When Holly stepped out of the town car at Cantrell International, she was assaulted by a barrage of flashing bulbs. A swarm of reporters and photographers called out to her as Rick pushed them away to make a path. Confused, Holly gripped the back of his suit jacket and held on until the building’s security came outside to order the horde from the front doors.
As soon as she was safely inside, Holly straightened her plum wrap dress and smoothed her hair into place, trying to blink away the white spots that danced in her line of vision. “What was that all about?” she asked Rick as he walked her past the usual security at the front desk and to the elevator. “Is there a celebrity here or something?” She glanced around, hoping to catch sight of Cher or Britney Spears.
“I’m not sure. Perhaps Mr. Cantrell will have a better idea. I’ll stay here and wait for Ms. Ursula.”
“Thank you,” Holly muttered as the doors closed behind her. She checked her red lipstick in the mirrored walls and tried to steady her erratic breathing. The excitement of the crowd outside was palpable and she longed to find out who the celebrity was. Hopefully, Jackson was important enough to get her a meet and greet. Holly knew her mother would be shocked if she found out she’d met a real, live celebrity.
“Holly.” Jackson was standing outside the elevator doors on his floor, obviously waiting for her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine, just confused,” she replied, following him into the office. The receptionist gave her a tight, slightly angry look as she passed. Holly thought someone had a case of the sour grapes. “Do you know what those photographers wanted?”
“To see the future Mrs. Cantrell,” he answered dryly.
He felt her knees go weak and her heart hammer against her breast. “Me? But we’re not actually engaged,” Holly hissed once they were behind the closed doors of his office.
“Apparently, we’ve done such a fine job of pretending at dinner last night that someone noticed and the press has gotten hold of the story.”
“But why do they care?”
“Because I’ve been in magazines about being a bachelor and all that nonsense. To society and the tabloids, you’re the secretive woman who’s locked down the richest bachelor in New York City. You’ve managed the impossible.”
Holly slumped down in one of the seats. “Are they going to follow me everywhere now?”
Jackson shrugged. “No idea. Most likely, if they know your name, they’ll end up staking out your apartment to get some candid shots. It wouldn’t be a big deal if you lived somewhere with a doorman, but your place in China Town doesn’t offer that kind of security.”
“My apartment? Oh, this is terrible.” Holly remembered how difficult it was to find her apartment in the first place. She couldn’t imagine how she’d find a new one on her budget. Even with the raise she got from Jackson, she wouldn’t have enough in her account for first and last month’s rent as well as a deposit. And she wasn’t sure what would come of leaving her lease early! She felt her stomach begin to churn.
“I know. It’s completely uncalled for. I’ll make a few calls and try to get the press to leave you alone. Until then, perhaps it would be best if you stayed with me.”
Holly’s eyes widened. She couldn’t imagine that such close quarters would be good for their professional relationship. Things were slowly drifting into Pretty Woman territory whenever they were close and she could imagine crossing the line with Jackson if they lived together. “Stay with you? Like, at your apartment?”
He sat down in the chair beside hers, their knees almost touching. “The security there will keep the majority of those vultures away.” He glanced in her direction and Holly could see by the pinched look on his face that things weren’t going as he’d planned. “Of course, I have several guest rooms, so you would have total privacy. I don’t want to make this any more uncomfortable for you than it already is. I really feel badly about it.”
Holly reached down and placed a hand on his leg, trying to ignore the way her fingers burned. “Don’t. It’s not like you knew this would happen.”
“No, but I should have been prepared for it. I know how the press is sometimes.” He ran a hand through his thick hair. “We’ll go now and move out some of your things before they find out where you live.”
“But what about lunch with Ursula?”
“I’ll call her in the car. She’ll understand.”
“Rick’s downstairs waiting for her. How will we get to my place? I doubt we could get on the subway with all those photographers hounding us.”
He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. “No worries, I have a car. The garage opens up to a side street, so hopefully the reporters will still be out front.”
***
Holly felt vaguely embarrassed as she unlocked the door to her apartment. Although she had brightened up the place with some artfully selected throw pillows and framed artwork, it was still a cramped apartment with peeling paint. Jackson, however, did not seem to notice and merely asked where her suitcases were kept.
“What should I bring? How long am I staying?” Her mind whirled as she led him to her bedroom, thankful that the bed was made, at least.
“I’m not sure, to be honest. At least until I can figure out how to keep the paparazzi away from you.”
Holly unzipped a suitcase on her bed and began filling it with shoes and pairs of jeans. “The clothes you bought me are basically all in garment bags in the closet if you could get those for me. And I’m sorry for the mess. I didn’t get a chance to tidy up.”
“Mess?” Jackson furrowed his brow and looked around the room.
“My apartment,” she elaborated, her face red. Surely the poverty simply wafted off the cheap, China Town apartment.
He shrugged and took off his suit jacket and tie. Holly looked away as he began to roll up his sleeves. It felt almost impure to see him in any state of undress, no matter how casual. Seeing him act in a way that wasn’t his usual coiffed business persona flustered her, reminding her that he was still a man under all the designer suits—and a handsome man, at that.
“Mine would be worse if I didn’t pay someone to pick up after me. Besides, I like your place. It has a very homey feel that most apartments don’t have.”
Holly smiled, trying to guess if he was joking or being serious. “You really think so?”
“Most definitely.” He shot her a lopsided grin.
She tore her eyes away from him and went back to packing. “Are you sure me staying with you won’t be an imposition?”
“You’re the one doing me a favor by staying with me and pretending to be my fiancée. I’m the one messing up your life.”
“Hardly. This is much more interesting than sitting at a desk and filing bank notes.” She zipped up her suitcase, struggling to close it around all her clothes. “Nothing like this would ever happen in Michigan.” Holly longed to call her mom and sister to tell them about all the ridiculous adventures she was having. She could imagine how they would brag to all the other islanders about the interesting life she led in New York City. But that would have to wait until Holly figured out what was going on. If the press found out they were faking their romance, her mom would be pretty pissed. She wouldn’t want her oldest daughter lying.
“Did you hear that?” Jackson asked suddenly, looking toward the door. “I could have sworn I heard a knock. It better not be one of those reporters.”
“Should we just pretend we’re not here?”
Jackson squared his jaw and went through the living room. “No, I’ll take care of them.” He swung the door open. “What is it about ‘no comment’ don’t you people understand? She’s a private woman and deserves respect!”
“I-I’m sorry, I just wanted…” It was a female voice, and she sounded startled.
Holly thought she recognized it. “Amber? Is that you?”
Amber peeked her head around Jackson and smiled. “Hi, Holly.”
