Weathering Jack Storm (Silver Strings G Series) (13 page)

Pictures. Several interviews. Jack’s business acquaintances first impressions. Sharing a room with his lingerina and who knew how many more of his women.

“To us. Tonight. And forever,” Jack toasted. Again, surprised that his carefree mood was so easily back, she tossed the alcohol, letting it burn her throat and numb her nerves.

The car slowed to the barest roll. A look out the window showed traffic stalled for as far as the eye could see. This apparently was normal because Jack began to expand on the coaching Emma had drilled into her skull.

“Have you practiced a smile that you can hold for hours?”

“Sort of,” she admitted and obediently curved her lips.

“Have I ever told you how much I love your smile?”

Sipping at her drink, she stared over the rim sinking in those dark eyes.

“So what you will want is a lesser version of that,” he went on and then nodded when she perfected it. “Remember what that, right there, feels like. Because you will want to hang onto it all night.”

“You will thank me when the pictures hit the internet.” The last part was added with a teasing lift of his brows when she must have seemed rattled at the ‘all night’ part. Actually, she could not believe that she was having this inane conversation with Jack, but oblivious to her musings about why he had come to care about such lunacy, he continued with more.

“Don’t step out of the car grinning right away. It will look fake–or look like I just rocked your world.” Choking on the next sip, she arched her brows in defiance and he defended, “Hey, I’m just making up hypothetical bylines for those pictures that go viral. Trust me, I know them well.”

One of the obnoxious gossip shows that Olivia thrived on came to her mind. It was hosted by a couple of snarky bitches and an offensive nerd guy. During the show, all continually rolled their eyes and guffawed as the celebrity pictures they talked smack about popped up on a screen behind them.

Jack Storm’s date, oh my, look at that smile. What went on in that limo Theo? We will never know Jessica, but by the looks of that face, wouldn’t we have all have traded places with her for that ride over? (guffaws all around)

Hideously shaking off the wild imagination since the smiling face in that vision was not her, she tipped her glass for another fortifying gulp. “Whose world did you supposedly rock?”

“And I knew you were going to ask that.” He poured two more shots, splashing them as the car suddenly moved. “But let’s stay on topic for now. You won’t be sorry tomorrow.”

“Okay. No immediate smiles, then smile the rest of the night. Got it.” She made the sarcastic quip while convincing herself that there was no reason to be terrified of this party.

“I will help you out of the car and lean down to say something to you. When I do, pop off a big smile, like it’s funny then taper down to that one you are going to hold while we make our way inside. Once inside, remember, you never know when the next picture will come.”

“And I need to be smiling for all of them?” With this challenge, she passed him her empty glass.

“Just look at it this way. You don’t want to be rolling your eyes, frowning, or opening your mouth for a bite.”

“I never knew being a rock star was so hard.” Her quip held a hollow ring of jest.

“It isn’t. Being his date is.” Jack’s dark brows raised synchronous with the smug smile. Then he sobered, his eyes gentled, and quietly advised, “You are the one that will be under a microscope tomorrow on every gossip show and internet blog. I don’t care about this stuff, I swear I don’t. I’m immune. And you will get immune after a while, but until then, I never want to see you hurt by it.”

It was then she saw it. Beneath the goofy jokes of this ludicrous conversation, was a pure protective desire to shield her from the ruthless side of his world.

“I won’t be. I’m tougher than you are thinking–if you are thinking I’m going to be a crybaby over something stupid.” It was a little insulting to think that he wondered if she was up to it, and a little worrisome that he was foreseeing something that would hurt her.

“I know Mariss, but I grew up in it, and still— once I smashed a t.v.”

Jack hurling a television because of a gossip show was a story she knew she wanted to hear when the time was right. As for the here and now, she gave a resigned nod. “Okay.”

“I got your back,” he assured and put her glass away when she shook her head at a refill. “And you watch my back.”

“Okay.”

“If I whisper something crazy, then just laugh and go into holding mode.”

“Holding mode,” she parroted. “Got it.”

“Want to practice?”

Obligingly, she leaned over and whispered, “You’re an idiot,” then watched his fake smile. It looked very real, widening into his dimples then slightly falling into ‘holding mode.’

“My turn.” Leaning closer, he brushed at a strand of her hair, put his lips close to her ear, and a split second later, his toothy beam was as big as Tristan’s smile earlier when Dax brought out ice-cream for desert.

She was so heated with embarrassment that she moved enough to allow one of the car’s air conditioning vents to directly hit her skin.

“Oh, some paps will get rich off of that face!” Shortening paparazzi as she had heard them all do today in the session with the publicist, he swooped in for a kiss as he laughed at whatever expression he had provoked with his very X-rated line.

“Swear to me you will not say that,” she huffed. When he couldn’t stop smiling at her expense, she decided to have her own fun. Curving a suggestive smile that was opposite of the holding smile they had practiced, she reiterated the words. “I mean it. Swear to me you will not say that...not until later tonight.”

His eyes dangerously danced as he retorted, “How much later? Later at the party in the bathroom?”

“Shut up!”

The door opened at that precise moment and flashes went off. Neither of them had been watching out the window, or noticed their arrival.

As promised, Jack bent to whisper something as they stepped out, and because of the buzz of the crowd, she didn’t hear. Still, she smiled and held it as they started toward the door. Questions were being called from both sides of the roped off path, and Jack would pause to answer or pause for a pose, guiding her along with his arm curved around her waist.

She was feeling proud of herself as the door was held open and they passed through, but Jack and Emmajesty had been right. The easy part was coming in. The hard part was navigating the room, turning in a dozen different directions. The drinks kept coming, and the smell of food was tantalizing, but the thought of the dreaded picture with her mouth open and hors d’oeuvres between her teeth stopped her from eating.

