The Accidental Boyfriend (6 page)

He couldn’t think about Robbie right now. Things had gotten so strained between him and his older brother that he didn’t know where to begin to make things right.

But Holly—he could make things right for her.

She looked up then, as if just realizing that there was a world beyond the food on her plate. She was adorable when she was voracious. A bit frightening, but adorable.

“I was really hungry,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food, a slightly sheepish look on her face.

“Feel better?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes in ecstasy. “Much.” He refilled their wine glasses as Holly settled back in her seat, clearly more at ease now that she was fed.

“So how long have you been in Paris?” she asked.

He fiddled with the fork on his plate. “I just got here today,” he said. He knew where this was going.

Her brows furrowed together as she studied him and he was uncomfortably aware of the intensity of her stare. Why did he have the feeling she could see right through him?

Her eyes narrowed. “Wait, you didn’t come all the way to Paris just to find me, did you?”

He opened his mouth to say no but stopped with his mouth open. Somehow he knew she would see right through his lie.

“Yes,” he admitted.

He thought for a moment that she would ask why but she didn’t. Perhaps she was just as averse to rehashing their apology conversation. He figured neither of them came out looking great in that debacle.

“I’d assumed you were here for business. Or for pleasure, maybe.” Her voice was soft and for a moment her eyes didn’t meet his. There was a vulnerability there that he’d never seen before. She looked…embarrassed. Or hurt, maybe. The expression was there and gone so quickly he wondered if he imagined it. Then her gaze met his again and for one crazy moment he was certain she could see everything—every lie he’d told, every friend he’d let down, every heart he’d broken.

Her next question cut into that disturbing train of thought. “Do you like Paris?” she asked. Her head was cocked to the side and he again had the uncomfortable sensation that she would see through any lie or evasion.

He let out a sigh, “Not really, no.”

Her eyes widened in surprise but she didn’t give him a hard time, which he appreciated. Most people he knew would try to sell him on the romantic city’s illustrious charms or go on and on about the amazing food. He knew all of that. His aversion to the city had nothing to do with the city itself.

She surprised him with a wide grin that made his groin ache in recognition. Jesus, that smile was magnetic.

“So you just came to find little ol’ me?” she teased with an over the top southern accent. “Much obliged, I’m sure.”

He pretended to tip an imaginary cowboy hat. “My pleasure, little lady.”

Her giggle made him think of sunshine and rainbows and hot air balloons. This woman was sweeter than candy.

He leaned across the table; he needed to be closer to her like he needed oxygen. “Brunelli would like you to stay at his apartment in the city. He insists.”

She shook her head and her curls bounced around her shoulders. “Tell Brunelli thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine at the hostel.”

He wanted to push the issue. The hostel was not what anyone would call clean, and he had little confidence that it was a safe place for anyone on their own, let alone a beautiful woman. But pride was obvious in the set of her jaw and her stiff posture. The last thing he wanted was to come across as the spoiled rich guy who tossed around phrases like “my private jet” just to impress. If she wanted to stay in the dingy hostel, that was up to her, whether he liked it or not. And he did
not
like it.

“Fine,” he said, as he hailed the waitress for the check. “But at the very least let me walk you home so I know you get there safe.”

Holly had to admit—it was rather nice being with someone so chivalrous. She was just as progressive as the next woman but it was oddly sweet—and totally foreign—to be treated like such a lady. Jack paid their tab and helped her into her jacket. He held the door for her on the way out and even insisted on walking her all the way inside the hostel. She was pretty sure he would have walked her all the way to her room if they hadn’t been stopped by the sound of a man’s voice calling her name from the bar area in the back.

“Holly! Holly, is that you?” the voice called in a heavy French accent.

Oh no. She knew that voice. For the second time that night, a voice from her past cut through the music in the bar. This could not be happening….again.

Holly tried to make a beeline toward the hall leading to her room, with Jack close on her heels. “Is that guy talking to you?” he asked.

“Who?” She kept walking but the Frenchman calling her name was faster than his large frame would suggest. He stepped into her path, causing Holly to stop so suddenly that Jack collided into her back.

