Contracted For Love: Famous Love Series (6 page)

“Nope.”

“Then what?” he looked innocently at her and sipped his coffee. She could tell he knew exactly what they were talking about, but he wasn’t going to give it away too soon. Maybe he was letting Jay do the honour.

“Would someone please tell me what the fuck we are talking about?” her voice rose an octave or two.

“Jack, here, who I just have to say, once again, is a genius, made it look like you were the love of his life last night. The photos of you two at the fountain—I could not have done better if I’d paid a professional photographer and released this through a PR rep. It’s gold.”

“What photos?” she looked questioningly at Jack, who smiled benignly at her. “Oh. The kiss on the neck?” he nodded. “So that’s what that was about. I thought you’d forgotten who you were out with, for a second.” She turned back to the phone. “Where are the photos? Send them to me.”

“I just did—check your email. Again, Jack, you have my undying devotion.” He hung up and Charlotte stood there for a second, speechless. She was speechless a lot around Jack Fawkner. After picking up her phone, she flicked to her email to see what Jay had sent her. Charlotte clicked on the link and gasped a moment later when she saw the images.

A local online site had run the story with close-up images of the two of them. One shot showed Jack pulling her hair to the side; another had his lips on her neck. Her head was tilted slightly to the right, giving him access to her skin, and, shockingly, her eyes were closed. She didn’t remember tilting her neck like that or closing her eyes, and she stared at the photo, trying to remember. It was a bit of a blur, she had to admit, but the proof was right there in front of her.

“How did you know?”

“Know what? That you’d close your eyes when my lips touched your skin?”

“No, you dick.” She blushed as he reminded her how it had felt when he kissed her neck. “How did you know there was someone around with a camera?”

“There’s always someone around with a camera—you’d do well to memorise that detail. Nothing we do is private; there is always someone looking to take a picture and sell it to the highest bidder. If we’d gone to the buffet, there might have been photos of you stuffing your face, and they would definitely have printed how many times you returned to the dessert bar.”

“Damn, I love dessert. That’s the real reason I wanted to go to the buffet!” She bit her lip for a moment, trying to decide if she was happy about the photos or not. She wasn’t sure, but in the pit of her stomach was the realisation that she hadn’t had time to tell her parents that she’d moved to Vegas. She also hadn’t come clean to Courtney or any of her other friends. Worst of all, she hadn’t been the one to tell her best friend. What would Nikki think of all this? She needed to call home.

She glanced at the clock and did a quick calculation in her head. It was eight in the morning in Vegas, which meant it was one in the morning at home, in Melbourne—way too late to call her parents without panicking them. Nikki might still be up, but the middle of the night could be a difficult time to have a deep and meaningful talk.

It had been two weeks since their last chat and Charlotte was dying to talk to her. She now had the added complication of not being able to tell Nikki the truth, though. She’d need to think that through before she called. Resolving to call her family tonight, she told herself that the news wouldn’t hit home by then and there would still be time for her to get in first. Instead, Charlotte turned her annoyed gaze on Jack.

“Could you warn me the next time you’re aware we’re being photographed, please? I’d like to be in on the secret.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I thought maybe you’d like to enjoy the anonymity as long as possible. Your life will be different, once you’re famous.”

“I’m aware of that,” she snapped. “It seems a bit rich, though, coming from you, who is trying his best to become a successful rock god.”

“But I’m already famous—it won’t be as much of a change for me. I could continue making movies where I’m adored for my smile and my blue eyes, but I want something else, now. For you, it’s the end of every private moment you’ve enjoyed up until now. Take my advice and guard your privacy as much as possible. Years from now, you’ll be glad you did.”

“I don’t really need to be famous, if that’s what you think of me. I could just go ahead and make that sex tape, if I was after fame.” He pursed his lips when she mentioned the tape. “I want to be an actress, Jack—a successful and well-respected actress. I’m not here for the hangers-on, the paparazzi, or the public’s adoration. I’ll deal with all those things as they come along, but that’s not my aim.”

