Marrying Mister Perfect (31 page)

Her entire body responded to the call to
action in that kiss. He commanded. He consumed. And she was right
there with him. Her hands burrowed into his hair, clinging to his
scalp. Her tongue tangled with his, stroking into his mouth. When
he applied a little suction to the tip of her tongue, drawing it
between his lips, Lou felt the tug straight down to her womb. Heat
pooled between her legs in a sudden rush.

Their jackets hit the floor and he kicked
them aside, backing her farther into the suite with his hands
bracketing her hips. Lou couldn’t stop kissing him. She didn’t care
where he was leading her, everything she needed was right here in
front of her, driving her to distraction with each touch.

They stopped moving and his hands brushed
over her back and her sides, the quick skimming touches so
teasingly erotic it took her a moment to realize he was searching
for the fastenings on her dress.

Lou broke the kiss and pushed back out of his
arms. She bumped into the back of the sofa, her hands falling to
either side to brace herself.

“Lou?” Jack took a step toward her, but she
put her hand up to stop him. He obeyed instantly, though confusion
scrunched his brows.

Lou reached beneath her arm and drew the
hidden zipper down the side of her dress. It wasn’t exactly the
sexiest way to strip, but Jack didn’t seem to mind. His eyes stayed
locked on that zipper like his life depended on it, even as his
hands went to work unbuttoning his own shirt.

When the dress was loosened enough, Lou
shimmied it off over her head, relieved she’d given in to Kelly’s
demands to wear the sexy lingerie when Jack’s eyes went dark and
his fingers froze on the next to last button.

“Let me help you with that,” Lou murmured,
barely recognizing the sultry rasp of her own voice.

Apparently she was the kind of girl who could
do sexy after all.

She drew her nails gently down his chest
until she reached the buttons, slipping each one free slowly,
ensuring her fingers rubbed frequently against the
undershirt-covered abs beneath. She then slid her hands back up
across his chest and over his shoulders, shoving the shirt over
Jack’s shoulders until it fell to puddle on the carpet. He toed off
his shoes, but she kept her heels on. The difference in their
height was too great without them and Lou didn’t want anything to
stop her from kissing him.

She leaned up and pressed her mouth against
the stubbly underside of his jaw. She breathed in the raw,
masculine scent of his skin. No cologne. Just Jack.

His hands found their way back to her body
with the feather light touches, but now the skin of her back and
stomach was bare and she knew he was teasing her on purpose. Two
could play at that game.

She untucked his undershirt and slipped her
hands beneath, tracing her nails across the plane of his abs in a
random pattern. He sucked in a hissing breath whenever her touches
spiraled down toward his zipper, but she made him wait four passes
before she pressed her hand against the ridge straining against the
fabric of his trousers.

Jack groaned and dropped his forehead down to
rest against hers. “If you want to do this in a bed, pick one and
get there fast,” he growled.

A delectable shiver shot down her spine at
the command. She twisted away from him, darting toward the nearest
bedroom door. She kept looking over her shoulder and half-turning
to watch him prowl after her. He yanked his undershirt over his
head and tossed it aside. The sight of Jack shirtless never failed
to make Lou’s knees go wobbly. He looked so damn sexy with his hair
mussed by her hands, his abs so damn tight and his eyes honed in on
her like blue lasers.

Then he started to unfasten his trousers as
he stalked in her wake and Lou remembered to hurry. She stopped
gawking and made a break for the bedroom. She threw open the French
doors, sparing barely a glance for the opulent furnishings of the
room. Jack was right on her heels.

She almost made it to the bed before he
caught her. Jack spun her around and snared her mouth in another
mind-numbing, bone-melting kiss. He pressed against her until the
back of her legs hit the mattress and he fell with her onto the
downy soft comforter, their arms and legs tangled around one
another. Her bra and his boxers seemed to vanish between one
thought and the next—but she wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. The
only words streaming through her brain were
mine, yes,
and
Jack
.

Luckily, she didn’t need more words than
that. Jack knew exactly what she needed.

