Best Fake Day

by Rogers, Tracey

  “You were ill, Izzy. The doctor said that it was lucky that you vomited. Because you only ingested a small amount he said you would be fine.”

  “Did the doctor undress me?” she asked hopefully.

  Jack shook his head.

  “Oh,” she said after a long pause. “I’m sorry you had to do that for me,” she almost whispered. More than sorry she was mortified.

  “I will always look out for you. But don’t ever put yourself in that situation again just to prove a point.”

  “If you had talked to me when I wanted, then I wouldn’t have had to,” she retorted, hoping that bravado would quell the tears threatening to fall. Her hands were trembling as she clutched the sheet more tightly, trying to drag it toward her chin. “And maybe if you would have warned me I wouldn’t have taken a drink from him at all. Let alone a drugged one!”

  Fire flashed in his eyes. “I got there as soon as I could. I was about to snatch that drink from your hands when you put it down. I wanted to smash his head into the table, but when you walked away I knew I had to wait for the police to convict his ass.”

  “And they can, can’t they?” She shuddered at the thought of him doing it to someone else.

  “Yes. We have footage of his actions and your drink is being tested so the results can be used as evidence.”

  “So some good came out of this.”

  “Are you for real? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?”

  “Of course I do!”

  “Then you know it was by no means worth the risk of that stupid stunt you pulled tonight!”

  “I needed to talk to you,” she said weakly. She had been stupid. She’d put herself into a situation that could have gotten them both hurt. But was it wrong that even though the flash of anger in his eyes made her regret her actions, the fact he’d protected her, and cared for her, made her …hopeful?

  “It could have waited.”

  “Could it? Maybe for you, but I know I wouldn’t be able to sleep with all of those zeros looming over my head. And then there’s your fake wedding plan. It was too much hanging over me with no way out.”

  “There is a way out. Go through with the fake wedding and it will all be over.”

  Fake it. How could anything be fake with Jack? “But why should I, Jack? Why should I have to suffer the consequences for Ellie’s actions? I shouldn’t have to do these things for her anymore.” But she always would.

  “Then don’t do it for her—do it for me.”

  After everything that had happened the night before, and the connotations of what could have happened, it was the plea in his voice that shredded her insides. Tears pooled, just reaching that brim, the threat of a breached dam wall only nature could control. Her body was telling her to let go, to seek comfort in her release, but she couldn’t let Jack see her cry.

  She wanted to flee, to run from his disappointment and whatever pain he carried inside. She knew if she didn’t she would be climbing on his lap, straddling the strength of his thighs, trying to find her release from him, and doing her utmost to make him feel better. Loved like he’d never been.

  But where were her clothes?

  Izzy tugged the sheet. She needed to move now, before she broke into huge wracking sobs. But tugging was getting her nowhere. The weight of Jack’s body pinned the sheet into place. There was no option of using it to protect her nakedness now. Not that it mattered anyway, because he still saw her as that quirky child, so what would he care about her lack of clothes? If it came to a choice between breasts or tears, she was sure her tears would affect him more.

  She considered the shortest route. Sucking in a breath, Izzy spun her legs to the side in one swift move and stood, naked except for her lacy black knickers. Too slow. Instead of running, she froze. She didn’t have to see him to know he was looking at her, she could feel it. Turning her head to look at him sent her heart racing. Jack’s gaze touched over every curve as hot and scorching as if he was touching her with his hand. That gaze blazed with...something. Some emotion that she couldn’t quite discern, or understand.

  “Bathroom,” she mumbled as she turned on the ball of her foot and walked as casually as she possibly could while resisting the urge to flee.

  * * * *

  Jack flopped back onto the bed, lips pressed into a tight line. One arm rested over the bare skin of his abs where his t-shirt had risen and the other arm was placed over his eyes. He didn’t want any image to replace the one he’d surely just imagined. Because he hadn’t really just seen Izzy stand in front of him with that glorious creamy skin unadorned except for a tiny scrap of black lace, had he? His heart was pounding in his chest as he replayed that image. And he knew it was wrong. Very wrong. He had promised David, her father, that he wouldn’t take advantage of his girls. That he would look out for them. After everything David and Beth had done for him over the years, it was the least he could do. They’d come to an understanding that he was at risk of breaking.

