Marrying Mister Perfect (20 page)

She and Jack were still being too careful
with one another, dancing around and pretending they weren’t
constantly tense around one another.

He shouldered open the door and held it open
with his foot until Lou carried Emma into the room. They silently
changed the kids into pajamas and settled them into bed. There was
nothing unusual about the bedtime ritual, but Lou was overly
conscious of Jack through it all—the brush of his hand against hers
when she handed him TJ’s pajama pants, the strength in his
shoulders when he lifted the six-year-old to slide him under the
covers, and the half-smile he shot her when their eyes met.

Lou slipped out into the hallway and Jack
quietly clicked the door shut behind them. Only minutes ago she’d
been desperate to get some sleep, but now she lingered in the
hallway, hoping Jack would give her an excuse to stay up with him,
held silent by that strange tension.

He laid his hand on her elbow and guided her
down the hall away from the kids’ room. She didn’t know what to
say, seemed to have forgotten how to talk to him, but he solved
that problem by bringing up their one universally safe topic: Emma
and TJ.

“The zoo was a great idea. They really went
nuts for that baby tiger.”

“The chimpanzees were a real hit too.” Great.
She’d been reduced to itemizing the animals at the zoo.

“I must be getting old,” Jack grumbled,
rubbing the back of his neck. “I used to be able to go nonstop and
it didn’t faze me a bit. Now after one measly afternoon at the zoo,
I ache all over.”

Lou eyed the muscles shifting beneath Jack’s
T-shirt as he worked the kinks out of his neck. “Oh yeah, you’re
geriatric, all right. Mister Perfect, the nursing home edition.”
Lou glanced around, suddenly realizing why the house felt so quiet.
“Speaking of Mister Perfect. Where is everyone?”

He grinned. “They’re taking the day off.
Almost the entire crew got a free day today before we start
traveling again. Even the house staff get a break, so I hope you
weren’t expecting turn-down service.”

They were alone. Completely alone. An
inappropriate shiver of delight ran across Lou’s nerve endings.

Not that anything would happen. Of course
nothing would happen.

Together, they paused in the hall outside her
room. Lou wracked her brain for something to say, some way to
prolong the evening. Why was she so terrible at this? She’d never
been good at small talk. Lou’d never really felt it was such a
terrible thing not to be chatty, but now she’d sell her soul for a
conversation starter.

Jack nodded toward the pool. “I’m going to
take a soak in the hot tub before I call it a night. Care to join
me?”

Lou tried not to cut him off in her eagerness
to agree. “Sure,” she said, going for nonchalance, as if wild
horses could keep her away. “Meet you down there in ten?”

“Perfect.”

When Mister Perfect disappeared down the hall
in search of his swim trunks, Lou ducked into her room, debating
one of the single most important choices of her life to date: one
piece or bikini?

The one piece was a simple black racer-back
suit that covered her from collarbones to hips. Jack had seen her
in it before, every time they went to the Y with the kids, and it
had never elicited an I-must-ravish-you-this-instant response.

The bikini, on the other hand, was brand new,
fire-engine red, and designed with the words
va-va-voom
in
mind. Kelly had insisted Lou buy it as part of the original
Ultimate Seduction plan, but when Lou fished the scarlet scraps out
of her overnight bag, she couldn’t believe she’d let herself be
talked into purchasing anything so overtly come-and-get-me. Could
she really wear it?

The black one hid all her faults. Lou kept
herself in pretty good shape, but she was no swimsuit model. How
was her amateur va-va-voom supposed to compete with someone who
looked like a goddess for a living?

The image of the busty blonde kissing Jack on
the magazine rose in her mind and she tossed the red scraps back
into the bag.

He would think she was ridiculous if she
tried to be sexy for him. Especially when he was surrounded by real
sexy.

Lou laid out the black one piece, but
hesitated.

Safe or bold? Maternal or sexual? If she put
on the bikini, was she announcing to Jack and the world that she
was more than a carpool chauffeur? If she went with the black, was
she giving up on ever having Jack as anything more than a
friend?

Her wardrobe had never seemed more
complicated.

