Contracted For Love: Famous Love Series (8 page)

“You lost me.”

“You need to be your true self. If you’re dressing up to look like them for the concert, you’re faking it. The four weirdos with the strange names live and breathe those personalities every minute of every day—you only have to spend a few minutes with them to know that. If you just put on a costume for a couple of hours and act out a character, there’s a distinct difference. Your fans can tell.”

Jack sat in silence as the seconds dragged out. She worried she’d offended him so soon after they’d declared an uneasy truce. The pilot announced that they’d be experiencing some turbulence and the seatbelt light came on. A flurry of activity followed as each passenger clipped in and the cabin crew checked the aisles. Charlotte didn’t have anything to put away so she continued to watch Jack digest what she’d told him.

“Char, I think you might have stumbled on the answer.” His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. The incredulous look on his face told her that her easy assessment had never occurred to him before today.

Collecting their bags was an interesting, new experience for Charlotte, too—one she wasn’t likely to forget easily. She walked a step behind Jack and they followed the signs to the baggage claim area. They were the first ones off the plane, and their bags should have dropped onto the baggage carousel first, along with the rest of the first class passengers’ belongings.

As they waited, Charlotte noticed several people taking photos of Jack with their phones. They tried to hide it and pretend they were taking selfies, but it was obvious they were taking shots of him to show their friends. Jack glanced at her and held out his hand, which she gratefully took. As always, when he was nice to her in public, she suspected it had more to do with the assembled audience than with her.

“The start of the holiday snaps, huh?” she whispered as she leaned in close to him.

“I guess so. You should get used to it. Unless we hide in our hotel room, it will go on all week.”

“How do you ignore them so well?”

“Lots of experience.” He moved to put his arm around her. “I always imagine that, if the roles were reversed, I’d be excited to see a celebrity, too.”

“Hmm… I guess. I’ve seen celebrities in Australia, in the supermarket and the street. I always pretend I haven’t seen them and let them get on with their day.”

“Well, you’re one of the few.” They waited for their bags and the first few travelled up the conveyor belt. People moved in to claim their luggage and get a closer look at Jack.

The passengers from the rest of the plane were arriving, now, and they crowded around the conveyor belt. Charlotte noticed more and more people looking at Jack and whispering amongst themselves. He smiled at anyone who made eye contact and continued to watch the conveyor as more bags joined the first few. He took out his phone, pulled Charlotte close, and snapped a selfie of the two of them.

“Really? A selfie? Tell me again why you didn’t woo a Kardashian.”

He laughed and kissed her on the forehead, immediately putting her on edge. Resisting the urge to narrow her eyes at him, Charlotte leaned in to whisper in his ear again, “Feel free not to lay it on too thick.”

“Now, now, my lovely fiancé, don’t be like that. We promised the agents vacation photos. Might as well make them worth the cash the photographers will get from it.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled again at her innocence. “You just wait. Once we get out of immigration, there’ll be professional paparazzi. I guarantee news has spread by now that we’re here.”

“That you’re here,” she reminded him. “I could just trundle along behind quite happily.”

“Maybe a week ago, but not anymore.” His brow creased. “Make sure you do stay with me, please. I don’t want the crowd to get between us.”

“Okay,” she scoffed, “but I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.”

An older woman walked up and touched Jack’s arm. He narrowed his eyes at Charlotte and pasted on his best fan smile as he turned. “Can I please have a photo, Jack? My granddaughter will never believe I met you.”

“Sure.” He smiled for her picture, and it was as though the woman’s bravery had started an avalanche.

“Jack, here can we have a quick photo?”

“Jack, can we please get a selfie?”

“Can you sign my shirt?”

“Can you sign my suitcase?”

Charlotte gradually got pushed to the side and she finally stepped cleanly away to keep watch for their bags. A woman sidled up beside her and looked sympathetic. “It must be hard to share him with the public,” she said quietly.

“It’s not so bad.” Charlotte replied with a smile. “He does love his fans, and he’s always so patient with the crowds. He stayed for half an hour in Vegas to sign autographs a week ago, when we were just walking up the Strip.”

“You seem quite smitten, dear.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes on the inside. At least her acting skills were getting a run today. “Of course. Who wouldn’t love Jack Fawkner? Have you heard his new music? It’s amazing,” she gushed.

