Marrying Mister Perfect (22 page)

There wasn’t technically anything to break
up. They were sitting very close to one another—intimately close.
Close enough to get in trouble, but they seemed to just be talking.
Very, very intently. “Did anything else happen?”

“She was giving him a massage a second ago,”
Avery answered. “And they killed that entire bottle of
champagne.”

Oh Lou. Never mix alcohol and a hot
tub.
Miranda studied the pair of them, an idea taking form.

“Boss?” Todd prompted.

“Do we have audio?”

“Just the directionals from the surveillance
cameras. Neither of them are mic’ed. We can get most of it, but
we’ll have to subtitle the whole things for the home audience.”

“Can you get me more angles?”

“Nothing closer.” Avery flipped through a
couple other shots. None of them perfect, but clear enough.

Miranda nodded, watching. “Keep rolling.”

Chapter
Twenty

“Passion,” Jack rumbled.

Had Lou just said she required
passion
?

It was the champagne. It had to be the
champagne. God knew it felt like it had gone straight to his head.
And his cock. But he couldn’t entirely blame the champagne for
that. He’d been half-hard since she stepped onto the patio in that
little red scrap of sin.

But all this talk of needs and passion. That
wasn’t Lou. That was the champagne talking.

And the champagne wasn’t done. “I need heat
and lust and chemistry,” the words were throaty and raw and his
body reacted to the sound like a touch. She angled toward him, her
eyes huge and hypnotically dark. “I want excitement and
ertos--eroticism.” She stumbled a bit over the word and again he
remembered the champagne.

Don’t take advantage of the champagne,
dumbass.

But she was practically on top of him. She
swayed and braced her hands on his shoulders. They felt cool
against his overheated skin and he shuddered at the contact.

“I demand a man who can’t keep his hands off
me. Who sees me and has to have me no matter what logic or reason
say. I want
sex
and—”

Fuck
. His resistance evaporated and
his mouth captured hers, silencing her demands.

The first touch of her lips was like taking a
sledgehammer to the forehead. All the confusion of the last few
weeks. All the frustration and the emotional tug-o-wars and the
doubt, it all coalesced into an explosion inside him that rocked
him down to his
soul
.

It was Lou.

How had he never seen that it was Lou he
needed, Lou he—God, did he love her?

It sure as hell felt like it as he wrapped
his arms tight around her, pulling her into his lap. Lou came
willingly, her long, sleek legs straddling his as her arms wound
around his shoulders. She held on, kissing him for all she was
worth.

She tasted of champagne and sin. And he
wanted more. He wanted all of her. “Lou.”

#

Jack was kissing her. Sweet Holy Hot Tubs,
Jack was
kissing her
.

This was no tentative, accidental brush of
lips. This was a declaration of possession, a spiraling vortex of
lust that sucked her straight into its center and spun her senses.
She may not be a swimsuit model, but she could be a sex goddess
too.

Through the champagne filter, Lou’s world
narrowed down until it was only Jack. Jack’s hands. Jack’s lips.
Jack’s—oh my he was quite interested, wasn’t he?

She couldn’t seem to hold onto more than one
thought at a time—and that was fine because she only needed one,
replaying itself:
Yes.

This was it. This was Jack.

It was the fantasy and more. He wasn’t just
passively accepting her kiss, he was demanding more, his tongue
tangling with hers, his hands pressing her closer. Fire kindled
between them, fueled by friction and need, her every nerve-ending
aflame.

“Jack,” she gasped, when he finally released
her mouth to press a line of kisses along her jaw. He rumbled her
name. She felt his fingers brush her back and realized he was
tugging at the ties of her bikini. Another dizzy wave of heat swept
through her.
This is really happening
.

The ties gave way under his fingers, freeing
her breasts. He slid both hands beneath the fabric of her top,
cupping her breasts and flicking her nipples with his thumbs. Lou
sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes falling closed. She rocked
against him, feeling the hard evidence that he was right there with
her, the pressure hitting exactly where she needed it and shoving
her into mindlessness. It had been too long. She had been wanting
this for too long. Every glance over the last four years had been
foreplay. Now that history intensified every touch, sending
electric pulses to her core. His mouth captured hers again,
consuming. She couldn’t take much more.
Please, just a
little
—

“Aunt Lou?”

