Summer Kisses (326 page)

“Let me help you with that,” Lou murmured, barely recognizing the sultry rasp of her own voice.

Apparently she was the kind of girl who could do sexy after all.

She drew her nails gently down his chest until she reached the buttons, slipping each one free slowly, ensuring her fingers rubbed frequently against the undershirt-covered abs beneath. She then slid her hands back up across his chest and over his shoulders, shoving the shirt over Jack’s shoulders until it fell to puddle on the carpet. He toed off his shoes, but she kept her heels on. The difference in their height was too great without them and Lou didn’t want anything to stop her from kissing him.

She leaned up and pressed her mouth against the stubbly underside of his jaw. She breathed in the raw, masculine scent of his skin. No cologne. Just Jack.

His hands found their way back to her body with the feather light touches, but now the skin of her back and stomach was bare and she knew he was teasing her on purpose. Two could play at that game.

She untucked his undershirt and slipped her hands beneath, tracing her nails across the plane of his abs in a random pattern. He sucked in a hissing breath whenever her touches spiraled down toward his zipper, but she made him wait four passes before she pressed her hand against the ridge straining against the fabric of his trousers.

Jack groaned and dropped his forehead down to rest against hers. “If you want to do this in a bed, pick one and get there fast,” he growled.

A delectable shiver shot down her spine at the command. She twisted away from him, darting toward the nearest bedroom door. She kept looking over her shoulder and half-turning to watch him prowl after her. He yanked his undershirt over his head and tossed it aside. The sight of Jack shirtless never failed to make Lou’s knees go wobbly. He looked so damn sexy with his hair mussed by her hands, his abs so damn tight and his eyes honed in on her like blue lasers.

Then he started to unfasten his trousers as he stalked in her wake and Lou remembered to hurry. She stopped gawking and made a break for the bedroom. She threw open the French doors, sparing barely a glance for the opulent furnishings of the room. Jack was right on her heels.

She almost made it to the bed before he caught her. Jack spun her around and snared her mouth in another mind-numbing, bone-melting kiss. He pressed against her until the back of her legs hit the mattress and he fell with her onto the downy soft comforter, their arms and legs tangled around one another. Her bra and his boxers seemed to vanish between one thought and the next—but she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. The only words streaming through her brain were
mine, yes,
and
Jack
.

Luckily, she didn’t need more words than that. Jack knew exactly what she needed.

Never breaking the kiss, he hooked one of her knees over his hip, opening her to him. A slow stroke up her inner thigh found her wet and ready beneath the peek-a-boo lace of her panties. He circled her nub with his thumb, gently flicking it through the fabric until she arched up off the bed, tearing her mouth free of his to gasp his name. She quickly shimmied out of her panties to hurry him along. A girl could only take so much. She reached down between them to take him in her hand.

Jack cursed and leapt off the bed. In the sudden chill without him, Lou twisted onto her side. “Jack?”

She heard him swearing in the darkness at the other end of the room, then a low grunt. “Found it.”

He appeared back at the side of the bed, rolling a condom into place. Lou didn’t have time to wonder that safety had completely slipped her mind. Jack was already pulling her to the edge of the mattress. He guided her to bend her knees, her legs splayed with a wild disregard for modesty. Lou had a moment of squirming insecurity until Jack leaned down and licked into her heat with a firm swipe of his tongue. The shout that ripped out of her throat at the jolt of pleasure was probably heard in Marseilles.

Standing at the edge of the bed, with her spread like an offering atop it, Jack fitted himself to her. Lou closed her eyes as every particle of her being focused on that one point of connection between them. With a slow, sensuous thrust, he slid high inside her, and Lou lost her grip on reality. There was only Jack, pulsing deeper into her with each rocking thrust, the friction of their bodies tightening a spring inside her until she felt like her soul was on the verge of splitting apart at the seams.

Then she opened her eyes and saw him, the dark curl falling over one eye, his jaw tight with effort, his eyes piercing her with their focus and heat.
Jack
.

