Best Fake Day (17 page)

He did?

“And I’m one of them. I can even get my pom-poms and show you my cheerleading skills if you like?”

“You were never a cheerleader,” he said as he fought a smile.

“Well, no. But I
am
a fast learner,” she said, with a gleam sparkling in her eyes that gave him no doubt her thoughts were just as wicked as the ones he was having picturing her in a cheerleader uniform, or only wearing pom-poms and a smile.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She should be looking at him with hate, or at the very least annoyance. Instead she was looking at him like if he said ‘lift up your dress and take off your knickers’ her reply would be ‘how hard and fast do you want to go’. His answer would be ‘very’.

Walking over to the desk, she reached forward, offering him a tantalizing peek at the lacy edge of her bra. He worked his jaw muscles . She plucked up the phone and held it out to him, exposing her inner arm. Before he went with his instinct to run his tongue over her delicate skin he took it from her, pausing as their fingers brushed, sending that too familiar shot of awareness through his veins.

“You can’t lie.”

“So I’ll give my good-girl side a day off.” She shrugged.

Damn her good-girl side was just as dangerous as her bad-girl side.

“Call him,” she prompted as she rested a hand on her hip and sent a pout his way he was sure was intended to be stern but just looked a whole lot of sexy.

Stubborn little temptress.
If he dragged her onto his lap and unzipped his trousers he could...

With a ragged sigh of forced restraint, he pounded on each button.

A grin curved her lush lips as she listened in on his conversation. Strangely, talking to the person he should hate didn’t seem quite so difficult with Izzy there. He didn’t have that sick churning feeling in his gut. The moment he ended the conversation Izzy was sliding the ivory box onto his desk with a satisfied smile. As he thought to act on his earlier idea to tug her onto his lap, she turned and walked away.

“I’ll see you on Friday,” she called, and then she tossed him a cheeky wink over her shoulder. “Oh, and your photography is great by the way. Something for your private album though I suggest.”

She left him staring at the now empty space she’d occupied. Then he lowered his gaze and blinked at the box in confusion. He rested his hand on the box, hesitating before lifting it open. Nothing could have prepared him for what was inside.

He stared at the photographs with his heart pulsing like the beat of a hummingbird’s wing. His mouth dried, making him swallow the tight knot in his throat.

It wasn’t simply that the images were stunning. It was that they were so natural and free. Sure, he’d seen lots of images of himself during his modeling career—but these? Izzy looked stunning, her face radiant and brimming with laughter. The sun had picked out every highlight in her hair and made them golden. Her lips shone a dusky pink as they raised up to meet his. He flipped over the page. The fountain. How had he forgotten that they were being photographed? The images answered his question.

Izzy twirling with her skirts whirling around her legs as he stood by and laughed. One where he held her in his arms tightly. Ones of Izzy dancing around the fountain with the water cascading like diamonds in the background. But no diamond shone as brightly as Izzy. She was lustrous. And there was the one he remembered most of all—catching her in his arms.

With every blink each image flashed in his mind like the time frame Izzy had created. The look of wonder on her face as petals showered down on them made him absently rub at the invisible ache in his chest.

He gave a soft smile at the cutting-the-cake image. Only their hands were visible as they clutched the silver knife together. Only they would know that if the camera were positioned a little more to the left, they were butt naked at that point, and there was a huge chunk missing out of the cake and remnants of fingermarks in the frosting.

He flipped to the last page, his fingers brushing against some loose photographs. He picked them up slowly. They were the ones he had taken of Izzy. He had tried to delete them but her camera was more complicated than he realized and he couldn’t risk losing the images they already had.

It showed Izzy lying naked on the bed, deep in the throes of exhausted sleep. Spent from their hours of lovemaking...no, sex, he corrected himself with a frown. Izzy had said he was a good photographer, but it wasn’t his photography skills that made it wonderful—it was the subject.