  But when she’d stood with eyes shimmering with tears and a tremble of her lips it made him ache. From his chest and much lower as his greedy eyes coasted over her profile. That proud tilt to her chin. Then to the sweet fullness of her breasts enhanced by the peaks of her rosy pink nipples, which he ached to taste. Her waist was narrow, her hips flared, leading the eye to the length of those long, slender legs. My God, he wanted to taste her tears away.

  The path of her body wasn’t a road he could travel. She was vulnerable right now. He sensed her waves of shock as he filled in the memories that bastard had forced away. If he hadn’t got to her in time... Jack unclenched the fist that was so tightly formed his arms ached. If he touched her now she would break. She deserved her happily ever after and he wasn’t it. If he was going to get her to agree to help him, he needed her to accept him as a friend again.

  The ache in his groin was asking for a different kind of friendship. But this was Izzy. He’d seen her naked last night, bathed in the glow of muted lighting. All thoughts were of her well-being and tending to her needs as he fought the rage of those ‘what ifs’, but still his gaze had lingered.

  For what seemed like forever he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the spray of the shower, imagining her beneath those jets of water, wondering if she was soaping every luscious inch of her body or shedding those tears. Just as he thought of going in there and trying to soothe her, the shower turned off. He tensed, waiting for her appearance; the only sound now was the increasing tattoo of his pulse pounding at his temples.

  At the sound of the door opening, he sat up, with arms braced at his sides. She stepped out, surrounded by a puff of steam. Wrapped in a large towel she clutched against her, she took small steps forward, her eyes trained on the ground. She stopped in front of him and tilted that chin once more. With her saturated hair plastered to her face her expressive brown eyes seemed larger, more vulnerable, as if indecision swam in them. His jaw tightened as he saw the tell-tale red tinge beneath them. He pressed his fingers into the duvet before he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Did you stay awake all night to watch over me?” she asked in a voice that threatened to crack.

  Jack could only nod.

  She echoed his nod as if confirming something for herself. “This deal. It really is important to you?”

  Without breathing, he nodded once more.

  “Then I’ll do it.”

  * * * *

  Only days later, Izzy was once more standing in Jack’s apartment, now wearing a scowl of distaste as she looked down at the monstrosity he was insisting she wore. Yes, she did want to help him, but to wear that? Ugh. It was hideous and proof positive that her sister had no intention of ever marrying Jack.

  Jack, however, looked heart-breakingly handsome and very much the perfect groom. His navy suit fitted every muscle and hard line like he’d been born with it, adding to his masculinity and presence. He looked too ‘real’. Grooms were her profession and Jack was making a mockery of them. The only thing he
lacked was a look of adoration. And there was no way of faking that. Instead he was carrying a look of repressed irritation.

  “You look fine, Izzy.”

  “Fine? No bride wants to look fine on her wedding day. I look awful and this dress is too small.”

  “We don’t have time to get anything else. Ellie spent days shopping and lots of money buying that dress.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. Foolish man.

  “Really? Where did she buy it, Whores-R-Us?”

  “Admittedly, it isn’t what I expected. I should have looked in the bag, I guess, but I trusted Ellie’s taste.”

  “This is not Ellie’s taste. She would never wear anything like this.”

  Jack shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t suppose she’s bought many wedding outfits before.”

  “It’s candy pink, Jack! Do you really think my sister would choose a candy pink satin wedding dress? Short and booby, yes. But not this,” she said through gritted teeth. “This was my sister grabbing the first thing on the rack and giving your plan the finger.”

