But no, Jaz wanted the white picket fence and a bunch of wailing brats. What would happen to her stellar career as a wedding designer then? She would be doing more juggling than a circus act.
And as to finding her soul mate... Did she really believe such a thing existed? There was no such thing as a perfect partner. She was deluding herself with romantic notions of what her life could be like.
Well, he had news for her. It would be just like everyone else’s life—boring and predictable.
Jake called her number but it went straight through to voice mail. He paced about the suite, feeling more and more agitated. The weird thing was he spent hours of his life in hotel rooms, mostly alone. He rarely spent the whole night with anyone. It was less complicated when it came to the ‘morning after the night before’ routine.
But every time he looked at that bed he thought of how it had felt with Jaz, her arms and legs wrapped around him and her hot little mouth clamped to his. He couldn’t stop thinking about the lift either. He probably wouldn’t be able to get into one ever again without thinking of taking Jaz up against that mirrored wall. His blood pounded at the memory of it. He had been close to doing it without a condom. He still didn’t know how he’d got it on in time. He had been as worked up as a teenager on his first ‘sure thing’ date.
What was it about Jaz that made him so intensely attracted to her? It wasn’t like this with his other flings. Once or twice was usually enough before he was ready for more excitement. But with Jaz he was mad with lust. Crazy with it. Buzzing with it. Making love with her eased it for a heartbeat before he was aching for her again. It had to blow out eventually. It had to. He wasn’t putting down tent pegs just because the sex was good. Just as well they’d agreed on an end date. Two weeks was pushing it. He didn’t take that long for holidays because he always got bored. There was no way this was going to continue indefinitely.
No. Freaking. Way.
Jake threw on some clothes and finger-combed his damp hair on his way to the lift. She had to be in the hotel somewhere. He jabbed at the call button. Why the hell was it so slow? Was some other couple holed up in there, doing it? His gut tightened. Surely Jaz wouldn’t pick up someone and...? No. He slammed his foot down on the thought like someone stomping on a noxious spider.
The lift was empty.
So was his stomach as he searched the bar for the glimpse of that gorgeous honey-brown head. He went to the restaurant, and then looked through the foyer, but there was no sign of her anywhere. He hadn’t realised until then what had fuelled his heart-stopping panic. It hit him like a felling blow right in the middle of his chest. He couldn’t draw breath for a moment. His throat closed. He could feel his thudding pulse right down to his fingertips.
He had dismissed her. Rejected her. What if she had been upset and gone downstairs to God knew what? What if some unscrupulous guy had intercepted her? Shoved her into a back room and done the unthinkable?
The stateroom where the displays were set up was closed with a burly security guard posted outside.
The security guard gave Jake the eye as he tried the doorknob. ‘Sorry, buddy,’ the guard said with a smirk. ‘You’ll have to wait till morning to try a dress on.’
Jake wanted to punch him.
He retraced his steps; his growing dread making his skin break out in a clammy sweat until his shirt was sticking to his back like cling-film. Where could she have gone? He couldn’t get the image of her trapped in some room—some locked bathroom—with an opportunist creep mauling her. He would never be able to live with himself if she got hurt under his watch. She was with him. He was supposed to be her partner. Her ‘fiancé’. What sort of fiancé would let her wander off alone to be taken advantage of by some stranger? She was gullible with men. Look at the way she’d got engaged three times. He hadn’t liked one of them. They were nice enough men but not one of them was worthy of her.
Jake strode past the restrooms. Could she be in there? Locked inside one of the cubicles with someone? He did a quick whip round and checked that no one was watching before he pushed open the outer door. ‘Jaz? Are you in there?’ There was no answer so he went in through to where the cubicles were.
A middle-aged woman turned from the basins with her eyes blazing in indignation. ‘This is the ladies’ room!’
‘I—I know,’ Jake said, quickly back-pedalling with the woman following him like an army sergeant. ‘I’m looking for my...er...fiancée.’
The woman blasted him with a look that was as icy as the wind off the North Sea in winter. ‘I’ve met men like you before. Lurking around female toilets to get your sick thrills. I’ve a good mind to call security.’
Jake looked at her in open-mouthed shock, which didn’t seem to help his cause one little bit, because it looked like he’d been sprung doing exactly what the woman accused him of. ‘No, no, no,’ he said, trying to placate her as she took out her phone. If she took a snapshot of him in the female restrooms and it went viral he could forget about his reputation and his career. Both would be totally screwed. ‘My fiancée is this high...’ He put his hand up to demonstrate. ‘Really pretty with light-brown hair and grey-blue eyes and—’
‘Is there a problem?’ The security guard from outside the display room spoke from behind Jake.
Jake rolled his eyes. This was turning into such a freaking farce. And meanwhile Jaz was still missing. He turned to face the guard. ‘I’m looking for my fiancée. She’s not answering her phone. I thought she might be in the ladies’ room.’
The security guard’s mouth curled up on one side. ‘You seem to have a thing for what belongs to the ladies, don’t you, buddy?’