A sheet protected her modesty, resting over her lush bottom as she lay on her front, exposing only the sides of her breasts. Her legs looked long and slender, and her naked back begged to have every dip and rise touched. The disheveled caramel curls of her hair spilled over her shoulders and fell against her creamy cheekbones. But the smile on her face was plain to see.

Jack closed the album and sank back in his chair. It wasn’t that each image was spectacular that had his heart sinking to the region of his feet—it was that each image told the same story. Each image painted a thousand unspoken words, as clear as the bright blue sky pictured above their heads. In every photograph Izzy was looking at him with warmth in her eyes and trust. The look of stark adoration was plain to see. The kicker was—he was looking right back at her in the same way.

So what was he going to do about it?

* * * *

She had him rattled.

It took roughly an hour for Jack to drive them to Hampshire. He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with conversation. He seemed edgier than she had ever seen him and totally distracted, so all the way down she kept chatting even though in his presence it felt like he was in control of her pulse and he’d just switched it to overdrive.

Why was she doing this crazy thing?

In short—because she loved him. The longer explanation was she suspected he had feelings for her too, but he just didn’t know it yet.

Her father’s words had made her consider this but when she’d gone home and flicked through her images her heart had melted. The time frame was spectacular. There was something there worth fighting for. She was sure of it. Those surprise images of her as she slept had sucked the air from her lungs.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires had her surveying her surroundings. She took in the long driveway lined with tall, leafy oaks offering protection with their branches sweeping over to each other like a friend’s embrace.

She held in her sigh. No friendly embraces going on in here.

As they reached the end of the driveway Izzy couldn’t hide her frown of surprise. He’d gone to all of this trouble for...this?

Sure, it was a beautiful house. A country manor surrounded by green fields. Probably with many acres but in the fading light it was difficult to see just how vast the property was.

But Jack here?

She couldn’t imagine it at all. But there must be some reason...

As she turned to probe to finally get some answers she stilled. Jack’s inky dark head was focused on the wide door and he gripped the steering wheel as though he were cast out at sea with the last float.

Yeah, there was definitely a reason. There was more to this house than a grand entrance and a trail of roses.

One thing for sure was that it was expensive. Did he have a heap of money tied into this place? She’d noticed during their trip to Italy he had a keen interest in property, she hoped she was wrong but she wondered now if the value of this deal was tied up in the land.

“Hey.” She placed a hand over one of his, surprised to find it cool to the touch. “You okay?”

He lowered his head to glance at their hands touching as if the contact had dragged him from somewhere Izzy couldn’t reach.

“Yeah, of course.” Turning off the engine, he got out and strode around the car to open the door for her.

Izzy stood, her heels sinking into the gravel as she took her first step. She pitched forward, bumping into a solid wall of muscle. Jack grasped her upper arms, steadying her as her breasts flattened against the softness of his dark sweater.

“Now I’m all better,” he drawled.

Izzy tilted her head, liking the sound of his deep tone laced with a hint of promise, pleased to see the hint of a smile she’d been hoping for. She tilted her head a fraction more, hoping to tempt him into further progress.

Instead he stared at her for a moment just short of her reacting by tasting his lips.

At the sound of the door opening, they broke apart as golden light from the hallway splashed over their bodies.

Damn, so close.

She smiled, the curve of her lips lifting higher than mere politeness. Her plan to remind him of what he was denying himself had halted in its tracks, but she had yet to remove her coat.

She bit her lip to prevent her laughter as Jack took the photograph album and an expensive bottle of wine from the car. She took the bottle out of his hand, leaving Jack with the album. He frowned as he held it, only gripping the corners with his fingertips. Was he afraid it was going to burn him in some way?

Wow, she must be hot after all.

“Are you laughing at me, Izzy?”

“Only a little.” She giggled.

“There could be a punishment for that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Why did I ever think you were sweet?” he grumbled half-heartedly.

“I still am.” She grinned. “But with added spice.”

The hand splaying the base of her spine, turning her bones into hot noodles, reminded her she was stepping out of her depth. To her satisfaction the sharp intake of Jack’s breath told her he was paddling in there too.