Jackson frowned and looked back at Holly. “You know her?”
“Yes, she’s my neighbor. You can let her in.”
Amber came into the small living room, her gaze glued on Jackson. “I just wanted to see what all the commotion was about. I keep getting weird calls from people asking to talk to you.”
“I’m really sorry about that.” Holly pulled her heavy suitcase toward the door and plopped it next to the chipping frame. “Those are just reporters. Keep telling them they have the wrong number and maybe they’ll go away.”
Her gaze shot toward Holly. “Reporters? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No. It’s my fault,” Jackson cut in. “Holly’s now involved in my personal life and the press wants to know more about her.”
“I guess it’s because of campaign season, right?” Amber asked, looking around the room. “Holly, are you moving out?”
“Not exactly,” she answered, piling some garment bags on top on her suitcase. She couldn’t think of what to tell her.
Luckily, Jackson had an explanation for everything. “Holly and I had been talking about moving in together for a while, but all the reporters and the media are moving our timeline a bit.”
“Wow, it’s pretty crazy the reporters are basically pushing you out of your own home.” Amber shook her head.
“Very much so,” Jackson agreed. “And even though I’m willingly in the public eye, I want to spare Holly the stress. I would consider it a personal favor if you wouldn’t mind ignoring the press for now, or answering any questions.” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to Amber. “This is my personal number. If anything happens, or the reporters won’t leave, give me a call and I’ll send someone over right away.”
“I wouldn’t say anything,” Amber promised, going toward the door. “I’ll let you get back to packing. Holly, call me soon, okay? Let me know how you’re doing.”
Holly nodded, zipping up the bag of toiletries she had brought from her tiny bathroom. “Yeah, I’ll call you when things settle down a bit.”
“All finished packing?” Jackson asked as Amber went into her apartment.
“Yeah, I think I have everything I need for now,” she replied, looking around regretfully at her little home. Holly had worked long and hard to save up for the deposit and now, not even two weeks into living there, she was leaving.
“Good, let’s get to my place.”
***
“Here we are,” Jackson said, opening up the front door and letting Holly inside. A bellboy followed, pushing a cart full of her garment bags and suitcases. The entryway was huge with high ceilings trimmed with elaborate crown molding and traditional wood furniture that looked as if it belonged in a museum. “Let me show you to your room so you can get settled in.”
“Okay,” Holly breathed, looking around her as they walked. Jackson watched her expression of awe out of the corner of his eye.
“Expecting something different?” he asked.
“Honestly? Yes. I thought it would be your basic bachelor pad with pizza boxes everywhere and a home theater.”
“No, I had a decorator come in and ensure it was pizza-box-free. I do have a great home theater system, though.” Jackson stopped at a door at the end of a long hallway and slowly opened it. “You can have this bedroom. It’s only two doors from mine in case you need anything, at any time.”
Holly gazed about the room and smiled, running a hand over the luscious bedspread. “This is lovely, thank you.”
“It’s the least I could do,” he assured her, standing aside as a doorman came through carrying Holly’s things. “Maybe it’s better for you to stay here for the rest of our arrangement, anyway. I should have thought of it sooner.”
“Because of the media?”
“And my mother. She would probably wonder why a couple in this day and age isn’t living together. So, maybe this is for the best while she’s visiting.”
“I guess so.”
“Do you need anything else?” He lingered in the doorway, subconsciously trying to think of a reason to stay. As he saw her standing in front of the bed, his mind created images of her bent over the brocade.
“No, I’m all right for now. I think I’ll just unpack.”
“Okay, make yourself at home. I’ll have Mrs. Klein make something for dinner.”
“Mrs. Klein?”
“The cook and housekeeper. She keeps this place fit for human life. If I was on my own, they’d condemn this place in a week.”
Jackson closed Holly’s bedroom door behind him and went off to find Mrs. Klein. The woman knew all the ins and outs of his life. And now he had to explain how she hadn’t been informed about this new woman in his life.
***
After Jackson was gone and her clothes were put away in the walk-in closet, Holly felt her stomach growl. With all of the excitement of the day, she hadn’t had any time to eat. She slipped out of her dress and pulled on a pair of leggings and a chunky Irish sweater before taking off her makeup. She liked dressing up and playing the role of fancy socialite, but sometimes it was nicer to be her old self again.
She quietly opened her bedroom door and looked up and down the long hallway. The apartment was quiet, but she could smell something delicious. Holly padded down the corridor, following the scents, and came to the kitchen. It was an extremely modern room with stainless steel appliances where a portly woman flitted about pulling pans from the oven and stirring pots.
“Excuse me,” Holly said.
The cook turned on her heel and looked at Holly in surprise. “Oh, bless you! You must be Miss McIntyre, the lady of the house!”
Holly giggled at the thought of being considered the lady of the house. “And you must be Mrs. Klein. Please call me Holly.”
Mrs. Klein crossed the kitchen and threw her arms around Holly’s waist. “When Mr. Cantrell told me his fiancée was moving in, I could barely believe it! The boy is finally going to have a little love nest!” She stepped back and looked Holly up and down, her chocolate eyes sparkling. “And such a pretty young thing you are.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Mrs. Klein let go of Holly and turned back to the stove after patting her gray bun back into place. “I hope you’re hungry. As soon as Mr. Cantrell told me you were doing some moving, I knew you would work up a healthy appetite.”
“Starving. Everything smells delicious.”
“Oh, a girl who eats! Bless your heart. All those little chickies who are too afraid to have a good meal! There’s more to food than just salads and fruits.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I have everything all set, dear. The food will be served in a few moments if you’d like to go tell Mr. Cantrell.”
“Is he still here? I thought he might have gone back to work.”
“He should be in his office. It’s the third door down the hall.”
Holly backed out of the room and looked at the row of doors down the long hallway. She counted three doors down and gently knocked. “Jackson, are you in there?” There was no response. She tapped again before opening it, wondering if she had been knocking on the door of a linen closet. She was greeted by Jackson’s muscular, shirtless body.
He was doing pushups and wearing a pair of headphones blasting music, so he hadn’t heard her. It was his home gym she’d walked into, not his office. Holly stood there, staring, watching his naked arms push his taut body up. His tanned back flexed as he exercised, his skin gleaming with fresh sweat. She bit her lip, unsure of what to do and unable to take her eyes away from him. He was hard in all the right places and she thought it was a damn shame he always hid such an amazing physique under suits and ties. But if he was always half-naked in the privacy of his own home, she thought she might enjoy living with him after all.
