That evening before the Boathouse opened for dinner, Jack walked her through every step of making gluten-free pasta with an Italian tomato sauce, plus flourless, sugar-free brownies for dessert.

She was both shocked and pleased when the twins ate like demons. So, it became part of their daily routine—a breezy call with Jack and cooking new delights the kids wolfed down. Double win.

When Cass suggested she visit New York for the weekend because she was sick of Rebecca moping around every time she got off the phone with Jack, Becky shook her head.

“I’m doing so well with them. Chloë has just started talking to me. If I leave now, I risk losing all this progress.”

“Becky, your children aren’t dumb or ignorant. Zach asked me whether you were seeing someone.”

“What?”

“He knows something has changed. When I played dumb, he told me he just wanted to know who was making you so happy.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. You should go to New York. He won’t wait forever. Men like that never do.”

“Well, then. Book me a flight. But whatever you do, don’t tell Mervyn.”

“No can do. Without him playing defense, it will be all over the papers.”

Becky grunted. “Fine.”

After checking her watch, she ran downstairs. It was almost time for her Skype call with Jack.

On reaching the bottom of the stairs, she heard Chloë’s voice.

“Oh, really, new security?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

Becky stopped in her tracks, then regained her composure and rushed to the kitchen.

Chloë was leaning over Becky’s open laptop. “So, what do I call you?”

“Okay, enough, go do your homework,” Becky said, stepping into the kitchen.

“It’s already done.”

“I doubt it, young lady.”

“Your new security is hot, Mom,” she sang.

Becky closed her eyes in frustration, and Jack’s laugh bounced from the laptop.

“Go,” she said, twisting the laptop around to face her. “Sorry about that.” She smiled at Jack.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“I think they suspect something.”

“Kids are not stupid, Becks.” He shrugged. “Any idea when you’re coming to New York—you know, for security purposes?”

“Soon. My assistant is booking a flight right this minute.”

“Finally. My balls are getting blue.”

“Jack!” Becky shrieked.

“I knew it!” Chloë yelled, bounding into the room.

Becky’s eyes widened, and she slammed her laptop shut.

“Did you just hang up on him? Who is he, Mom?”

“Nobody.”

“Oh, that was not nobody. How old is he?”

“None of your business.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Zach practically ran into the kitchen with Cass on his heels.

Becky blushed. “Nothing. Stop interrogating me.”

“Mom’s dating her bodyguard,” Chloë teased.

“Chloë, stop it.”

“Are you guys talking about Jack?” Zach asked.

Becky glared at Cass.

“I didn’t say anything, I swear. I think he’s been speaking to Zach in secret.”

“So what? I wanted to know who he was, so I skyped him.”

“Zach!”

“Mom, don’t worry about it. He’s a cool guy. I like him.”

Chloë rounded on her brother. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“Why would I?”

“Because we share everything, like, since before birth.”

“Chill out, drama queen,” Zach said.

“I want to talk to him.” Chloë opened her mother’s laptop and hit the power button.

“No, you’re not talking to anyone.”

Cass took out her phone and dialed a number.

“What are you doing, Cass?”

“Rebecca, I’m sorry, but if you’re going to be involved with Jack, your children have the right to speak to him.” She held up her finger, shushing Becky. “Hi, Jack. It’s Cass, Rebecca’s assistant.”

Becky glared at her.

Cass laughed. “Yeah, you might be in trouble for talking to Zach behind Rebecca’s back.”

“Sorry, dude,” Zach yelled.

She heard Jack’s laughter.

“Cass, give me the phone.”

Chloë was insistent. “Just Skype him, Mom.”

She glared at her daughter and grabbed the phone out of Cass’ hand. “Stay. All of you.” She closed the door behind her as she walked out of the kitchen.

“Jack, how long have you been talking to my kids behind my back?” Her voice came out harsher than she intended, but she had every right to be angry.

His tone immediately turned apologetic. “I got a Skype message from your account one night and I thought it was you. I’m sorry.”

“Damn it.” She sighed.

“I couldn’t lie to him, Becks. He’s not an idiot. And I should have told you. I know that. But I didn’t want him to get in trouble.”

“I get that, but I just think it’s too early in our relationship. And now, they want to meet you. I can’t exactly deny them, because we’re in a very good place at the moment.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes as he apologized again.

