Broken Resolutions (5 page)

He didn’t think it would prove so simple, though. She wasn’t avoiding Red Tie, despite the guy’s ongoing dickishness toward her. No, her reluctance to talk to or even look at Jack stemmed from more than just his earlier stupidity. Something about that
Jane Eyre
reading had upset her, even as it had aroused his interest.

So ask her what happened, you idiot
, his brain urged.
Pair up with her and force her to talk to you.

“That’s a good point,” he told Cologne Guy. “I
was
glaring at her. It was inexcusably rude. So I think I should take the opportunity to apologize to her while we play a game together.” He gave the sputtering man a friendly clap on the shoulder, heading across the room to Penelope.

She was drawing names out of the hats again, announcing pairings to the expectant crowd. “Brenda . . . and . . .” She reached into the men’s hat. He saw her read the name and frown. Then her brow cleared, and she smiled. “Brenda and Carl. You’re together for this game.”

Jack watched her surreptitiously place the name she’d drawn—Julian, if he wasn’t mistaken—back into the hat as everyone else turned to smile at his beaming mother and her distinguished suitor. He stifled a grin. He’d clearly underestimated Penelope’s level of sneakiness. Or maybe her level of romanticism. Either way, he approved.

She reached for another woman’s name. “It’s me this time,” she said with a small sigh. “I’ll be paired with . . .”

Jack came up right behind her. “Me.”

She jumped, and he put a hand on her shoulder, ostensibly to soothe her fright. Really, though, he was searching for any excuse to touch her. Her skin felt warm and smooth under his fingers, and she smelled delicious. Lemony. And kind of like fries, too.

She edged away from his touch. “I haven’t drawn a man’s name out of the hat yet,” she said. “I don’t know if we’ll be partners or not.”

“You owe me,” he told her. “You didn’t let us read your scene from a book, and you didn’t explain why you chose that particular scene. I didn’t get the full experience.”

“But I . . .” She trailed off, and then began again in a more aggressive tone. “You didn’t want to do it anyway. Don’t lie to me. I’ve watched you look miserable since the moment I walked in tonight.”

She’d been watching him? That was good to hear
. “Do I look miserable now?” he asked her.

Reluctantly, she looked up at him, scanning his face. “No,” she said in surprise. “Actually, you don’t. You look . . . determined.”

“I am. Determined to get the rest of my time with you.”

“Just do it, lady,” Red Tie called out. “The rest of us are getting old waiting for you to draw our names.”

Jack could see her clench her fists before she made a visible effort to relax. He tried to interpret the gesture. Was she angry at Red Tie’s sheer douchiness? Or was she furious that the man had cornered her into being Jack’s partner?

“Fine,” she said in a clipped tone.

Jack barely restrained himself from pumping a fist in triumph.

“Since I’m running the game, I can’t really participate,” she said. “I won’t have much time to talk.” Her face had softened into what looked like a relieved smile.

“I’ll make time.”

Her smile disappeared, and she finished drawing names without another glance his way.

A few minutes later, they gathered in their pairs to look at a list of book titles. “I’m going to hold up a book cover with the title covered up,” Penelope told them. “Each pair to match the cover to the correct title gets a point. The pair with the most points at the end of the game gets a special prize.”

“What is it?” asked Skintight Dress.

“A surprise,” Penelope told her. “Now find your partner. It’s time to start the game.”

Jack sat himself beside her, scooting forward in his chair so his jean-clad knees touched her bare ones. A dart of heat arrowed from that contact straight to his groin, and he stifled a groan.

She leaped up from her seat, murmuring, “I’d better stand so everyone can see the covers better.” Then she announced to the group, “This is book number one. Once you decide on the title, put a one next to it.”

He watched her grab a book and hold it up. Black cover. Red letters. A knife dripping with blood. He scanned the list, and immediately put a firm “1” next to
Midnight Terrors
.

“Second book!” she said.

Pink and gray cover. A blindfold lying on rumpled sheets. His eyebrows raised, and he searched the list. He wrote “2” next to
His Sweet Submissive
.

“Third book!”