You owe me big time, Jack.

“I haven’t heard it. I think it’s really for the young ones who follow him.”

“Oh, no, not at all. Get yourself a copy of the new album when you get home—you’ll love it, I promise. Just ignore the cover art, or you’ll be scared to death!”

The woman laughed. “Can I quote you on that?”

Charlotte finally caught sight of her bag coming through the flaps of the conveyor belt and smiled at the woman as she stepped away. It wasn’t heavy, so she stepped forward, ready to grab it when it got close. She stood, wondering how long Jack’s bag would be, when she heard him excusing himself behind her. His arms reached around her and grabbed her bag before she even had a chance to reach for it.

She looked up at him as he smiled at her and put her bag on the floor. “You didn’t think I’d leave you to get the luggage, did you?”

“I thought you looked busy back there.”

“I was keeping one eye on the conveyor and one eye on you.”

“Well, those fans will be surprised when they see the photos of you all cross-eyed, then.”

He laughed and put his arm around her as they waited for his bag. She snuggled in, making sure that anyone standing nearby would know they were together. It was best to get this done for the press as early as possible, since they were due to announce their engagement when they came home from this trip. Finally, his bag appeared, he scooped it up, and they headed for the immigration line.

After a few more selfies with fans, they were approached by an airport official, who led them to a separate line, and they were whisked straight through the process. When they exited the doors and headed toward their waiting car, the predicted paparazzi descended on them, shouting questions and snapping photographs. Jack held tight to Charlotte’s hand as he smiled and answered their questions.

As the driver loaded their suitcases into the boot of the car, Jack turned around and wrapped his arm around Charlotte again. “I’d like to introduce you all to my girlfriend, Charlotte Shipton. Thanks for all your questions today. We’ll be spending a quiet week in Paris; I hope not to see any of you lurking around corners.” He smiled and the assembled group laughed as he opened the car door for her. After she slipped into the back seat and the door slammed shut, she let out an exhausted sigh.

They were finally in Paris!

***

When the door opened to their hotel suite, Charlotte let out a little gasp and rushed to the window. Their room looked out over the Eiffel Tower, and they had a perfect view of the surrounding fountains and gardens. She turned to look at Jack as he tipped the porter and closed the door behind him. “This is beautiful. Thank you so much, Jack. I didn’t expect you to book somewhere so nice.”

“It’s nothing. This is where I stay when I come to Paris.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Yep—a couple of times, actually.” He joined her at the window. “Never with a woman on vacation, mind you. Only ever for work.”

“What a shame. You can play tourist with me, then.”

“I can. I’m reluctant to ask you this, since I remember your first night in Vegas, but did you have plans to explore, or can we order dinner and relax until tomorrow?”

The glint in her eye made him expect the worst, but Charlotte surprised him. “I’m fine to stay in. The airport overwhelmed me a little bit. If you say it’s going to be like that all week, then I need a decent night’s sleep to prepare myself.” She walked to the bedroom door and glanced in at the beautifully-made bed. “Looks like we’re slumming it in a queen-size, tonight. Are you sure you can keep far enough away from me in that?” Charlotte grinned at him as he crossed the room to stand in front of her.

“You sure you want me to?” Jack reached up and gently touched her chin. “Did you bring pyjamas in that tiny suitcase of yours?” He was so close that she could feel his breath on her hair as he waited for her response.

“I did, although I thought maybe you’d prefer the white bikini.”

He snorted and she was glad the tension in the air had been broken. “I hope you left that thing at home, as requested.”

“Yes. I have an outfit much better, though. You’ll have to wait and see what it is.” She pulled her suitcase onto the end of the bed with a giggle.

She’d packed for this trip with two thoughts in mind: tease the crap out of the outwardly-calm Jack Fawkner and make sure the room attendants had no doubt that the two of them were together.

Just wait until you see what I’ve brought to Paris to accomplish those goals.

***

When they’d eaten and Charlotte had showered, she slipped out of the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel. Jack was reading the news on the internet and scowling at the screen. He looked pissed.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

He didn’t look up at her and kept reading from the screen. “Did you talk to a reporter at the airport?”

“Of course not. I was with you the whole time.”