Jackson glanced up momentarily and caught her staring at him. “Oh, hello.” He stopped his workout and smiled up at her, pulling off his headphones.
“Um, hi,” she whispered, her face burning. Even with him looking right at her, she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the strong indent of his spine and broad shoulder blades. “I knocked.”
“Sorry, I always do a little bit of exercise at some point during the day.” He stood up, giving Holly a good look at his chest and abs, both as attractive as the backside.
“It’s okay,” she answered, her eyes fixed on his sculpted torso.
“Is everything all right?”
“Mrs. Klein said it was time to eat.”
“Great.” He grabbed a shirt off his bed and followed her into the hallway.
As he pulled it over his head, she couldn’t help but think it was a pity for him to cover up. She was looking forward to a show with her dinner. But she couldn’t complain too much about it. He looked so casual in a pair of athletic shorts. It was such a stark contrast to the usual business attire she always saw him in and she rather liked the change. “Sorry about bursting in like that. I thought that was your office.”
“My office is a few doors over,” he explained, pulling on his t-shirt. “It’s the room between our bedrooms.”
“Mr. Cantrell!” Mrs. Klein had set the table in the dining room and had several covered dishes spread on the long mahogany table. “I’ve made a bit of a feast for you two love birds.” She shuffled them both into seats on either side of the table. “Where have you been hiding Miss Holly all this time?”
“Michigan,” he answered, lifting the covers off the food to reveal roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, salad, corn, cranberry sauce, rolls, and green beans. “This looks great, Mrs. Klein, thank you.”
“Of course! Anything for the cute couple!” She flew back into the kitchen.
“She’s very nice,” Holly noted, taking a spoonful of mashed potatoes and plopping it onto her gold trimmed plate. Her mouth watered as she piled her plate high with a bit of everything.
“She seems to like you.” Jackson groaned as he took a bite of his chicken. “I’m telling you, if she was thirty years younger, single, and could still cook like this, I’d have to hire her as my fake fiancée and you’d be out of a job.”
Holly giggled and took a bite of corn. “It is delicious, so I couldn’t even be mad.”
“I like that sound.”
“What sound?”
“Your laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever really heard it before.”
Her cheeks warmed. She wasn’t used to being complimented, but hearing it come from Jackson made it almost harder to take in. “I laugh all the time. I’m just usually more reserved when I’m at work or with your mother.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s my job, isn’t it? To be the perfect society woman?”
“You’re still allowed to laugh in society.”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
He frowned. “Well I think you should be less reserved. I mean, right now I see a different side of you.”
“What do you mean?”
He took a swig of the red wine Mrs. Klein had left for them. “Before our proposal began, you dressed sensibly and couldn’t even look me in the eye. Once you became my fiancée-for-hire, you became a society woman. Today, for example, you looked like a 5th Avenue goddess—perfect hair, makeup, shoes, dress. And you seemed to have the confidence to match. You looked great before, don’t get me wrong, but right now I’m just seeing a different side of you.”
“The lazy side?” she asked with amusement, pointing toward her bulky sweater. “You’re one to talk.” She pointed at his t-shirt.
“No, the real side. You looked amazing today when you came to my office, but I think I like this you more. No makeup and laughing at everything,” he explained. “I’m around depressed people all day long. My job is to basically buy out companies and make people miserable. I would hate to think that I’m making you uncomfortable, as well, when you’ve done so much to help me in my time of need.”
“I guess I feel weird relaxing around you,” Holly confessed, looking down at her food. “To me, you’re still my boss.”
“True. But, please don’t feel the need to be prim and proper around me at all times, especially here at the apartment. I want you to be comfortable since I’ve taken you out of your home.”
“Don’t feel bad. It’s not much of a home, anyway.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but she rather missed her little hole away from the world. Although, she did think she could get used to the hotel-like accommodations. Especially if Jackson always forwent his intimidating suits at home.
“And why is that?”
“It’s just so empty. I don’t really like feeling like I’m alone, and being in a quiet apartment by myself is just a reminder of how few people I know here. Back in Michigan, I was always down in my parents’ restaurant or home with my loud-mouthed little sister.” Holly drifted off, suddenly missing her family. She felt her throat grow tight and took a sip of wine to try to loosen it up.
Jackson nodded. “I understand.”
“How? You’re surrounded by people all day and you’ve lived here your whole life.”
“True. But even in a crowded room you can feel alone when you’re among strangers and people who only want your money.”
She peered at him from under her lashes. His candid honesty appealed to her. This icy god had a soul after all. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”
“Do you really feel alone here, Holly?”
She paused for just a moment. “Very. I only know you and your mother, now, Amber, and a few people who work for you.”
He seemed surprised by her answer. “Do you think that’s why you wanted a dog?”
“I suppose that’s part of it. Companionship, love, a pet to take for walks through Central Park, all that fun stuff.”
“Why? It’s not like Central Park is all that great,” Jackson mumbled, his mouth full of mashed potatoes.
“Oh, that’s attractive,” Holly teased. “I’ve always wondered what my boss would look like talking with masticated potato in his mouth.”
“I live to make your dreams come true,” he answered smartly.
Their gazes met for a moment and Holly’s stomach flipped. The casual conversation they shared really put her at ease. She took her gaze away and asked, “Is Central Park really not what it looks like on TV and in movies?”
He furrowed his brow, his mouth set in a firm line. “You’ve never been?”
“No, I keep meaning to go, but haven’t found the time yet.”
“Well then, are you up for a little adventure?”
***
Ten minutes later, they were riding the elevator downstairs to go see Central Park. As soon as Jackson suggested it, Holly ran to her room and pulled on riding-style boots and a pair of big sunglasses. Her excitement was palpable and as soon as she tore from the dining room, Jackson changed into a pair of well-worn jeans and a casual button-down with the sleeves rolled up.
Jackson thought it was the perfect time for a walk outside in the dusky light. Fall was just beginning, so the air was slightly crisp and the leaves were just beginning to turn shades of yellow and gold. The sidewalk was empty of the dreaded paparazzi and no one gave them a second glance as they strolled toward the iron gates and tree-lined paths.
“Where else haven’t you been?” Jackson asked. He always forgot that while New York City was his home, to others it was a tourist destination.
“Everywhere. This is the first time I’ve been so far away from home.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re telling me you’ve never left Michigan?”
“Well, I’ve been to Ohio and Canada, but never anywhere else. My family never really had the time or the money to do vacations.”
“If you could go somewhere, where would it be?” He wondered what kind of vacation spot Holly would pick. The ancient cities of Greece? Or would she want to walk the white beaches of Barbados? Jackson could imagine her in a barely-there bikini, which would be worth taking the Cantrell International jet for a little spin.