Blurry picture of a man from the chest down. Shirtless, sitting. A woman bent over his lap, clad in some sort of short negligee. Handprints on her ass. His breath caught at the image, even as he put a “3” next to
Carnal Corrections
. He looked up at Penelope to see her reaction. She was tormenting her poor lower lip with her teeth, and her cheeks had turned pink again. Not as pink as the cheeks on the cover, but still.

He watched her for a long moment as the other pairs conferred over their lists. “Did you pick these books?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

Her head dipped, and her cheeks reddened even more. “No. Angie did.”

“The blonde librarian here earlier?”

She nodded.

“Do you recognize the covers anyway?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Because you’ve read them?” he asked, his body responding eagerly to the thought.

“No!” she immediately protested, and then paused. Her next words came slowly, reluctantly. “Well, yes. Some of them. But they were on display for a couple of weeks, before the Board made Angie take them down. The covers are familiar.”

The admission that she’d read some of the books had clearly come hard to her. He admired the fact that she hadn’t lied. Even though she easily could have, and he’d never have known.

“The truth is important to you, isn’t it?” he asked.

She turned to him, spearing him with her big brown eyes. “It’s everything. Without honesty, we can’t truly connect to other people. Can’t trust. And without trust, we have nothing but an illusion of intimacy.”

Her words held conviction and pain, as well as a hint of anger. Hearing them, Jack felt a sinking feeling deep in his chest. Before him stood a woman who had clearly been hurt by lies and liars in her past. A woman who valued and displayed sincerity. A woman he wanted with increasing hunger. And he was lying to her about who and what he was.

She didn’t realize he was John Williamson, author of one of her favorite books. If she’d known, he now understood that she’d have said something to him. Discreetly, just as she did everything. Even after just four hours in her company, he knew she wouldn’t alert the press. Wouldn’t spread gossip. She’d respect his privacy, just as she obviously respected her own.

He was sure of it. Sure of her. But his certainty wasn’t enough to risk the well-being of his daughter. What if he was wrong? If reporters found out where he lived, he knew they’d resume hounding everyone in his family. They’d follow his daughter to school. They’d stake out his house again. They’d call Brenda for interviews. How could Casey ever have a normal childhood? What would that sort of scrutiny do to his mom? To him?

But that wasn’t his only concern. It wasn’t even necessarily his biggest concern. Even if he dismissed all of his worries about the privacy of his family, even if he could somehow guarantee that she wouldn’t go to the media about him, he still couldn’t tell Penelope who he really was. Not without driving her away from him.

She thought the man in front of her was Jack Williamson, small-town accountant, and she didn’t even want to talk to
him
. What would happen when she realized he was actually John “Jack” Williamson, bestselling author?

She’d run. He knew it. She was a shy woman who loathed deceit, and she’d want nothing to do with a man in the media spotlight who’d lied to her.

Which meant his mission was clear. He needed to spend the rest of New Year’s Eve by her side. Making certain he could trust her. Building the heat between them. Ensuring that by the time the New Year dawned, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. And then, when the truth came out, maybe she’d choose him despite his dishonesty and his fame. Maybe the strength of their connection would persuade her to overlook what he’d hidden from her.

It was a long shot. But it was the only one he had.

5

B
y the time she reached the last book cover, Penny thought she’d burst into flames from the heat of her embarrassment.

Goddammit, Angie. Sixteen out of the twenty covers? You really needed to choose
eighty percent
of the books from your fucking erotica display?

She flicked a glance at the final cover, which showed the parted legs of a woman in fishnets. She stood tall on black leather heels, a whip trailing between her thighs down to the ground. Hmmm. Looked familiar. Probably something she’d read from Angie’s display.
His Mistress in the Morning
came to mind as a possible title, and a scan of the list of book titles confirmed it.

Quite a few of the partygoers appeared stumped, which didn’t surprise her. This particular title could prove tricky, since it also sounded like a Regency romance. The man sitting by her side seemed confident, though. Jack had placed his completed list on his lap, an area of his body she was trying hard to ignore. He wasn’t eyeing the book she held in her hands. He wasn’t observing the other pairs. He was looking at her. Again. Still.

