Forever, Jack (35 page)

It was Jack like I’d never seen him. Dressed in a tailored black suit, a crisp white shirt open at his throat, his hair raked carelessly back from his face. He was devastating. Like the stop-dead-in-the-middle-of-a-bookstore-to-stare-at-the-magazine-cover, devastating. And he was thirty feet away from me, in the flesh.

His face was an easy smile, a wink of sparkle and charm, as he took a proffered pen from one of the two concierge girls who’d left their posts. His strong hand raced across the paper and he handed it back. A crowd was forming, but I saw his mouth move and his hand immediately going to his breast pocket, withdrawing his phone.

His lips curved into a smile as he looked down at it, a dimple flashed, and his eyes immediately moved past the throng and found mine.

I was still calling him.

He moved the phone to his ear, looking at me expectantly, ignoring the small group around him, waiting patiently. People were holding cellphones up to get pictures. The photographer hired for the event couldn’t pass up the opportunity either.

I drew the phone back up to my ear and heard his breath.

“Hi,” he said quietly, seriously.

I shivered. We were in a room full of people, and I felt alone with him.

“Hi,” I returned, suddenly at a loss for words. The odd thought that we’d never had a conversation over the phone floated past.

His lips quirked, and he raised an eyebrow. “You called
me
?”

“I wanted you here.”
After all
.

He breathed out. “And here I am.”

“I see that.” I raised both eyebrows, asking him the unspoken question. Why did he show up when I’d asked him not to?

“Well,” he folded an arm across his chest, then he lifted the phone briefly from his ear, and I heard him apologize, that he would be right with everyone. “Well,” he said. “I heard there was an art opening tonight with a very talented artist, and there was something there I wanted. And it was the craziest thing, but I was talking to my assistant, and something she said helped me realize a way I might get it. I decided I should probably come in person.”

“You couldn’t have called?”

“I could, but I wanted to make absolutely sure I didn’t lose my chance,” he murmured, his voice laced with meaning.

“You seem to make a habit of ignoring my requests.” I smiled and closed my eyes a moment. “You clean up nice,” I added with a smirk and opened my eyes to him again.

He tilted his head back and laughed, probably dropping a few panties nearby. “You look stunning.”

Heads near him seemed to suddenly get that he was talking to someone he could see and turned in my direction. I moved, looking away reluctantly, and angled my face to hide the phone.

“I’m glad you called,” he said.

“I’m glad you came,” I returned.

“Give me a few moments here, and I’ll come and find you.”

Hanging up, I belatedly noticed Sheriff Graves in civilian clothes managing the crowd around Jack. I guess Jack had offered him some extra hours as his bodyguard.

Wow, bodyguards. That was another aspect I hadn’t even considered. I blew out a pent up breath.

Jazz pulled up next to me with Mrs. Weaton. The arts and culture writer from the local paper stood to my left, looking like she was in a complete flap. Her eyes darted back and forth from Jack to her phone as she frantically typed texts I could easily guess at. Far from annoying me, I found it kind of amusing.

“Well, I’ll be. It looks like Christian Grey just arrived,” Mrs. Weaton sniffed.

Jazz almost snorted on her champagne, and I giggled.

“What, you don’t think an old gal like me enjoys a saucy book?”

“Not at all,” I said, seriously. Jack had eclipsed every single book boyfriend I’d ever had from Darcy to …

“Christian Grey?” Jazz asked haughtily. “Me-thinks more Gideon Cross. That man can wear a suit.”

“How about just Jack-freaking-Eversea?” the reporter next to me said, butting into our conversation.

I raised my eyes at Jazz. “Yes, Jazz, how about just Jack-freaking-Eversea.”

“Well,
you’re
certainly getting used to the idea fast.” Jazz nudged me with her elbow.

“The champagne helped,” I said. “Let’s give credit where it’s due. And his romantic gesture. I appreciate you pointing that out.”

“What romantic gesture?” The lady next to me interrupted again. “Sorry, Shannon Keith, we met earlier. Arts and Culture.”

“Hey, Shannon,” Jazz said. “Romantic because he just bought her central piece.”

“Oh. Wow. I thought that wasn’t for sale. And wait, that’s cool, but why is that romantic?”

I glared a dagger at Jazz, which she purposefully ignored. “Because he wants to date her. Because he’s
in love
with her.”

“Jazz!” I yelped.

“I think I’ll go get another of those mini-crab cakes before they’re all gone,” said Mrs. Weaton.

“What?” asked Jazz. “It’s about to be public. How about somebody gets to hear the real story? Anyway, it looks like that dick-splat Tom Price left and missed the best part of the night. Idiot.”

Shannon’s eye glided back and forth between us then glanced back at Jack who just happened to look up and straight at me. She swallowed. “This story is going to make my career, isn’t it?” she whispered in awe.

“Probably.” Jazz grinned. “It’s certainly going to make my night.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Mira announced, taking over the microphone near the string quartet. “Thank y’all for coming this evening and celebrating the unique artistic talents of these local artists.” She reeled off my name with several others, whom I’d met when we first arrived.

There was a polite smattering of applause, along with a gruffly yelled, “Yeah!” from the direction of my friends.