Lou yelped and threw herself off Jack,
ducking into the water up to her shoulders to cover herself. She
fished frantically for her missing top.

Jack frowned into the darkness of the pool
patio, seeming utterly unfazed, as if she hadn’t just been astride
him with his hands in places they most certainly should not have
been. “Emma?”

Lou’s fingers closed over the trailing
strings of her top in the water. She yanked it toward her and
hurriedly went about retying it as Jack rose to stand in the center
of the hot tub—though he stayed in waist deep water to cover the
incriminating bits.

“Emma? Is that you, hon?” he called.

They heard the slap of tiny feet on the tiles
and then Emma appeared out of the shadows, Fluff Muffin dangling
against her leg with her thumb corked in her mouth. “I had a bad
dream,” she mumbled around the obstruction.

“Oh, sweetie.” Her swimsuit situated, Lou
climbed out of the Jacuzzi, whipped a towel around herself and
crouched in front of Emma, somehow managing not to tip to the
ground as the blood rushed from her head with all the sudden
movement—
damn champagne
—and all without looking once in
Jack’s direction.
Do not look.
“Do you want to tell me about
it?”

She stared into Emma’s wide blue eyes, so
like her father’s, and tried desperately to think of anything other
than what she’d just been doing with Emma’s father. Dear God, had
she actually jumped Jack? In a
Jacuzzi
of all places? What
had she been thinking?

Oh right. She hadn’t. Her head still
swam.

“I was a baby monkey,” Emma explained and it
took Lou a moment to remember she was supposed to be making Em’s
bad dream all better. “Bad men took me away from my mommy monkey
and put me in a zoo and were gonna feed me to the croc’dile.”

Damn
Peter Pan
. Emma had been having
nightmares starring crocodiles ever since she saw that movie. Lou
had tried to steer them away from alligators and crocodiles at the
zoo today, but Emma must have sensed them with her scary-reptile
radar.

“There are no crocodiles here,” she soothed,
rubbing Emma’s arms in a slow, comforting motion.

Emma had taken her thumb out to explain her
dream, but now it popped back into her mouth. “Can I sleep in your
bed?” she mumbled around it.

For a second, the urge to glance over her
shoulder at Jack nearly overwhelmed her. Only minutes ago she’d
been certain the only person sharing her bed tonight was going to
be a lot bigger than Emma. They’d gotten carried away so quickly.
One second they’re sipping champagne, the next they’re kissing, and
a heartbeat later she’d sell her soul for one night with him. How
could things have gotten out of hand so fast?

Her brain had gone walking—or rather spinning
like a Tilt-a-Whirl, thanks to the champagne. How could she think
she could sleep with Jack? Especially when he was still tangled up
in the show. For all she knew he was halfway in love with one of
these women he’d met here. They very carefully hadn’t talked about
the other women today.

Water splashed in the Jacuzzi behind her.
“Emma, baby, wouldn’t you rather keep TJ company?”

Jack’s deep voice made Lou shiver. They’d
gotten carried away. Things had gotten out of hand. So far out of
hand. She’d thrown herself at Jack and the show had primed him to
catch women who threw themselves at him and
go with the
moment.
How many times had she heard Miranda coaching him to do
just that?

How had Lou let it go so far?

Emma thrust out her quivering lower lip.
“Aunt Lou?”

She wasn’t above using the four-year-old as a
shield. “Of course you can sleep in my bed, sweetie. Let’s go get
you tucked in.”

“Lou.” That deep voice.

“You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

“Lou.” Closer now. She wouldn’t look.

“G’night, Jack. Sleep well.”

Lou padded across the patio with Emma’s hand
tucked trustingly into hers.

She didn’t look back.

#

Jack watched Lou drip her way across the
patio, holding her towel with one hand and Emma’s little fist with
the other.

Cock-blocked by his four-year-old
daughter.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe they had
been rushing things, but frustration made his entire body
tight—especially one particularly painful part.