Jake clenched his hands in case he was tempted to use them to knock that sneer off the guard’s face. Time to play the famous card. ‘Look, I’m Jake Ravensdale,’ he said. ‘I’m—’
‘I don’t care if you’re Jack the bloody Ripper,’ the guard said. ‘I want you out of here before I call the cops.’
‘You can check with Reception,’ Jake said. ‘Get them to check the bookings. I’m here with Jasmine Connolly, the bridal designer.’ Dear God, had Jaz put him on the booking information? he thought in panic as the guard took out his intercom device and called the front desk.
The guard spoke to someone at Reception and then put his device back on his belt, his expression now as nice as pie. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Ravensdale,’ he said. ‘Enjoy your stay. Oh, and by the way...’ He put on a big, cheesy grin. ‘Congratulations.’
* * *
Jake went back to the suite with his whole body coiled as tight as a spring. He pushed open the door to see Jaz getting ready for bed. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been?’ he said. ‘I’ve been scouring the hotel from top to bottom for the last hour looking for you.’
‘I went down to check on my dress before the room was locked.’
‘Did you not think to leave a note or a send me a text?’
A spark of defiance shone in her grey-blue gaze as it collided with his. ‘I assumed you were finished with me for the evening. You told me not to wait up.’
Jake smothered a filthy curse under his breath. ‘Do you have any idea of how damned worried I was?’
She looked at him blankly. ‘Why would you be worried?’
He pushed his hand back through his hair. ‘I was worried, that’s all.’
She came over to him to lay a hand on his arm. Her soft fingers warmed his flesh, making every one of his taut muscles unwind and others south of the border tighten. ‘Are you okay?’
Was he okay? No. He felt like he would never be okay again. Ever. His head was pounding with the mother of all headaches. His heart rate felt like someone had given him an overdose of adrenalin. Two overdoses. His legs were shaking. His guts had turned to gravy. ‘I’m fine.’ Even to his own ears he knew he sounded unnecessarily curt.
‘You don’t sound it,’ Jaz said, frowning at him in concern. ‘Are you unwell? Have you caught food poisoning or something? You look so pale an
d sweaty and—’
‘I almost got myself arrested.’
Her eyes rounded. ‘What on earth for?’
‘Long story.’
‘Tell me what happened, Jake,’ she said. ‘I need to know, since we’re here at this expo together, because it could reflect badly on me.’
Should he tell her it all or just a cut-down version? ‘I panicked when you weren’t in the suite. I didn’t know where you’d gone.’
She began to stroke his arm, her eyes as clear, still and lustrous as a mountain tarn as she looked into his. ‘Were you worried I wasn’t coming back?’
His hands came down on her shoulders in a grip that was unapologetically possessive. ‘I was out of my mind with worry,’ he said. ‘I tried to check the display room but the security guard gave me a hard time. And then he found me coming out of the ladies’ toilets—’
Her brow puckered. ‘Why’d you go in there?’
Jake swallowed. ‘I was worried someone might have cornered you in there and...’ He couldn’t even say what he’d thought. It was too sickening to be vocalised.
Her eyes softened. ‘Oh, you big goose,’ she said. ‘I’m a big girl now. I can fend for myself, but thanks anyway.’
He brought her closer so her hips were against his, watching the way her tongue came out to moisten her lips; it made every one of those muscles in his groin go rock-hard. ‘I swear to God I’ve aged a decade in the last hour.’
‘Doesn’t feel like it to me.’
He pressed her even closer. ‘I want you.’
A little light danced like a sprite in her gaze. ‘Again?’
He walked her backwards toward the bed, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, need to need. ‘How much sleep do you need?’ he said as he nibbled at her mouth, their breaths intermingling.
‘Seven hours—five in an emergency—otherwise I get ratty.’
Jake helped her out of her clothes with more haste than finesse. ‘I can handle ratty.’
She gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
He put his mouth on her naked breast, drawing her tight nipple into his mouth. It was music to his ears to hear her breathless moan of pleasure. It made his blood pump all the more frantically. He pushed her gently down on the bed, shoving pillows, petals and clothes out of the way as he came down beside her. He wanted to go slow but his earlier panic did something to his self-control. He needed to be inside her. He needed to be fused with her, to have her writhing and shuddering as he took her to paradise. He needed to quell this feverish madness racing in his blood. Her body gripped him like a fist as he surged into her velvet heat. The ripples of her inner core massaged him inexorably closer to a mind-blowing lift-off. He held on only long enough to make sure she was with him all the way. When she came around him he gave a part-growl, part-groan as he lost himself to physical bliss...
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JAZ WAS TRYING not to show how nervous she was the next morning but Jake must have sensed it because he kept looking at her with a watchful gaze. She picked at the breakfast he had had delivered to their suite but barely any made it to her mouth.
‘At least have a glass of juice,’ he said, pushing a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice towards her.
‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
He took her hand from across the table and gave it an encouraging squeeze. ‘Sweetheart, you’re going to knock them for six down there.’
She bit down on her lip, panic and nerves clawing at her insides like razor blades whirled in a blender. ‘Who am I fooling? I’m just a gardener’s daughter from the wrong side of the tracks. What am I doing here pretending I’m a high street designer?’