“Anywhere, really,” she answered, her gaze darting around her at the horse-drawn carriages and vendors selling snacks and artwork.
“There isn’t anywhere in particular you’ve had in mind? Somewhere you’ve always wanted to go?” Please say Barbados.
“It was New York City, but here I am. I guess I need to find a new destination.”
“Is it all you thought it would be?”
“Well, I’ve been here less than two weeks and I have a rich fiancé who has nice hair, a closet full of designer clothes, an apartment that overlooks Central Park, and a staff to cook, clean, and manicure me. I think I’m doing quite well,” she joked.
Jackson ran a hand through his thick black hair and shot her a grin. “You really think my hair is nice?”
Holly laughed and playfully shoved him. “You know you have nice hair. You don’t need your assistant reminding you, so you go and get a big head.”
“Now, now, isn’t that why I made you my fiancée? Assistants are for fetching coffee and filing paperwork,” he said with a dignified air, thoroughly enjoying their game. “Fiancées are for boosting egos.”
“Oh, so clearly I’m in the wrong line of work. I certainly don’t fawn over you enough.”
“I’m glad you don’t.”
“And why’s that?” Holly asked, stopping to pet the neck of a dappled gray carriage horse.
“I have people fawning over me all the time. People want jobs, women want dates, everyone trips over themselves trying to get me to notice them.”
“Must be strange.”
He shrugged. “Maybe it is. It must be how you feel sometimes. Gentlemen callers knocking down your door and professing their love to you with bunches of flowers.”
Holly held up her hand with the diamond ring firmly in place. “Well, good sir, it would hardly be proper of me to worry about men asking me on dates when I am clearly in a deeply committed relationship.”
Jackson uttered a deep, rich laugh that was slightly dusty with disuse. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed. It was nice. And even nicer knowing he didn’t have any competition, not that he had any right to her. “Very true. It wouldn’t be proper at all.”
They walked that way in silence for a while, their hands accidentally brushing a dozen times before Jackson grabbed her frozen one in his own warm one, their fingers interlocked in a strange, yet comfortable way. As soon as his palm touched hers, he thought Holly might pull away. But he was pleased when the gesture didn’t seem to bother her. To any other person in the park, they would look like a normal couple strolling in the sunset.
Being like this with Holly felt so natural that, for a brief moment, he almost forgot who she was—who he was. While he knew he was merely pretending, a part of him wished he didn’t have to. Part of him wished it wasn’t just a game. But so far, no one would ever guess Jackson was a lonely businessman who’d hired Holly to be his fiancée in order to win the Republican ticket.
***
Holly woke early the next morning to her cellphone ringing loudly, inches from her face. She was exhausted after coming back last night from her little adventure with Jackson. They walked through the entire park and even took a stroll through the Central Park zoo. He had noticed how she fawned over the cuddly red pandas in one exhibit, cooing over the way they dashed about their enclosure. He had bought her a small, stuffed version. When she didn’t immediately accept, Jackson basically forced her to take it. He had said that it wasn’t a real New York excursion without a souvenir. The little animal now sat on the other side of the bed, a pleasant reminder of their evening.
Best of all, Jackson did not let go of her hand until they were back in the apartment where he wished her goodnight with a smile and headed into his own bedroom. Holly’s hand felt almost naked and she briefly longed for the warm closeness of his grip.
She slid the iPhone open groggily, not bothering to look at the screen. “Hello?”
“Oh, Holly!” It was her mother. “You’re in the magazine!”
Holly rubbed her eyes and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was only seven in the morning. She was almost regretting giving her mother her new phone number. “What are you talking about, Mom?”
“I was flipping through one of those celebrity news magazines when they came in this morning, and there you were!”
Still confused, Holly sat up and stretched, trying to wake herself up. Considering how plush and decadent the bed was, it wasn’t an easy task. “Where was I?”
“In. The. Magazine,” Janice answered, her voice showing her exasperation. “Honestly, dear, you need to listen more. You were there in the magazine wearing a lovely dress and it said under the picture that you were the ‘mysterious beauty who stole the billionaire’s heart.’ Isn’t that just crazy? They didn’t know your name, but I would know my baby girl anywhere.”
“And you’re sure it was me?”
Her mother let out a huff. “Of course it was you! They had you next to that man you’re working for…Jason Catskill? Josh Carlton? Is that the man you’re dating? The guy running for mayor?”
Holly paled. There was no way she was in a magazine! “Jackson Cantrell?”
“Oh, that’s it. So it’s true, then? They’re calling you mysterious and stunning! My baby is mysterious and stunning and has a boyfriend! Isn’t that something? Is he coming for Christmas? He would really spice up our Christmas card. And think of how jealous the other ladies at knitting circle would be!”
“What magazine was this?” she asked, ignoring mom’s constant blabbering.
“Oh, I don’t know. You were in a few I think. The whole island’s going to be talking about it. You’re going to be quite the little celebrity back home.”
Holly flopped back into the soft pillows, suddenly feeling ill. “There’s more than one?”
“Yes, I’m looking through another now.” Holly could hear the rustling of papers. “Oh, here you are! Goodness, isn’t he a handsome one? You look good too, dear. How romantic.”
“What is it?”
“A picture of you and that Jackson fellow in a park holding hands. That’s so sweet! Why didn’t you tell us about him before? You know your sister found these pictures first. She’s the one who reads this garbage. Your father wants to know more about this boy. I tried to use the Google to look him up, but I can’t put any words in. I think my Google is on the fritz, so I have to wait to use the Internets to look you up. Mrs. Heigel next door says that she saw you on the television too, but she couldn’t find a tape to record it on her VCR.” She paused to take a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”
“I-I don’t know…it all happened so fast.” Holly felt a pang of guilt at lying to her mother. They always had a relationship full of honesty, but the ironclad non-disclosure agreement meant she couldn’t say anything.
“Well, this picture shows you coming out of some place together…his apartment, apparently!” Janice gasped. “Holly, now the whole town will think you’ve run away from Michigan and jumped into bed with a stranger in New York!”
“It’s not like that, Mom. We just ate dinner. That’s all. Jackson’s rather old-fashioned. I mean, we’re practically engaged,” she told her wryly, darkly amused by her own little joke. “I need to go tell Jackson that we’re in the magazines. I’ll call you later.”