Never breaking the kiss, he hooked one of her
knees over his hip, opening her to him. A slow stroke up her inner
thigh found her wet and ready beneath the peek-a-boo lace of her
panties. He circled her nub with his thumb, gently flicking it
through the fabric until she arched up off the bed, tearing her
mouth free of his to gasp his name. She quickly shimmied out of her
panties to hurry him along. A girl could only take so much. She
reached down between them to take him in her hand.

Jack cursed and leapt off the bed. In the
sudden chill without him, Lou twisted onto her side. “Jack?”

She heard him swearing in the darkness at the
other end of the room, then a low grunt. “Found it.”

He appeared back at the side of the bed,
rolling a condom into place. Lou didn’t have time to wonder that
safety had completely slipped her mind. Jack was already pulling
her to the edge of the mattress. He guided her to bend her knees,
her legs splayed with a wild disregard for modesty. Lou had a
moment of squirming insecurity until Jack leaned down and licked
into her heat with a firm swipe of his tongue. The shout that
ripped out of her throat at the jolt of pleasure was probably heard
in Marseilles.

Standing at the edge of the bed, with her
spread like an offering atop it, Jack fitted himself to her. Lou
closed her eyes as every particle of her being focused on that one
point of connection between them. With a slow, sensuous thrust, he
slid high inside her, and Lou lost her grip on reality. There was
only Jack, pulsing deeper into her with each rocking thrust, the
friction of their bodies tightening a spring inside her until she
felt like her soul was on the verge of splitting apart at the
seams.

Then she opened her eyes and saw him, the
dark curl falling over one eye, his jaw tight with effort, his eyes
piercing her with their focus and heat.
Jack
.

Her release sprang free, coils of sensation
breaking through her body in waves. He leaned over her to take her
cries into his mouth, giving two more hard thrusts before his own
climax hit and he shuddered against her.

Now that’s what I call Mr.
Perfect
.

#

Jack tugged on jeans but left his shirt
unbuttoned as he crept silently out of the bedroom, leaving Lou
sleeping amid the tangled sheets. Between time zones, jet-lag,
their busy day in Paris and the fact that he hadn’t let her get
much sleep last night, she deserved the chance to sleep in before
her flight back to the States.

He felt a smug smile curling his lips as
picked up the phone and called down for room service. The woman
who’d been a part of his family for years had taken over his heart.
He couldn’t actually say the I-love-yous yet, but he knew Lou
wouldn’t be going anywhere—except moving from the guest room into
the master with him. They could get married right away, just a
quick, private ceremony with a few family and friends. Or, if Lou
wanted, they could do the big white wedding in a few months. The
details didn’t matter.

If life got any better than this, he didn’t
know how.

He was debating sneaking back into the
bedroom to wake Lou up with a kiss—though he’d promised himself
he’d let her sleep—when a sharp knock sounded on the penthouse
door. Jack crossed to the door, expecting the world’s fastest room
service. What he got was a much less pleasant surprise.

“Miranda.”

Talk about a buzz kill.

The producer smiled. “Sorry, Mister Perfect.
Lufthansa waits for no man. You’ve gotta get your ass on a flight
to Switzerland.”

“Do I really need to go through the motions?
We both know I’m not going to pick Katya. Lou isn’t even awake
yet—”

“You still can’t profess your undying love
yet. When she’s standing in front of you at the final ring
ceremony, you can do whatever you want—personally I vote for a big
sappy proposal—but until then, you have to go to Switzerland. You
don’t have to lead Katya on. Since this will all be part of the
final episode you can actually dump her as soon as you arrive if
you want, but you have to do it in person. That’s for your own
good. Public opinion would
kill
you if you get rid of her
via text or some such bullshit.”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean about Lou and
the final ring ceremony?”

Miranda smiled innocently—and he knew he was
in trouble. “Didn’t I mention that? You have to pick a winner and
give her the final ring. It’s in your contract. But I read the fine
print and it doesn’t have to be one of the original Suitorettes.
You’re welcome to use that time to propose to Lou. Unless you want
Lou to watch you pick one of the other girls.”

“Lou won’t want to be a spectacle.”