He watched her pick at the runner on the table as she made this small admission. Maybe he’d underestimated her. Perhaps she was going to be okay here in crazy land, after all.

“I think you’ll be a great actress, when the time comes.”

She looked up at him. “How do you know that? Nothing I’ve been in has been released, yet.”

“No, but I have connections, remember? I’ve seen the rushes of Down To Me, and they’re good.”

“You’ve seen them? You liked them?”

“Not exactly. The movie is awful and it’s totally going to tank at the box office, if it even gets released at all, but you, my wife-to-be, were great. You were the shining light in a toxic waste of rubbish lines that were written for you.”

To his surprise, she burst out laughing. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she did so. He smiled uncertainly as he watched her finally get control of herself and sit at the table.

“Oh God, you’re so funny. You looked like you were being so careful not to offend me, but I totally agree with you. The script was one of the worst I’ve ever seen, but I needed to get some screen time, no matter where it came from, and that was all I was being offered. That movie could turn out to be my mini tuxedo moment.”

He joined in her laughter, this time. “That bloody tuxedo follows me everywhere. You should thank the mini tuxedo, though, because it’s the reason I decided to go through with this hair-brained idea. It was one too many times being called Jackie and one last view of that video that tipped me over the edge.”

She smiled at him and felt a tiny connection that she hadn’t been able to dredge up before now. “Well, it was an awful casting couch moment that led me back to that room, eager to sign a marriage contract, so you can thank a lecherous Hollywood movie executive that you’ll soon be marrying the fabulous acting talents of Charlotte Shipton.”

“What did you just say?” his voice rumbled like thunder, and it wiped the smile right off her face—just when they were getting along, too.

Shit, what did I say wrong?

“Um… I had an awful experience at an audition and I suddenly realised no one was going to take me seriously while I was so young. So, I agreed to marry you.”

“Who?” from the look on his face, she knew it would be a bad idea to tell him Richard’s name.

“Err… no one. Forget I even mentioned it, okay?”

“No, not okay. Absolutely not okay. Did you tell someone? Press charges?” He was gripping her arm tightly, not far from hurting her.

“No way; I’m not stupid. I’d never get another audition, if I was the girl who dished on the ‘establishment,’” she raised her hands and made air quotes. “It didn’t go that far, anyway; I kicked him in the balls, slithered out of his grip, and then made him believe I’d recorded it all on my phone.” Jack looked at her in shock as she continued, “My contract arrived the next day, and I’d even had a tiny pay increase.” Charlotte smiled uncertainly at him as he finally let go of her arm and scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

Jesus, man, put your arm down. That model stance makes my knees go weak.

“You really did that?”

“I did. Don’t underestimate me, Jack. I can take care of myself.”

“So I see. I guess you’ve learned it now, but make sure you’re never alone with any man from the movie industry, alright? Promise me, Charlotte.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. That doesn’t include you, right? Since you’re a rock god, now?” she teased him and hoped he’d take the bait and lighten up.

“No, that doesn’t include me… although, sometimes, I wonder,” he said cryptically as he turned away from her and went sit on the couch. “So, when does your movie start shooting?” She was so relieved that he appeared to have calmed down that she missed the calculating tone in his voice and the way his eyes watched her.

“Four weeks. I have to be at Power Studios in the second week of shooting.”

“Power Studios? Perfect. We have a few weeks to keep exploring Vegas, then, around our trip to Paris. You’ll need to book your flights to LA, but we can do that later.”

“I need to search the cheapest fares. I don’t want to pay too much,” she said sheepishly as she looked out the window at the pool.

“We’ll put it on my credit card, Char—it’s fine.”

“Oh, another nickname. You like those, huh?” she turned to stare at him and wondered why he was suddenly being so familiar by shortening her name. “Why would you pay for my flights?”

