Falling for Jack

by Joanne Hill

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Daniel’s Bride

  “FALLING FOR JACK”

  Smashwords Edition Copyright Joanne Hill 2013

  Cover design by Joanne Hill

  Cover photo from Dreamstime

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the author, except for review or promotional purposes. This is a work of fiction and liberties may have been taken with some details.

  “Falling for Jack” (previous title “Colliding Worlds”) was Readers’ Choice winner in the RWNZ Clendon Award.

  "There are three things that amaze me—

  no, four things that I don’t understand:

  how an eagle glides through the sky,

  how a snake slithers on a rock,

  how a ship navigates the ocean,

  how a man loves a woman."

  Proverbs 30:18-19 NLT

  CHAPTER ONE

  Robyn recognized Jack Fletcher the second he asked if she had a light.

  She glanced at the cigarette in his hand, then back up to his face. His broodingly handsome face. She was pretty sure the last time she'd seen him he’d worn black jeans and a leather jacket and he’d been purring through town on his motorbike, raising hell.

  Now he was dressed head-to-toe in a designer suit and the only thing being raised was money for tonight's charity auction.

  “I don’t have a lighter,” she told him. With any luck he'd have no idea who she was, and he’d turn around and head back into the ballroom. “Or matches,” she added, in case he was thinking of asking. “I don’t smoke.”

  Bemused, he broke the cigarette in two in a way that made it almost ceremonial. “Then I owe you.”

  Robyn gestured to the entrance just along the tiled path. “There's a rubbish bin over there.”

  She watched as he went and dropped the cigarette in the bin, and she wondered what on earth he was doing out here. The entrées had only just been served, and she doubted he'd had time to eat his.

  She took another sip from the paper cup and waited for him to head back inside to the ballroom. Instead, he turned around and walked slowly back towards her.

  “I don’t smoke.” He leant against the railing, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “At least, I don’t smoke any more.” Even in the dim glow from the light above the terrace she saw his face darken as he flipped through messages and paused at one in particular. His eyes flashed — was it anger? — and he swiftly pocketed his phone. “That cigarette was from a colleague.”

  “It's none of my business,” she told him.

  He folded his arms and even though he looked down at her, she had the feeling he was a million miles away. “It's proof that old habits die hard when things...” He rubbed his hand across his forehead in long, slow movements, and let out a deep breath.

  When things what?

  She waited a moment but he didn’t elaborate. Not that it was anything to do with her. She checked her watch and with a jolt saw the time. She scrunched the empty cup in her hand. “You'll have to excuse me; I need to go back to work.”

  “Sure. I won't hold you up.” His eyes swept over her black and white uniform, from her lace up black shoes to her brown hair tied in a ponytail. Then straight into her eyes. Intensely. Something flickered there.

  “Do I know you?” he asked slowly.

  No, they didn't know each other.

  His eyes narrowed a fraction. “You look so familiar. Have we met before?”

  She racked her brain for an answer that wasn’t a lie. “I know it’s not from this place,” he said, “because I rarely go to these things.”

  She checked her watch again even though she knew the time. It would take a minute to get up the stairs and through the corridor to the other end.

  She beamed a smile at him. “I don’t mean to be rude but I really need-”

  “Of course.” He snapped his fingers once, then again. “You’re the principal’s daughter.” He shook his head in disbelief but a smile curled his mouth, taking his face from broodingly bad-boy handsome to a face babies would smile at and women old enough to know better would go weak over. “Your father was the principal at Kopane High. It is you, isn’t it?” He stared at her and she eyed up the nearest exit.

  “Robyn,” he finally murmured. “Robyn Taylor.”

  A flush of heat worked its way up her neck, along with shock that he knew who she was. Jack Fletcher knew who mousey, head-in-a-book Robyn Taylor was? She dredged up the smile she used when she was being polite. Hopefully in the dim light he wouldn’t notice she was in the throes of a full-on attack of good old fashioned embarrassment. “Hi, Jack,” she said.

  “Robyn Taylor,” he murmured again, saying it as if it were exotic and amazing. There was a time she’d practiced saying her name, too, though it generally had ‘doctor’ attached to it. Dr Taylor. Dr Robyn Taylor. Robyn Taylor, MD.

  “I’m surprised you even know my name,” she told him truthfully.

  His mouth widened. “I remember you all right. You were the principal's daughter, one of the smartest kids at the school. You and your sister. Was it you who won the scholarship to med school?” His gaze wandered over her waitress uniform again, in time with the heat now rising even further over her face. “Or was that Kelly?”

  She managed a tight smile. “Nope. That was me.” If she didn’t get out of here soon she’d need medical attention to deal to the scorching of her skin. Embarrassment? Try humiliation. “I need to get back inside.”

  “Wait.” He reached out, his hand firm on her bare arm, his fingers warm.

  She looked back, into his eyes, not sure what to expect. She and Jack Fletcher had never been acquaintances, let alone friends. They ran at opposite ends of the social spectrum and his last year at high school had been her first. Although from what she'd heard, he’d rarely stepped foot inside a classroom anyway.

