Wicked As He Comes: BBW Tiger Shifter Paranormal Romance (Tiger In Her Bed Book 3) (2 page)

“Well, we should probably get a move on,” he said, standing up and laying a hundred-dollar bill on the table, paying for what little he’d eaten before Jane showed up. She stood up with him, but was a little spastic, and she nearly stumbled as she rose.

He caught her, helping her get her footing again, as she wobbled and looked at him warily.

This close up, Jane realized just how much taller he was than her. Her head could practically rest on his chest.

“Save it for the first dance, babe,” he said with a wink as if he could read her mind, and Jane moved away quickly, huffing.

A few moments later, after hailing a cab, they clambered into the car. Jane’s eyes were firmly on John, but he seemed as at ease as though he were on an ordinary date.

What the hell is going through his mind?

“Where to?” the driver asked over his shoulder.

Jane started to open her mouth to name the wedding chapel she had in mind, but John spoke up first.

“Haute Bridal on Durango, please.”

Jane looked over at him incredulously. “What are you doing?”

“Well, if we’re going to be married, you can’t walk the aisle without a wedding dress, can you? And we’ll also need rings!”

He sounded serious, but Jane knew that was a show for the driver. John meant to tease her about this as much as he could, if it was going to happen.

John pulled out his phone and called someone; it sounded like he was making a reservation. When he finished talking, he pocketed his phone and shot her a charming smile.

They rode for a while until the cab pulled up at a fancy bridal boutique. The sign said closed but as they get out of the taxi, a woman hurriedly opened the store. Obviously John had some sort of connection with the owner. From its window, she could see the ready-made wedding dresses hanging on the racks; it was obvious that this was the kind of place that catered to eloping couples like them.

Couples
.

Jane almost laughed at herself for thinking of them as a couple as they headed towards the store. This was an unorthodox arrangement, to put it politely. But she had to admit, as he held the door open for her, John was doing a remarkable job of acting like everything was real.

Jane’s plan hadn’t accounted for actually making a show of getting married. She found herself taken aback by the dresses that surrounded her, and she felt more than a little exposed in the server uniform she’d worn to approach John.

The shop was small, but fully stocked with vintage designer wedding dresses, jewelry, and accessories. A few items caught her attention, but when she checked the price tags, she was immediately disappointed. Even second hand, the items still commanded ridiculously high prices. It felt like money wasted for a sham wedding.

“You look like you haven’t given much thought to your taste,” John said as he led Jane into the back of the store, where they displayed even more gowns.

“Bussing tables for a living doesn’t give you much room to,” she admitted ruefully. “Neither does trying to push a few paintings.”

“A painter?”

“A starving artist, actually.”

John’s eyes seemed to sparkle with intrigue. “You’ll absolutely have to show me—but there’s no time for that just yet. Once we get back to New York, I can’t wait to learn everything about you.”

She was so transfixed by his eyes that she didn’t realize he’d taken both of her hands in his, stepping forward to look down on her with a grin dancing across those handsome features of his.

“I…” she started, then gave her head a little shake, looking around the room.

“That one catches your eye?” John said without missing a beat. He’d followed her gaze to one particularly elegant dress, one of the more expensive ones on display. It seemed minimalist, but the lace that hugged the mannequin’s form was intricate and delicate, and Jane knew it would show off her curves. There was nothing particularly fancy or frilly about it, but that was just the way she liked her clothing.

Her mother would have hated it. Then again, her mother would have hated everything about this arrangement, if she was still around to hear about it.

John didn’t need any more confirmation than the look in her eyes, brief as it was, before she averted them. He gave a sharp nod to the shopkeeper.

“She’d like to try this one on, if you don’t mind.”

Moments later, John was helping her into the dress in a private dressing room.

“I never expected to find a gem like this in a little shop in Vegas!” he remarked with a laugh. “You’ll have to hang onto this one for the real wedding.”

She nearly tripped over the dress at the remark. “R-real wedding? What are you talking about?”

John’s eyebrows raised, seemingly confused, even if he obviously knew exactly what he was doing. “Well, we may be eloping, but my family has to meet you. We’re tight knit bunch; you know? Mom would kill me and rake my corpse over hot charcoal if we skipped out on a posh wedding. It’s a family tradition. All of her sons get big ass, over-the-top wedding celebrations.” He set to fitting her sleeves just right, tugging here and loosening there from behind her.

Real wedding? Meeting his family? Jane hadn’t figured on that at all. All she could think of was getting the marriage license, then picking up Harry and George from the motel, and finally settling their business with that evil old man back in New York.

Seeing that she was silent, John continued his teasing. “You’re brave, bright, and I hope someone’s told you how ravishing your body is, Jane.” He let his hands slip down to her hips, resting on them gently as he turned her to let her look at herself in the mirror.

It really was a lovely dress, she had to admit. It was just strange that she was going to get married under these circumstances.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“It’s sounding more and more like you’re the one who’s trying to convince me to marry you,” she remarked.

“What’s the matter?” he said with a half laugh, “isn’t this what you want?”

Jane was quiet for a few moments, narrowing her eyes at him through the mirror, glaring at that stupid, perfect grin of his. He really was dragging this out for his own amusement, wasn’t he? The thought made her a little worried. What would happen if he tired of this game? Was he planning to turn her out the moment she let her guard down? Was it all some kind of trick?

Damn it. She needed that marriage license.

More terrifying yet, what if he was genuinely as into this as he seemed?

The thought sent a ripple of mixed emotions through Jane—anxiety, fear, yet more titillated excitement than she dared admit.