  She was miserable. Not only was she squeezed inside a dress that her body was trying to squeeze back out of, but the way her hair had been highlighted to look like Ellie’s seemed to have sucked her identity away. Her hair was bright, too bright for her pale complexion. Ellie’s skin always carried a soft glow to it. Kissed by the sun on her numerous travels. Her hair suited her. Everything suited her. It was why the media loved her and why she had so many adoring fans. Izzy was just a pale imitation in many ways.

  As she watched Jack flick a glance at the watch at his wrist she knew there was to be no more lingering and avoidance. It was important that they did this as early as possible whilst the streets were relatively quiet. Still sulking, she slipped on the large coat he held out to her. They needed to be as discreet as possible. Jack had arranged for Rafe, his man mountain, to drive them to the nearest registry office. In the car he would have a bouquet for her and a button hole for Jack. Rafe would be taking their photographs as ‘proof’ of their quickie private marriage ceremony.

  She forced herself to move as they made their way to the car in silence. Even when he held the door open for her his gaze was averted from hers. It was a good thing. Any attempt at communication and her resolve would shatter. He climbed in beside her when she finally managed to bend to sit. His thigh brushed hers and their gazes met and locked. She welcomed the heat, the strength radiating from him. As he cleared his throat and dragged his eyes away she discreetly inched her leg away from his touch. To add more distance, she shuffled further back in her seat. Her eyes widened as she heard a distinct rip. Tentatively, she peered beneath the coat. Looking down at her hip she saw the offending tear. She was literally busting out of her dress.

  With her heart sinking into her toes, she turned to face Jack, wondering if he too had heard the sound. Yeah, he had. His eyes were now focused on her hip. She expected him to be looking at her freedom fighting flesh with distaste. Instead, with just an arch of his brow, his lips curved into a slow smile and laughter rumbled deep within his chest.

  “This is so not funny,” she admonished as her smile attempted to contradict her.

  He turned to look out of the window. “No, it’s not,” he said solemnly as his reflection in the glass grinned back at her.

  Izzy caught her bottom lip with her teeth. Smiling seemed so inappropriate on this dreaded day, but for the first time since their re-acquaintance, he seemed like her Jack. The re-emergence of the teasing devil-may-care persona that infuriated yet tantalized her.

  Her smile disappeared as the car came to a stop just around the corner from the registry office Izzy knew only too well. All those happy genuine images she’d shot for clients who wanted her to capture their dreams, their hopes. And hers were blowing away in the breeze like the scatterings of yesterday’s confetti.

  Rafe and Jack stood out on the pavement waiting. She scowled at the camera in Rafe’s hand, her professional pride wanting to question his abilities. Surely Daleford would be wily enough to see past this scam? Two supposed celebrities getting married, with her dressed like a marshmallow with its middle squeezed, and amateur images taken with a point- and-press?

  Shuffling her way out of the car, she stood on her ivory patent heels and surveyed the tear. It was worse than she feared. Were the fates conspiring against them?

  Jack handed her the small bouquet of ivory roses. They, at least, were beautiful. She lifted them to her nose and took in their scent, wanting to ground herself with reality.

  “Will they disguise the tear?”

  A tropical rainforest would have difficulty disguising that.

  “I can’t hold a bouquet of flowers at my hip, Jack.” She paused. “You will have to stand close to me.”

  He simply nodded his assent. Scanning the area, he peered around the corner. “Coast looks clear. Let’s do it.”

  He reached to take her free hand. Izzy almost jerked her arm back as a spark of something not unpleasant surged through her veins. Jack seemed completely nonplussed as he steered her around the corner to stand at the bottom steps of the elegant footage.

  Jack stood at her side, arranging himself so her exposed hip was covered by his body. He drew an arm around her waist and pulled her in close until their warmth merged and the delicious male scent of him far surpassed the scent of her flowers.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered as he dipped his head toward her face and held her tight.

  “Getting into character. We need to pretend we belong to each other.”

  If he hadn’t mentioned the word pretend she would have been weak at the knees by now. As it was she was beginning to resent the lies more and more.

