The old man shrugged off his apology, “It’s true, I’m old.”
Daniel was still watching him with narrowed eyes. “Does your sudden desire to go to France have anything to do with this?” He pulled the magazine out from underneath Jack and held it up accusingly.
“I told you, nothing happened.” Jack snatched the magazine out of his hand. “Nothing of significance, anyway.” Unless you found amazingly perfect moments significant. In which case, maybe he’d lied.
“Look, I don’t know how she feels about me right now or about the picture, but I do know that I owe her an apology—” He held up a hand to stop the question that was coming. “I want to make things right. For Ivy’s sake and for Holly’s. I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
Daniel leaned back in his chair, apparently accepting Jack’s explanation.
Ivy came back into the room and handed Jack a sheet of paper. “I don’t know if this will help but here are the names of some hostels where she might be staying. I know she likes this neighborhood.”
“Hostels?” Brunelli spit out the word with distaste. “Holly can’t stay at a place like that, I refuse to allow it. Jack, you will bring her to my pied-a-terre. No friend of mine will stay with…backpackers.” The word backpackers sounded like a curse word coming from Brunelli.
“Sure thing, boss,” Jack said, as Brunelli continued to grumble about filthy backpackers. He looked over the list of hostels. They were all in Montmartre, a well-known tourist destination.
“So Holly has been to Paris before,” Jack said, taking the paper from her. “That’s good.” Ivy gave him a funny look and he added, “At least she won’t be intimidated by the big city.”
That made Ivy laugh. “Trust me, Jack, there’s not much in this world that intimidates Holly.”
* * * *
Maybe it was time to phone a friend.
Holly was slumped over in her stool at the bar in the lobby of a hotel. The fifth hotel she’d been to that day, to be exact. Jet lagged and exhausted from trekking all over the city, she was ready to call it quits.
Maybe tomorrow she’d call her mom and ask her to find out where Benjamin and his IT buddies were hiding out. The thought of explaining herself to her mother was not at all appealing. Maybe she would call around to some other hotels tonight. Her sluggish brain refused to even contemplate next steps without a glass of wine in her hand.
Flagging down the bartender at the other end of the bar, she opted for choice number three—declare temporary defeat and enjoy the best city in the world while she could. After all, once she and Benjamin started a family she couldn’t traipse off across the world on a whim anymore.
Pushing aside a sudden tightness in her chest, Holly reminded herself that having a family would be worth the sacrifice.
She longed for a husband and a family and the white picket fence. She just hadn’t realized it until a year ago—until the miscarriage. It took having a family and losing it to make her see what was important in life.
The father had been another casual fling—one in a long line of infatuations and exciting, passionate romances that ultimately led nowhere. Before she could say “baby” he was out the door and out of her life with no more than a “ciao, babe.”
The miscarriage had hit her hard. Harder than she would have expected. She’d freaked when the strip turned blue but there had been excitement there alongside fear. She hadn’t realized how attached she’d gotten until it was gone.
She’d cried for weeks.
And then she’d booked a flight home. Back to her family, her hometown, and her first love—Benjamin. He was the obvious choice. If she was going to settle down, why not be with her best friend—a man who was stable and reliable and responsible and…basically, everything she was not. He would make an amazing father someday. The now-familiar mental image of Benjamin standing at her side as they gazed in adoration at their little bundle of joy was enough to make her heart squeeze painfully.
Yes, it would all be worth it once she had her family.
The waiter poured her a glass of red and she swirled it for a moment before raising it in salute. “Goodbye adventures, I’ll miss you most of all.”
Surrounded by happy couples and loudly chatting friends, Holly scrounged in her bag for something to read. She was sure her e-reader was hiding somewhere in the depths of her oversized purse—her Mary Poppins bag, as Benjamin liked to call it. Her fingers curled around a magazine and she pulled it out with a sigh.
It was that damn magazine with her stupid picture in it. She’d picked up a copy at the airport, despite her best intentions to ignore it on the stands. She couldn’t help taking one more look. And then another once she was on the plane. And now it was there in her hands and she found her traitorous fingers flipping it open to page thirteen.
It wasn’t because she wanted another glimpse of Jack, she told herself. Of course not. She just wanted to see it one more time with an objective eye; maybe it would help her figure out what to say to Benjamin once he saw it. Holly sighed; she had resigned herself to the fact that it was only a matter of time before he did.
If she found him quickly enough she planned on being the one to tell him so she could make sure he didn’t read anything into it.
Her heart skipped a beat as the pages fell open to the incriminating photo. She took a sip of wine to wet her suddenly dry mouth and forced herself to study the picture—she had to get over this ridiculous infatuation. And that’s what it was. It was just a harmless crush. Or at least it had been harmless when he was just tabloid eye candy and she was just another tabloid junkie.
But then he’d gone and become a real person. He’d come crashing into her sister’s life and then hers. She took another, larger gulp of wine as she studied the picture. She couldn’t believe this was happening again.
Few people knew the real story of how Jack came to know the Sinclair sisters and that’s the way they had to keep it. If anyone discovered the truth…well, no one looked good in the harsh light of the truth.