Lou closed her eyes and reached for her suit
of choice.
Now or never
.

#

Jack groaned as he sank up to his neck in
decadently hot water. He’d left the patio lights off, so the
glittery lights atop the gazebo were the only illumination,
providing a soft glowing oasis in the warm California night. Behind
him, a bottle of champagne left by a forgetful crew member sat on
the edge of the Jacuzzi. The ice chilling it had long since melted
and the wine was undoubtedly lukewarm, but he wasn’t picky. A glass
of anything alcoholic sounded pretty damn good right now. A great
way to unwind after the long day.

He let his eyes fall closed and dropped his
head back against the lip of the hot tub. Bliss. He stayed like
that, letting the warmth work into his muscles, until he heard the
sound of the sliding door whooshing open.

Jack opened his eyes. And nearly swallowed
his tongue.

Holy hell.

Lou stepped out of the house and into the
moonlight wearing a fragment of a scarlet bathing suit designed to
incite dirty thoughts.
Very
dirty thoughts. And Jack was far
from immune.

He must have sex on the brain from the show,
but he couldn’t help appreciating the view as she walked toward
him. The mile-long legs, the smooth curve of her waist flaring out
to her hips, and the full, perfect handful of her breasts straining
against the ties holding them in place. She was a feast for the
eyes. He’d never seen her wearing so little, or looking so edible.
He felt like he’d never seen her at all. Blood already warmed by
the water surged hotter.

“Hey,” she said softly as she climbed the
steps up to the hot tub. Her hands were flaring and clenching
nervously at her sides. Jack felt something tight in his shoulders
release at the sight of the fidgeting. It proved his no-frills Lou
was still there beneath this sex goddess’s gleaming alabaster
skin.

This was Lou. Just Lou. Though there was no
just
about how she looked tonight.

She sank slowly into the hot tub, giving a
soft sigh as the water rose up around her. Jack loved that sound,
the helpless pleasure of it, as if she couldn’t
not
make the
noise. He’d heard it before—that was her chocolate moan—but never
before had it triggered thoughts quite so sinful as it did now.

“Mmm, this is heavenly,” she murmured.

Jack needed to remember how to form words. He
was never tongue tied around Lou. She’d start to wonder what was
wrong with him if he didn’t get his act together.

Alcohol. That would loosen the knots in his
tongue. “Tepid champagne?” he asked as he reached behind him for
the bottle and glasses.

Lou laughed. “Of course. You make it sound so
appetizing.”

Jack pressed against the cork with his
thumbs, wanting for some inexplicable reason to impress her with
his champagne-opening prowess. The pressure released suddenly with
an explosive
pop
, sending the cork rocketing across the
gazebo. He was lucky he didn’t take her eye out. Champagne gushed
out in a river of bubbles.

The producers would probably have made him
reshoot. Lou just laughed. Wading through the water to his side,
she grabbed one of the glasses from him and tried to catch the
bubbly spilling out the top of the bottle. “Are you sure the show
won’t mind that you’re wasting good champagne on someone who isn’t
a perfect Suitorette?”

“Hey, you’re perfect to me.”

The words popped out of his mouth before he
realized what he was saying—or considered how she might take them.
But now that they were out there, hanging between them, Jack waited
to see how she would react.

Lou’s mouth fell open, her stunned eyes
locked on his. “I…”

When no more syllables followed that one out
of her mouth, Jack began to get nervous.

Maybe it was the kids asking why he didn’t
just marry Lou, maybe it was Miranda forcing him to assess his
fucking feelings on an hourly basis, maybe it was being forced to
date a bunch of women who couldn’t quite seem to compare to the one
he’d left back home, but he’d started to wonder if all these years
the reason why he’d never wanted to date anyone else was because
he’d been suppressing feelings for Lou all along.

But he’d vowed he wasn’t going to pressure or
guilt her into anything ever again. If there was going to be
anything between them, it had to be because she wanted it, not
because, as he’d said to the kids, she was too nice to say no.

But all it took was one look at her in that
mouth-watering red bikini and his resolution went straight to
hell.