Once she got her mother off the phone, she wondered if he would be awake yet. While she hated to potentially ruin his sleep, she knew he’d want to know this new information right away. Holly stepped into the bathroom to brush her teeth and look at herself in the mirror, before straightening her yoga pants and tank top and going down the hall to Jackson’s room. She hadn’t seen inside, and wondered what it would be like. But, more than anything, Holly was nervous. It seemed oddly intimate to be going into his more personal space. But he needed to hear about the tabloids from her before he left for the office. She lightly knocked on the door and opened it slowly when she heard him say, “Come in.”
“Jackson—”
Again, he was shirtless, but now he was fresh out of the shower and wearing a towel. Context clues told her there was nothing underneath. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing her jaw to not fall open. One layer of fabric was the only thing keeping her from seeing him—all of him.
“Yes?” He seemed unaffected by being caught almost nude by his fake fiancée.
“Um, I…” She turned her gaze to the floor to keep from being rendered completely speechless by the view. “My mother just called me. There are pictures of us in the celebrity magazines.”
“Damn. I’m sorry about that, Holly. I thought they didn’t get any good shots of the two of us together.”
“They had some from the park last night.” Her eyes betrayed her and snaked up his legs, over his abs, settling on his freshly shaved face.
“Really? I didn’t even see them.” He ran his hands through his damp hair, tousling the tendrils.
“Yeah. I guess my whole town’s going to think I’m dating some rich city boy now.”
“Did you tell your mother about our arrangement?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I think she’s actually pleased I finally landed a man.”
“Good. I can’t take any chances. I just didn’t know this would get so far out of hand so quickly. I thought I had some time.”
Holly knew she needed to excuse herself from his presence. The sight of him was far too intimate for their professional arrangement. “I think I’m going to go downstairs and see if I can find a newsstand that sells magazines so I can see for myself.”
“That’s a really good idea,” he said, crossing over to a large dresser in the corner. He opened a drawer and pulled out a single key on a ring. “Here’s a key for the apartment. I’ve already put you on the list, so getting inside the lobby won’t be a problem. This key is for the elevator door that leads up to our floor. Would you like me to send someone out for magazines?”
“No, I think I’d like to go out by myself.” Holly took the key from his hand, admiring how quickly her boss got things done. “Are you going somewhere?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Work. It’s only Thursday.”
“Oh, I forgot,” she admitted sheepishly. She had gone into his room, fully aware that it was a weekday, but her mind had melted the longer they spoke.
“Being a lady of leisure already has your days all mixed up,” he teased, stepping into his walk-in closet. “Don’t forget my mother’s coming here for lunch today. Just be your usual, charming self.”
“Do you think she has seen the tabloids yet?” Holly asked nervously, stepping a bit to the side to watch him.
He shrugged and flipped through his suits until he selected a dark charcoal colored one. “One of her assistants probably gave her the highlights. Can you pick a shirt and tie to go with this? I need to finish getting ready for work.”
Holly stepped into the closet as Jackson went to his own bathroom and closed the door behind him. She looked at the racks of perfectly pressed clothes and was stunned at the numbers of suits and dress shirts he owned. He had enough to outfit every man in her town three times over. She pulled a pale blue shirt off the rack and a dove gray tie to go with it. The blue of the shirt would emphasize his eyes. It felt oddly intimate to be picking out Jackson’s clothes for the day. She recalled how her mother had always picked out her father’s clothes when they were going out to dinner or a party with friends. But, on the other hand, Holly was Jackson’s assistant and getting whatever her boss needed was part of her job description.
She placed the outfit on his bed and went to her room to change her own clothes. After a quick shower, Holly dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black blouse. She pulled her wet hair into a bun and put on a pair of bug-eyed sunglasses to hide her face. Lastly, she donned a comfortable pair of black flats and grabbed her purse and new key before going downstairs. She did not want anyone to see her and recognize her.
Thankfully, the streets were still fairly quiet, empty, and seemingly free of photographers. The only people on the sidewalks were men and women in business suits who weren’t interested in her at all. Holly walked a block before she found a newsstand that carried everything from the New York Times to The National Enquirer. She picked up every magazine in sight and scurried back to the apartment.
Once she was back in the safety of the high-rise, she sat in her temporary bedroom on top of the giant bed. It was freshly made, so she assumed Mrs. Klein had been in to tidy up. She could hear her cooking in the kitchen, banging pots and pans about, and she wondered briefly if Jackson was still in the apartment. If it weren’t for the pile of tempting tabloids in front of her, she might have gone looking for him.
Holly kicked off her shoes and plopped on the bed before she opened the first magazine. She flipped through until she saw a full-page picture of herself with the title
The Blonde Bombshell and the Billionaire.
What her mother told her was true. There she was in full color, her hair flawlessly waved and her face smooth and brightened thanks to her recent spa trip and her fancy new makeup. Her purple dress cut her figure perfectly and made her look effortlessly fashionable. It hardly even looked like her. But the face in the photo had a look of perfect surprise that made her seem like a model in a print ad for sunscreen. The giant engagement ring she now wore was hidden in this photo by Jackson’s suit jacket. She was momentarily grateful that the press didn’t see her as a fiancée. She could only imagine how crazy the media would be then.
On the next page, she found the article.
Gasp! Say it’s not so! New York’s most eligible (and tasty) billionaire Jackson Cantrell has been taken off the market by a mysterious blonde. Just in time for campaign season, Cantrell seems to intend to debut a new wife, as well as some new city ordinances. Although she is still unnamed, she has already been spotted all over the city with our favorite gorgeous man. She even met his mother, the beautiful ex-model and designer Ursula Gaspar-Cantrell.
Their romance is apparently still fresh and new, but she is the first girl Cantrell has dated who doesn’t have any ties in the acting or modeling world. Or at least none we know of.
Here she is (Pictured on page 22) looking glamorous and poised outside of Cantrell International. While our photographers caught her by surprise, she still looked stunning as she rushed inside the building for some afternoon delight. A source close to the couple told us, “Jackson’s head over heels in love with his new girlfriend and has even introduced her to his family. Everyone who knows him wouldn’t be surprised if they got married or pregnant really soon. They’re that much in love!” You heard it here, ladies and gentleman. Jackson Cantrell is taken!
Holly rolled her eyes and tossed the magazine aside. She didn’t understand why she was so interesting to those people. Surely, there was some celebrity in rehab they could be writing about instead of her. But it was strange to know that she was the first girl Jackson has been linked to who wasn’t famous. And at least the magazines weren’t rude in their dissection of her.
The next magazine featured a story about her as well. They printed pictures of her and Jackson at the park holding hands, playfully pushing each other, looking like a couple in love. The article was titled:
Fresh-Faced Beauty Snags her Real Life Prince Charming.
