The Billionaire's Temporary Bride (Scandal, Inc Book 3)

by Avery James

  Chapter 25

  Charlotte was beautiful. Achingly beautiful in a way that Jack wished he could explain. Every inch of her was beautiful, from her smile to the light peppering of freckles across her face and shoulders, like the spray from the waves on the rocks beyond the beach.

  He and Charlotte walked down to the beach every morning of their honeymoon. He'd hold her hand as they made their way down the worn path to the water. He'd lie down next to her once they reached the warm sand, either on a towel or a chaise, and together, he and Charlotte would read.

  Lying there, Jack would peek over the top of the book and watch the way Charlotte smiled as she read. The little dimples on her freckled cheeks, the light in her eyes, it was wonderful. He loved seeing her happy, for once being far away enough from the rest of his troubles not to worry about the campaign or his family. Most of the time, he even managed to stop wondering what Charlotte would think of him if she knew all the secrets he had been keeping from her.

  Charlotte had gotten a bit of a sunburn on their first full day on the island, and her face and shoulders had stayed slightly pink ever since. Over the course of the week, her tiny freckles had gotten a little darker and combined with the blush of her sunburn. She looked radiant with her cheeks flushed with color, almost glowing she was so beautiful. The tropical sun had brought out the blond highlights in her strawberry blond hair. Her eyes were as green as the sea. She looked so happy, so relaxed.

  Jack hated the idea of dragging her back into the spotlights of DC and Boston at the end of the trip, where she'd have to play a role for him. For now, though, she was happy, and he felt like he was in a dream.

  The whole week had been just that, a long, sun-soaked dream. Sooner or later, Jack knew he'd have to wake up and go back to reality, but here, he was free to live without expectations or obligations. On the morning of the third day, they hiked down to the far end of the island, slowly winding their way through the shaded paths that led through the groves and thickets of the island. By the time they had reached the far end, it was well past noon, and they picnicked on the beach. They didn't even need words between them, just enjoying the moment for what it was. Jack wished more than anything that he and Charlotte could just stay there, suspended in time, taking with them only what they needed.

  More than once, he caught himself daydreaming. What if he could leave it all? Would she come with him? Would she let him throw it all away, the power, the prestige, the life? She had chosen to live in DC, after all. How likely was she to pick up and move to some remote island just because he wanted her to? Even if she were willing, Jack knew there were other obstacles. His family would fall apart without him. His siblings would run through the family fortune in a few years if given the chance. His mother would be heartbroken. She was so proud of everything he had done so far in life, and he knew she had bigger dreams for him — the Senate, the White House. If he gave that all up for Charlotte, he doubted his mother would survive the shock.

  There were other family commitments to think about. There were his father's legacy, the people who worked for the family, the people who worked for him. A small army of staffers relied upon him for employment, and here he was thinking about throwing them all out in the cold so he could live out some fantasy with a woman he hired to be his wife.

  There were secrets, secrets he had carefully guarded for years. Not only did he have to keep the press from finding out about his own family situation, hiding the shame of Maria and little Jack, he had to hide them from the rest of his family. And now that included Charlotte. His marriage to Charlotte was just one of the lies he had hidden over the years, and yet it was the only lie he wished were a truth.

  It was crazy. It was shameful, really, and Jack knew it couldn't happen. How much more could he ask of Charlotte? How long could he expect her to stay with him like this? He was depriving her of the one thing she truly wanted: love without pretense or poetical concerns. She deserved the pure love of a man who could be there for her and give his whole soul to her, not someone like him. He was already compromised and corrupted, and he felt terrible about making someone as perfect as her play his game.

  It didn't matter that he had feelings for her or that she thought she had feelings for him. He knew it couldn't last. Their differences were too great. He wished he could start fresh, telling Charlotte all of his secrets from the first time he saw her, but he knew he couldn't. Jack decided he would explain everything once they flew back. He just didn't know what Charlotte would do once she learned the truth.

  On the last night, Jack arranged dinner on the beach. He kept Charlotte occupied by telling her that he wanted to finish the book before they left the island. In truth, he had finished it two days earlier when she had fallen asleep on the beach. When she accepted his offer, he spent most of the afternoon peeking over the top of his book at her, watching that grin on her face as she read on. He loved the way she looked, sun-kissed, relaxed, just being herself. He tried to forget that he was asking her to be someone else for him.

  Shortly after dusk, Jack told Charlotte he had a surprise for her, and he led her down to the beach. "We should have an hour or so until the tide reaches the table," he said as the torch-lit beach came into view.

  Charlotte grabbed his arm. "Jack, it's beautiful," she said. She hurried over to the elaborate dinner Jack had laid out. He sat down across the table from her, ready to enjoy one last meal on the island, one last. It was the beginning of the final night before they had to head back to reality, one last chance to forget about the past and the future and just enjoy their time together, one moment of reprieve before they got sucked back into the awful world of campaign stresses and fake wedding news and secret cell phones. Charlotte stood up and pulled her chair around the table so she could sit next to him. He smiled and kissed her lightly on the shoulder. At least, whether their marriage was just a sham or not, he had Charlotte by his side.

