Page 12 of Blown

He'd needed something big to convince Rafe to marry him, and Hélène Rénard was as big as it got in their world. Now that the carrot was dangling, he needed to get Rafe’s name on an official document along with his as soon as possible so he could stay in the UK. But if Rafe knew Hélène better than him, things could get dicey.

“I’ve never been,” Rafe said. “But I’ve heard about it and seen pictures.”

Jake wanted to heave a sigh of relief, but compulsion had other ideas for him. “Oh, it’s amazing,” he said, his heart rate kicking up. “She has the finest equipment money can buy, several furnaces, and a whole team of assistants. The whole thing was built in an old warehouse near Bercy. She has a permanent gallery on the first floor.”

He held his breath, hoping he’d given enough detail for Rafe to believe he’d been there instead of just reading articles about the place.

“It must be outstanding,” Rafe said, no sign of calling Jake’s bluff. “I’d like to keep improving the stable until it’s at that level someday.”

Jake let out a breath and smiled, asking questions and prompting Rafe to talk about his plans for the hot shop as they continued their drive. Whatever he could do to divert questions away from him, he’d do. He delayed the inevitable momentwhen Rafe asked the wrong question and unraveled his web entirely for as long as possible.

Once they reached London proper, he had more than enough to talk about. They parked someplace near Hyde Park, in an underground parking garage that was reserved for members of some sort of gay men’s social organization called The Brotherhood that Rafe belonged to.

“We’ll come back and have lunch at The Chameleon Club later,” Rafe said as they walked up an external flight of stairs to the street without going into the club. “It’s a short walk to the Tube from here, so we can go wherever you want to go stand around looking like a bloody tourist first.”

Jake laughed. It was a genuine laugh. Rafe had no idea how charming he was.

They crossed the street and headed up a bit to the nearest Underground station, then hopped on a train to take them to Westminster. It was by far not Jake’s first trip to London and he’d actually done most of the really touristy things before, but visiting them again was like saying hello to an old friend.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been on the London Eye before,” he said after he and Rafe bought their tickets.

“I can’t believe we have to wait in line for two hours to ride an overgrown Ferris wheel,” Rafe groused.

Jake laughed and elbowed him as they walked over to join the queue. “You’re not really this much of a grump. What’s gotten into you?”

He meant the question to be playful, but Rafe’s frown deepened. “I don’t know,” he said, looking up at the wheel, out over the Thames, through the crowd of tourists, and anywhere but at him. He even rubbed his forehead like he had a headache coming on.

“It’s me, isn’t it,” Jake said, his insides twisting despite his efforts to keep smiling. “I’m that garish, annoying American who showed up out of nowhere to throw a bomb in your life.”

A few of the people standing near them looked at Jake in horror.

“This isn’t America,” Rafe mumbled. “Keep your bombs to yourself.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew how good my bomb could be,” Jake replied in a low voice. Innuendo was the low-hanging fruit of desperation, but that was because it usually worked.

Sure enough, Rafe snapped a look at him, his cheeks flushing and his eyes wide. “Are you really flirting with me in the line for the London Eye?” he asked, incredulous.

“I could do a better job if you want me to,” Jake said, brushing his hand over Rafe’s backside as subtly as he could.

“Not in front of the children,” Rafe said through clenched teeth.

He had a perfectly straight face, and therewasan Asian family with three small kids near them, but the twinkle in Rafe’s eyes said he was joking.

Jake loved it. So much that it almost brought tears to his eyes. His plan was going to work. Everything would be okay. He knew coming to Rafe for help was a good idea. The two of them could be more than friends. He was certain he could win Rafe over if he played his cards right.

“It’s fine,” he said with a shrug. “Kids love me. I used to volunteer at an after-school arts program in Ann Arbor when I was in high school.”

The prickly, panicked feeling that always came over him when his compulsion kicked in suddenly had Jake dancing from foot to foot and wishing the line would move faster.

“You’ve got more patience than me, then,” Rafe said. “I don’t do well with children.”

“Yeah, it was just that one year,” Jake said, switching his tone so Rafe would think he didn’t like kids either. “I prefer much more adult pursuits.” Anything to make Rafe feel a connection between them.

He swayed closer to Rafe, brushing Rafe’s arm with his.

Rafe cleared his throat and took a big step forward as the line advanced.

Panic settled in Jake’s gut. He had to make certain Rafe liked him. This whole fake marriage plan depended on convincing Rafe he was the best thing that had ever happened in his life and that marrying him and helping him with a visa would benefit him, too.

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