Best Fake Day (9 page)

This time
he
moaned as she dug her fingers into his shoulders and curled her pelvis so it teased every inch of his erection. He lifted his head to take her lips once more. Thank goodness for bunny PJs she thought as his fingers moved to tantalize the length of her spine before slipping easily below her waistband to hug the curve of her bottom. Wanting to join the fun, she slipped a shaky hand to cup and stroke his length. Their kiss spiked in its fervor as their hands roamed and lips fought a well-matched duel. When her teeth seized his bottom lip, Jack groaned and retaliated by sliding his fingers back over the curve of her hip to cup her mound.

As those long fingers stroked over her knickers she knew what he would find. She was wet for him. He groaned at the discovery. His fingers slipped inside, stroking and teasing until coated in her slick arousal. He pushed two fingers into the center of her aching folds. She gasped and buried her head into his shoulder.

He swore. “Hell, we’re on fire.”

Izzy moaned. “Yes. We. Are,” she said, punctuating each word with a kiss and a smile. Damn, he tasted so good.

“No, we really are,” he said with urgency, pushing her hips away from his, leaving her dazed. Jack’s denim encased erection rushed past her wide-eyed gaze in an erotic tease as he jumped stealthily to his feet.

Izzy twisted and craned her head to look where Jack was rushing to. What the… Hazy gray smoke began to rise and twirl from the corner of the tree house as flames licked at Jack’s top, right where it had landed, next to the flame of the candles.

With a gasp, Izzy grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. Too tall to stand at full height, Jack hunched over, stamping the flames with his booted foot. His gaze darted around the dark tree house. He grabbed the bottle of wine and dumped the contents over the flames. Heart bouncing as though it were in her throat, she heaved a sigh of relief. He hadn’t even checked the alcohol content. They could have gone up in flames. Unfortunately for her, she still was. As the flames in the tree house gave a weak hiss in protest, they finally extinguished. Her flame inside still raged.

Gingerly holding the steaming mass of alcohol and fabric, Jack brushed past her to the door and tossed it to the ground. He followed after it, climbing down the ladder to stand with his hands resting low on his hips. Tucking the blanket under her arms, Izzy hesitantly climbed down to the overgrown lawn. Jack offered her the view of his back, not that it wasn’t a magnificent view of those naked broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and a behind to fit the curve of her hand perfectly, but Izzy really wanted to see his eyes. She had no idea of his mood right now. His shoulders seemed tense and his head dipped as he dragged a hand through his thick, dark hair. What was going through his mind? Regret?

As he spun on his heel those gray eyes showed flames of their own.

Taken aback, Izzy folded her arms around herself.

“You have a passport, yes?”

She nodded weakly, a frown creasing her brow.

“You have a camera and tripod, don’t you,” he stated rather than asked.

She nodded as her eyes narrowed.

“Good. We’re moving on to Plan B.”

Chapter 6

Izzy rubbed her damp palms over her black leggings before gripping her thighs with her hands. Sitting in the seat next to her, Jack looked completely at ease, calm and unruffled. His proximity and cool demeanor was making her so nervous her legs were having a compulsion to do the
River Dance
steps on the plane floor.

“Nervous flyer?” Jack asked, finally lifting his gaze from his laptop to look pointedly at her hands.

“No,” she responded, jamming her now drumming fingers between her thighs to restrain them. “Just concerned about my equipment, that’s all.” That
and
the specifics of Plan B. Her recently purchased equipment was insured—her heart wasn’t.

He frowned. “Relax. You packed it in a case padded enough to survive a bomb blast.”

Relax? Very unlikely. She’d been wound tighter than a pocket watch since that night in the tree house. This was the first time she’d seen Jack since that night and either those shutters were still down over those stormy eyes or he was suffering from selective amnesia. He hadn’t been modeling a calm facade that night. Then his attraction to her had been absorbed in his eyes and available for her viewing. He’d looked at her with an expression of confusion and longing. That look of confusion had been expelled with a moment of clarity so sudden it was as if he’d just been struck by lightning.