“Would she rather you proposed to someone
else?”

Jack glared. “Are you descended from
Macchiavelli?”

“Probably. So we’re good?”

He didn’t like it. He’d never been the kind
of guy who thought proposing on the jumbo-tron at a ballgame was
romantic. It was a private decision, it should be a private moment.
But he couldn’t afford to have the show’s lawyers come after him.
TJ and Emma’s college funds would be a fond memory if he broke the
contract.

“Fine.”

“Excellent!” Miranda crowed. “I always liked
you, Jack. Now, let’s get you on a plane.”

The last thing he wanted was to leave Lou now
that he’d finally succeeded in breaking down her walls—even if it
was only for three days until the final ceremony. He didn’t want
her questioning his affection while they were apart. But the next
time he saw her, he could tell her the truth. He could say those
three little words.

In three days it would all be over and
hopefully he’d be engaged to Lou—if she could forgive him for
dragging her into the show—and free to go back to the life he
loved.

Chapter
Thirty

Lou woke in the softest bed on the planet,
which only amplified the feeling that she had died and gone to
heaven in the last twenty-four hours. Angels didn’t have it this
good.

The feeling was only somewhat diminished when
she opened her eyes and realized she was alone. She heard voices in
the main room of the suite. Jack must have slipped out so he
wouldn’t disturb her.

Lou arched in a spine-popping stretch,
reveling in every delicious ache she’d acquired last night. Jack
had been everything she could have wished for in a lover and then
some. She blushed as she remembered his inspired use of her red
silk scarf. Blindfolds really did make every other sense come
alive—not that Jack needed any help awakening her senses.

She rolled out of the bed, bundling herself
in a hotel bathrobe and padding toward the door in search of Jack.
Judging by the clock on the bedside, they had a good hour before
she had to go to the airport and she planned on making good use of
that time.

The door to the main room was cracked open.
Lou realized a second before she pushed it open farther that the
voice in the other room was definitely not Jack’s. It was female
and familiar.

Miranda. So much for a morning quickie.

Lou hesitated behind the mostly closed door,
debating hiding out in the bedroom until Jack came to find her.
Then what Miranda was saying—seemingly to herself—registered.

“Are you kidding? This has been in my back
pocket from the beginning. In three days, the best season of
Marrying Mister Perfect
ever will be in the can and I’ll be
an executive producer.” Miranda seemed downright gleeful, which
never boded well for the rest of humanity. “I am officially a
genius. If I don’t get an Emmy for this, there is no justice in the
world.”

She laughed, the sound high and bright—and in
sharp counterpoint to the heavy feeling congealing in Lou’s
chest.

“Jack is completely on board. I’ve never seen
a Mister Perfect more ass over ears in love. It’ll be sappy in the
extreme, but it’s going to make fantastic television.”

Lou leaned against the door frame. She’d
known he would go back to the show. Of course she’d known. This had
just been their little day of pretend.

He’d never said he loved her. Never made any
promises. He’d only told her that he wanted to give her Paris.
Wanted to give her what she wanted. And she had wanted him.

Miranda continued blithely, not realizing her
every word was digging into Lou’s soul. “Marcy? I know! She’s
perfect, isn’t she? We really struck gold with the romance writer
angle. Viewers are going to love her, but it’ll be hard to top a
real, down-on-one-knee, emotional outpouring, on-camera proposal.
Jack is going to make the housewives cry buckets, darling. And
that’s
before
we bring the kids out.”

Lou backed away from the door, her arms
wrapped around her middle, trying to hold the pieces of herself
together. Jack was going to propose to Marcy. Right. She’d known
that.

Why hadn’t he told her he was going to
propose to Marcy? She’d just slept with another woman’s
almost-fiancé. He’d turned her into the other woman. Another
gullible Suitorette suckered in by Mr. Perfect and a dream
date.

Had he figured out that she had a crush on
him after the Jacuzzi? Had he just slept with her out of, what?
Sympathy? He had managed to give her what she wanted without
impacting the kids. He’d gone with the moment and taken what she
threw at him—she’d known it was pretend, hadn’t she?