Reports have been pouring in about business tycoon Jackson Cantrell and his newest love interest. While we are still working on securing a name for the most current girlfriend, we have secured several adorable shots that show Cantrell in an all new light. Usually so reserved and dignified, Cantrell was spotted taking a leisurely stroll in Central Park with his new ladylove in a casual outfit of jeans and button-down (Ralph Lauren). The blonde was wearing a pair of riding boots and a knitted sweater of unknown designs.
His fresh-faced girlfriend brought out the playful side of Cantrell as they were seen petting the park’s horses and laughing at jokes. While this girl does not fit his usual type of willow-thin brunette, it doesn’t look like this curvy blonde beauty will be going anywhere any time soon. The possible future Mayor of New York City’s First Lady might be the most beautiful one yet.
Holly paused. She didn’t know that Jackson always dated brunettes. In fact, he once told her that he preferred blondes. Of course, he was probably just saying anything at that point to get her to agree to his plan. She was about to open another when a sharp knock interrupted her musings.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Jackson. Can I come in?” The door muffled his voice.
“Yes, of course,” she called back, tiding up the stack of magazines.
Jackson entered wearing the outfit Holly had laid aside for him and she was pleased to see the colors worked perfectly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, inspecting the magazines. “So, what are they saying?”
“Basically that I’m a blonde is a total surprise to them, you’re terribly desired by everyone, we are desperately in love, and that we’ll probably have a baby out of wedlock soon since you’re apparently so ready to add to the Cantrell family line.”
He laughed. “Oh, is that all?
“Basically, but I’ve only looked at a few, so who knows what else I’ll learn about us.”
“Was your family upset?”
“No. They see me as a bit of a celebrity. I think my mom’s pretty pleased about having me in the magazines. Our neighbor has a daughter who’s a doctor, so I think my mom’s excited to have a bit of prestige among her children. It’ll be pretty weird to pretend we’re dating to my parents. They hate lying and wouldn’t understand your point of view, so I’ll just have to invent a breakup eventually.”
“I’m sorry this is getting so much publicity. If this hadn’t gone in the magazines, you wouldn’t have to lie to your family.” He looked genuinely remorseful.
“It’s okay. The paparazzi don’t even know my name and they don’t know about the engagement, so it’s not that bad. At least I look good in the pictures.”
“You always look good,” Jackson said, rising and fixing his tie.
Holly blushed. “Thanks.”
“Stop getting so embarrassed,” Jackson admonished with a grin. “I wouldn’t get engaged to any woman who wasn’t absolutely stunning. Even the magazines say so.”
Her cheeks grew a deeper shade of crimson. “You’re such a suck-up.” She reached beside her and picked up a gold throw pillow. She chucked it at him, but he caught it easily and threw it on the foot of the bed.
“Guilty as charged. Now, I need to go in to the office for a few meetings. Mother is coming at noon for lunch, so Mrs. Klein will take care of all the food. All you need to do is keep being charming.”
“Okay. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Holly, you’re not my assistant anymore. You need to act like my fiancée even when you think no one’s around. I can’t have my mother know this is all a lie.”
“Okay, I’ll try to pretend to be madly in love with you like the magazines say.”
“That’s my girl.” Jackson winked at her as he left and closed the door behind him.
Holly sighed and flopped back on her fluffy pillows. It was so weird to be Jackson’s fake fiancée. There was nothing at all for her to do all day but have lunch with Ursula, and even then it wasn’t as if she was cooking. The life of a socialite was a little too boring.
***
At noon, a deep chime announced Ursula’s arrival. Holly smoothed out her navy sundress and opened the front door. “Good afternoon, Ursula.”
“Holly, darling.” She greeted her with a hovering kiss above her cheeks in the European fashion.
“Would you like something to drink?” Holly asked as she led Ursula to the dining room. It felt odd playing the hostess in someone else’s home, but she knew she had to push through and at least look comfortable in her role.
“Red wine. It keeps me young.” She dropped her large purse on the table with a thump.
Holly poured them each a small glass as Mrs. Klein began serving their lunch of spinach salad, stuffed red peppers, and grilled chicken. “How long are you staying in New York?”
“I do not know. Now that Jackson has decided to settle down, I want to be close to him and get to know you better,” Ursula told her in lightly accented French. Her pale blue eyes peered around the apartment. “I haven’t been in this apartment in so long. It seems to be completely unchanged.”
“Should it have been?” Holly asked, taking a bit of salad.
“Well, now that a woman is living here, I thought it would have more of a homey feel. This place still feels like a hotel.”
“That’s just what I thought when I first saw it,” she admitted. “But I guess I also expected it to be more modern and look more like a bachelor pad.”
“Jackson has always had an old soul. He’s very traditional. I suppose that’s why I was surprised to meet you and also surprised it had taken him so long.”
“He’s only twenty-six.” Holly wondered if Ursula thought of her as an old maid at twenty-four.
“Yes, but he wasted all that time with those flighty women who offered nothing.”
“Offered nothing?”
“They had no breeding, no taste, no real aspirations other than getting my son’s money. All they did was work as hangers for clothes.”
Holly fought a smile at her words. If she was correct, Ursula used to be a model herself, who married a much older and much richer man. “So you never approved of any of them?”
Ursula laughed. “Approved? When a vapid woman who eats less than a bird runs about New York City spending your son’s money, it is hard to approve.”
Holly bit her lip. Ursula was more critical of Jackson’s girlfriends than she would have ever dreamed. “I understand.”
Ursula studied her, swirling her glass of wine. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Nervous?”
“Yes. Nervous.”
“A bit. You’re Jackson’s mom and I don’t want you to dislike me.”
“What’s not to like? You are pretty, a good conversationalist, have the right kind of breeding, and according to the tabloids, you make my son quite happy.”
“So you’ve seen those?” Holly asked, her eyes downturned. It was so embarrassing to think that Jackson’s mother had read all of those ridiculous articles gushing about how in love they were.
“Obviously. I have my assistant go through all of the tabloids to see if anything about my son or myself is printed. If it is good, I ignore it. If it is bad and potentially damaging to our images or the company, then I alert my lawyers.”
Holly suppressed a laugh. If only Ursula knew what her son asked his assistant to do. “I read them this morning.”
“I was brought a few of the more interesting ones. They were all the usual rubbish, but they had several nice photographs of the two of you at the park. It is nice to see Jackson have a little fun now and then. He has always been serious. Even as a child.” Ursula poured herself another glass of wine and kept her icy stare trained on Holly. “I think you are a good influence on him.”
“Thank you.”
“But I am curious, how long have you been seeing my son?”
