Best Fake Day (14 page)

Izzy’s eyes widened. God, he was perfect.

“What are you doing?”

“Making myself look decent,” she explained with the shortened version. She wasn’t about to admit that staring at the contender for Greek God award made her realize he was used to lying naked with models, mixing with the stunning and the super-stunning. And she was neither.

“My definition of decent is naked,” he said as he started to flick each of the buttons of her dress undone. “Allow me to help you with that,” he offered with a roguish glint in his eyes and a kick to his lips.

“But haven’t we just...” She trailed off as his tongue swept up her spine, skittering a rush of sensation in its path.

He knelt behind her to nuzzle the back of her neck. She arched her head into the wall of his chest as he slid his hands down her throat to capture her breasts in his palms. Just as she was losing herself in his touch, he moved away to slide off the bed, glorious in his nakedness as the breeze billowed the sheer curtain at his back. He held out his hand and invited her to take it with the curve of his lips.

After a moment’s hesitation she took his hand. That spark of awareness still surged in her veins. She allowed him to tug her to her feet, his gaze following the fall of the dress and her torn knickers to her ankles. She stood with her shoulders back and her head held high as his gaze devoured every inch of her.

She watched the intake of his breath and found her smile again. If she was letting him break her heart she may as well have some fun doing it.

She heaved a fortifying breath before stepping out of the puddle of dreams, and allowed him to lead her naked into the bathroom.

* * * *

Much later, Izzy was still wearing that smile. Jack went on to prove being naked was very decent indeed. He’d proved it very slowly, and very meticulously, up against the shower cubicle with her legs wrapped around his waist, and again as he’d taken her from behind, so thoroughly that she thought her body was about to seep away with the swirl of shower water rushing down the plug. Now they were lying with Jack curved around her. Holding each other as they watched the sunset over the hills. She heard Jack’s chuckle as she pulled his arm tighter around her waist.

Although she couldn’t see it she pictured the smile she knew he was showing. It warmed her inside and out.

“I love lying like this with you, Jack.” Her own soft smile faltered as she felt him tense at the word
love
. Wrong choice, she thought with an inward cringe.

“I like lying like this with you too,” he responded eventually.

Izzy relaxed slightly. Okay, he’d changed the word, but the fact he admitted to enjoying being with her was enough for now.

“I remember the first time I lay with you like this,” he said, making Izzy stiffen. “We were wearing clothes and you were holding me, but I remember.”

He knew! Izzy remembered the time very well. Her father had made her and Ellie trade rooms for the night because he was worried Ellie was going to sneak out from the balcony. He was right, she was. Instead they got into a terrible row and Ellie shut herself in Izzy’s room and refused to come out at all. In the late hours of the night she heard the familiar sounds outside, knowing Jack was about to climb in. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the bed dipped under his weight. She hadn’t dared speak in case he realized it was her and not Ellie and then would leave. She knew he needed comfort. Even in the darkness she could make out the sadness etched in his beautiful face. Silently, he curled at her side and she wrapped herself around him, holding him tight.

“How did you know I wasn’t Ellie?”

“You mean besides the obvious?” She felt his smile on her shoulder as his hand stroked the curve of her breast. “Ellie always smelled of perfume, and you smell like...you. Besides I never lay like that with Ellie. We talked to each other, but she never held me like you did.”

“But didn’t you and Ellie...you know?”

“Have sex?” he added bluntly with a hint of surprise in the words she couldn’t voice. “Is that what she told you?”

“Well...yes.”

“No. We didn’t. It was never like that between us, Izzy. We were friends, and we supported each other through some shit, but nothing more than a bit of fooling around.”

“But the next night when you were sneaking out of the window naked?”

“In my boxers, you mean.”

“Whatever,” she relented with a roll of her eyes as she held back the pang of jealousy.

“That night when we snuck out I got good and wasted. And Ellie...well, you saw the state she was in. I carried her to her room and I cleaned her off in the shower and then showered myself after. That night was one I hadn’t told your father about so when I heard him coming up the stairs I took off.”

