The Accidental Boyfriend. Maggie Dallen
at her hole in the wall hostel, home to vagabonds, students, and the dreaded backpackers—the crowd before her parted and there he was, framed between a programmer from Twitter and a digital marketing consultant from Facebook. Or at least, that’s what she assumed they did.
But they didn’t matter. The boys fell away along with the rest of the world at the sight before her. All she could see was the handsome man with a five o’clock shadow and a devilish grin. His navy button-down was wrinkled and his jeans and shoes were faded and worn. He didn’t look like the genius tech tycoon who’d created the trendiest devices of the day.
The last time she’d seen him he was wearing a tux, the very picture of glamour and wealth, but today he looked like an average Joe, someone you’d sit next to at a sports bar or stand in line with at the bank. Except not. He was the guy who would play that guy in a movie. Because he was that guy times a million. He was the living, breathing definition of sexy and handsome and…oh dear God, he was playing with a pool stick.
Her heart beat so quickly it threatened to leap out of her chest. That was it—he was young Tom Cruise in The Color of Money. Not fair, not fair! Young Tom Cruise was her biggest weakness. How did he know that?
Get it together, Sinclair. She took a deep, steadying breath as the synapses in her brain struggled to make sense out of what she was seeing. What was he doing here? This could not be real. How much wine had she ingested? She really should have had dinner. It was a dream, it was just a dream. He bent over to take a shot and…oh Lord, that butt was definitely not a dream.
Her mouth opened of its own accord. “What are you doing here?”
If a record had been playing, it would have scratched to a halt. All the joking and laughter came to an abrupt halt at the sound of her high-pitched outburst.
Jack shot back up to a standing position and after a brief moment of surprise, his face broke into a grin, complete with dimples, and that cute squinty-eyed smile she couldn’t resist. He threw his arms wide in welcome. “I found you!”
She edged closer and the group of men moved aside while giving her curious looks. “What are you doing here?” she asked again.
His arms dropped but he crossed the few feet of space separating them so they didn’t have to shout over the talking that had resumed around them. When he drew close he pulled an awkward leaning move as though he might hug her but then he didn’t. Maybe she had pulled back, she wasn’t certain. Either way, now they were standing there, between a group of American bros and a cranky bartender who was manning the small but packed bar beside the pool table.
She shook her head in a vain attempt to shake off the alcohol haze that was making rational thought impossible. If only she could take a moment to compose herself, to get her senses straight—to sober up a bit, at the very least. But he was here, now, standing right in front of her, mere inches away. And he smelled so good—a deliciously manly scent that had to be cologne or aftershave. No one smelled that good naturally.
He spoke first, distracting her from her mission to discover the source of his scent. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She peered up at him in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? And what are you doing here?”
“I came to find you. Ivy sent me,” he started.
Ice flooded her veins. Her mind instantly leapt to the worst possible scenario.
“Oh my God, Ivy. Is she okay? What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
Jack eyes widened in panic and he reached out to her before quickly pulling back. “No! No, no, she’s fine. The baby’s fine. Everybody is fine.”
Holly slapped a hand over her heart, which had catapulted into double time in fear. Adrenaline coursed through her. “Don’t scare me like,” she snapped.
He took a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t meant to—”
“If they’re okay, why are you here?” She caught the bartender eyeing them with curiosity and lowered her voice.
A fresh wave of dizziness swept over her as her mind struggled to make sense of the fact that Jack Everett was in Paris, in her hostel…the man had developed one of the most successful gaming systems on the planet while still in college, she would bet everything she owned that he had never once stayed in a seedy hostel like this one.
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How did you find me?”
He glanced side to side while giving her a wary look, like she might cause a scene. Oh no. Was that it? Was he here because of that night? Ivy’s wedding night? She’d figured he’d be angry at the way it ended but she hadn’t thought he would track her down in a foreign city just to confront her.
Their little corner between the bar and pool table was growing more crowded by the minute and she was pushed even closer to him by an elbow in the back.
“Ivy told me you’d probably be staying at a hostel in this neighborhood and this was my second try.” He gave her his patented lopsided grin. “The guy behind the counter had no problem identifying a certain gorgeous blonde I know.”
His tone was breezy and joking. For a split second, warmth radiated through her at the flirtatious way he was talking, but then she remembered that flirtatious was the way he talked with all women, all the time. She was nothing special. Crossing her arms over her chest and lifting her chin, she asked for what felt like the millionth time, “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
At her unpleasant tone, he dropped the flirty demeanor and she caught a glimpse of something—embarrassment maybe? He looked…sheepish.
Oh no. He was here about that night.
“Ivy sent me,” he said again, this time looking a bit unsure of himself as he shifted from one foot to the other. “She was worried about you, being alone in the city and all.”
Holly would have burst out laughing if she wasn’t feeling so guilty about that night. As it was, she smothered a grin. Ivy, worried about her being in Paris alone? Aside from Oakdale, Paris was one of the safest places she’d ever lived and she’d been traveling on her own since she was eighteen. Her sister had ceased worrying about her about a decade ago.
The crowd around them was paying way too much attention to Jack. They both seemed to notice it at once. Jack, after all, was probably the equivalent of a superhero in the eyes of the tech nerds at the pool table—and just a plain old famous celebrity to everyone else. Holly shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares.
“Look, can we get out of here? I’d like to talk to you alone,” Jack said. He leaned in so only she could hear and she held her breath to keep from losing her senses around that damned cologne.
She let him lead her out of the hostel by the arm as she fumbled in her muddled brain for a good explanation for that night—had anyone ever discovered a polite, believable way to nicely say, “It’s not you, it’s me?” The chilly night air was refreshing and helped to clear her head.
Holly took a couple of deep breaths as she followed him down the street. She needed to come up with a good reason for why she’d kissed him like that, let him touch her like that, made promises like that and then…run away.
Chapter 3
Two doors down from the hostel was a quiet café that suited Jack perfectly. So far Operation Rescue Holly was not going as planned. In fact, it was not going well—at all.
He hadn’t expected her to be overjoyed to see him, not after the way he’d abandoned her like that after the wedding. He knew he owed her an apology but a month had passed, he was hoping she’d at least have cooled down a bit. But the woman who was glaring up at him at the hostel…that woman was red hot.
And sexy.
Nope. He was not going there. He’d made a promise to Ivy and Daniel, and himself, that he would treat this sweet, innocent young woman with the respect she deserved.