“I guess there’s no choice now,” she said. “I was going to plan a short vacation with them; you might as well join us. That way, they get to meet you somewhere neutral, so it won’t seem like you’re encroaching on their personal space.”

“Aren’t you worried about the press?”

“Not when my kids are with me. My security is top-notch in that regard.”

“Fine. Twist my arm.”

“I’ll see you this weekend and we’ll work out the details. But, Jack, this is a huge step. We barely know each other. I didn’t expect this to happen so fast.”

Jack sighed. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I kind of jumped the gun. But at least you know one of your kids likes me. Now, are we doing another cooking lesson, or what?”

“Not tonight. I’ll make them something they’ve already had. Spoiled assholes.”

“Sure. Speak to you soon?”

“Yeah.”

“You better tell me if they enjoyed whatever terrible meal you’re going to make them.”

“They won’t die.”

“I believe you. We’ll chat later.”

He cut the call in her ear and she stared at her phone. He had a weird habit of never saying goodbye.

She opened the door and three sets of eyes looked at her expectantly.

“Seriously? I get no privacy in my own home.”

“So, when do we get to meet him?”

“Soon,” she said vaguely. “I’m going to New York this weekend to discuss it with him. Now, stop being nosy and go do your homework.”

Chloë rolled her eyes and trudged out of the kitchen.

Zach scraped his chair back and stood up. “Jack is cool, Mom. I really like him. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Watch your language. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He laughed on his way out.

She turned to Cass, who was grinning at her. “So, when am I leaving?”

“Tomorrow night. Thought the extra night might do you some good. Get Jack smeared all over you.”

Becky laughed. “I feel dirty already. I’m going to take a bath.”

“Not cooking their dinner tonight?”

“Nope. That should teach them not to mess with my life.”

“News flash, sweetheart. They are your life.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

---

Rebecca’s name flashed on his computer.

“Silence,” he told Masterson as he answered the call.

It wasn’t Becky. It was her assistant.

“I’m on dinner duty. And Rebecca refuses to cook. You have to help me.”

Laughing he said, “Sure.”

He walked her through each step until the meal was cooked. They moved on to dessert when he heard Chloë’s voice. Her face popped onto the screen.

“So, Jack. It seems you and I need to have a talk. What exactly are your intentions with my mother?”

“Chloë…” Cass reprimanded.

Chloë rolled her eyes. “I have the right to know.”

It seemed Chloë shared her mother’s no-filter mouth.

“It’s fine, Cass. I think I can handle a bit of interrogation,” Jack answered.

“Your balls, dude.” Cassandra shrugged.

Chloë grinned victoriously. “How old are you?”

“Next step, Jack?” Cassandra asked at the same time.

“Whoa, one question at a time.” He quickly explained what Cass needed to do.

“Is he the reason we’ve actually been getting edible food lately?”

Cass nodded.

“Who is this guy?”

Jack heard nothing but admiration in her voice. “I’m awesome, that’s who I am.”

Chloë quirked an eyebrow, clearly not impressed. “I know your name is Jack, and you have a humongous ego.”

“No, actually, I don’t. It’s called joking around. I’ll be thirty-three in a couple months.”

“An eight-year age difference. I guess that’s not so bad.”

“Exactly.”

“You guys must be keeping a lid on it, since it’s not plastered all over the tabloids.”

Masterson held up an empty flour bag. Jack nodded, both to him and to Chloë. As Masterson vanished to resupply, Jack returned to the conversation.

“Yeah. I’m not one for all the flashing cameras and people sticking their noses into my business. I don’t know how your mother does it.”

“Next step?” Cass interrupted.

Jack quickly rattled off some instructions.

“You sure seem to know your way around food,” Chloë muttered

“Yeah, I’m a chef.”

“So you lied to me?”

He laughed, though her glare made it die down fast.

“Have you been lying to my mother, too?”

“Chloë, enough,” Cass warned.

“I don’t lie to your mom. I just panicked when I saw you and not your mom, so I said the first thing that popped into my head.”

“Which was a lie.”

He held up his hands in defense, one clutching a big Santoku knife. “Hey, ease off.”

That made her laugh. “You’re basically making our food every night.”

“No, your mother is.”

“With your help.”

“Yes, with my help.”

Chloë seemed satisfied.

Off screen, Cass called out, “Next step?”