She was taken aback by Ursula’s question. She and Jackson never spoke about the beginnings of their relationship. “Well…it’s hard to say…not that long.”
“Whirlwind romance?”
“You could call it that.”
“And you would say you know my son well?”
“You can never know the person you’re with enough, and we both have a lot to learn,” Holly answered vaguely, hoping the line of conversation would die off.
“Holly, do you have any idea how much my son is worth? How much he makes a year?”
“Honestly? I never asked. I assumed it was a lot, but I was taught to never discuss finances with anyone.”
“So you plan on keeping your finances separate until after you’re married?” Ursula raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
“Jackson and I haven’t really discussed that yet. I mean, it’s not like we’re getting married anytime soon.”
“Why not?”
“Why not, what?”
“Why are you planning on having a long engagement?”
The questioning was starting to get to her. Holly felt her poised demeanor crack under the pressure of Ursula’s gaze. “We feel that these things shouldn’t be rushed and that it’s important to live together before making such a big commitment.” Holly was proud of her answer. It sounded both responsible and appropriate.
“And then there will be children?”
Holly almost spit her mouthful of wine all over the table. “Ch-children?”
“Obviously. He has always said he wanted two or three.”
“Well, I guess when the time comes, we can discuss that.”
After an awkward pause, Ursula broke the silence. “You know, I never went to college either. I was much too interested in starting my life.” Ursula waved her pale hands in front of her face. “Who needs a degree when you have talent and aspirations? Women like us would only be stifled by classrooms.”
“Women like us?”
“Artistic women. There are far too few of us left in the world and that, my dear, is a terrible shame.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a thick binder. “Now, let us discuss this wedding. I have some ideas I think you will like.”
***
“Honey, I’m home,” Jackson called from the entryway.
Holly laughed and came down the hall to greet him, “Hi, how was work?”
“Fine. Closed a few deals, so that was a load off. I also have a meeting set up to talk to Denny about how to market our relationship.” He placed his briefcase on a table next to the front door and looked her up and down. “Did you wear that to meet my mother?”
Holly looked down at her sundress and frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing at all. I like it. How was she?” Jackson loosened his tie and pulled his jacket from his shoulders.
“She was…curious.”
He raised an eyebrow, reminding Holly of his mother. “Curious, you say?”
“She wanted to know our plans and when we were getting married.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I made up some things about needing to make sure we were right for each other and that we’ve been so caught up in getting engaged that we haven’t really discussed anything like joining finances.”
“So we’re still the picture of new love?”
“As far as she’s concerned, yes.”
He grinned and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Perfect. You did really well. I hope she didn’t scare you.”
The place where their skin touched burned and she hoped the heat didn’t meet her face. “No, she’s a little intimidating, but I think she likes me.”
“Good, good. Is Mrs. Klein making dinner yet?” He took his hand back and walked toward the kitchen. “It smells great in here and I’m seriously starving.”
“Actually, I gave Mrs. Klein the night off,” Holly confessed.
He stopped and turned to look at her in confusion. “Why?”
“She looked tired and I thought she should go to her room and rest. I’m cooking dinner.”
Jackson grinned. “So I’m marrying a girl who can cook? Perfect. I’ll go change and see how good of a chef you are.”
Holly watched him go into his room and she returned to the high tech kitchen. She was making fettuccini alfredo with garlic bread. It was simple, but it was a dish she knew she could cook well. For a moment she imagined what it would feel like if all of this were real.
Holly knew she was just getting paid to play the part of a loving fiancée, but she almost wished it were true. It felt so comfortable and right that they’d be together like this. But Jackson dated sophisticated brunette supermodels, while she was an average girl from Michigan who just happened to be hired as his personal assistant. She did not belong in this penthouse apartment wearing expensive shoes and pretending to be engaged to the devastatingly handsome billionaire.
Sighing, Holly poured herself a glass of wine and began plating their meal. She started feeling terribly inadequate and suddenly her pathetic attempt at playing house made her feel ill. Now the once deliciously fragrant pasta turned her stomach, the garlic bread looked soggy, and the entire dinner seemed like a disaster.
She downed a few gulps of wine and filled the glass up again. Jackson could be heard whistling in the adjoining dining room. Even though she could not place the tune, she knew he sounded happy.
“What’s for dinner?” Jackson interrupted her thoughts, popping his head in the kitchen.
“Just some pasta and garlic bread. Nothing crazy,” she said, turning to meet him, hoping to hide the shame she was trying to push down with a little more wine.
He came in the room and took the two full plates. “Let me help you with these.”
Holly followed him into the dining room with her wine glass in hand. Already she felt her the alcohol making her mind fuzzy. Brushing off her unease, she sat on the other side of the table from Jackson, who was looking up at her with a smile.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her cheeks red.
“I was just thinking that I couldn’t have picked anyone better to do this with.”
“I was just in the right place at the right time,” Holly mumbled, taking another sip of her wine.
“No, I mean it. I thought this would be all business, but to be honest I rather like having you around.”
Holly blushed and put down her wine glass to hide her trembling hands. Her heart started fluttering, the wine adding to the frantic beating. It took a moment before she found herself able to speak. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just glad that we ended up being friends, you know? It would be unfortunate to be stuck in this position with someone I didn’t get along with. I like that this doesn’t feel awkward and forced.”
Holly felt a pang in her chest. He just saw her as a friend. She knew she should have never hoped for more. “Yeah, that would be terrible.”
“Hey, are you okay?” His brows furrowed. “Do you feel all right?”
She shot her head up and gave him a smile. “Yes, of course. Just a little too much wine today.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason.” He took a bit of his pasta and gave a moan of satisfaction. “This pasta is the best. You’re a natural cook.“
“I try,” she said, drinking a bit more wine. She poked at the noodles with her fork, but found she wasn’t all that hungry.
“You know, you said you had too much wine. Are you sure you should keep drinking?”
“What can I say? I like to live dangerously.” She smirked, reaching for the bottle. The wine filled her glass and she hoped it would fill the aching void within her as well.
He laughed in between bites. “You know, tomorrow night there’s this charity dinner I have to go to. It’ll be exceedingly boring and attended by dozens of people I’ll need to trick into thinking I’m the best man for mayor. Would you like to come with me?”
“Yes, of course. What time?”
“We’ll leave here a bit before eight. It’s at the Museum of Modern Art.”
Her heart quickened and her eyes widened in excitement at the mention of a place on her list of places to visit. “Really? I haven’t had a chance to go there either.”
“Well, now you’ll be able to explore the whole place without the packs of tourists roaming around.”
