked huge. Okay, that was exaggerating, but pregnancy scared the crap out of Nick. Where was that drink?
He wandered farther, greeting more of the guys, spying Kendra in the dining room at the buffet that had been set up as a bar. He headed that way and accepted the glass she handed him. “Thanks. Cheers.” He held up the glass.
An arm hooked around his neck and yanked him. Hallsy.
Nick shook his head, smiling. This time the hug was easy. “Happy birthday, old man.”
“Thanks, bro. Glad you came.”
Hallsy said it lightly, but Nick heard the serious undertone in his voice. Nick had been blowing off invitations all month, and Hallsy knew it and he knew why. He’d taken to dropping in at Nick’s new house at random times, just for a beer or coffee or to hang out. Nick knew he was checking up on him. It bugged him and made him roll his eyes and…he’d never in a million years admit that it struck him square in the heart.
“Wouldn’t miss the birthday party. Big three-oh. Dude. You’re practically retirement age.”
Hallsy snorted.
This was an exaggeration, but not by that much. The average age in the NHL was now something like twenty-seven, which was Nick’s age. Sure, there were guys who were older than that still playing, but it seemed like the league was getting younger and younger.
“Yeah, not ready for retirement yet. Just worked my ass off to get back to playing. I’m good for another ten years at least,” he boasted.
He could be right. When Hallsy’s wife had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago, he’d taken some time off from the game, and it had turned into more than a season after she’d pass
ed away. He’d needed that time, but it had definitely set him back when it came to playing one of the most grueling sports in the world. Hallsy had worked hard to get back in shape. He’d made an amazing comeback and was keeping up with kids a lot younger than him. Nick had mad respect for Hallsy’s determination and dedication.
“Help yourself to food.” Kendra waved a hand at the dining table loaded with platters and bowls of all kinds of snacks.
Nick grinned at the balloons above the table that read dirty 30. “Fitting.”
Kendra grinned. “I thought so.”
Nick moved over to the table and picked up a plate. He selected a few items—some meatballs, veggies, bacon-wrapped scallops. Those stuffed mushrooms looked awesome, so he grabbed a couple of those too. He moved to a corner of the room, standing by himself as the party went on.
Movement at his feet caught his attention, and he glanced down to see Molly, Hallsy’s puppy. She sat gazing up at him with big brown puppy eyes, tongue hanging out of her mouth. “Hi, dog,” he said. “What do you want?”
The dog didn’t answer.
“Food, huh?” Sure, he could have a conversation with a dog. Why not? “How about a meatball?” He selected one of the small balls and held it up. Molly’s ears perked, and her spine straightened. “How’re your catching skills?”
He tossed the meatball to the dog. She watched it hit the floor.
“Damn, needs some work,” he murmured.
Molly sniffed the meat then scarfed it down, resuming her sitting pose to gaze at him imploringly once more.
Nick bent to wipe the sauce off the hardwood floor with a paper napkin. “Probably shouldn’t do this,” he muttered. “But you’re kinda cute. Try harder this time.” He tossed a meatball again, and this time Molly caught it. “Hey, good girl.” He felt unreasonably pleased, considering he didn’t really even like dogs. Or cats. Or kids. Or adults, for that matter.
America's Sweetheart Page 19