“You’re the one always calling people names,” he reminded her. “I said I’d cover your expenses, which includes flying back and forth for auditions and filming. I already tricked you into moving; you didn’t think I’d expect you to pay for all the flights, did you? Once your first movie, or even the second, is released, I expect you’ll be flying a lot.”

“Really? You really think that?”

“I do. Being married to me will help that along, since I’ll introduce you to some of my contacts. Count on being super busy, if what I saw is an indication of what you can do.”

Charlotte squealed and forgot where she was and who she was with. She rushed forward and threw herself into him as his arms wrapped around her. While she squeezed Jack in an enormous hug, he didn’t dare let himself relax, in case his body decided not to let her go. To distract himself, he thought about the damage he was going to do to Richard James, head of Power Studios.

As Jack sat, sipping his coffee at the dining room table days later, he tried to block out the sounds of Charlotte singing in the bathroom. God, the woman was like a walking noisemaker. If she wasn’t talking, she was banging something; if she wasn’t banging something, she was nagging him to fix something or show her how to use the stereo; and if she wasn’t nagging him, she was singing.

It wasn’t that her singing was bad, because she was actually quite decent. Her singing in the shower was a reminder that she was in there, naked, and naked was a state he didn’t want to be considering Charlotte Shipton in at seven-thirty in the morning.

He’d already endured his own cold shower to wipe away the naked body he’d been dreaming of this morning. Jack had woken up with an enormous hard-on and had been pissed when he’d realised he’d been dreaming of her. It wasn’t even his fault—she’d been prancing around the house half-dressed for days, now, and it was doing his head in.

As he had that exact thought, she entered the room. A towel was on her head and she was rubbing her hair dry. She stopped near the couch as he secretly admired her legs. God, she had long legs. She bent over at the waist and wrapped the towel around her hair, like a turban. Of course, she was only wearing a shirt, and it now rode up to give him a glimpse of the tiny scrap of material masquerading as frilly, pink knickers.

He groaned inwardly and dragged his eyes to the coffee maker at the side of the room just as she flipped her hair over and stood up. “Ooh, can I have one, too?” She made it sound like morning coffee was a treat and gave a little squeal when he nodded his head.

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?” she eyed him suspiciously as she sat at the table.

“You have to put clothes on.”

“What do you mean?” Charlotte glanced down at herself and he noted she was wearing one of his shirts, again. Wasn’t anything sacred around here? “I’m totally dressed, Jack.”

“You need to cover up more. Get some
pants
,” he put emphasis on the last word as realisation dawned in her eyes.

“Aah… Jack Fawkner truly isn’t gay, huh?”

“Did you still doubt it?”

“Yes, actually.” She watched him keep his eyes away from her as he stood to work the coffee machine. She still hadn’t been able to work that gadget out, yet. “I haven’t caught you looking at me once this week, so I thought, you know… ”

“I’m not tearing your barely-there clothes off, so I must be gay?”

“Something like that. I guess you really just don’t like me, huh?” she asked cheerfully. “So, you want me to put pants on. Any particular reason you think I have to cover up in my own house?”

“My house.”

“
Our
house,” she corrected him.

They stared at each other, but Charlotte finally gave in and slid off the seat. She watched him breathe a sigh of relief and then she turned and headed toward their room. When she had just a few steps left to be out of his sight, she casually lifted the back of his shirt and ran her nails across her backside, scratching a fake itch.

She imagined his eyes bugging out of his head, and Charlotte said over her shoulder, “Forget the coffee for me, Jack. I’d prefer to keep dressing how I like.” With that, she disappeared down the hall as he spilled milk down the front of his jeans.

***

When Charlotte reappeared, fully-dressed, Jack was amused to see that she was wearing a sweater. It was far too hot for that, and he was sure it was her way of indicating to him that she had taken to heart that he wasn’t gay. Up until that point, she’d been wearing skin-tight shirts, tiny shorts, and he’d even had to endure a tiny, white bikini one day, when she’d decided to try out the pool. That had been the most difficult day since she’d arrived, and he’d imagined her in that bikini for days afterward. He hoped that image could be replaced by the sweater to give him a little respite, but he doubted his brain would cooperate.