Holly drank some more wine, noting how she hardly tasted its deep, earthy notes anymore. “So, I can’t have a personal tour like a fancy tourist?”
“No. You have a full time address here, and after tomorrow night, you’ll know all the major players in this city. After that, you can hardly be considered a tourist. But we’ll see what we can do about a tour.”
She raised her brows, impressed. Jackson certainly worked fast. “What should I wear?”
“It’s a formal event so you’ll need to get a floor-length dress.”
“More shopping?” She sighed. Although she could put a nice outfit together, picking the pieces out of the store was what she found difficult.
“But of course. Go to Nordstrom and put it on my account.”
She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “Does it bother you? Spending money on me like this?”
He looked surprised. “Why would it bother me? I’m asking you to do these things. I need you to do these things. I’m practically begging you to spend my money.”
“Women’s clothes are expensive here,” Holly mumbled as she took another sip. “In Michigan, no one ever went shopping like this. Here, it’s all the women do.”
“Does shopping really bother you that much?”
She shook her head, noting how the room kept moving although her head had stopped. “No, no, no. I like to shop. Shop…it’s a weird word. Shop…”
The corners of his mouth turned into a dimpled grin. “Holly, are you drunk?”
She started to take another sip of wine only to find that it was all gone. She could not remember finishing her glass, but as she thought about how much she drank, she began to feel dizzy. In her nervousness this evening, she’d drank far too much, eaten too little, and she’d pay for it in the morning.
“Holly? Holly?” Jackson’s voice suddenly sounded far away.
“Hi, Jackson,” she slurred as he came into vision. Holly studied his face, giggling as his smiling lips came into focus. She didn’t think she had been that drunk since she and her ex-boyfriend had stolen an entire bottle of vodka from the bar at her parents’ restaurant as teenagers.
“You’re seriously drunk?” He laughed. “How much did you drink?”
She pointed at the glass then held up two fingers, then three, then she gave up. “Too many.”
He got up from his chair and came over to her side of the table. “I think it’s time for bed, missy.”
“No. I have energy. Let’s stay up!” She grinned up at him.
Jackson looked at her, thoroughly amused. “And what do you want to do with all of your energy?”
“I don’t know,” she said, slowly standing in a way she hoped was graceful. “I can think of a few things.” Holly made a grab for Jackson, missing him by an inch. She fell down on her knees and struggled to get back on her high-heeled feet.
“Whoa!” Jackson held out his hands and pulled her up, holding her against him. “It’s definitely time to put you to bed.”
“You go to bed!” She let loose a shriek-like giggle as she grabbed his loosened tie and yanked it over his head.
Chuckling, Jackson lifted her up in his arms and carried her bridal-style into her bedroom and placed her gently on her bed. He slipped off her pumps and placed them quietly on the floor. Then he pulled down the covers and tried to slide her between the sheets.
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Holly’s words were jumbled together and she suddenly felt as if her dress was too constricting. “I wanna stay up! I have energy!”
“No, Holly, I’m just trying to put you in bed so you can sleep this off. You have a lot of shopping to do in the morning.”
“I don’t want to go shopping.” Holly pouted and sat up, grabbing the hem of her skirt. “Stay in bed with me,” she said, stripping her dress off over her head and throwing it on the floor next to her shoes. She was left in a pale blue lace bra and matching panties. Holly felt her body temperature rise as Jackson looked at her scantily clad body. She hoped she looked as alluring as she was trying to be.
“I can’t,” he whispered, his gaze still glued to her form.
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him to her, forcing his body on top of her. “Stay. We’ll have a sleepover!”
“Holly, I can’t,” he countered again, but made no move to leave.
“Stay.” Holly let go of his wrists and her hands found their way to his firm, muscular shoulders. She reveled in his warm body pressing her down on the bed. His eyes focused on her and his breathing became shallow. She felt her own breathing grow ragged as his left hand settled in her hair. His other skimmed down her arm, sending shivers along her spine.
“This can’t happen.”
“Just stay and we can talk.” She giggled, her voice sounding strange in her own ears. The room felt like it was moving, but the sensation of Jackson on her body grounded her firmly. She raised her hips against his and he groaned, his eyes closing.
“Holly, what are you doing to me?”
She smiled and moved against him again, feeling his firm manhood straining against his pants. “Stay with me.” She sighed, her heart beating faster, heat pooling between her legs.
“Damn it,” Jackson growled under his breath as he slammed his full lips against hers.
Holly gasped at his sudden reaction but soon they fell in a rhythm of deep kisses, their bodies crushing against each other. His button-down shirt soon joined her dress on the floor, giving Holly full access to his taut torso. She skimmed her fingers down his back, feeling each muscle as he grinded against her. He palmed her breast, making a soft moan escape her lips.
Jackson buried his face in her neck as his hand explored her body—brushing her nipple through the lace of her bra with his thumb, running his fingers down her flat stomach, cupping her sex with his hand over her panties. It was all too much for Holly and she longed for more. She reached down and began to unbutton his pants.
Jackson pulled back from her to sit back on his heels, his breathing harsh. “Holly. No.”
Holly pulled her hand back, her cheeks flushed, her body tingling with desire. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re drunk. I can’t do this. You’re my assistant.” He stumbled over his words. “You’ve drank too much. I don’t want to put you in this position.”
She was dumbfounded. A moment ago, he’d been grabbing her breast and panting in her ear. “But-but…I want to.”
“You’re drunk. I can’t do this.”
“Okay.” Holly sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, yanking the blanket up to her chin to hide her nakedness. Even though she was completely intoxicated, she was aware enough to be equally embarrassed by both her body and his rejection.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping off her bed. He leaned down and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Goodnight, Holly.”
“Goodnight.”
Then Jackson left her, closing the door behind him. Holly felt a tear slip down her cheek. She didn’t understand what was wrong with her or why he didn’t want to be with her. Then she felt the room spin. Her feelings could wait for morning. For now, she needed to sleep.
***
The next room over, Jackson sat on his bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He was so close to having sex with Holly, the girl he’d hired to be his fiancée. She was right there in bed, wanting him, touching him, begging him to stay. But she was also drunk, far too drunk for him to justify sleeping with her. What if it was just the drink talking and she was not actually interested? Or worse, what if she was beginning to develop deeper feelings? He couldn’t take that chance, no matter how badly he wanted her.
Their relationship was a business deal and he couldn’t screw it up. He needed Holly, and the stability her presence offered, in order to become mayor. The business had been his birthright, the legacy his father created. But Jackson wanted to build his own legacy, one that made a difference, and he wouldn’t let his own desires mess up his goals.