It had all started with an incriminating photo of Jack and Ivy that made it look like Jack was proposing. Taken totally out of context, of course, as the two had practically been strangers at the time. The photo became a tabloid sensation and everyone got the wrong impression.
Ivy was coerced into playing the part of Jack’s fiancée in order to save a business deal with Brunelli but when Ivy fell in love with Jack’s best friend, Daniel, the fake engagement came to an abrupt end, and Jack was cast as the rejected, heartbroken lover.
Until now.
There beneath the photo on page thirteen, the caption read: “Jack Everett shows he’s the bigger man by coming out to support the union of his ex-fiancée and his business partner at their wedding in Italy last month. Perhaps his ability to forgive and forget is thanks to the beautiful blonde who sources say never left his side.”
Holly drained the rest of her glass.
The wine was delicious and went directly to her head, enveloping her in a lovely warmth from her head down to her toes and taking the harsh edge off of her jangled nerves. She slipped the magazine back into her purse. That was a problem for another day. For tonight, she was going to enjoy herself.
She was in no rush to get back to her hostel, where she was sharing a room with three loud, college-age Polish girls who didn’t speak a word of English. One glass of wine led to two and then a lovely elderly gentleman offered to buy her a round and really, who was she to refuse a sweet old man?
It was in a state of giddy, lovely tipsiness that she sauntered back into her hostel. The ground floor had a bar area that was popular with expats—a sort of backpackers’ United Nations. She’d spent a lot of time at that bar the last time she’d stayed. Her boyfriend-of-the-hour, Lyon, had worked at a nightclub nearby and he’d meet her there for drinks before, during, and after his shift. Holly hesitated for a moment. But no, that was years ago, there was no way Lyon still haunted this bar.
She headed
toward the bar area. Had it always smelled so strongly of smoke? Probably. Ooh, but that pool table was new. A group of young men were standing around it. Almost all looked to be too young for her. They had the straight-out-of-college look going on with their backward-facing baseball caps and faded T-shirts. For a brief moment, Holly had a stab of longing to be back in her early twenties; footloose and carefree. Back then she would take off to a new destination on a whim, never worrying about those pesky grownup things like health insurance or pension plans or declining fertility rates.
Granted, this trip to Paris had been a whim. But that was different. She was on a mission.
She sauntered over to the pack of English speaking young’uns and caught enough of the conversation to know that they were betting on the next game. One of the boys closest to her threw out a number that made her jaw drop.
No college grad had that kind of money unless they were tapping into a trust fund. Unless… She wandered closer to the group to get a better look. Yup. They were techies, the early twentysomethings who could be found in droves in Silicon Valley and who tended to travel together in packs. The famous website logos on their faded T-shirts were far better marketing than business cards. Whoever the poor sucker they were gambling against, he was in over his head.
The poor sucker was currently out of eyesight but a shockingly familiar voice said, “Bring it on, boys. Double or nothing.”
Holly’s saunter turned into a stumble. It sounded like—but no, it couldn’t be. But it really sounded exactly like—
A cheer went up from the group of boys and several of the boys started chanting their new hero’s name. “Jack, Jack, Jack….”
A wave of dizziness struck her as she froze in the middle of the room. Oh. My. God.
Before she could wrap her head around the fact that Jack Everett was here—here at her hole in the wall hostel, home to vagabonds, students, and the dreaded backpackers—the crowd before her parted and there he was, framed between a programmer from Twitter and a digital marketing consultant from Facebook. Or at least, that’s what she assumed they did.
But they didn’t matter. The boys fell away along with the rest of the world at the sight before her. All she could see was the handsome man with a five o’clock shadow and a devilish grin. His navy button-down was wrinkled and his jeans and shoes were faded and worn. He didn’t look like the genius tech tycoon who’d created the trendiest devices of the day.
The last time she’d seen him he was wearing a tux, the very picture of glamour and wealth, but today he looked like an average Joe, someone you’d sit next to at a sports bar or stand in line with at the bank. Except not. He was the guy who would play that guy in a movie. Because he was that guy times a million. He was the living, breathing definition of sexy and handsome and…oh dear God, he was playing with a pool stick.
Her heart beat so quickly it threatened to leap out of her chest. That was it—he was young Tom Cruise in The Color of Money. Not fair, not fair! Young Tom Cruise was her biggest weakness. How did he know that?
Get it together, Sinclair. She took a deep, steadying breath as the synapses in her brain struggled to make sense out of what she was seeing. What was he doing here? This could not be real. How much wine had she ingested? She really should have had dinner. It was a dream, it was just a dream. He bent over to take a shot and…oh Lord, that butt was definitely not a dream.
Her mouth opened of its own accord. “What are you doing here?”
If a record had been playing, it would have scratched to a halt. All the joking and laughter came to an abrupt halt at the sound of her high-pitched outburst.
Jack shot back up to a standing position and after a brief moment of surprise, his face broke into a grin, complete with dimples, and that cute squinty-eyed smile she couldn’t resist. He threw his arms wide in welcome. “I found you!”
