Page 58 of Always a Bridesmaid

Them.

Just the idea ofthemmade her giddy. How on earth had she gone from loathing this man to loving him?

Jane froze, her heart literally stopping right in her chest. Love. Was that what this strange and terrifying feeling was? Somewhere between arguing and bickering and bantering she had fallen. Deeply, madly, and wholly.

Oh my god!

Why had she gone and done that? What was she thinking, falling in love with a man whose life was literally chronicled by the paparazzi? She hadn’t been thinking, she’d been feeling.

“I can hear you overthinking everything,” he mumbled, his rough, morning voice thick with sleep.

She pushed off his chest to meet his gaze. “How did you know?”

“I know you, love.”

“But it’s only been a week.”

“I knew the first time my dad put me in a kart that I would be a racer. When you know, you know.”

“And what do you know?”

“That there’s no way this secret is going to last.” At the wordsecret, a flood of guilt knotted in her stomach and tugged painfully. “One look at us today and everyone is going to know I spent the night here last night.”

“Today!” Jane sprang up and looked at the clock. “Eight thirty. We have to be down for breakfast at nine.”

Unconcerned with the time, Henry leaned back, resting his head on his folded arms behind his head, his eyes taking a leisurely stroll down her body. Jane quickly realized that in her distress, she’d forgotten she was completely naked and the sheet was puddled around her waist.

She tugged it back up to cover her breasts and he tugged it back down.

“You’re not funny.”

“Let me show you how serious I am.” He wrapped his beefy arm around her waist like a vise and pulled her on top of him, the seriousness of the situation pressing temptingly hard into her belly.

“We’re going to be late.”

“Then what’s five minutes more?”

She lifted a brow. “When has it taken you five minutes?”

“Fine, fifteen,” he said, and her other brow shot up. “Thirty.”

“Exactly.” She pushed off his rock-hard abs, but not before giving him a loud smack to the lips. This seemed to appease him—for now.

Jane grabbed her dress from the closet and raced into the bathroom. She took the fastest shower of her life—surprised and a bit disappointed that Henry didn’t try to join her—then tugged her bridesmaid dress on. With damp hair everywhere, she looked into the mirror, and actually saw Jane looking back. A version of Jane who had taken a sabbatical the day her ex had called her a fraud. But she didn’t feel like a fraud.

Last night she’d been herself, real and raw, and Henry said he was falling for her, which gave her hope that maybe even after she told him the truth about the situation, he wouldn’t walk away.

Heck, maybe even one day they’d look back on this and laugh. What a love story they’d have, meeting under false pretenses, while she was using an assumed name and identity. It worked out in her novels, why not in real life?

Which was why she needed to tell him the truth. All she had to do was get through today’s wedding and then tomorrow they’d have a frank discussion where she’d come clean about everything. Even the fact that she was in love with him.

He deserved to know. It was his right to know the entire truth. After all that he’d shared with her, she owed him that.

Taking one last look in the mirror, noting the goofy smile and the perma-glow, she scurried into the bedroom and found Henry still in bed. Strange, since she’d assumed he’d be back in his room by now getting ready himself.

He’d put on his underwear and was sitting on the edge of the mattress looking at his phone.

“You’re going to be late.”

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