“So you didn’t tell Michelle Graves from the Paris Tribunal that, and I quote, ‘Rough Desire’s cover art will scare you to death?’” He looked up at her as she stood with her mouth open in surprise. Before she could respond, his own mouth dropped open as he took in her outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

“Clothes, Jack. These are clothes.” She suddenly felt exposed, when just a few moments ago, she’d felt sexy and empowered. “I did say that to a woman at the airport, but I didn’t think she was a reporter.”

“What were you thinking? Why would you say that about the cover art?”

Charlotte crossed the room with her hands in front of her. “Now, hold on, Jack. Don’t you dare pick a fight and ruin our holiday. Let’s discuss this calmly before you lose your mind. Please?”

He bit his lip and she watched as his eyes widened when she sat on the couch across from him. Her camisole was, indeed, skimpy, and the sight of her breasts spilling out the top was having the desired effect on him. She couldn’t believe her efforts were about to be ruined and that they were going to have another argument.

“Okay, tell me your side.” He said in grudging agreement as she breathed a sigh of relief.

Disaster averted.

“What I actually said to that woman, in response to her comment that your music was for kids, was that she would absolutely love it. I told her to get herself a copy of the new album when she got home, but to ignore the cover, as it would scare her to death. I meant that it would scare her off and she wouldn’t give the music a chance—not whatever she’s made it out to be.”

He stared at her a while longer, careful to look her in the eye and not let his eyes wander south. Finally, he took pity on her. “Have we learned something today?”

“Yes. You can’t trust anyone, apparently! I thought I was talking to a fan of yours!”

“Don’t trust anyone, unless you know for sure who they are. It can only end badly.”

“I’m beginning to see what you mean about guarding your privacy. How can you live like this all the time?”

“I told you: you get used to it.”

“I don’t know if I want to get used to it.”

Charlotte stretched out in the bed as the sun streamed into the room. It was bright and warm; they’d forgotten to close the curtains last night.

Too busy being awkward with each other.

She rolled over to look at Jack, and a shiver passed across her skin as she found him awake and watching her.

“Hey,” she said, trying not to feel shy under his gaze.

“Morning. What would you like to do today?”

“Visit the Eiffel Tower, of course. What else?”

He laughed and rolled to face her. They were just inches apart and the air was suddenly charged with more than the dust particles floating in the sunlight. “Of course, you go straight for the obvious attraction.”

“I like an obvious attraction.” Silence descended on them once the words left her lips. She stared at him, so close that she could just move forward and kiss…

“Time to go, then,” he announced, breaking the spell as he pushed back the covers and disappeared into the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, Charlotte flopped onto the fluffy pillows and covered her face with her hands.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I flirting with him? He’s not remotely into me.

After throwing off the covers, she went to the drawers to take out some clothes. She’d been fascinated with watching Jack unpack his items into the drawers the night before. Normally, she’d live straight from her suitcase, since they’d be there for just for a week, but he’d informed her that would not do. She’d chuckled as she’d unpacked her few items into the dresser. It had hardly seemed worth the effort, but at least she knew why Jack’s suitcase was so big, now: he appeared to have brought along every item of clothing he owned.

At least I’ll have a comfy shirt to steal, if I want one later.

She dressed and was standing at the window, admiring the landmarks, when Jack appeared from the bathroom. He’d dressed in there, a detail not lost on Charlotte. He seemed to be hiding his bare chest from her.

Interesting.

“At least we’re a good match in the shower.” Her eyes widened and he gave an awkward laugh as she smirked at him. “I meant we shower at different times, so we’re well matched for one bathroom.” He rolled his eyes at himself and crossed to the door at the sound of a quiet tap. Room service had arrived.

“How?” Charlotte asked. “We didn’t even order, yet.”

“I ordered last night. I wanted to get an early start this morning, before the crowds arrived.”

She watched, as the various plates were uncovered, revealing all her favourite breakfast foods. Charlotte glanced at Jack, but he was busy helping himself to eggs and bacon and avoiding her eyes. She loaded up with yoghurt and fresh berries and took a seat opposite him at the table. “Why do we want to avoid the crowds? Isn’t that part of the magic of Paris?”

“Maybe when you’re not famous. When you’re me, it’s not really a plus.”

“Do you ever just go out like a normal person? Relax and decide to enjoy a place, even though you’ll be recognised?”

“No. Why?”