  ***

  On her first night on the island, Charlotte had made herself a promise. She had decided to stop thinking about the trip as her honeymoon, of Jack as her husband and herself as his wife. She promised not to think about any of that until the trip was over. She wouldn't think about the past, the future or anything but what she wanted in the moment. She had decided that this trip would be their chance to be whatever they wanted to be. This was their chance to relax.

  This will be good for you, she had told herself.

  And it was. It was better than good. It was the best week of her life, falling asleep in the open air of their bedroom, waking up with her chest pressed against Jack's side, listening to the surf crash on the beach below, walking down to the sand and swimming in the warm water, lying out on a towel and soaking in the sun. For the first time in her life, even her skin was cooperating. After a full day in the sun, she didn't burn. In fact she saw the first hints of tiny freckles forming on her shoulders. That was about as close to a tan as she'd ever get.

  Jack had noticed too, running his hands over her skin, kissing the back of her neck. He seemed entranced by her, and she enjoyed the power she had over him. With no one else around, she knew that the way he looked at her was real. And he couldn't keep his eyes or his hands off of her. She loved feeling wanted and sexy. She felt like some deep, repressed part of her had broken free and was running loose, acting upon every want and desire.

  Of course there were times in the morning or at night, as the sun started to dip down below the horizon and the whole sea blazed with the oranges and pinks of dusk, that she wondered how long this could last. After all, the trip was only a week, only a brief moment in her relationship or partnership with Jack, and soon they'd be back in frosty DC, shuffling from meeting to meeting, pretending to be doting husband and wife, putting on polite smiles for the cameras and reporters.

  But as soon as those thoughts cropped up, Charlotte pushed them away. If her time away from those worries was so short, why spend any of it thinking about what would happen after the trip? She knew why. She knew t
hat she wanted some part of these feelings to stick as they went through the routines of daily life. But it was easy to forget about all of that as she held Jack's hand and walked down the narrow paths that led to secret eddies and grottoes carved out beneath the cliffs. It was easy to forget about all of it as they walked into the dense jungle of the island and breathed in the clean air. It was easy as she lay in bed, her head propped up against Jack's chest, listening to his heart beat out its slow song.

  Before Charlotte knew it, the week had passed, and she was stepping out of the warm, protected water of the island's beach for one last time, taking Jack's hand and following him up the softly lit path back up to the house. He had tanned deeply over the past week, while she had simply burned and gotten more freckled.

  During dinner that night, when she caught Jack looking at her, he admitted that he liked her freckles and the slight sunburn she had since they had gotten to the island. She laughed it off. His tan made his eyes look that much bluer. It made his smile brighter. Or at least that's what she had assumed. For the first time in their relationship, his smile seemed to glow whenever she looked at him.

  "You know this week is the first time I've seen you look completely happy," she said.

  "I think it's because it's the first time I've been truly alone with you, truly able to let my guard down."

  Charlotte reached over and locked her fingers between his. "I like that," she said. Dinner was almost over, and she knew that soon they'd have to head back up to the house. "Let's stay here a little longer," she suggested. "It's too beautiful to leave." The moon had come up over the ocean, and its silver reflection swirled and bent in the water. When they reached the grove, the moon was barely visible through the canopy, but it was still there.

  Is this what the week will become? Charlotte wondered, a hint, a memory?

  Eventually, they had to get up and head back to the house. Charlotte grasped Jack's hand tighter as he led her back to their room. In some ways, the week felt like it had lasted longer than the rest of their relationship combined. Life without the distractions of meetings and calls and interviews felt so much richer, and the warm, tropical light had a way of stretching out every day so that it felt like a lifetime. Soon they'd have to go back to reality, but not tonight, not as long as they were together in that bed as man and wife.

  Charlotte listened to the gentle breeze rise up somewhere in the dense green foliage that stretched to the far side of the island. The newlyweds stood there in the center of the room for a moment, listening to the breeze. Neither of them said a word, but Charlotte leaned her head against Jack's shoulder. She wanted to cry. She wasn't ready for this to be over. She wasn't ready to go back to the way things had been.

  Jack wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the temple. His soft lips felt so wonderful against her delicate skin. As he slowly kissed her, a dizzy delight rose up inside her core. Charlotte turned, pressing her lips against his. They had kissed so many times over the past week. They had shared passionate, scorching kisses, quick kisses, tender kisses, but nothing like this. This was a prayer, soft and sweet and full of ache. Even as she moved her tongue against his and felt the flames of desire roar up inside her, she felt the tenderness in Jack's every motion. He slid his hands over her shoulders with a tender deference.

  She needed him. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. She didn't want this moment to be just a moment, a pleasant memory, she wanted it to be the start of something more. Charlotte slipped her fingers between the buttons in Jack's shirt and slowly undid them one by one. She kissed his chest. Jack picked her up off of the ground and carried her to the bed, sliding his hands under her back as he laid her down. He kissed her again, and stared deep into her eyes. She could see in his face and feel in his every touch that Jack must have felt the same finality to this perfect escape from the real world. He kissed her neck and her desire flared up even stronger than before and she needed him.