“Lou, I’ve been thinking—”

His words broke her spellbound gaze. She
jerked her chin down, focusing on the champagne. The eruption had
slowed, but the flute she’d been using to catch it had overflowed
onto the back of her wrist. “Oops!” She pulled the glass back and
quickly retreated to the opposite side of the hot tub, turning her
back on him.

Well, shit.

He filled the second glass and set the bottle
on the lip of the Jacuzzi. “Cheers.”

Lou turned back to clink her flute against
his, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Smooth, Jack. Very
smooth
. He downed half his champagne in one swallow, trying to
think of something,
anything
, he could say to get them back
to normal.

If there was such a thing as normal
anymore.

Lou sipped her champagne and sat down on the
bench on the opposite side of the Jacuzzi, as far as she could get
from him without leaving the water. She inclined her glass in his
direction. “Not bad.”

The champagne. Good. Nice, safe topic. “You
should try it when it’s chilled. Nothing but the best for
Marrying Mister Perfect
.”

The show did have its benefits. Fabulous
house. Amazing experiences. The chance to sip champagne with Lou
sitting a few feet away from him in a red string bikini…

He sighed. “I have to say, there are days
when I almost love being Mister Perfect.”

“Of course you do. You have all the
power.”

There was a bite to her voice. Jack didn’t
know what he’d just stepped into, but that was Lou’s
my-patience-is-up-someone-is-getting-punished voice. He had never
once heard it directed at
him
—or anyone above the age of
six.

“It’s not the power,” he began, but she cut
him off before he could explain the drift of his thoughts.

“You said it yourself. You have gorgeous
women fighting for your attention twenty-four-seven and not one
single person is saying no to you. That’s heady stuff, but it isn’t
love. That isn’t a relationship, no matter how much they try to
brainwash you into thinking it is. It’s a game designed to play
with people’s emotions and you’re the one holding all the
cards.”

“Lou…” He tried to interject, but she talked
right over him.

Maybe he should just let her get it out of
her system. She’d obviously been bothered by this since day one.
She’d spoken against the show before, but this was her first
all-out rant. He might as well let her purge it all.

“They fawn all over you. They
adore
you, and you don’t have to do a damn thing! The producers picked
you out as Mister Perfect, but from that moment on, your job was
done. Every little romantic gesture is choreographed for you.
Champagne chilled by the Jacuzzi—was that your idea? No. Of course
not. Some producer thought it would be romantic. Why should
you
have to be thoughtful?”

“Just because I didn’t do it doesn’t mean I
wouldn’t have thought of it,” he said defensively. Though, to be
honest, he’d never thought of leaving champagne chilling anywhere.
A six pack of beer, maybe…

“Oh, please, Jack. Sell it to someone who
doesn’t know you better. I’m not buying.”

She drained the last of her champagne. He
reached out with the bottle to refill her flute then topped off his
own. “I can be considerate.”

“You’re extremely considerate. Usually.” She
took another swallow of champagne. “Sure, fine, you’re a prince
among men, Jack, but you aren’t the hearts and flowers type. You
never were. Not even in your perfect marriage with perfect
Gillian.”

“I never said—”

“You love it here. I get it. But just because
you love the way being here makes you feel doesn’t mean you love
these girls. And it sure as hell doesn’t make this a realistic
basis for a marriage. Do you have any idea the success rates of
these shows? Sure the ratings are fabulous, but of all the seasons
they’ve had only one—
one,
Jack—has ended in a successful
marriage. And they’ve only been married a year. Divorce might be
right around the corner and even if they stick it out it’s a fluke.
You’d have just as much likelihood of finding your perfect mate in
some pick-up bar.”

“I know.” Though he didn’t think he would
have met Marcy in a bar. “You about done?”

“I am.” She sipped her champagne, then proved
her statement a lie. “I just don’t want to see you propose to one
of these girls, buy into all this bullshit, only to come home and
realize your relationship was based on a photo op. She isn’t going
to be competing for your love anymore, Jack, and then what are you
going to do?”

“I guess I’ll just have to find another show
with fawning females to feed my massive ego.”