“Honestly? I understand what you’re saying, but it makes you sound like a pompous asshole.” She said conversationally as she chewed on a fat strawberry.

“It does?” Jack’s eyebrows rose and he sighed as he finally pulled his eyes away from the newspaper he was reading. “What do you suggest? Letting strangers maul me at every turn? Days of our vacation spent with fans, signing autographs, and asking them about their mothers? Newspaper write-ups about every burger that passes my lips? Perhaps we’ll be invited home to someone’s house for tea?” His sarcastic tone had her frowning into her yoghurt.

“Maybe we will. Imagine how thrilled that person would be? They’d tell all their friends that they met you and that you were lovely.” She paused and rolled her eyes, “Well, they’ll say I’m lovely; they’ll tell their friends that you were reserved and a bit rude, and that they expected you’d be much nicer.” She crinkled her eyes at him, trying to get him to lighten up. “When you tour here months from now, they and their friends will do anything to get tickets to your concert. Hell, I’ll remember their address and we’ll
send
them tickets.”

“You imagine us as a couple of the people? That kind of thing?”

“It’s how I imagined living my life, once I had a degree of fame. I want to be able to walk down to the local deli and buy bread and cheese for a picnic. I won’t be hiding away in a castle, only ever rubbing shoulders with my Hollywood friends. I don’t think that’s good for anyone, long-term.”

He kept watching her as he folded the newspaper and put it aside. Charlotte noticed it was a French paper, printed in French. Jack was silent for a moment before he answered her, “Once I let you make this change, I can never go back.”

“Bullshit. If you hate it—if it makes you miserable—then you just return to hiding out.”

“I’m not hiding out.”

“You are a little bit, even if you won’t admit it.” She jumped up from the table and walked to the window before turning to him and spreading her arms wide as her voice rose. “You have to live, Jack. You have this amazing opportunity with money to spend on exploring, seeing new places, and meeting new people, yet you hide in an expensive hotel and only venture out when everyone else is asleep.” He didn’t speak, but just sat there, staring at her. He did that a lot when she announced what she thought of his life. “Anyway, you can blame me, once you go into hiding. The press will say what a breath of fresh air I was in your life, while we lasted.” She smiled and fanned herself, as though she knew how awesome she was. That finally got a smile out of him.

“Alright. If you’re so smart, let’s try it your way while we’re in Paris. Let’s be normal, Charlotte.” He joined her in the eye-rolling. “We’ll eat and visit and explore, and it will be awful as people trail behind us, taking our pictures and selling them to the papers.”

“I’ll take charge on one condition: you can’t read the paper or check up on us on the internet all week.”

“You’re on.”

“Think of the time you’ll save. I see you checking each morning anytime we’ve been out the previous day.”

He snorted. “It’s probably best for you to work out why as early as possible. Obviously, the couple of incidents since we’ve started playing this game haven’t been enough to convince you, Princess. This experiment will, though.”

“Oh, we’re back to ‘Princess,’ are we? Of the two of us, you’re far more of a princess than me.”

“So you seem to think. I’ll expect an apology in writing at the end of the week.”

“You might be surprised at how much fun you have, meeting ordinary people for more than two seconds at a time.”

“I doubt that. I’m prepared to prove you wrong, though. Just so we’re clear about how this works, don’t ask me to call security to come save us, and don’t expect me to rescue you from a crowd grabbing you. Don’t expect anything, except a normal couple doing normal stuff.”

Charlotte stood on one leg and bit her lip, doing her best to appear delicate and submissive. “You wouldn’t rescue me from a crowd?”

He squinted, trying to decide what she was up to. “No. That’s the deal.”

“What if they were pulling my hair?"

“No.”

“What if they stole my bag?"

“You’re on your own.”

“What if they were tearing off my clothes?”

“Nope.”

“A loving fiancé would rescue his wife-to-be, if her clothes were being torn off by an angry mob,” she pointed out. “The press would expect it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

***

As they left the hotel, Jack moved toward the line of waiting cars, but Charlotte tugged his hand in the opposite direction. He looked confused, and she stood on her tip-toes to whisper into his ear, “We’re walking.”