“Holly,” the man said again, before pulling her into an embrace.

For a moment she was trapped between the solid wall of a man who was hugging her and Jack, who was still close behind her.

For the love of all things holy, why did she have to run into Lyon now?

“What are you doing back in France?” he asked. Lyon, her ex-lover, was sweet in a big oaf sort of way and he looked exactly the same as she remembered him with his leather biker jacket and long, black hair.

“I, uh, I’m just here for a short visit,” she said. She saw Lyon’s eyes light up in an all too familiar look and she remembered with vivid clarity just how hard it had been to disentangle herself from this emotional, needy biker. So she added, “With my boyfriend.”

She didn’t turn to see Jack’s expression when she reached out and clasped his hand. The childish move did the trick. The hopeful look in the Frenchman’s eyes flickered and died as quickly as it was ignited.

“Too bad,” he said, eyeing Jack in a not-so-friendly manner.

He turned back to Holly, effectively dismissing Jack from the conversation. “You look good, 
ma chérie
.”

Jack, apparently not intimidated by the brick wall before him, took a step forward and slid an arm around Holly’s shoulders. He stuck his hand out, “Glad to meet you, I’m her
boyfriend
, Jack.” Holly doubted anyone in the vicinity could have missed the not-so-subtle way he stressed the word “boyfriend.”

Lyon shook Jack’s hand while giving him a doubtful look and Holly smothered a grin. Lyon was hot but not the sharpest tool in the shed. He mumbled his name before turning back to Holly.

“I have to get back to work. Come find me if you want to grab a drink.”

Holly smiled and made a vague noise of agreement. There was no way she would be going down that path again, thank you very much. He was exactly the kind of guy she was trying to avoid. No more flings for her, thank you very much. She was ready for the real deal.

Lyon walked away with a sorry slump in his shoulders. Before Holly could turn to thank Jack for going along with her lie, they were distracted by three very drunk girls heading toward them with three men in tow, each more obnoxious than the next.

They moved past Holly and Jack to one of the rooms down the hall and a few seconds later the sound of a stereo cranked up to the highest volume came blaring out of one of the rooms.

“Are those…” Jack started.

“My roommates?” Holly finished. “Yup.”

They stood side by side for a moment, listening to the music blaring from the room and the loud shrieks of laughter followed by a booming male voice declaring, “That’s how we
do
!”

Jack leaned over so he could talk directly into her ear. “Do you think perhaps you may want to reconsider Brunelli’s offer?”

Holly glanced over to see his smug, charming grin a little too close for comfort. “Give me one minute to grab my bag.”

* * * *

“So, are you going to tell me who that guy was?” Jack asked as they strolled through the winding, cobblestone streets leading toward Brunelli’s apartment.

Holly glanced over at him with a wide-eyed innocent look. “Oh, just someone I met when I was here a couple of summers ago.”

“Oh, come on. I just risked my life pretending to be your boyfriend back there,” he said.

She turned to him with a wicked grin. “How does it feel being on the other side of the charade?”

He had to laugh at that. What were the odds that he would find himself pretending to be in a couple…again. And with Ivy’s sister, no less. “Okay, fine,” he said, “I guess I did have that coming. But you’ve got to admit. I did come to your rescue in a time of need—the least you can do is give me the dirt. How did you two meet?”

He was more curious than he cared to admit. This woman, who looked like an angel who had fallen straight out of heaven—hell, her hair even looked like a halo under the streetlamps—was definitely not a saint. And that dichotomy was extremely…intriguing.

He thought she was ignoring him but it seemed she was only lost in the memory for a moment. When she spoke, her tone was whimsical. “He picked me up on his motorcycle.”

He nearly tripped over his own feet. “Excuse me?”

She gave him a sidelong look of amusement—clearly he hadn’t succeeded in hiding his surprise. “I was hitchhiking from Nice to Paris and Lyon picked me up.”

He found himself scowling at her and the voice that came out of his mouth sounded absurdly like his father’s. “So you just got on the back of a bike of a complete stranger?” Hating himself for how stodgy he sounded, he still couldn’t stop from adding, “A stranger who looked like
that
?”