Izzy frowned. There were so many coincidences, yet still so many questions.

“So you really never slept together?”

“No.”

Izzy brightened at that until a feeling of dread pitted in her stomach. It wasn’t something she wanted to think of now. She ignored it as his fingers drew lazy strokes on her thigh.

“That night in Ellie’s bed, why didn’t tell me you knew who I was?”

His stroking stopped. “I needed what you were offering. I just wanted to be held.”

* * * *

Jack tensed as Izzy turned to face him. Concern furrowed her brow.

“What happened that night, Jack? Why were you so sad?”

Unable to bear her scrutiny, the warmth in her eyes, Jack rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling as he considered his response. Was it time to unburden himself of the hurt and anger he felt? Or should he carry on pretending he liked life as a loner? After all, that was the way he was destined to be. Today was as close to getting married as he would ever get. His mother was testimony to that. Stuck in a loveless marriage where the only bond between them was one of the paper and coin type. No, he wouldn’t live like that.

“That was the night I found out Peter wasn’t my father,” he found himself admitting.

Her soft gasp and warm hand splayed upon his chest somehow cushioned him away from the hurt he’d buried inside.

“Jack, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be—I’m not. It was a relief to finally know why I was treated so differently than Michael. All those years I thought it was my fault. That I was bad in some way, that there was something wrong with me.” He gave a harsh laugh. “Turns out I had the wrong DNA.”

“No. No, you didn’t,” Izzy said fiercely as she lifted on her elbow to gaze at him, not with pity, but with anger arching her brow.

Jack gave her a wry smile as he reached out to smooth the furrow of her creamy skin away. “Put your claws away, wild cat.”

She blinked before frowning again. “I don’t have claws, only a good sense of right and wrong.”

“You have claws all right. Just ask my back,” he responded as he thought of her nails digging into his shoulders.

Her knowing brown gaze pinned him. “You won’t distract with something I’m not sorry for,” she said, even though a blush painted her cheekbones. “So tell me, why did they tell you then?”

“I was a dirty secret they wanted to hide. God forbid anyone should find out there was a bastard in the family.” He shrugged. “Their social status was more important than considering my feelings. It was certainly something Peter could never deal with. So when I intervened in a fight between them that was about to get physical, the whole sordid story came spilling out. Even though I defended her, the fact they both blamed me for wrecking their relationship was obvious.”

“Your mother sided with
him
.”

“She always chose Peter over me. They had a relationship that was turbulent, based more on hate than love, and yet they stuck together for appearance’s sake, and for Michael I guess.”

“Did he know anything about this?”

“Michael?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Michael never got involved as long as he was getting everything he wanted.” Did Izzy just wince? Was he sounding more bitter than he felt?

“Is this the reason you don’t believe in marriage?”

He snorted. “I guess it is. I can’t help but wonder if things would have been different for me if Peter had divorced my mother and it had been just the two of us. But he didn’t, and then Michael came along soon after me. A Band-Aid baby it would seem.” A baby that grew up to follow in his mother’s footsteps. To only acknowledge Jack’s presence when Peter wasn’t around. It was a situation that frustrated him greatly. He’d tried to get close to Michael, he really did. The looks of pity from his brother hurt more than Peter’s fist. Until time made him immune to both.

“Your mother had an affair?”

“Yes. With someone wealthier than Peter who wasn’t willing to become her personal credit card. He didn’t want her or me, so she begged for Peter’s forgiveness and he took her back.”

“But all these years they denied you knowledge of your biological father.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead. Died before I was born.”

And Peter took great satisfaction in telling him that his grandfather had slammed the door in his mother’s face when she told him she was pregnant. Rejected before birth.

Izzy didn’t say anything, simply wrapped her arms around him and hugged him with the warmth of her breath at his neck and the comfort of her body. He sighed deeply, knowing he couldn’t get used to these feelings of comfort. The feel of her was drugging. He couldn’t let her get into his head. But when she pushed herself up to move away he reached out to take her wrist.