  “Yeah, but unfortunately your friend is in the completely wrong position to make us look like we even know each other. From the position of the sun the only image will be of me. You will be a splodge of shadow.”

  His sigh was unmistakable. He called Rafe over. “So, Izzy, where do you suggest he stand?”

  “Over there,” she said grudgingly, pointing in front of her, slightly off center. “So you don’t get the sign behind us in shot and shadow from the pillar over our faces.”

  “I don’t think what’s in the picture will be the problem. More like what’s not in it.”

  “Guests?”

  “No. Your smile.”

  How could she smile when her heart was breaking.

  Just as they waited for Rafe to push his finger on the button, movement caught her eye. Izzy squealed as a familiar figure headed their way. She clutched the lapels of Jack’s jacket and buried her head in his chest. Can this day get any worse?

  “Izzy?” came Jack’s confused voice.

  “Hide me,” she pleaded.

  Jack did as commanded, enveloping her in his arms, curving his warm, yet very solid, upper body around her.

  “Care to tell me why?” he asked in a low voice.

  Izzy peered up from her shelter of muscle and heat. “The lady heading this way is a friend of mine. She works here!”

  How could she explain this away? Melanie knew how much of a romantic she was. They’d oohed and aahed together on many occasions, even sharing a tear on those heart-tugging moments. She heard the rapid click of heels as Melanie neared. Jack, obviously feeling the tension in her body, hugged her tightly, disguising her further yet revealing her reaction to him as her breathing quickened and her breasts held a distinct ache as satin brushed against cotton.

  His husky voice startled her. “She’s gone now.”

  Izzy nodded, releasing her hold to push herself away. She smoothed down her dress and resumed their position. Her mind switched off for the duration, refusing to cooperate, all she could think about was how wrong this all was.

  “Izzy.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Rafe is asking what other poses we need. Any suggestions? Do you have a plan you work to?”

  “I, er...usually, I take group photographs.”

  He rai
sed his brow.

  “Then family shots.”

  He just stared this time.

  “Bridesmaids and best man shots, throw of confetti...the kiss...” Her voice faded out.

  “The kiss. Is that necessary?”

  Her glare was unrestrained. “The kiss is the shot. That moment when the deal is sealed. The whole reason for the day. So yes, it’s necessary.” And maybe, she thought selfishly, this would be her reward for sacrificing her feelings for this day.

  “The kiss it is then,” he replied calmly, although his almost imperceptible flinch betrayed him.

  She moved on weak legs, her pulse racing as they both stood in position to face each other. In her periphery she was vaguely aware of Rafe moving in for the close-up, but as she locked eyes with Jack all she could think of was him. Her lips parted at the sight of his expression. His gaze held a fierce intensity, a hint of danger and a temptation that made her feminine longing coil with delight.

  She swallowed at the dryness of her throat as he reached out to rest a hand at her sensitive nape, his fingers sliding into the twist of her pinned hair. His touch forced her to contain the shiver igniting down her spine. At her waist, his free hand slid around and tugged her until she pressed against him head to toe. She tilted her chin, parting her lips further in blatant invitation. He dipped his head, his pulse visibly jumping at his throat.

  Do it! Her mind and body begged. Jack’s bow-shaped lips were a whisper away as he moved to take all she offered. She arched her body into his and at the instant she discovered his erection his eyes snapped shut and he jerked away.

  Lips now parted with only the weight of sadness, she retreated from his hold. He couldn’t do it. After everything she was willing to do for him he couldn’t gift her with his kiss. With trembling hands and an ache in her chest she dropped the flowers at his feet and fled.

  Chapter 5

  With a booted foot Jack tested his weight on the bottom rung of the wooden ladder. It was solid, just as it appeared to be, which was unfortunate because he knew he deserved to fall on his arse but from a much greater height. He gripped the rope and made his way up to the tree house, each rise increasing his trepidation and feeling of guilt.