Her heart had sank as she realized he wasn’t about to douse her flames but was about to take off as though those flames were licking at his heels. She only managed to detain him by reminding him he was still half-naked and his top was barbequed beyond rescue. And damn if he didn’t leave wearing her largest size t-shirt that she’d given him to wear as punishment. Who knew he could pull off wearing a pink tee emblazoned with the words
Photographers Do It In The Dark
from her camera club and still manage to look tongue lollingly sexy? He filled it well as it hugged and accentuated every muscle and sinew. She wanted to give him an open invitation to climb that drain pipe again and prove that this photographer was an around-the-clock type. Day or night.

When he’d turned on his heel with a muttered “I’ll call you,” he’d left her with a gaping mouth, nipples aching painfully, and more flames in her knickers than there had been in the charred remains of his clothing. What was it with her and fire lately?

Izzy squirmed in her seat at the memory of what had been. And what could have been. This earned her another eyebrow raise.

“I am relaxed, okay!” she huffed.

“Really?”

“Fine.” She sighed. “So I’m more than curious about Plan B.”
About it, about everything.

Jack flipped the lid down on his laptop and turned her way, looking devastatingly handsome in his crisp white shirt and black tailored trousers. “You are okay about doing this? I’m not going to force you into this, Izzy. You know that, right?”

She nodded. Yes, she knew. He stuck to his promise to call and this time he asked if she wanted to help. No debt to repay. He’d offered to get his team of builders to fix the house while they were away. She’d refused at first, but realized it would be stupid to allow pride to get in the way. The clock was ticking. She needed to get her dad back home as soon as possible. He’d already been away so long and the next fees for his care were due soon. Also, she had wedding bookings she would not cancel and her attempts at the repairs were like sticking a Band-Aid over a burst pipe. And she was tired. So tired.

“I know.”

“Good. Then all you need to know for now is that I have business here first but tomorrow we will be putting Plan B into motion your way,” he said with a sexy kick of the corner of his lips.

That was giving an answer and sneaking in more questions!

Abandoning her frustrations, she allowed herself to sag back into the seat and she turned to face the window. If she was going to fake it in Italy she might as well enjoy it.

* * * *

Jack released a pent-up breath as Izzy finally succumbed to the weight of her eyelids. Jeez, even her eyes had to fight a battle. It had been hard feigning concentration on work when in reality he had no idea what he’d been staring at for the past two hours. He had been doing everything possible to avoid discussion of their encounter in the tree house, to avoid considering his feelings toward the woman who had drifted off to sleep beside him now. How did he feel about her?

He knew one thing. His concern for her had led to him making the offer of repairing the house. It infuriated—no, scared him—to think that this was another fire Izzy could have been caught up in. But instead of looking terrified, she was looking at him as though he was the irresistible flame that had to be touched before understanding how much pain it inflicts.

And that was when he knew he had to see her father. He had to tell David he could no longer keep his promise. That there was a likelihood he and Izzy could become more than friends. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but it was the right one.

No boundaries.

It reassured him to see David looking so well. It concerned him to hear about his stroke, especially as Ellie hadn’t told him about it, but he wasn’t looking frail and unwell at all. He seemed...happy. At the end of the conversation it became blatantly obvious father and daughter needed to talk. And Izzy wasn’t going to like it.

But for now that conversation would have to wait. He was taking her somewhere secluded so they could do the fake wedding her way. After their last failed attempt he now knew it was important to make the lies easier to digest. It was up to him to take on the burden of wrongs. Now that he’d spoken to David and his conscience was clear, he and Izzy could work each other out of their systems. Even if it was for one night. And then he needed to make Izzy realize how wrong he was for her. Although he may be at risk of breaking her heart, he had to make her hate him.

Casting a glance over her sleeping body, it was a decision that stung more than it should. He could never give her that hearts-and-flowers reality, she would be happier without him.

Now that her eyes were closed he dropped his gaze to take a lazy sweep over her curves. She looked like Izzy again with her hair stripped of that artificial color, the silken locks resting freely over her shoulders. Her face was free of makeup, except for the slightest hint of glossy lip balm that drew his attention to the fullness of her slightly parted lips. The only trace of color was the natural flush of pink that spread over her cheeks as her lips rose at the sides. Was she dreaming?