“Where are you going?” he asked gruffly.

She stood up, offering him the view of her back, gloriously naked with the hazy orange glow of the setting sun framing her body like a lover’s embrace. He took in the arch of her shoulder blades, the tapering of her narrow waist, and the delicious curve of that perfectly rounded bottom. He wasn’t at all surprised at the twitch in his groin that quickly became an insistent throb as she turned her head to the side and gave him a smile he felt
everywhere
. He frowned as he watched her walk over to the table of untouched food. Her ass giving what he was sure was an extra sway for his benefit. He glanced down at his thick erection. Yup—already benefitting.

“I’m going to make you feel better,” she said with a tone as thick as honey and equally as sweet.

“Then,” he growled. “Come back here and you will.”

“I’m about to make you like another wedding tradition.”

“Oh really,” he scoffed.

“Uh-huh.”

Jack’s eyes widened as she walked toward him, swaying her hips and clutching her wedding weapon of choice. He swallowed hard. She climbed back onto the bed with her kiss-swollen lips holding the promise of mischief. She placed her weapon at the side of as she straddled him. Close enough to entice reaction but not enough for his satisfaction.
Yet.

The softness of her inner thighs encased his hips. Blood surged through his veins.

“Allow. Me,” she punctuated each word with a peppered kiss down his chest, her breasts grazing his skin. “To introduce the pleasure of...” She reached out to the side. “Wedding cake!” She grinned as she held up a huge blob of vanilla buttercream on her finger.

Jack arched his hips and released a slow hiss as Izzy, his Bella, painted that buttercream where he wanted her mouth.

It was some time later when he thought to concede that some wedding traditions weren’t so bad after all, because when her soft lips covered his straining tip and lavished him to the point of explosion, he could only think of her.

Chapter 9

Izzy sat on the balcony, her feet curled beneath her, Jack’s white shirt covering her nakedness. With a wistful sigh she took in the glorious views of the lush gardens framed by the rich green olive groves of the
Val d’Orcia
as the sun rose to expose the beauty of the Tuscan countryside. The subtle scent of earth and mint surfed the warm breeze. Her camera rested on the table having already captured the panoramic scene, but she wanted to absorb this memory for as long as possible.

She took hold of the shirt collar and put it to her nose, inhaling deeply. The scent of him filled her lungs. Her belly flipped in a roll of heat that made her shuffle in her seat. Even though her body still ached and tingled in the most hidden of places, it appeared she wanted more.

But today was a new day.

The sound of the shower and the low tone of Jack’s singing in the bathroom added a lift to her lips but didn’t quite dispel the hint of sadness invading her chest.

Their fake day was officially over.

Jack had woken early, or hadn’t actually slept she thought with a wry smile. There had been little chance of sleep. His murmured tone on the phone had woken her as Jack requested room service. Her blurry gaze had caught the sight of Jack’s naked behind going into the bathroom and suddenly she was wide awake and casting a glance around the chaos of their room.

Their clothes were scattered over the floor, and although the food trolley had been left outside, some food traces were still in the room. Including the cake and chocolate-coated fruit, she noted with a blush.

Behind her head, still tied to the wrought iron bed was Jack’s tie where he’d playfully bound her wrists to show her his version of a wedding toast. The nearly empty bottle of champagne remained on the bedside table. It seemed a lot of fun could be had with bubbles and a skillful tongue.

With heat stinging her cheeks she’d unleashed the tie and straightened the rumpled buttercream smeared sheets as much as possible.

But for everything that was so damn good about yesterday,
and
the early hours of today, jumbled in among those amazing memories were the echoes of Jack’s past. Right now that past was weighing heavily on her mind. She chewed her lip as she pondered if she should share some of her past with Jack. It had never seemed relevant until now.

Awareness skittered down her spine. She knew without turning that Jack was standing behind. Her breaths held in her throat, her nipples tightened as they brushed the soft cotton of his shirt. So quick to respond from only the touch of his gaze. She was so sneaking this shirt home with her.