  “What time do you get off?”

  “I have to go.” She beckoned inside. “I need to help clear entrées and my break is over.”

  He dropped her arm. “Of course.”

  The imprint of his fingers was still warm on her arm. So was the hum of attraction zipping through her body, but then, there was a lot about Jack Fletcher to be attracted to. His building business had made him a very wealthy man and the media had lapped him up. The public loved a 'small town boy made good' story, especially when you added in six foot three of lean, muscular male that wouldn't look out of place on the cover of Esquire.

  She paused a moment. “It is weird bumping into you.” In the years she’d lived in Auckland, she’d never crossed paths with anyone from Kopane, let alone Jack Fletcher, and she doubted it would ever happen again anytime soon. “I’ve followed your career in the papers, your success with your company. It’s been...Amazing.” Amazing pretty much summed it up. Jack Fletcher had been destined for a life as a career criminal, but instead he’d gained a reputation as one of Auckland's most successful businessmen with the rumored fortune to match.

  “Amazing, huh? That's a polite way of putting it. Not ‘shocking’ or 'unbelievable'.” He said i
t without any trace of sarcasm as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his dark, tailored trousers. “But then, when I look back, I’m as surprised as anyone I didn’t end up where most of my old crowd did. It goes to show someone must've been looking out for me.” For a long moment he looked at her, intrigue written across the near black of his eyes. Then he gave a nod before he walked back inside. He didn’t turn back.

  Robyn let out a long, long breath and when all that remained was the faint trace of his expensive scent, she turned towards the staff entrance.

  There'd been intrigue on his face, yes, but there'd been something else. An unsettled look that said he wished he didn’t have to go back inside but could just stay here beneath a cloudy sky with a waitress he barely knew. Which was crazy. Jack Fletcher had it all. Even a relationship with one of the most beautiful women in the city.

  All Robyn would do was remind him of the life he’d once had.

  And he probably needed that as much as he needed the jail cell the entire town had bet he was destined for.

  The night would be drawing to a close soon, and for Jack it couldn’t come soon enough. Alongside him, the wife of the President of the Chamber of Commerce placed her perfectly manicured hand on his arm. He glanced down. Her nails were long, deep red. Her hands overly tanned. She pressed hard. “Do you think,” she slurred, “a woman should wear long hair when she’s over forty, Jack?” She reached for a bottle of chardonnay, and flicked her blonde hair back over her shoulder.

  “Marilyn, it’s not something I’ve ever given any thought to.” Out of the corner of his eye a figure walked by, and with a jolt, he saw it was Robyn. She was still here. Smart, determined, med-school bound Robyn. Clearing wine flutes and empty chardonnay bottles. It made no sense at all. He sat back in his chair, tapped his fingers on the table, and scrutinized her.

  She was what he'd always thought of as ‘nice’. Right now she wore the uniform of black trousers and a white button up shirt and black bow tie. She was nice looking, but in an understated way. From memory, she’d never been one of the into-their-looks girls, the kind who made no pretence they wanted a bit of bad boy on the side. He’d figured Robyn was the type to run a mile if you offered to take her up on it anyway. He'd barely ever spoken to her but everyone knew who the Taylor girls were. Kopane was a small town, and with a third of its population reliant on welfare benefits, girls like Robyn and Kelly —girls with dreams and ambition — had stood out.

  Marilyn said, “Where’s your girlfriend tonight, Jack?”

  Charlotte. He reached for the wine. “She couldn't make it.”

  “How did it go for her in Hollywood?”

  He hesitated. “It didn’t.” He took a long gulp, barely refraining from throwing the whole lot down his throat in disgust.

  “Is she going to stay with modeling?”

  His gaze was drawn to Robyn as she cleared a table. What had happened to her plans of becoming a doctor? He set his glass down. “I’m not sure what Charlotte has planned.” He filled a tumbler with iced water and watched Robyn move closer, pausing to speak to a guest. “Her career plans are up in the air.”

  “She should stick to modeling with a body like that.”

  “Modeling isn’t forever.” He knew that because Charlotte had told him. Over and over and over. Her looks would only last so long, and then where would she be? Her need for approval, her insecurities, had begun to drive a wedge between them when he’d grown tired of giving her what she demanded.

  He frowned. Was that what had driven her to...

  Robyn stopped a few tables over to clear wine bottles, and he pushed himself up from his seat, grateful for an excuse to end this conversation. “Marilyn, please excuse me a moment. There’s someone I need to catch up with.”

  He moved away from the table. Robyn had several bottles upright on her tray, added one more, turned and began to walk in his direction.

  She looked up and saw him, froze, faltered. A bottle wobbled and she quickly steadied it with her free hand. Jack stopped to let a drunken CEO stagger between them, then moved closer. “I wasn't sure you'd still be here,” he said.

  She took another empty bottle from the table, placed it on the tray. Her eyes didn't meet his. “I've got a few more hours to go yet.”

  He glanced at his watch. It had gone ten. His gaze skimmed her left hand; there was no sign of a wedding ring.