“What do you have planned today?” he asked.

“Nothing. I might have a swim.”

“Will you be wearing your sweater into the pool?”

“No, stupid.” She glared at him as he called her bluff. “I was just a little cold in the air-conditioning.”

“I can turn it down, if you like.”

“No, don’t bother. I’m sure it will be great after I’ve been outside by the pool for a little while.”

“I’m not sure the pool is such a good idea, today.”

“Why?”

“My band will be here soon. We’re having a rehearsal for the tour.”

“Really?” Charlotte’s words dripped with the promise of trouble to come, and he immediately wished he had rented a studio somewhere else for the day. “I’d like to meet the band.”

He groaned and knew for sure he’d miscalculated. She needed to be far away before those four men arrived to oggle her in her tiny bikini. “Maybe you should go shopping, instead?”

“Nope. I’m not spending any money.”

“I could give you my card.”

She eyed him, trying to work out why he was so keen to get her out of the house. Maybe he didn’t want people close to them figuring out their fake relationship before they’d had a chance to perfect it a little more. They’d been doing well at pretending up until now, and several more photos had appeared online of the two of them together on the Strip that first night. “Why do you want me out of the house?”

“I don’t. The band members aren’t exactly gentlemen, though. That white bikini will get their attention… it might distract them from our rehearsal.”

“Seriously? You think I have that kind of power in a bikini, huh? To distract grown men from their jobs?” she smiled at him and walked across the room to stand directly in front of him. He looked above her head at one of the ocean pictures on his wall—anywhere but at her eyes, which challenged him to tell her the truth. “Maybe I need to get in a little practice at making you jealous, since we’re going to be married, and all.”

“Try your best, Princess. I’m immune to you, as the last few nights with you in my bed may have shown.” A loud knock sounded on the front door and he stepped away from her. “That’ll be them. Try to stay out of the way.”

“I have no intention of doing any such thing,” she said. Jack watched in horror as she reached down to remove her sweater. Underneath, she was wearing a sheer, blue shirt that didn’t hide the turquoise bra she wore underneath. The shirt had a plunging neckline, almost to her waist, and he forced himself to drag his eyes away and look at her face again. “I was saving this to torture you later, but it seems I’ll have a new game today.” She smiled innocently up at him and he glared at her as the pounding on the door turned into the four new arrivals greeting Mrs. Jones. She ignored everything they said and led them down the hall to the silent battle raging in the lounge room.

Jack turned at the last minute and welcomed four of the most gorgeous creatures Charlotte had ever laid eyes on. Rock gods—that’s definitely what they were. They made Jack look like a clean-cut boy scout in their black leather, coloured scarves, studded jackets, and torn tank tops. Three of them had jet-black hair and the fourth had stiff, white-blonde bangs sticking out from under a maroon hat that had been jammed onto his head at a sexy angle. Charlotte had planned to rush forward and gush over each of them, just to piss Jack off, but she stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe that four more magnificent men existed anywhere else in the same space.

They hooted and slapped Jack on the back before the tallest of them strode right to Charlotte and took her hand from where it hung limply by her side. She looked up into his eyes as he licked—actually licked—the back of her hand. “My, my, my, what have we here, Jack? Did you hire entertainment for the day?” Charlotte looked at Jack in shock, expecting him to answer in a rage. He stood, as speechless as she was, though, at the licking display that had just taken place. The tall man smirked and returned his attention to Charlotte. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “If we’re taking turns, I want you first, baby.” He squeezed her ass before giving it a slap.

The slap seemed to galvanise both of them into action, and Charlotte pulled away sharply before letting a little laugh escape her. “You wish, buddy,” she said weakly as Jack finally sprang to life and strode forward.

“Get the fuck away from her, Reid. She is not the entertainment. This is Charlotte, and she’s going to be my wife.”