Her release sprang free, coils of sensation breaking through her body in waves. He leaned over her to take her cries into his mouth, giving two more hard thrusts before his own climax hit and he shuddered against her.

Now that’s what I call Mr. Perfect
.

~~~

Jack tugged on jeans but left his shirt unbuttoned as he crept silently out of the bedroom, leaving Lou sleeping amid the tangled sheets. Between time zones, jet-lag, their busy day in Paris and the fact that he hadn’t let her get much sleep last night, she deserved the chance to sleep in before her flight back to the States.

He felt a smug smile curling his lips as picked up the phone and called down for room service. The woman who’d been a part of his family for years had taken over his heart. He couldn’t actually say the I-love-yous yet, but he knew Lou wouldn’t be going anywhere—except moving from the guest room into the master with him. They could get married right away, just a quick, private ceremony with a few family and friends. Or, if Lou wanted, they could do the big white wedding in a few months. The details didn’t matter.

If life got any better than this, he didn’t know how.

He was debating sneaking back into the bedroom to wake Lou up with a kiss—though he’d promised himself he’d let her sleep—when a sharp knock sounded on the penthouse door. Jack crossed to the door, expecting the world’s fastest room service. What he got was a much less pleasant surprise.

“Miranda.”

Talk about a buzz kill.

The producer smiled. “Sorry, Mister Perfect. Lufthansa waits for no man. You’ve gotta get your ass on a flight to Switzerland.”

“Do I really need to go through the motions? We both know I’m not going to pick Katya. Lou isn’t even awake yet—”

“You still can’t profess your undying love yet. When she’s standing in front of you at the final ring ceremony, you can do whatever you want—personally I vote for a big sappy proposal—but until then, you have to go to Switzerland. You don’t have to lead Katya on. Since this will all be part of the final episode you can actually dump her as soon as you arrive if you want, but you have to do it in person. That’s for your own good. Public opinion would
kill
you if you get rid of her via text or some such bullshit.”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean about Lou and the final ring ceremony?”

Miranda smiled innocently—and he knew he was in trouble. “Didn’t I mention that? You have to pick a winner and give her the final ring. It’s in your contract. But I read the fine print and it doesn’t have to be one of the original Suitorettes. You’re welcome to use that time to propose to Lou. Unless you want Lou to watch you pick one of the other girls.”

“Lou won’t want to be a spectacle.”

“Would she rather you proposed to someone else?”

Jack glared. “Are you descended from Macchiavelli?”

“Probably. So we’re good?”

He
didn’t like it. He’d never been the kind of guy who thought proposing on the jumbo-tron at a ballgame was romantic. It was a private decision, it should be a private moment. But he couldn’t afford to have the show’s lawyers come after him. TJ and Emma’s college funds would be a fond memory if he broke the contract.

“Fine.”

“Excellent!” Miranda crowed. “I always liked you, Jack. Now, let’s get you on a plane.”

The last thing he wanted was to leave Lou now that he’d finally succeeded in breaking down her walls—even if it was only for three days until the final ceremony. He didn’t want her questioning his affection while they were apart. But the next time he saw her, he could tell her the truth. He could say those three little words.

In three days it would all be over and hopefully he’d be engaged to Lou—if she could forgive him for dragging her into the show—and free to go back to the life he loved.

Lou woke in the softest bed on the planet, which only amplified the feeling that she had died and gone to heaven in the last twenty-four hours. Angels didn’t have it this good.

The feeling was only somewhat diminished when she opened her eyes and realized she was alone. She heard voices in the main room of the suite. Jack must have slipped out so he wouldn’t disturb her.

Lou arched in a spine-popping stretch, reveling in every delicious ache she’d acquired last night. Jack had been everything she could have wished for in a lover and then some. She blushed as she remembered his inspired use of her red silk scarf. Blindfolds really did make every other sense come alive—not that Jack needed any help awakening her senses.

She rolled out of the bed, bundling herself in a hotel bathrobe and padding toward the door in search of Jack. Judging by the clock on the bedside, they had a good hour before she had to go to the airport and she planned on making good use of that time.

