Page 23 of Jack Frost, CEO

I watch in a daze as Jack heads upstairs. “What on earth have I done?” I whisper to the empty room.

I place my cup in the sink and head upstairs to prepare for tonight. Sorting through the clothes I brought, I pull out a cream wool dress and pair it with my favorite burgundy wool-lined tights. If I’m going to continue to pretend to be Jack Foster’s fiancée, then I’m at least going to be the real me while doing it. I forgo my regular Uggs for the new boots I purchased today. The bodysuit stays on, and at this point, it’s so comfortable, like a second skin. I think I may wear it to my grave.

I straighten my hair and apply makeup, then make my way down the stairs again. I find Jack at the bar. He glances up at my approach and does a double-take before walking up to me and taking my hand to twirl me around.

“You look lovely.” His lips brush my cheek, and I don’t flinch. Instead, I lean into Jack’s warmth. “So, it did help.”

I pull back, my face scrunched up in confusion. “What?”

“Earlier.” Jack walks back to the bar, snapping his briefcase closed. “I purposely pushed my way into your comfort zone so you would get more accustomed to my touch. We don’t have any margin for error, and I needed you on board more quickly. It seems to have worked. Are you ready to go?”

My head jerks back like he struck me. “You-you did that on purpose?”

Jack turns around and walks toward the front door. “Of course. Remember, you started this. Don’t take that as me not appreciating it, though. It may be the only thing that saves the deal. However, to make it believable, we need to be able to act the part.”

Growling, I stalk up to him and poke him in the chest. “Just remember, Jack, turnabout is fair play, and I don’t play fair.” Then I flick his tie, yank open the door, and head out.

It’s going to be a long, long night.

***

Walking into the resort, we meet a very enthusiastic Alexandra and a rather amused Marcus.

“Please forgive my wife. She’s excited because the teens are off doing their own thing, and she’s made reservations with the theater. They’re showing—”

Marcus gets cut off by Alexandra’s enthusiastic squeal. “Only my all-time favorite movie ever! Gone with the Wind!”

I shoot a pleading look to Jack, and he extracts me from her grasp. “Sounds amazing. It’ll keep you ladies occupied while we talk about the boring stuff.”

I grumble because business isn’t boring to me, and Alexandra is a partner in McIntyre Inc. I’m a bit shocked that Jack’s pawning me off to watch an ancient movie when I could talk business with them instead. I force myself to unclench my jaw and wrap my hand around Jack’s arm, squeezing until my knuckles turn white.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that film. It should be fun. Shall we head to our table?” Jack chokes out before unwinding my hands and leading me into the dining room.

We settle in our seats, and I open the special menu. Duck rolls are listed under the appetizer offerings. My stomach growls at the prospect. I love duck. I’ve only had it a few times, since the dish was usually out of our price range. Still, on my tenth birthday, my mum took me out to celebrate hitting double digits. She said it was the first step to becoming a lady and should be celebrated. I smile slightly as I read the rest of the menu.

“What has that smile on your face?” Jack’s breath is warm against my ear, and I suppress a shiver.

“Duck rolls.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You asked what made me smile. It was the duck rolls, and I don’t expect you to understand.” I lean back and return my attention to the menu.

Jack huffs under his breath but then gets pulled into a conversation with Marcus. I look around at the grand windows showcasing the majestic mountains, which are presently bathed in the setting sun. It’s all so breathtaking. I never thought that I would be somewhere as unique as this.

Then I return my focus to everyone at the table. Marcus and Jack argue good-naturedly over the nuance of a sentence. Alexandra is on the phone with Calista, who’s apparently upset with Maxim. The overall mood is warm and friendly—something I haven’t felt in several years.

The waiter’s approach incites a flurry of orders, including wine samples and shared appetizers.

I feel an itch between my shoulder blades, as if someone is watching me. I turn toward Jack but don’t see anyone paying us any mind beyond the wait staff. I rest my cheek on Jack’s shoulder, and he leans in to my touch.

“You okay?” His breath is warm against my cheek, and I can smell the cherries in the wine he’s drinking.

“Yeah. I just thought I felt someone watching us.”

Jack’s head snaps up, his eyes scanning the dining room before landing back on me.

“I don’t see anyone. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.” I shrug.

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