“We are? How fun.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on her, but she chose to ignore it. It would take some time to bring him around to her way of thinking. He just needed some practice being normal. He wore a baseball cap and dark glasses, and she examined him from the side as they walked. It was impossible not to recognise him as Jack Fawkner. She hoped she didn’t have to eat her words at the end of the week and admit she was wrong about him going out in public.

Charlotte kept hold of his hand as they walked along the paved streets. After a few minutes, they came to a park; Jack guided her to a bridge over the river. Right there, in front of them, was the Eiffel Tower. She stared at the top as Jack stood behind her. “I imagine you want to line up and buy a ticket to go to the top?”

“Of course! Don’t you?”

“Not the lining up part, but come on, let’s be normal.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, so they could find the ticket booth.

“Promise me you’ll just act normal if someone recognises you. No sighing.”

“I will. Haven’t I all the other times? I’ll just sigh on the inside.”

“On the inside is fine—just don’t make me feel like I have to make excuses for you. I’m not about to start that crap.”

He raised three fingers as they lined up behind a small family. “Scout’s honour.” He grinned at her and turned his attention to the front as he pulled out his phone. “Come on, time for a selfie.”

“What’s the point? You don’t even share them with anyone.”

“Well, I might be talked into sharing them.”

“Boring. Take one with both of our phones and I’ll post mine.”

As they took their shots, the woman in front of them turned around. “Excuse me. Are you Charlotte Shipton?”

Her mouth dropped open in shock, but she quickly gathered herself. “I am.”

“We’re from Melbourne, and we saw you in a stage show last year. You were amazing—my daughter wants to be just like you.” Her daughter had turned around, by now, and was grinning at Charlotte.

“Oh, that’s so nice. Thank you. Could I get a photo with you guys?”

The girl squealed and snuggled up to Charlotte for the photo as Jack stepped to the side. “Thank you so much,” she gushed. “My friends will never believe it.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Do you think we’ll go up in the lift together?”

“Perhaps we will,” Charlotte smiled at the girl and pulled her pigtails. “How about, if we get to the top together, we take another picture?” She was rewarded with an enormous smile and the girl’s mother mouthing the words “thank you” above her daughter’s head. They turned back to the front as the line slowly inched forward, and Jack looked at her thoughtfully.

“How was that?”

“What?”

“Being recognised so far from home?”

“Um… okay, I guess.”

He chuckled, took her hand, and gave it a little squeeze. “You’re amazing. I can’t believe it doesn’t faze you at all.”

***

The rest of the day passed without incident. They bought their tickets and travelled to the top of the tower, where Charlotte had her photo taken with her young fan. On the way down, a woman recognised Jack and asked for an autograph, which he happily provided. They left the plaza with a plan to return closer to dark, so they would be there when the lights came on.

The Arc de Triomphe was a fair walk, and the underground access tunnel was packed with people wanting to visit. Hardly anyone looked sideways at them holding hands, like any other couple in love in Paris. They took selfies and headed for the Champs Elysees, where Charlotte laughed at the lines of people waiting for entry to the exclusive stores.

“All that waiting just to shop?”

“I’ve noticed you’re not much of a shopper—even when I offered you my credit card.”

“I don’t love shopping, unless I have a specific need. I definitely don’t browse, looking for junk to spend money on, and I definitely wouldn’t go shopping with
your
money.”

Jack nodded and pulled her toward Concorde Square for the, by now, obligatory selfie. “Can we get lunch after this? We’ve walked so far that I might think you’re trying to kill me to get your hands on that payment we wrote into the contract.”

“Ha! I told you: if I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.” Charlotte pushed him toward a string of cafés in the distance. “You’re much more fun to me alive.” They crossed the street and found a seat before placing an order with the waiter.

As they sat in the sunshine, a crowd formed outside the adjoining café. First, three girls stood twittering together, and they were joined by another couple, and then a few more. Charlotte could see Jack’s jaw tightening, so she put her hand over his on the table. “Ignore them, Jack. If they come over, great, but otherwise, just pretend they’re not there. Sit and enjoy the sunshine.”

“That’s easier said than done. I can’t ignore them.”

“Fine,” she asked, and before he could stop her, she’d taken off her sunglasses and looked directly at the group of girls. “Ladies?” With that, they surged forward to the table and all spoke at once.

“I can’t believe it’s really you, Mr. Fawkner…”

“Could we please get a photo?”

“An autograph?”