Unravelled (Revealed #2) (19 page)

Trying to quell my rising panic I reassured myself with the fact that Cait had been travelling on her own for three years without any issues. She was independent and sensible and used to being on her own, so she’d probably just gone off somewhere and not thought to let me or Julie know. Glancing at my watch I saw it had just gone nine o’clock. ‘She said she’d come back here to join me for a hot chocolate before bed, so hopefully she’ll be back soon.’

‘Yeah, hopefully. Sorry to worry you, Allie, but I didn’t know who else to call. I’ll stay in touch, let’s call each other as soon as one of us hears anything.’

‘Of course. Bye, Julie.’

Talk about adding to my stress. After the nightmare of Sean going silent on me, Cait disappearing was the last thing I needed. Hanging up, I immediately tried Cait’s mobile, but just as Julie said, it went straight to answerphone. That didn’t stop me trying one more time, before clicking my tongue in annoyance and letting out a curse into the empty room. ‘Come on, Cait, where the bloody hell are you?’

Chapter Seventeen

Cait

This bar was great – small, cosy, and with some funky off the wall jazz music playing softly in the background. I’d have to remember where it was and bring Allie, she’d love it.

The wine turned out to be good too, really good, smooth and velvety and far too easy to drink. To my surprise, as the evening with Jack progressed I discovered that the company was equally good. Jack turned out to be laid back and incredibly easy to talk to, and his easy-going demeanour put my worries to rest within no time. I’d even lowered my guard a little and begun to relax– something I assured myself was just a temporary measure for the night – and found that I felt none of the nerves or embarrassment that I had expected when partaking in a conversation with a world famous film star.

Especially a world famous film star that I had to reluctantly admit to being attracted to. Not that I would do anything about it, of course, but the more I looked at him, the more obvious it became that I couldn’t deny it any longer. Jack really was gorgeous: those dark brown eyes that seemed to look at me so intently it was almost like he could see through all my oddities and insecurities, the endearing crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the way he used his hands as he spoke, the dimple in his cheek when he grinned … Oh, God. Swallowing hard, I shifted in my seat, suddenly rather aware of a throbbing between my legs.

Dragging a breath in through my nose I attempted to engage my usually rigorous defences, which for some reason were totally deserting me tonight. Distracting myself from indulging the physical reactions in my body I instead focused hard on our conversation. Soon I found us easily drifting between topics. We chatted about my travels, the destinations I planned to visit, and shared stories of life growing up in England. It turned out that Jack’s father was British but his mother was American, hence the slightly mixed accent he had. I also discovered that when he’d said he and Flynn were in the military together, he’d actually meant the Territorial Army. Flynn had been in the regular army but became a trainer in the TA – one of Jack’s superior officers – which was when they had met.

The only awkward moment was when Jack had asked what prompted me to head off travelling and stay away from the UK for such a long time. Instantly, I felt my body tense as thoughts of Greg flooded my mind again like a virus. He was the reason I’d left, him and his overbearing treatment. Not to mention the things he’d done to me on that final night … A shudder ran through my entire body, making my fingers tremble as my glass began to wobble in my hand.

Placing it down, I plucked at my elastic bands several times before wincing at the sore spot on my wrist and deliberately knotting my hands in my lap, staring at the wood grain of the table and trying to buy some time while I composed myself.

Clearing my throat I eventually raised my eyes and met Jack’s politely inquisitive look. ‘I, um … I just needed to get away,’ I murmured, which was the truth, albeit a very minimalistic version. Nodding his head slowly, Jack seemed to be thinking this through as he gazed at me, a multitude of questions floating in his expression.

I tensed all over as I waited for him to pry further and embarrass me, but much to my relief, he didn’t follow it up with more probing, and instead changed the subject by telling me about the latest filming he’d been doing for
Fire Lab
. My reaction must have made it obvious that there was more to the story than I was willing to share, but he hadn’t tried to push me, and I was so grateful. I was also rather touched by his discretion and let my tension out on a long, low breath.