Four made-up faces showed absolute amazement as they looked from Jack to Charlotte and back again. Reid spoke first, “Holy fuck, man. You’re getting married?” Jack could only nod. “To this pretty princess?” He gave another nod, before Charlotte finally found her normal voice.

“What’s with all you fucking men calling me ‘Princess?’ Lick me again—Reid, was it?” He nodded. “Lick me again, Reid, and you’ll need a wheelchair to get you to the recording studio.”

“Oh, baby, if I ever get to lick you again, it will be you who’ll be walking on unsteady legs. I promise.” He grinned as she looked shocked, before he lost interest and turned to Jack. “Why didn’t you tell us you were taking your dick off the market, man? Cindy is going to be so pissed when she finds out.”

“Ha! Cindy never stood a chance and she knows it. Three years she’s been trying—that should have been sign enough for her.” Jack shook himself a little and suddenly it was like he was someone else. He was relaxed and his smile came readily as he joked with the band. “Anyway,” he indicated the four men, one by one, “You’ve met Reid Rogers, Char. This is Fingers Fergus, Richie Reynolds, and Keith Kitchner.”

Charlotte’s lips twitched while the introductions were finished and each man reached forward to shake her hand.

What kind of stupid fucking names are those?

They seemed a little more reserved, now that they knew she and Jack planned to get married—except for Reid. He continued to eye her with interest, and she couldn’t help but remember his words that he wanted her first. He’d mentioned entertainment. How gross if buying girls was a regular part of their rehearsal day. She’d have to ask Jack about that later; would he tell her the truth, or avoid the issue completely.

As she watched them together, Jack seemed like the odd one out. He was dressed in jeans and a tight blue t-shirt with bare feet. He didn’t look like a rock god next to the other four men, who were now filling their lounge room with raw energy, black leather, and giant, studded boots. They took their ball of energy out to the pool and bustled off to the studio with barely another glance in her direction. She watched them go and felt Reid’s eyes on her over Jack’s shoulder as he turned back to close the glass door.

“Stay out of trouble, huh?” he said.

“Like fuck,” she replied, knowing he couldn’t hear her.

***

“Man, how you gonna concentrate with that sweet ass around the house?” Reid let out a low whistle as his attention was riveted by Charlotte getting settled by the pool in her white bikini. He turned to Jack with a smile, “You sure you don’t want to share?”

“No, Reid, I don’t share. You should know that by now.”

“Dude, just looking at her makes my balls ache. If you change your mind, I’ve got first dibs.”

“That’s not going to happen. Can you please stop making comments about my fiancée, now?”

Reid tore his eyes away from the window again and pulled his guitar strap around to the front of his chest. “Okay, man, I’ll stop, but you’re going to need to install curtains before our next session.”

***

Charlotte lay on her stomach by the pool as the sun beat down on her tanned skin. She knew she looked hot in her white bikini, and she’d positioned herself with her back to the studio and made a point to wave her legs every so often, pointing her toes when she remembered. She’d take a swim shortly, and that’d be sure to get a reaction from inside the studio. She wondered how annoyed Jack would be with her later.

She hadn’t come out here only to rile Jack up, though that was an added bonus. Her script had finally arrived for the movie and she needed to learn her lines. She had a few weeks, so she wasn’t feeling any pressure at this stage. As she flicked through the pages, Charlotte snorted.

Fucking Richard James!

No sex scene had been added to the script—he hadn’t even had one added to try to maintain the pretence that what had happened in his office had been anything other than him trying to get a piece of ass. Jack had insisted he would accompany her to the first day of shooting, even though she’d told him it wasn’t necessary. He assured her he was going to help her career along and introduce her to several influential producers he knew, but she suspected he had other plans.

They were getting married to further both of their careers, but now that it was happening, it felt dishonest, somehow, and she wondered if they were making a mistake. Surely she stood to gain a lot more from this union than he did?

As she read through the pages of the script, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine herself saying the words. It was an easy way she’d found to remember what she was supposed to say. She acted the scenes out in her imagination long before she had to act them out for the camera.