He watched as her slender legs curled to the side so she now faced him, making his groin have a movement of his own as the memory of her thighs pressed against his sprang to mind. If that damn fire hadn’t interrupted them, he would have been wrapping those legs around his waist and burying himself deep in her heat. Very deep.

He watched the rise and fall of her rounded breasts. The show of creamy skin above her neckline and the hint of exquisite curves beneath the turquoise shift dress made his jaw ache. He didn’t want to look, he wanted to taste.

Right or wrong, he wanted her. Whether she was wearing a stylish dress that complimented her coloring or those soft flannel bunny PJs, it didn’t matter. His penis obviously didn’t do fashion discrimination. And neither did his heart.

Today she’d taken his breath away. They’d arrived at the airport separately to avoid any media attention but as soon as he noticed her ignoring her was impossible. That almost dance of light in her eyes and her full beam smile made something inside him shift, almost crack. Suddenly he felt better in some way, as though she’d just switched on a sunshine button. Yeah, he wanted her all right. But the question clawing at him right now was—what was he going to do about it?

* * * *

“Stop! We can’t go in here!”

“Yes, we can,” Jack said in a completely calm voice, whereas Izzy had just broken into a sweat.

“But it’s a bridal boutique!” Her head whipped from side to side as she anxiously looked for passersby, concerned that they might have been overheard, but not concerned enough to let go of the doorframe. She gripped the wood tightly with both hands, refusing to step over the threshold that she was blocking from Jack. Literally digging her heels in like a dog just realizing it was outside the vet’s and its vaccinations were due, she refused to budge.

Her eyes widened fractionally as Jack spanned her hips with his hands, thumbs settling in those sensitive dimples at the base of her spine as if they were shaped for him.

“I know it’s a bridal shop. That’s why we’re here.”

“What?”

“You sabotaged the last dress,” he said with a smile evident in his voice. “So we have to get you a new one.”

“
We?
Won’t you break into hives or spontaneously combust in a bridal shop?” she asked in a weak, teasing voice, even though she thought it was a possibility.

He’d always used the example of his parents as a reason for avoiding marriage. Always said the word like he needed to spit it out of his mouth like it was some nasty residue.

She felt his chuckle reverberate through his long fingers and spread through her spine. “I think I’ll survive. I want you to choose a dress you feel comfortable in so you don’t look like you’re facing the firing squad on the pictures this time.”

Consternation creased her brow. “That wasn’t entirely my fault. You should blame the photographer,” she grumbled. “But you don’t need to buy from here. It’s
expensive
,” she emphasized loudly just as the door opened before her.

“
Signorina Latham?
Please come in. I’ve been expecting you,” said the beautiful, dark-haired woman, who to her professional credit, had plastered on a smile and was looking at her as though it were perfectly normal for a bride-to-be to be clinging to the doorframe in terror.

Struggling to maintain the tension of her outstretched arms, she craned her head to the side to add another protest. Jack had already moved closer and his lips were now only a nibble away.

“All part of Plan B Izzy style,” came the amused drawl against her cheek.

Izzy dropped her arms and allowed the gentle nudge at the bottom of her back to set her feet in motion. Her eyes widened, her steps faltering as she took in the elegance and romance of the boutique. She gave a shiver but welcomed the cool ambience as the air-conditioning became the perfect foil for her heated cheeks.

Izzy knew her eyes were widening to the size of saucers as her gaze soaked in her surroundings. She felt like Alice stepping into Wonderland. Could be magic, but equally could be dangerous. Her eyes were saying magic, but the race of her pulse translated to danger. The possibility of future heartache seeped into the rational side of her mind.

She stepped back, her feet sinking into the plush carpet that was so thick it almost completely covered her ballet flats. The air was tinged with a hint of expensive leather, lemon furniture polish, and the wonderful scent of new hopes and dreams in the form of dresses that snagged her attention like a child in a toy store. Izzy clenched the hem of her tunic to resist the urge to run her hands through the array of artfully placed creations.