‘Imposter syndrome,’ Jake said, leisurely pouring a cup of brewed coffee. ‘That’s what all this fuss is about. You don’t believe in yourself. You think you’ve fluked it, that someone is going to come up behind you and tap you on the shoulder and tell you to get the hell out of here because you’re not up to standard.’
That was exactly what Jaz was thinking. She had been thinking it most of her life. Being abandoned by her mother had always made her feel as if she wasn’t good enough. She tried so hard to be the best she could be so people wouldn’t leave her. But invariably they eventually did. Three times she had got engaged and each time it had ended. Her fiancés had ended it, not her. She was ashamed to admit she might well have married each and every one of them if they hadn’t pulled the plug first. She was so terrified of failing, she over-controlled everything: her work, her relationships, her life. Her business was breaking even...just. But she’d had a lot of help. If it hadn’t been for Jake’s parents, she might never have got to where she was.
How long could she go on doing everything herself? She was constantly juggling. Sometimes she felt like a circus clown on stilts with twenty plates in the air. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a holiday. She took her work everywhere. She had Holly’s dress with her in case there was a spare minute to work on the embroidery. She hadn’t had a chance to draw a single sketch for Miranda. How long could she go on like that? Something had to give. She was going to get an ulcer at this rate. Maybe she already had one.
‘You’re right,’ she said on a sigh. ‘Every time I get myself to a certain place, I make myself sick worrying it’s going to be ripped out from under me.’
‘That’s perfectly understandable given what happened with your mother.’
Jaz lowered her gaze as she smoothed out a tiny crease in the tablecloth. ‘For years I waited for her to come back. I used to watch from the window whenever a car came up the drive. I would get all excited thinking she was coming back, that she had got herself sorted out and was coming back to take me to the new life she’d always promised me. But it never happened. I haven’t heard from her since. I don’t even know if she’s still alive.’
Jake covered her hand with the warm solidness of his. ‘You’ve made your own new life all by yourself. You didn’t need her to come back and screw it up.’
‘Not all by myself,’ Jaz said. ‘I’m not sure where I’d be if it hadn’t been for your parents.’ She waited a beat before adding, ‘Do you think you could have a look over my books some time? I’m happy to pay you.’
‘Sure, but you don’t have to pay me.’
‘I insist,’ Jaz said. ‘Your family has helped me enough. I don’t want to be seen as a charity case.’
Jake lightly buttered some toast and handed it to her. ‘One mouthful. It’ll help to settle your stomach.’
Jaz took the toast and bit, chewed and swallowed but it felt like she was swallowing a cotton ball. ‘Do you have it?’
‘Have what?’
‘Imposter syndrome?’
He smiled crookedly, as if the thought was highly amusing. ‘No.’
‘I suppose it was a silly question,’ she conceded. ‘Mr Confidence in all situations and with all people.’
A shadow passed over his features like a hand moving across a beam of light. ‘There have been times when I’ve doubted myself.’
‘Like when?’
‘At boarding school, especially in my senior year,’ he said, frowning slightly as he stirred his coffee. ‘I played the class clown card so often I lost sight of who I really was. It wasn’t until I left school and went to university that I finally found my feet and became my own person instead of being Julius’s badly behaved twin brother.’
Jaz had always seen Jake as a supremely confident person. He seemed to waltz through life with nary a care of what others thought of him. She was the total opposite. Her desperate desire to fit in had made her compromise herself more times than she cared to admit. Weren’t her three engagements proof of that? She had wanted to be normal. To belong to someone. To be wanted. ‘I guess it must be hard, being an identical twin and all,’ she said. ‘Everyone is always making comparisons between you and Julius.’
There was a small silence.
‘Yeah. We look the same but we’re not the same,�
�� Jake said. ‘Julius is much more grounded and focused than I am.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Jaz said. ‘You seem pretty grounded to me. You know what you want and go for it without letting anyone get in your way.’
He was frowning again as if a thought was wandering around in his head and he wasn’t quite sure where to park it. ‘But I don’t stick at stuff,’ he finally said. ‘Not for the long haul.’
‘But you’re happy living your life that way, aren’t you?’
After another moment of silence he gave her an absent smile. ‘Yeah, it works for me. Now, have a bit more toast. It’d be embarrassing if you were to faint just when it’s your chance to shine.’
* * *
Jaz did a last-minute check with the model for the gown she had prepared for the show. It was the first time any of her work would be worn by a professional model on a catwalk. The advertising she had done in the past had been still shots with models from an agency and a photographer who was a friend of a friend.
But this was different. This was her dream coming to life in front of her. Hundreds, possibly thousands or even millions, would see her design if the images went global. It would be the start of the expansion of her business she had planned since she had left design college.
Why then did she still feel like a fraud?
Because she was a fraud.
A fake.
Not because she didn’t know how to design and sew a beautiful wedding gown. But because she wasn’t in a committed relationship and the ring she was wearing on her finger was going to be handed back in two weeks’ time. She was like the blank-faced models wearing the wedding gowns. They weren’t really brides. They were acting a role.
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