  As moonlight streamed through the open windows and the cool breeze swept over their bodies, they undressed each other and made love. There was no other word for it. Neither of them spoke. As Charlotte took Jack inside her, the rest of the world went blank, and she felt only her own hurried breaths and the thrill of his skin against hers. She kissed him on his lips and his neck and his chest, and she cried out as the pleasure grew stronger and stronger, building toward climax with each motion of his hips against hers until finally, she couldn't hold on any longer, and climax rang through her body. She didn't realize until after that Jack had finished too. He struggled to catch his breath. She could taste the salt on his upper lip as they kissed.

  They stayed like that for an hour, kissing slowly, their bodies still linked until finally Jack rolled over on his side and started to run his fingers through her hair.

  Charlotte felt warm and content, the emotional equivalent of how she had felt when she had jumped into the warm water of the pool on their first afternoon on the island. Jack stroked Charlotte's scalp and kissed her temple again.

  Charlotte closed her eyes and let out a quiet moan.

  "I love you," she whispered.

  She let out a little sigh before the words registered in her mind. Her pupils dilated, her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt like her throat had constricted itself. She hadn't meant to say that, at least not out loud.

  Jack tensed and looked at her. The warmth and tenderness was gone from his eyes. She had caught him off guard.

  Please, please, just say something, she thought. Whatever happened next, there was no going back to the way things had been.

  Chapter 26

  Jack stepped into the gymnasium and looked out over the sea of empty folding chairs. In a few hours, he'd participate in a town hall forum with two of his opponents. He'd been in a bad mood all day. Hell, he'd been in a bad mood since coming back from his honeymoon.

  He should have been ecstatic. He was up fifteen points in the polls, the strongest position he had held since declaring his candidacy. Charlotte had made all the difference. With her by his side, people stopped looking at him as young Jack Coburn, bachelor son of fortune, and started looking at him as a responsible adult. He owed her so much. He knew it, which is why he was miserable.

  The time they had spent together on the island had been incredible, wonderful beyond words. It had given Jack a chance to forget about the campaign and his family and all of his responsibilities. He was allowed to just spend time with Charlotte, and he had treasured every second of it.

  She loved him.

  She had looked him in the eye and told him that she loved him, and he hadn't said anything in response. He had frozen, panicked. He knew deep down that what he felt for Charlotte went far beyond appreciation, far beyond attraction and flirtation and everything else he had told himself. She helped him be a better version of himself, and he wanted to tell her that, but he didn't know how. It was like that trip had puffed him up, filled him with hope that maybe things would work out, and then with those three little words, Charlotte had punched a hole right through him.

  How could I have been so naive? he asked himself.

  How could he have thought that he could fake a relationship with her and that nothing would happen? His first instincts had been right. He tried to tell her that she didn't want to marry him. He tried to tell her that she wasn't cut out for it, that he wasn't the kind of man she thought he was, but the he went through with it anyway. This was his fault, and he had to make it right.

  Jack pulled a set of notecards out of his pocket and half-heartedly flipped through them. His staff had prepared talking points for the forum, a list of probable questions and responses. Each time he tried to focus on a card, his eyes glazed over, and his thoughts drifted back to Charlotte. He had been such an ass to her, and he didn't know how to make it up.

  The past few weeks had been terrible. Charlotte had fallen in love with her idea of him, not the truth, and now he didn't know how to tell her. He wanted to be that man, the one she saw when she
looked in his eyes, but he couldn't change himself any more than he could go back and change the past. It wasn't going to happen.

  He had even found excuses to spend time apart — grueling campaign trips, twenty hour days — but she hadn't let him get away with any of it. She had stayed by his side, playing the part of the doting wife. He wished it could be more than just playing. He wished that he could love her back and give her everything she needed, but he knew he couldn't. There was too much he couldn't tell her, too much that he couldn't explain away. He had promised himself he would tell her everything as soon as they got back, but her confession that last night on the island had completely thrown him off. If she knew the real him, she would run as quickly as possible, and he would be alone again.

  He couldn't bear the thought. Having her with him in any capacity was better than being away from her. Even understandably confused by his distance, she still lit up the room around him, gave him the will to go on. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, getting up every day and pretending he didn't have feelings for her, finding every possible excuse to deny how he felt. He didn't know how much longer he could take it.

  As often as possible, he tried to send Charlotte off with his campaign manager, Lauren. The two of them had become quick friends. Lauren seemed to like Charlotte's sense of humor and especially appreciated her effect on Jack's image. Jack thought that Charlotte liked having someone to talk to whenever he went off to brood. From Charlotte's arrival on the campaign, Lauren had been protective of her. Now he wondered if Charlotte needed protection from his ever-worsening mood.

  As the minutes ticked down to the forum, Jack's frustration welled up inside him backstage. He looked at Charlotte as she turned the page in her book, trying to pretend that everything was ok. She had done everything in her power to support him, including going out of her way to apologize for saying she loved him. He wanted to tell her that he was the one who should apologize.