Jack’s band did a live performance, playing every song on the album in order, and she stood to the side with a plastered smile. As the crowd grew more crazed, she attempted to rock out in imitation of everyone else and with memories of the concerts attended with Olivia. After a couple of more drinks, she no longer had to pretend, and from the stage Jack sent a happy amused smile her way.

Once the show was over, Jack did the requested interviews while she took her post at his side laughing along with him and avidly following the conversation. As promised, her questions only required responses of yes and no.

“How do you like LA.?”

“I love it.”

“Do you like the new album?”

“Most of it.”

“So you don’t like some of it?”

“I do. No, I do...” Appalled at herself, she stammered. This was an unrehearsed question. Probably because it was a no brainer. She was supposed to love Jack’s work, right?

“You don’t sound too sure.”

Emmajesty had warned of this. They wanted colorful interviews. By throwing her off guard, they sought to achieve that and possibly get more of an answer than she meant to give.

Jack’s fingers were laced with hers, and they tightened in a fortifying squeeze.

“Jackal is the only metal music I like enough to listen to.”

As they walked away, Jack pulled her close and whispered, “Good save.” Before she could relax in relief, they were on to the next.

Looking around, she saw that all of the band members were sitting in front of various back props doing this type of thing. Like a game of musical chairs, when finishing one, they would rotate to the next. For a few of them, Jack sat with the entire band, and she happily sat out of these.

Thankfully, once these ended, the press crews began to pack up their things. With a “Let’s party dudes!” from Chris, the real party commenced. The guys and Liz were visibly more relaxed, and even Emma began to drink and fork food into her face.

Realizing she had been too nervous and occupied to think of Tristan, she thumbed a text to Candace who responded that Tristan had fallen asleep on the couch within an hour of their departure.

“It’s safe to eat now.” Grinning, Jack balanced a brimming plate while weaving his way to her. Taking a couple of vacant chairs, they dug in sharing the food with two forks. Chris, Liz, and Reed drifted over with their own food. After gorging, they goofed around.

Empty plates were sent back to the staging area, and after desert Jack pulled her into a dance to what he said was one of his favorite songs. Hearing no instrumental attack to the ears or screaming curse words, she shot a dubious grin but eagerly took his hand.

ENJOYING THE CONTACT
, she moved against him and found herself liking the beat and lyrics of the sensuous song.

“Chris and his wife are going to hitch a ride with us,” Jack yelled over the next song when neither of them broke the dance.

She had not seen a woman with Chris all night, but now a striking woman was in his arms on the dance floor, and when her eyes swung to the couple, they both playfully waved.

When the party wound down, her cheeks strained not from holding mode of smiles but from laughing in genuine mirth. In the car, Jack spoke on the phone giving the driver instructions. Even before the car began to roll, the drinks began to flow.

Jack and Chris were still stoked from the party and what it meant to their careers. Happy to see the tensed muscles in Jack’s face, from the last couple of days, finally relaxed, she sat back sipping her drink and laughed at their crazed antics.

With a last wrestle, that included a headlock, Chris and Jack said their goodbyes by calling each other morons, while she and Chris’ wife waved a traditional goodbye.

Once the other couple was dropped off, many fantasies came to mind for the remainder of this lavish limo ride.

She scooted against Jack and he pulled her head to him stroking his fingers through her hair. When he made no further moves, she did, raising her face enough to nuzzle his neck. If she correctly remembered the distance from Chris’ house, then they were twenty minutes from arriving at Jack’s. Just enough time to–

“Mmm Mariss,” he rumbled, but closed his hand over hers firmly guiding it away from the fly of his jeans. “Want something to drink?”

“Mmh Mmh,” her mumble was into his chest. Through his shirt, she rubbed her lips over firm pecks. Another rumble sounded from deep in his throat, as well as the sexy laugh she loved, but now his hand came up to catch her hair gently pulling her back.

Questioningly, she searched his eyes, and his gaze was unreadable as it ran over her face. Kissing him, she was encouraged by his response and sighed against his lips as she moved to crawl into his lap. “Since the first second I saw this car I’ve been wanting to fu–”

Inertia sent her slightly sideways as the vehicle suddenly slowed, but immediately it picked up speed comfortably settling her back on Jack. Laying her forehead to his, she whispered the dirty words that turned him on.

Only they didn’t. Not this time.

Desire did dilate his pupils, but even as the heat waves shimmered in their dark depths, his grip firmed to halt her hips from grinding to his.

“There will be plenty of other times. I promise. But now, we are almost home.”

“Just tell him to keep driving a few more minutes?”

“I can’t.”

“Wha—oh. Didn’t you bring anything?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t.” He was still playing in her hair, and now he reached over her to the bar.

Behind her, glass chinked as she sagged against him in disappointment. “Isn’t it some kind of epic guy fail not to always carry a raincoat?”

His husky chuckle tickled her insides, and she crossed her legs tighter. “Mariss, I do not have enough pockets as much as we’ve been doing it.”

That was the truth. For the last week, they had snuck quickies in the bathrooms, in her own room against the door just in case Tristan tried to come in, and even the washroom. As Tristan’s bedtime neared, they became increasingly hyper, like kids with no supervision in a candy store. Once their son hit the hay, they hit their—well, they “hit it” as Jack was so fond of saying.

“Besides, you’ve got a lot of pops coming up and plenty of time for them...,” he sweetly strived to appease. “Like mile high...”

Taking a sip of his drink, he passed it to her, and she raised her head enough for a few cooling gulps as she thought of their life together ahead. A whole new world where sex was a done deal, not only in a limo, but also in a jet, as he had just mentioned.