“Last one. Just put it into a glass dish and bake for half an hour. Whip some artificial cream together with a bit of honey and raw cacao, then spread it over the top once it’s cool.”

“Thank you, Jack. All right, Chloë, homework…for real this time. Stop badgering the man. And Jack, thanks for helping, and for signing yourself up for an interrogation. Can we keep this between us? Becky would kill me if she knew.”

“Sure thing, and you’re welcome.” He laughed.

Masterson, having returned with two heavy bags of flour without Jack noticing, asked with a frown, “Who the hell was that?”

“Nobody. Don’t worry about it.”

“Your new woman?”

“Not quite. It was her daughter.”

“You’re dating someone with a kid??”

“Two, she has teenage twins. You actually met her. That asshole Paul’s date?”

Masterson’s eyes widened. “Brave of you. Wait. What? The famous author?”

“Yes, but you better keep your mouth shut, or I’ll fire your ass.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good. I deal with enough crazy people in my life as is.”

“Well, whatever she’s doing to you is working.”

It was. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy.

He put Masterson in charge of the Boathouse for the weekend, not wanting to lose one precious moment with Becky.

He had some serious making up to do for talking to her children behind her back, not having missed the anger in her tone over the phone. Which he completely understood. She hadn’t wanted to bring him into her children’s lives until she was sure they had a future together. Protecting their well-being was of the utmost importance, and it made sense to be cautious about introducing a new man into their lives. But, it wasn’t his fault her kids had called him.

However, there was no denying that he loved every minute he spent getting to know Becky and her family. They were the source of his newfound happiness.

Back at the Hilton, he went to the concierge desk where he was greeted by his fake name—Frank—and given a key for the elevator. He was dumbstruck at how easy it was.

He couldn’t wait to see his angel. He’d missed her so much, ached for her. Luckily, they were about to enjoy an entire weekend together.

Her concern over the fact that what they had was moving along faster than she’d expected was something he took note of. However, for him, he wasn’t the least bit concerned. His mind was made up—she was it for him.

He stepped off the elevator and a rush of memories assaulted him. The suite was quiet; she wasn’t there yet. He put his bag in the bedroom, where he grinned at the bed, just thinking about her naked form sprawled across it.

Settling down on one of the sofas, he waited for what seemed like an eternity for her to arrive.

He must have drifted off, because he woke to a warm body straddling him, and soft kisses being trailed along his jaw.

“Finally,” he rasped, tilting her chin up. With a groan, he ravaged her mouth with his tongue until his sleep-clouded head cleared, then he pulled away. He looked around. The lamp was on and it was dark outside. “What took you so long?”

“Flight was horribly delayed. Sorry.” She kissed him.

“All good. You’re here now.” He crushed his mouth to hers again, his hands roaming over her body. He needed to be inside her. Now.

He groaned as she bucked against him, then shifted her slightly so he could remove her panties.

Desperately, she tugged at his pants, communicating what she wanted without words.

Jack obliged, lifting his ass so she could pull them off his legs, but not before he grabbed a condom from his pocket before she slipped them past his knees. Ripping the foil open with his teeth, he rolled the condom onto his shaft, and then, with a grunt, he was inside her.

She rode him hard, his hips thrusting up to meet her every downward motion. He pounded into her as she slammed down onto him.

Her teeth scraped across his shoulder, moans escaped her mouth.

“Fuck, Jack,” she breathed against his lips.

He pushed her off his lap to position her on all fours on the sofa as he stood to move behind her, and then plowed into her. He grabbed her breast in one hand and gripped her hip in his other, his hard cock slamming into her slick wetness with reckless abandon.

His orgasm shuddered through him. She clenched around him as squirts of semen filled the condom, her own orgasm rippling through her body. He collapsed to his knees on the carpet, pulling her with him off the sofa so she fell on top of him.

“You are going to be the end of me,” she whispered contentedly, dropping her head back onto his chest.

“It will teach you to only visit me once every two weeks.”

“What, every week?”

“That works for me.” He kissed the top of her head. “Did Zach and Chloë come with you?”

“No, they’re at home with Cass,” she said, turning to face him.

“They aren’t waiting for dinner, are they?”

“No, Cass can whip up one of the recipes you’ve given us over the past two weeks. Thank you for that, by the way.” She kissed him on the lips.

“You asked, and I felt sorry for them. Their diet can’t be easy on them.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’ll send them something back.”