Maybe I was just a little tipsy, or perhaps it was just my imagination, but just like in the park I began to wonder if Jack was flirting with me. Obviously I was no dating expert, far from it, but the more I looked, the more I noticed his almost affectionate body language – he was leaning across the table with his gaze intent on me, flashing me appreciative signals with his twinkling eyes, and gracing me with endless lopsided smiles as he chatted away happily. Of course, I hardly knew the man, so this could be how he acted with everyone for all I knew.

At age twenty-six, I was single, celibate, and fairly certain that there would never been a man perfect enough to tempt me to crawl out from my defensive shell, but Jack was making me question that. He was just about as perfect as they got. Handsome, kind, funny, sexy, and sensitive when he’d detected that I was feeling uncomfortable. As I sat there opposite him, a small spark seemed to reignite in my belly. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but it felt a lot like hope, and I realised that this was turning into a decidedly dangerous situation for me.

An ironic smile briefly twitched my lips at the stupidity of my wandering thoughts. It was typical that I should spend years not remotely interested in a man, and then get attached to one who was totally out of my league. Our lives were galaxies apart, not to mention the fact that he’d said earlier he was nearly forty and still single, and had never been married or engaged. As far as I could tell, that either meant he was gay – which given his flirty nature seemed unlikely – or he was merely enjoying a playboy lifestyle too much to settle down.

As I continued to ponder this, I felt an almost overwhelming urge to slap myself around the face to snap me out of this craziness. Why was I even allowing myself to think about this? Having now met Jack in the flesh and felt so comfortable with him I decided that if I wasn’t careful, my inexperienced, naïve heart might throw sense to the wind, dump my strict self-disciplined rules out of the window, and fall head over heels for him.

Time to leave.
Right now.

With this thought floating in my wine-fuddled brain, I drained my glass and stood up rather hastily, bumping the table and sending my handbag falling to the floor. Jack looked up, surprised by my sudden movement, but recovered himself quickly by bending to scoop up my bag and standing up opposite me.

He was respecting my personal space, but close enough that I had to tip my head back slightly to look up at him. It vaguely crossed my mind that he seemed taller than he had earlier. And broader. Mmm. And he really did have a very nice chest. As my mind swirled around with increasingly inappropriate thoughts, I blinked and shook my head. I’d
definitely
had too much to drink.

He stepped marginally closer to hand me my bag, and I jerked my head back when I realised there must be mere millimetres separating us now. He was close – close enough that I could smell his aftershave, but not quite near enough for him to be breaking my request not to touch me. His abrupt closeness made my skin tingle with ridiculous anticipation, like little sparks going off all over my body. When mixed with the warmth in my body from the wine it was actually rather pleasant.

A man was standing well within my personal space and I wasn’t backing away, freaking out, or dropping into a panic attack. This was a major breakthrough for me. Perhaps it was to do with the wine I’d consumed? Or maybe it was down to Jack.

Instead of vocalising any of the thoughts running through my mind, I plastered a smile on my face and rolled off an apologetic excuse. ‘I’ve just realised I need to get back … I’ve … uhh … got some ingredients and the girls at the hostel will be needing it …’ My voice faded towards the end of my pathetically flimsy excuse and I felt a blush rising to my cheeks.

Jack’s eyebrows rose, and my gaze was drawn to the corner of his mouth as it flickered. He seemed to be attempting to hold back a smile, and as much as I desperately wanted to see another of his grins, I was thankful he held it back – a gorgeous grin in this close proximity could quite possibly cause me to implode.

‘They’re cooking at twenty to eleven at night?’ he asked in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

Twenty to eleven?
Where had the time gone? No wonder I was feeling light-headed from the wine; I hadn’t eaten since lunchtime and even then I’d only had a small salad. Seeing my shocked expression, Jack graced me with a slightly rueful smile. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t need to make an excuse to leave.’

Wincing, I bit on my lower lip. How mortifying – he thought I was desperate to get away from him, when in reality my traitorous body was set on the complete opposite. This was such an incredibly odd situation that I had no idea what to do. On one hand, I was massively attracted to him, had really enjoyed his company, and would have loved to stay longer, but on the other hand my careful defence knew I should get the hell out of here before I said, or did, something I would no doubt regret.

‘It’s OK, you stayed for the thank you drink. I enjoyed your company very much, thank you. You’re officially free to go, Caitlin.’