He dipped his head to whisper in her ear. “Fortunately, I like things hot,” he said, making Izzy stumble once more. “Careful. You don’t want to be getting yourself into trouble now, do you?”

Her glossed lips suddenly seemed stuck to her teeth as she heard the warning yet deciphered the invitation.

Waiting at the top of the steps of the grand entrance stood an elderly looking couple. Both held welcoming smiles as they walked over to greet them.

The man, who stood maybe only a few inches shorter than Jack, held out his hand for Jack to shake. Both men looked at each other with keen gazes. As she watched their interplay, she was gripped in a warm hug from the petite lady with the salt-and-pepper hair.

“Hello, my dear. Welcome to Daleford Manor.”

Izzy returned a smile. “Hello, I’m Iz—”

“Allow me to introduce you. Ellie,” Jack emphasized. “This is Frank and Sarah Daleford.”

She was gripped in another hug. “Ellie, my dear, congratulations on your wedding.”

“I... Thank you,” she responded, cringing inwardly at the close call.

She scanned the impressive hallway, the intricate detailing on the oak staircase, the beautiful artwork framed upon the walls. She moved over to look at one piece that had caught her eye.

“Do you like art, Ellie?”

Izzy sucked in a breath, hoping that when she spoke, truths wouldn’t leak from her mouth.

“I do,” she answered honestly.
So far, so good.
“I enjoy art and photography in my spare time.”

“Really!” Sarah beamed. “I have an art studio here I must show you later. You really need a tour if you intend to live here.”

Izzy offered a weak smile.

“But I’m surprised you have time, my dear. After all, aren’t you planning a new tour soon?”

Was Ellie?

“I must confess I was a fan of yours when you were a youngster. I saw one of your performances in London when you were just a slip of a girl. You have a beautiful soprano voice. I admit I was somewhat disappointed when you switched from classical to pop music.”

So was Izzy. Ellie’s image took on a drastic change at that time. That was when management and Ellie’s state of mind became her downfall.

Jack cleared his throat behind her. “Let me take your coat.”

Izzy complied, opening the buttons on her long coat as Jack’s hands rested on her shoulders.

Giving a shimmy of her shoulders, the coat slipped away and into Jack’s hands. She knew Jack was rooted to the spot as she walked ahead with a smile curving her lips.

His heavy footfalls told her he’d caught up. The flutter in her belly and his breath at her cheek confirmed it.

“Christ. Is that one of Ellie’s?” he whispered, his voice husky.

“Too much?” She tipped her head back to gaze up at him with wide mock innocent eyes, thrilled she had the ability to affect him. She fluttered her long lashes in his direction.

“Too damn little,” he growled back, the set of his jaw tightening.

Izzy bit back her giggle as she followed the elegant grace of Sarah’s trail. She swayed her hips, feeling Jack’s gaze like a caress over her curves.

It was a perfectly modest dress. From the front. Long-sleeved, black, and the hem falling just below the knee. The column of the dress fit her like a glove, molding to every curve. Its neckline was a slash that rested at her collarbone. The view Jack had from behind was of her bare back as it dipped dangerously below her waist.

It would seem her plan was working.

* * * *

What was she playing at?

Whatever it was, Jack was tempted to join in the game.

The teasing going on under the table was a very welcome distraction from every emotion churning away in his head. He was even enjoying the company of the man he wanted to hate. As it was he was finding his company interesting, and though he was reluctant to admit it, enjoyable too. He had a very sharp mind. Frank was nobody’s fool, of that there was no doubt.

Again, as he drifted away from the here and now, Izzy’s foot slid up the bottom of his trousers lazily, teasing and stroking his calve. Each time he seemed distracted or he called her Ellie she began her sensual punishment.

“Ellie dear, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind singing for us this evening?”

Payback time.

“Of course you would love to, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”

Izzy cast him a withering glance. “But,
darling
, I’ve had a sore throat, remember?”

He hid his wince as she used the skill of her foot to kick him in the shin.