“Oh, really?” She smiled. “Like what?”

“It’s for them, not their mother.” He kissed her again. “Balls are still blue, Becks.”

She laughed.

He put his lips to hers again and pinned her to the floor.

“Can we please move to the bed? I’m going to have bruises again. Mervyn will not be happy.”

“You aren’t working this weekend.” His voice came out more serious than he’d intended.

“I’m not planning to, but you never know with my demanding publisher.”

Chuckling, he stated, “The story of our life, surrounded by nutjobs.” He grabbed her waist. “Hold on,” he murmured, fumbling around for his crumpled jeans—his stash of condoms was in one of the pockets—and gripped them in one fist. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lumbered to his feet and carried her to the bedroom.

He lowered her to the bed and settled on top of her, quickly discarding their remaining clothing. He showered her body with kisses.

She moaned as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Fumbling through the pockets of his jeans, he pulled out the strip of foil packages. With quick precision, he rolled one on and entered her again.

Pure pleasure. He couldn’t get enough of her.

He wanted Becky more and more. He hoped the feeling would never fade.

The weekend went by way too fast.

The next morning, Mervyn invaded their room with a team of people to disguise Becky, so they could spend a day outside without being bombarded by her fans.

If he hadn’t witnessed the transformation himself, he wouldn’t have known it was her.

Jack even considered taking her home to meet his family, but he was sure his mother would recognize her.

Instead, he took her out to a café and they chatted the day away. She shared how she’d struggled for so long with her children, but that the past two weeks seemed to have changed so much for them.

Privately, he thought maybe she had been the one who had changed.

When she mentioned how adamant the twins were about meeting Jack, he told her about the cabin his family owned on Lake Tahoe.

It was private, mostly used by his father on solitary getaways when he needed a break. Nobody would know they were even there. He’d ensure that even his family wouldn’t know about the trip.

They decided to set it up for next weekend, because she’d be busy with the production of her latest adaptation for the next three months.

“Three months?” he asked incredulously.

She sucked on her bottom lip and blushed. “I know, I know. An executive producer just supervises creatively from ten thousand feet, maybe signs checks with a lot of zeros, right?”

Though her tone was flippant, the characterization was on point—Film Biz 101. It was highly unusual for an executive producer, particularly the artist who inspired the film, to be on set at all, let alone set up camp on location.

The moment her first film got optioned, Becky did her research and read authors’ horror stories about their books getting slaughtered on the big screen. She’d vowed never to fall victim to that trend.

All the way back to her first adaptation, Becky had insisted on maintaining close oversight and veto power. She’d used a combination of harsh stubbornness and kill-’em-with-kindness charm to worm her way into a position near decision makers.

Her hard-won depth of involvement was only achievable by someone who could wield as much fan power as she possessed—and, of course, only by someone whose agent had the wherewithal to score a book publishing contract that preserved most of her audio and film rights.

She was an accepted aberration in the film industry. Directors, producers, cinematographers, production crews…they all knew she was different and took it in stride.

Of course, none of this was worth going into detail about with Jack, who, she realized, was patiently waiting for her to continue after her comments about executive producers.

“I’m a control freak when it comes to my stories,” she summarized. “I’m special. I set a precedent a long time ago to ensure I could be there if the train derails too far off the tracks for my liking.”

He looked dubious. “You stay away from your children that long?”

“No.” She laughed. “I go home from time to time, or they come visit me. Security is quite heavy, so if you want to visit me in Vancouver, all you need to do is let me know.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m, well…you know who I am.”

“Okay, a smidge at ease now,” he joked.

She smiled.

The rest of the night was spent tangled in each other.

Most of Saturday they lounged in the penthouse, lazing around on the balcony next to the splash pool. Of course, the pool wasn’t out of bounds for…extracurricular activities. He simply couldn’t get enough of her.

“So, I was thinking,” he said that night in bed, just before she drifted away.

“What?” She smiled.

“We should get tested.”

“Tested?” Her eyes flew open.

“To see if we’re clean. I want no barriers between us.”

She stroked his hair. “Okay, I’ll have Cass send you my results once I’m tested. Can we sleep now? I’m worn-out-in-a-fantastic-way tired. Forty, remember? Not twenty-six.”

“Shit, sorry, I forgot,” he teased.

Her body relaxed in his arms as she drifted away like a feather.