The door to the main room was cracked open. Lou realized a second before she pushed it open farther that the voice in the other room was definitely not Jack’s. It was female and familiar.

Miranda. So much for a morning quickie.

Lou hesitated behind the mostly closed door, debating hiding out in the bedroom until Jack came to find her. Then what Miranda was saying—seemingly to herself—registered.

“Are you kidding? This has been in my back pocket from the beginning. In three days, the best season of
Marrying Mister Perfect
ever will be in the can and I’ll be an executive producer.” Miranda seemed downright gleeful, which never boded well for the rest of humanity. “I am officially a genius. If I don’t get an Emmy for this, there is no justice in the world.”

She laughed, the sound high and bright—and in sharp counterpoint to the heavy feeling congealing in Lou’s chest.

“Jack is completely on board. I’ve never seen a Mister Perfect more ass over ears in love. It’ll be sappy in the extreme, but it’s going to make fantastic television.”

Lou leaned against the door frame. She’d known he would go back to the show. Of course she’d known. This had just been their little day of pretend.

He’d never said he loved her. Never made any promises. He’d only told her that he wanted to give her Paris. Wanted to give her what she wanted. And she had wanted him.

Miranda continued blithely, not realizing her every word was digging into Lou’s soul. “Marcy? I know! She’s perfect, isn’t she? We really struck gold with the romance writer angle. Viewers are going to love her, but it’ll be hard to top a real, down-on-one-knee, emotional outpouring, on-camera proposal. Jack is going to make the housewives cry buckets, darling. And that’s
before
we bring the kids out.”

Lou backed away from the door, her arms wrapped around her middle, trying to hold the pieces of herself together. Jack was going to propose to Marcy. Right. She’d known that.

Why hadn’t he told her he was going to propose to Marcy? She’d just slept with another woman’s almost-fiancé. He’d turned her into the other woman. Another gullible Suitorette suckered in by Mr. Perfect and a dream date.

Had he figured out that she had a crush on him after the Jacuzzi? Had he just slept with her out of, what? Sympathy? He had managed to give her what she wanted without impacting the kids. He’d gone with the moment and taken what she threw at him—she’d known it was pretend, hadn’t she?

Lou stared out the window at the rainy Parisian morning. The sound of the door to the bedroom opening barely penetrated her fog.

“Lou!” Miranda chirped happily. “You’re up. Good. We should get you packed. The traffic to the airport is a bear with this rain.”

“Is Jack still here?” She didn’t know why she asked. It was the bulletproof hope’s fault. The little sliver of her heart that insisted she’d misheard Miranda and Jack would never propose to someone else after last night.

“No, sorry, hon. He had to rush off for an early flight to Switzerland for the two-dayer with Katya.”

The memory of him kissing Katya seared through her brain.

And the bulletproof hope finally fell over dead. “I see.” She closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at Paris right now. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

And really, she wasn’t.

Nothing was real in reality television. She’d had her dream day in Paris. Now it was time to wake up.

Though it hurt that he hadn’t even said goodbye.

“Lou?” Miranda asked when she remained facing the window. “You okay? You’ll see Jack again in just a couple days. You’ll barely be in Chicago at all before we fly you and the kids out for the big finale in Los Angeles.”

The finale where he would propose to Marcy. God, how could she watch that?

“Are you sure you need me there?”

Miranda hesitated. “You’ll want to be there, hon. Trust me.”

Right. She should see it. Kill that last stubborn hope in person. “I guess.”

She heard the tapping of Miranda’s nails against her tablet. “You get packed. Long flight today.”

“Right.” Lou looked around the room. Her bag was there, but most of her clothing was strewn around the suite. Evidence of debauchery. Taking a deep breath, she started getting dressed for the flight.

She had a lot of planning to do before Jack got home after the finale. More than ever, she needed to find an apartment and a job to pay the rent. And the kids… her heart plummeted.

She didn’t regret sleeping with him, but she couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t be his live-in friend with benefits. Certainly not if he was going to be engaged.

God, how would she face him again? Would they just pretend nothing had happened? That Paris didn’t even exist?