She edged closer and the group of men moved aside while giving her curious looks. “What are you doing here?” she asked again.
His arms dropped but he crossed the few feet of space separating them so they didn’t have to shout over the talking that had resumed around them. When he drew close he pulled an awkward leaning move as though he might hug her but then he didn’t. Maybe she had pulled back, she wasn’t certain. Either way, now they were standing there, between a group of American bros and a cranky bartender who was manning the small but packed bar beside the pool table.
She shook her head in a vain attempt to shake off the alcohol haze that was making rational thought impossible. If only she could take a moment to compose herself, to get her senses straight—to sober up a bit, at the very least. But he was here, now, standing right in front of her, mere inches away. And he smelled so good—a deliciously manly scent that had to be cologne or aftershave. No one smelled that good naturally.
He spoke first, distracting her from her mission to discover the source of his scent. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She peered up at him in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? And what are you doing here?”
“I came to find you. Ivy sent me,” he started.
Ice flooded her veins. Her mind instantly leapt to the worst possible scenario.
“Oh my God, Ivy. Is she okay? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
Jack eyes widened in panic and he reached out to her before quickly pulling back. “No! No, no, she’s fine. The baby’s fine. Everybody is fine.”
Holly slapped a hand over her heart, which had catapulted into double time in fear. Adrenaline coursed through her. “Don’t scare me like,” she snapped.
He took a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t meant to—”
“If they’re okay, why are you here?” She caught the bartender eyeing them with curiosity and lowered her voice.
A fresh wave of dizziness swept over her as her mind struggled to make sense of the fact that Jack Everett was in Paris, in her hostel…the man had developed one of the most successful gaming systems on the planet while still in college, she would bet everything she owned that he had never once stayed in a seedy hostel like this one.
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did you find me?”
He glanced side to side while giving her a wary look, like she might cause a scene. Oh no. Was that it? Was he here because of that night? Ivy’s wedding night? She’d figured he’d be angry at the way it ended but she hadn’t thought he would track her down in a foreign city just to confront her.
Their little corner between the bar and pool table was growing more crowded by the minute and she was pushed even closer to him by an elbow in the back.
“Ivy told me you’d probably be staying at a hostel in this neighborhood and this was my second try.” He gave her his patented lopsided grin. “The guy behind the counter had no problem identifying a certain gorgeous blonde I know.”
His tone was breezy and joking. For a split second, warmth radiated through her at the flirtatious way he was talking, but then she remembered that flirtatious was the way he talked with all women, all the time. She was nothing special. Crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her chin, she asked for what felt like the millionth time, “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
At her unpleasant tone, he dropped the flirty demeanor and she caught a glimpse of something—embarrassment maybe? He looked…sheepish.
Oh no. He was here about that night.
“Ivy sent me,” he said again, this time looking a bit unsure of himself as he shifted from one foot to the other. “She was worried about you, being alone in the city and all.”
Holly would have burst out laughing if she wasn’t feeling so guilty about that night. As it was, she smothered a grin. Ivy, worried about her being in Paris alone? Aside from Oakdale, Paris was one of the safest places she’d ever lived and she’d been traveling on her own since she was eighteen. Her sister had ceased worrying about her about a decade ago.
The crowd around them was paying way too much attention to Jack. They both seemed to notice it at once. Jack, after all, was
probably the equivalent of a superhero in the eyes of the tech nerds at the pool table—and just a plain old famous celebrity to everyone else. Holly shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares.
“Look, can we get out of here? I’d like to talk to you alone,” Jack said. He leaned in so only she could hear and she held her breath to keep from losing her senses around that damned cologne.
She let him lead her out of the hostel by the arm as she fumbled in her muddled brain for a good explanation for that night—had anyone ever discovered a polite, believable way to nicely say, “It’s not you, it’s me?” The chilly night air was refreshing and helped to clear her head.
Holly took a couple of deep breaths as she followed him down the street. She needed to come up with a good reason for why she’d kissed him like that, let him touch her like that, made promises like that and then…run away.
Chapter 3
Two doors down from the hostel was a quiet café that suited Jack perfectly. So far Operation Rescue Holly was not going as planned. In fact, it was not going well—at all.
He hadn’t expected her to be overjoyed to see him, not after the way he’d abandoned her like that after the wedding. He knew he owed her an apology but a month had passed, he was hoping she’d at least have cooled down a bit. But the woman who was glaring up at him at the hostel…that woman was red hot.
And sexy.
Nope. He was not going there. He’d made a promise to Ivy and Daniel, and himself, that he would treat this sweet, innocent young woman with the respect she deserved. He was all for fun and games with experienced women who knew how to play the game. But not someone kind and sweet and thoroughly innocent like his Holly.
Holly, just Holly, not his Holly.
He signaled to the waitress and when she came over he ordered a bottle of wine. This conversation would require some assistance of the alcohol variety. Holly had been oddly quiet since they left the hostel and now she leaned back in her seat across from nibbling on her lower lip with a decidedly wary look in her eyes.
The Accidental Boyfriend Page 3