He’d been calling me by my full name all night, but this time it registered in my mind to say something. ‘Cait,’ I corrected. ‘Everyone calls me Cait.’

Nodding slowly, Jack gave a small, thoughtful shrug. ‘Well, I’m not everyone.’

My eyebrows rose at his cocky attitude, but I couldn’t really deny it – he was far from just a usual ‘everybody’ sort of person.

‘Unless you really dislike the full version?’

I usually wasn’t too keen on people using my full name, it made me feel like my grandma, but for some reason I rather liked the way it sounded when he said it.

‘No, you can call me either,’ I agreed, although it was pointless, because after tonight I wouldn’t be seeing him again.

‘Well, it was very nice to meet you properly, Caitlin,’ he added politely. ‘Maybe I’ll see you again before you leave LA?’ he asked, with a tilt of his head that caused a chunk of soft, brown hair to flop across his brow.

If the flushing of my face, hammering of my pulse, and trembling knees were anything to go by, then it really wouldn’t be a good idea to see Jack Felton again. I was already dangerously close to breaking my own rules and completely losing my sanity as it was.

‘Um, I haven’t managed to get a job so I’ll probably be moving on soon. I need to book my flight, but I don’t think I’ll be here much longer.’ What I said was true, but I hated the words as they slid from my tongue.

Taking me completely by surprise, Jack’s head suddenly began to lower towards mine as if he intended to kiss me and my pulse went from raised to absolutely thundering in the blink of an eye. Talk about an instant way to sober me up, My wine blurriness was now gone and I was more alert than I had been all night. My heart was hammering so violently that I could feel it throbbing in the tips of my fingers and hear the rushing of blood in my ears.

Was I really going to do this? Let a man kiss me?

Jack was immensely careful not to touch me, even his hands stayed firmly by his sides, but his face was now so close that I could feel his warm breath tickling across my parted lips. My eyes were wide as he paused just a few millimetres away from me, looking very much like he was asking for my permission. When I said nothing, he blinked once and then shifted himself closer.

At the very last second, my spiteful mind threw an image of Greg at me from our last night together as he had held my hair and smirked at me before forcing his lips onto mine. He’d been so aggressive that night that he’d split my top lip. In an instant, my walls flew up, my hands tensed into fists by my sides, and I screwed my eyes shut tight and turned my head to the side.

‘Please don’t …’
I whispered shakily.

I’m not sure if I imagined it, but before moving back I could have sworn that Jack brushed the lightest trace of his lips against my cheek. Even this mere touch sent tingling shockwaves running across my skin and I knew my blush must have deepened to almost puce. My eyes flew open, but Jack was already back a few steps with a soft, worried expression on his face, which was almost enough to make me change my mind and pull him back for a real kiss.

‘It’s OK, Caitlin, you’re OK,’ he whispered reassuringly as I desperately attempted to get a grip on my spiralling emotions. My fingers were plucking away at my elastic bands so frantically that I was amazed the bloody things hadn’t snapped, when suddenly, Jack leant across and tucked one finger under the bands. He didn’t touch my wrist, simply held them so I could no longer twang.

‘You’ll hurt yourself,’ he murmured. ‘You’re OK,’ His words were firm, but soft and had me complying and dropping my hand away. Gently letting the elastic band go, he nodded and gave my wrist just the lightest brush with his fingertips, which caused my skin to pop with goose pimples.

I couldn’t believe he’d done that. That was twice he’d touched my elastic bands now, and both times had been oddly … reassuring. And his touch? God, it had been just the tiniest brush of his fingers but it had soothed my ragged nerves, making me briefly wonder just how good a kiss from him would feel before I dismissed the idea with a huff.

As Jack continued to watch me, I saw him narrow his eyes and keenly observe my response, which was close to being a jabbering wreck, and then he opened his mouth as if to speak, before promptly shutting it somewhat reluctantly. I wondered what he’d been about to say, and what conclusions he’d drawn about me, but then resolutely told myself it didn’t matter, because in the long run I would be glad that I’d not let him kiss me. Kissing would eventually lead to other physical things, and there was no way I could do
that
.