  Impulsively he said, “Why don’t you join me when you knock off tonight? We’ll have a drink. For old time’s sake.”

  There was a flash across her face as if she was thinking “what old times?” and, to be fair, it would have been accurate.

  “Thanks, but... I need to get home as soon as I finish up here.” She half turned. For a moment she hesitated. “Jack, it was nice seeing you.”

  “Robyn, wait.” He didn’t want her to go. For whatever reason, he wanted to talk to her. See what was happening in her life. Take his mind off the drama his own was becoming. Maybe because talking with someone from his old home town would remind him that there were a lot worse things in life than Charlotte’s bombshell.

  “Why don't I drop you home when you finish. Unless you've brought your car?”

  “No. I had a lift from a colleague.” She took another empty bottle from the table. “Jack.” She concentrated intently on it for a moment. “I’m not sure why it is you’ve come over to see me. We barely knew each other, it was a long time ago and I honestly had no idea you even knew who I was.”

  “Of course I know who you were.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, and found himself grinning. Something he hadn't felt much like doing all evening. “It looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

  She glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “I have to go.”

  He followed her gaze and realized, of course, it would be chaos behind the scenes with a function this size. “I understand. But the offer still stands, even if it's just a lift home. I've got my car and I've had only one glass of wine so I'm safe to drive.”

  She acknowledged his offer with a brief smile. “Thanks, Jack. I’ll think about it.” She turned, the tray loaded with glasses and bottles, balanced on one palm.

  He didn't move as he watched her retreat, willed her to look around, to at least give him a clue she might take him up on his offer, but she didn’t. Seconds later she disappeared from sight.

  For a moment, loneliness punched him in the gut.

  Loneliness. That was insane. He ran his own company, he was rich beyond anything he could ever have dreamt of. He was a success story. And right now he was as lonely as he'd ever been in his life.

  The noise of the function, the glamor, the music of the jazz band, the guests enjoying themselves on expensive wine, dimmed around him until it became just white noise and he unwillingly thought of his family. His three brothers, his sister. His mother.

  And his father.

  The last time he'd seen him, Ron Fletcher had told his youngest son he was still the worthless piece of crap he’d been as a kid.

  There were times, if he allowed it, that Jack wondered if maybe his father had been right after all.

  Robyn got off work an hour early, but the colleague who had given her a lift was still working.

  It gave her a few options. She could either wait for a bus to the city and catch a connecting fare. Or she could sit in her colleague's car and wait for her. Or she could find Jack Fletcher, and see if his offer still stood.

  You've got nothing to lose and he did ask, she reminded herself, as she discreetly made her way to his table. Nerves jumped in her chest as she approached him.

  He was leaning back in his chair, conversation going on around him; but even as she watched, he checked his wrist watch, then his phone, and drummed his fingers on the table. He glanced up as she stopped just short of his chair.

  He observed the coat in her hand and the bag over her shoulder, gave her a quick nod before he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and excused himself from the table.


  “Are you still sure this is okay?” They walked through the foyer but her mind was back on his table. She recognized some of the people he’d been with; they were all high-powered and rich and why he would want to spend time with her instead of them had her perplexed.

  “I’m positive.” He gestured to the eastern side of the car park and as they walked she told him, “The thing is, I live over the other side of the bridge, near Lynfield. It’s a little out of your way.”

  He laughed. “It’s a lot out of my way but it’s not a problem. You could live at the end of the freeway and the offer would still stand. And in a way, you know, you’re doing me a favor. I made a mistake coming here tonight.”

  He pulled keys out of his jacket pocket and aimed the remote at a gleaming European car. “Except for running into you. You saved me.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  She’d saved him?

  She frowned at what he’d said, and inside the cab, she fastened her seatbelt and asked, “And what was I saving you from?”

  He pulled out of the car park and when they were on the main road, heading towards the motorway, he said, “Business talk. A lot of folk see these things as a way to catch up and network.” His face was inscrutable but he said the word with a shudder, which made sense now she thought of it. A lot about Jack suggested he was a loner. There had never been any one girl he’d been linked to at Kopane; no gang of mates he’d hung around with that she could remember. Even now, there were only a few names that cropped up in association with him, including his mysteriously absent girlfriend, Charlotte.

  She glanced sideways at him; he was focused on driving, staring through the windshield as he increased speed to join the northern motorway heading towards Auckland city. His black hair easily grazed the collar of his jacket, one hand now rested on his thigh. She stared at his hand splayed out across the fabric of his pants, fabric that was pulled tight across lean, muscular thighs. She wrenched her gaze away and stared out the window. It was so easy to picture him when he'd been just out of his teens. His black hair had flowed past his shoulders; a leather jacket covered his broad shoulders. He'd been the tallest of his brothers, and had stood out for his athletic build as much as his looks. Girls were in awe of him and she suspected most of the boys were just plain jealous, which probably explained why the rumors had never let up. Even so, the fact he'd been thrown in detention at school on a regular basis and was rumored to have fathered several children by the age of twenty was overlooked when he rumbled through town on his bike.