He growled and raked a hand through his hair
as the most important females in his life disappeared inside.
Champagne still swirled in his bloodstream, making the urge to
charge after her and pick up where they left off seem perfectly
rational. But Emma needed her.

A sliver of irritation worked its way under
his skin at the realization that his daughter had gone to Lou for
comfort rather than him—but why wouldn’t she? Lou was the only
mother figure Emma had ever known and Jack had been away for
weeks
, mugging for the cameras for this fucking show.

What the hell was he doing here?

The only woman he wanted in his life was Lou.
The four year fuse on his feelings for Lou had finally hit the
detonator and he was all in with her.

Or was that the champagne and the frustrated
lust talking?

Jack cursed and leapt into the pool,
shuddering as he hit the frigid water. The icy pool did its job,
cooling his head—both of them—but when he surfaced he was no closer
to knowing how to get out of completing the show now that he’d
realized the one woman he might really want was the one he had
loved all along.

Chapter
Twenty-One

Six gorgeous women stood in the warm glow of
the courtyard, lined up like they were facing a firing squad. Which
they were, in a way. Jack was the personal assassin of their
romantic hopes and dreams. Four slim gold bands rested on a plush
pillow on the pedestal at his side. The cameras captured every
nervous glance, every hopeful smile and flirtatious grin. He felt
the familiar stab of guilt that always accompanied the Elimination
Ceremonies—only much more sharply now.

He shouldn’t be here.

Everything felt wrong. Lou had left without a
word this morning while he was on his goddamn date, but he hadn’t
been able to stop thinking about her. The show’s producers kept
telling him to search his feelings and look at the six remaining
women as potential mates, but all his feelings were consumed with
confusion over another woman.

“Whenever you’re ready, Jack,” Josh intoned,
heaping drama onto every syllable.

Jack scanned the faces of the six beautiful
woman he had never done anything to deserve. He felt like such a
fake. Mr. Perfect. Why should they compete for his affections? What
made him so special? Instead of making him feel like a prince among
men, their attentions made him feel like a sham. He reached into
his pocket, thumbing the charm bracelet. Lou would be home now.
Where he should be.

Jack shook his head and turned abruptly away
from the firing squad line. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He wasn’t sure who he was telling—the
Suitorettes, Josh, Miranda—but he didn’t wait to find out how his
announcement would be received. He strode out of the courtyard, up
the path toward his own mansion.

He heard Miranda frantically instructing the
crew to “Keep rolling!” and heard footsteps as Josh Pendleton,
former game-show host and fulltime television personality, chased
him away from the ceremony.

He stopped running when he got to his own
patio, knowing he would have to have it out with the producers at
some point. Probably on camera.

“How ya feeling, buddy?” Pendleton asked in a
falsely chummy tone as soon as the mobile camera crew caught up
with them. “This is a hard night. A big decision day. Is the stress
getting to you?”

“I want out.”

“Hey, let’s talk about this,” Pendleton said,
channeling Miranda through his earpiece. “Knowing you’re going to
be meeting the in-laws can be a real wake-up call. It really raises
the stakes. It’s only natural that you would feel overwhelmed right
now.”

“I’m not overwhelmed. I shouldn’t be here.
It’s wrong. I’m leading them on.”

Pendleton paused, making it look pensive even
though he was doubtless getting an earful from Miranda. “Jack,” he
said finally. “Jack, buddy. This is your decision, man, but don’t
rush into it without thinking things through. This kind of
opportunity isn’t going to come around again. If you think there’s
a chance you could love one of those six women, you would be
throwing away everything you’ve built by leaving here tonight. I’d
hate to see go home only to realize you’d made a terrible mistake,
getting carried away in the emotional hot water of the
situation.”

Hot water.
Miranda wasn’t subtle. He
should have known she would know about the Jacuzzi interlude.

“If you go home, thinking a woman feels one
way about you, only to realize you were wrong and one of these six
girls was really the love of your life, would you ever forgive
yourself? Does it really harm anything to continue with the
process, see where it takes you? If you get to the end and none of
these girls are right for you, there is still a world of women out
there, but you can never get this chance back. I’d hate to see you
go home to a lonely, loveless life when you could have found love
here.”