My cheeks heated as a few chuckles responded around the room. I looked across at Jack and Sheriff Graves who were a few feet away. Jack’s hands were stuffed in his pockets, a large, elegant stainless steel watch peeking out against his wrist. His skin looked amazing against the crisp white of his shirt. A few buttons were undone at his neck, and his collarbone had suddenly become the sexiest part of a man’s body in living history. I couldn’t believe that the creature in front of me was Jack. My Jack.

We had yet to greet each other in person.

He winked at me, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. He’d finally made it into the cordoned off area where the event was happening, allowing him a little more room to move without being accosted. Most of the elegant patrons of the arts that circulated herein were above indulging in such public displays of adulation.

Hotel security had been stepped up and two police officers who’d arrived and shaken hands with Butler Cove’s sheriff took their call to action very seriously. They now stood guarding our party and sending loiterers away.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now,” Mira went on, “or been offered a bidding paddle by Allison, our events coordinator. I believe Allison could conjure up a pink elephant if we asked her nicely.” She paused for laughter. “We are changing the format of the evening slightly. Up until now, Miss Butler has been reluctant to sell the central piece of this exhibit, entitled
Ever Broken Sea
. She has agreed to auction it this evening, however. I’m sure those of you who’ve asked about it will be happy to hear this. And it just so happens I have my auctioneers license.” She chuckled.

Mira assured me she would use the price I had on it as our reserve. I merely went along with it, as I was still in shock that the evening was going so well, that people wanted to write articles about me, and that there were
high fallutin’
people here at all.

And Jack.

I was still in shock over Jack. Being here, being in my life, being on the cusp of going public with our relationship. It was almost too freaking huge to contemplate.

The bidding started at one hundred dollars. Jack kept his paddle tucked under his arm and watched me as I nibbled my lip.

An elderly couple, the man tall and gaunt with an air of old money, his elegant wife with a sleek grey bun and wearing an understated black dress, seemed the most interested. All of a sudden Colt raised his paddle, taking the bidding up over a thousand dollars. He winked at me. Joey clapped him on the back, clearly in cahoots.

As the bidding climbed higher, my heart pounded. It hovered at the reserve price for two long seconds, and then Jack tipped his paddle almost imperceptibly. I wouldn’t have noticed except for Mira’s acknowledgement of the bid. I held my breath.

The older couple paused, then the wife nodded again.

“Holy shit,” whispered Jazz next to me.

Shannon was scribbling away madly.

I gulped. The whispering reached disturbing levels as people looked at Jack and watched him watching me.

The elderly couple finally realized Jack wasn’t giving up.

“Going once, going twice,” Mira intoned.

Jazz squeezed my hand.

“Sold!” There was a collective sigh, a release of anticipation.

I grinned, I couldn’t help it. Even though I wanted to tell him he was an idiot for wasting his money. Then I giggled and let go, happy tears clouding my eyes, and met Jack’s smile.

“Well, unless people try and say you planted the other bidders, I think that just proved anyone wrong who says you’ll be riding Jack’s coattails.” Jazz laughed.

“Ha, probably not. But you’re a good friend, Jazz. I love you.”

“I love you too, K.”

Jack went to shake the hand of his co-bidders, and I received hugs and back pats from all my friends. Even Hector, who was wiping his eyes with pride. I hugged him fiercely.

Mira approached with Jack and a photographer. “I need a picture with the artist and the high bidder.” She smiled.

The whole gathering seemed to be watching us.

I wondered if Jack and I should pretend not to know each other. I mean, we probably shouldn’t just hug and kiss right now, but I wanted to throw myself against his tall frame. He looked so damn sexy in his suit. I blushed as my mind went immediately toward being alone with him later. Oh my gosh, there’d be a later, right?

Take a deep breath, Keri Ann.

I smiled.

Jack reached out for my hand, and I slid my fingers into his warm and rough ones, feeling them tighten around me. Then he lifted them to his mouth, and keeping his eyes on me, brushed his soft lips over my knuckles. My cheeks, already flaming, throbbed as more blood rushed to my face.

“I’m telling you there’s something about that dress,” Mrs. Weaton trilled at Jazz.

We posed for pictures, Mira between us, then she stepped away, and I temporarily stopped breathing as Jack’s hand snaked around my waist, pulling me close for Shannon’s photographer. He smelled so good. Expensive. Sexy. Masculine.
Mine
.

I introduced him to Shannon.

“Shannon’s going to write the true romance version of you guys,” Jazz said. “You just missed that donkey, Tom Price. He was here again, making my girl feel like a stardust-chasing slut.”

“Is that right?” Jack returned smoothly and looked at Shannon. “Are you a freelance writer?”

She nodded as if with Jack resting his attention solely on her she couldn’t get her mouth to work. I knew the feeling. She finally found her voice. “I’m writing for the local paper, but I’m a paid contractor for stories outside of what they’ve asked me to cover.”

“I’ll get us somewhere we can talk then, as soon as things wind down,” he said. He tucked his mouth in by my ear, setting my nerves ablaze. “And maybe after that, I can get you out of that dress,” he whispered.

He pulled away, and I motioned his ear back down to mine. “Only if you keep your suit on.”

Jack exhaled sharply, and clearing his throat, swiftly left my side.

“What was that about?” Shannon asked.

“He had spinach in his teeth,” Jazz answered for me.

The evening took a while longer to wind down, especially after the unexpected excitement of Jack’s presence and the impromptu auction.

I circulated once more, with Jazz as my support, thanking people for coming. When I approached the elderly couple who had bid against Jack, they greeted me warmly and introduced themselves.