“But that brings us to the real question of the hour,” said John, his tone becoming a touch more serious. Just a touch, though. “Why is it you’re going through all this trouble, Jane Eyre Sinclair, if that your real name?”

She lifted her gaze to him. “Unfortunately, Jane Eyre Sinclair is my real name. My mom was a diehard Bronte fan. So I was named after the novel.”

“Hmm, I prefer Austen if I say so myself.”

“I hate both. I got teased a lot when I growing up because of my name.”

“I think the name Jane Eyre is beautiful. Although, once we get married, you will take my last name. You’ll become one of us. The Alexanders. Now, tell me, what is your real reason for doing this?”

Jane’s face faltered, reality crashing back and blowing away the fleeting fantasy, even as it held her shoulders with its strong, firm grip. “Does the name Rob Benedict sound familiar to you? Maybe you’d know my father’s name better. After all, he was your father’s closest friend.”

She turned and looked John in the eye, but the look there told her he was already starting to guess the rest of the story. “I’m just Rob Benedict’s little bastard daughter. He didn’t want to be part of our lives when I was born, so I was given my mom’s maiden name. She was Rob’s secretary and longtime mistress.”

“Jane Eyre Sinclair.” As John repeated her name, the veneer of mocking amusement left his features for a moment. He looked at Jane as though he was seeing an old friend. “Have we ever met before? When my father was still alive? As memory serves, my brothers and I once spent a summer in the Hamptons, on your father’s estate when we were kids. But honestly, I don’t remember you…”

His words trailed off, and Jane promptly turned back to the mirror, adjusting her dress while peering at herself with all the confidence and dignity she’d fought to uphold her whole life. “Of course you won’t, since I’m five years younger than you. I don’t expect people would know about me either. First of his bloodline, heir to none of it, that’s me. Father didn’t marry my mother Lynn until a long time after I came along. I may be his daughter, but I grew up with little more to look forward to than those Bronte books my mom insisted on reading me. My namesake, you know,” she added with a self-deprecating smile. “But my parents didn’t waste time in producing a couple of heirs to the Benedict dynasty—twins, in fact. George and Harry.”

“And your father died in a boating accident not long after they were born,” John finished for her, looking thoughtful now. “It was all over the news. I wondered what had happened to them.”

“What happened was that everything came crashing down around us.” She couldn’t help getting emotional. Her face went hot. “My mom followed my dad before too long. It was a car accident, they said. As much an ‘accident’ as my dad’s death,” she added, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “With the twins still very much children, dad’s younger brother, my uncle Alfred, took it upon himself to run the family business.”

“And?”

“And that’s why you don’t hear much about the poor orphaned Benedict children in the news anymore,” she said, turning and looking John in the eye. “He kicked us out of the family house the moment he could do so without a public scandal. Something about trust fund money that never reached us, conveniently. We’re threats to his plans, his ‘new dynasty.’ I’ve been raising George and Harry on my own.”

Jane suddenly felt an immense sense of satisfaction upon noticing that for the first time since laying eyes on John Alexander, he looked truly and utterly caught off guard.

But it didn’t last long, and John looked down on Jane with the same easy confidence again, smiling and using his fingers to lift her chin up to make her look at him more closely. “So this is a matter of money, then? You want a chance at the easy life that was taken from you?”

Jane jerked her head back and turned away with a scoff. “No. I want your name and the safety that comes with it. It’s the only way to keep my uncle off our back. I fear for the safety of my little brothers. I believe their lives are in danger.” As she spoke, she turned back to John, only to find him with his back to her, reaching outside for something.

“John!” she barked, suddenly furious at having opened her heart only to be brushed off so easily, “are you even listening?!”

“Every word, babe,” he said, turning around with a small black box in hand.

Jane blinked in confusion as he stepped forward.

“And all I have to say is that if what you said is true…” He opened the box to reveal a pair of gorgeous white-gold rings inside, glimmering in the light like a treasure.

Jane’s eyes widened.

“...then we must waste no time in getting married.”

She opened her mouth to speak again before John pressed  a finger to her  lips.

“It’s perfect. But first, I want to meet these twins of yours. After all,” he added with a smile, “we’ll need ring-bearers, won’t we? And after that we’ll go back to New York and meet my family.
Our honeymoon will shine our life long: its beams will only fade over your grave or mine
.”

Jane wasn’t impressed. “Did you just quote Mr. Rochester?”

His grin widened.

“Please, don’t do that again. Ever.”

*  *   *

Jane turned the key to the shoddy little motel she’d rented for her stay in Vegas. It was far from ideal, but it was entirely necessary to keep a low profile while she moved around after the twins’ “accidents.” She’d paid in cash and used a fake name in the registry; places like this didn’t ask any questions. Las Vegas was nice like that.

John couldn’t have looked more out of place, swathed from head to toe in designer brands and yet, he acted like he belonged here.

The door creaked open, and as she and John stepped inside, the faces of two nearly identical eight-year-old boys turned to greet them. George was sitting on the bed with a notebook in his hands, while Harry was on the floor playing with his video game console that she got him for Christmas.

“Welcome back, big sis. I trust you’ve concluded your business?” said George, giving her a nod and peering at John curiously.

“Janey, I’ve missed you,” chirped Harry, rushing up to hug Jane around the legs. “George was being a jerk. He won’t let me use the coffee machine.”

“Because you always break things,” said George, defensively.

“Do not!”

George scoffed. “We’re not having this argument again, Harry. It’s childish.”

Harry rolled his eyes and exhaled a long-suffering sigh. “We’re children, for criminey sake.”