She didn’t understand why he’d insisted on pairing up with her. She didn’t understand why his expression had shifted from angry resignation to heated determination over the last several hours.

Most of all, she didn’t understand why he was watching
her
so closely. A man like him could have any woman he wanted—and quite a few men, she was sure—just by showing the slightest flicker of interest. Women had attempted to draw his attention all evening. Beautiful women, wearing beautiful clothes on their beautiful bodies. They’d walked in front of him, brushed against him, directed comments at him. As far as Penny could tell, he hadn’t noticed. He certainly hadn’t reacted.

No, he only seemed interested in two things: Brenda and . . . her.

His steady gaze flustered her. It made it hard for her to remember her New Year’s resolution. It made it hard to remember her name.

“Penny!” Brenda called.
Oh, right. That’s it
. “Can you tell us the answers?”

She read down the list of answers, watching each of the pairs put checks next to some names and mark through others. But Jack didn’t even raise his pen once. Was he just not paying attention?

“Let’s find out who the winning pair is,” Penny said. “Who has more than ten right?” A few hands shot up into the air. Jack sat silently, so she guessed he’d had a hard time with the game. No wonder. Accountants probably didn’t get many chances to study erotic book covers.

“Who has more than fifteen right?” Red Tie and his partner still had their hands in the air. She smiled at them. “Looks like you two are the winners. Come on up and get your prize.”

Through their victory yelps and the polite applause of the other pairs, she heard Jack speak. “I got all of them.” His voice was a low rumble, meant only for her.

She turned to him, surprised. “Do you want the prize?”

“No,” he said. “I already have it.”

What in the world does that mean?
As she tried to decipher Jack’s comment, Red Tie and his partner came up for their reward. Penny handed each of them a gift card to a romantic local restaurant. Red Tie attempted to give his partner a hug, and she dodged at the last moment. Penny had a strong feeling those gift cards would be used separately.

“Not exactly a love connection,” Jack commented, so softly that she had to lean in to hear him. He moved so that he was speaking directly into her ear, his warm breath making her shiver. “Then again, no right-thinking woman would saddle herself with Red Tie. Not unless she was dying of thirst and he held the only remaining water in the world. And even then, I’m pretty sure she’d just knee him in the balls, grab the water, and run. She’d make a clean getaway while he whined about how unfair it was.”

She stifled a giggle. “I’ve been calling him Red Tie too. How did you know?”

He shrugged. “It’s the obvious nickname. And shorter than the other one I gave him: Guy Who Doesn’t Recognize a Good Thing When He Sees It.”

“Why that one?” she asked, curious.

“Because he didn’t want to pair up with you.”

Flustered, Penny shifted to face the group. Why was he saying things like that? And why had such a tempting man arrived in her life just as she’d sworn off the entire sex for a year?

“For the rest of the evening’s activities, you can choose your own pairs,” she told the crowd, looking down at Angie’s notes. “First, we’re going to have a scavenger hunt. I have a list of clues up here. The first pair who finds all the items on the list gets a prize. After that, we have a backdrop set up in the children’s section for you to pose like your favorite book covers. We’ve put a few novels and”—she swallowed hard—“props . . . by the camera for inspiration.”

She saw Jack’s leg twitch in his chair.

“The camera is set up with autofocus and a remote control, so when you’re ready, just push the button. No need for someone else to take the picture for you. Just make sure to give other couples a chance if there are people waiting. If you leave your address with us, we’ll send you your pictures on a flash drive.”

Pretend Pirate Clarence looked intrigued. “Do you have any buccaneer-themed—”

At the same time, Red Tie asked, “By props, do you mean handcuffs and blindf—”

“I don’t know,” Penny said, interrupting them both. “I didn’t choose the props. Just go look at them and find out for yourself.” Her tone had become short. She took a deep breath, calming herself. “If you get hungry, we have snacks set out for you. You can take your time for the remaining activities, and I’ll be behind the circulation desk if you need me. A few minutes before midnight, we’ll gather again as a group for the champagne toast.”