“Like what?” she asked, again all innocence. But she was clearly laughing at him, the twinkle in her eye was not from the wine. Well, maybe it was a little from the wine, she
was
walking a little…crooked.

Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and stared straight ahead. He would not be his father, the square. Or worse, his brother, the square of all squares. “So you two shared a cozy ride on his Harley—”

“It was an Avinton motorcycle,” she corrected.

“You shared a ride on his
bike
,” he said. “And what, you rode off into the sunset?”

“More like, we rode to the nearest biker bar,” she said. Her eyes crinkled up in the most adorable way when she was laughing at him. “And then we took the scenic route to the city.”

She got that dreamy nostalgic look on her face again and it irritated the hell out of him. “But true love didn’t last, I take it.”

She outright laughed at that. “It was hardly love. It was more like…lust.”

Jack had to force his feet to keep moving, one in front of the other. He was overcome with the simultaneous urge to head back to the hostel to pummel the giant biker and spin her into his arms to kiss her silly. The word “lust” coming from those lips, that mouth…he wanted her to lust after
him
.

No he didn’t. Come back to reality, son. This is Holly Sinclair you’re talking to, sister to one of your best friends
. Although at that moment, Ivy and Daniel seemed very far away. In another galaxy. Would it really be so bad to taste the forbidden fruit? After all, she wasn’t a sheltered innocent from Ohio as he’d assumed. She was wild, adventurous…passionate.

So then why the hell had she run away from him that night?

“He hooked me up with a job waitressing at the club where he was a bouncer,” she continued.

“How sweet,” Jack muttered.

She ignored him. “We had a lot of fun that summer but….”

“But?”

She gave him a rueful look and shook her head. “It ended. Story over.”

“Aw, what kind of ending is that?” He honestly wanted to hear her bad-talk her ex. What was wrong with him?
He was jealous.
No, that couldn’t be right. He didn’t do jealousy. He was not a jealous guy. He was laid back, he was cool, he was….

“You were amazing back there,” Holly said.

He looked over to see her grinning at him, a mischievous look on her face. “Not many men would step up and pretend to be my boyfriend in that scenario.”

“Any man would love to be your boyfriend, pretend or otherwise,” he said.

She rolled her eyes at the flattery. “I’m serious. I mean, most guys I know would run in the opposite direction if they were being glared at by a guy like that.”

“A guy like what?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“A guy who’s built like a brick wall,” she said dryly.

He pretended to ponder her statement. “You’re right,” he said. “You owe me.”

Her laughter was light and musical. “How am I ever going to repay you?” she teased. Her voice had gone soft and sultry and it had an instantaneous effect on his groin. She was flirting with him and it was completely irresistible.

This woman would be the end of him.

Before he could answer the provocative question, she continued, “I suppose I’ll just have to do the same for you.”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend?”

She swatted his arm but ignored the comment. “I imagine you have loads of history in this city, am I right? You must have some serious baggage here. I mean, why else would anyone hate this city?”

Jack thought of his brother who he’d barely spoken to in three years. He supposed you could call that baggage, although it was more like a giant U-Haul of unresolved issues.

She took his silence for a yes. “I knew it.” She turned so she was walking backward and could look him square in the face. “I bet you’ve left behind a trail of women with broken hearts. I’m surprised they even allow you into the country, you’re probably a wanted man.”

She was teasing, he knew she was teasing, but for the first time in his life, he hated the playboy image he’d created for himself. But there was no way he was going to tell this woman the humiliating stories behind his fall out with his brother. When it came down to being seen as a player or a fool, he’d take player every time. He forced a smile and threw his hands up in surrender. “You caught me.”

Laughing, she went to turn back around so she was facing forward but her heel caught on a cobblestone. Jack caught her just in time. She was pressed against him and he could smell her soft, warm scent—a heady mix of vanilla and some sort of flower. Her breasts were soft against his chest. She was so close, he could feel her breath on his cheeks and his arms closed tight around her.