The Accidental Boyfriend. Maggie Dallen

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СКАЧАТЬ in her hands and she found her traitorous fingers flipping it open to page thirteen.

      It wasn’t because she wanted another glimpse of Jack, she told herself. Of course not. She just wanted to see it one more time with an objective eye; maybe it would help her figure out what to say to Benjamin once he saw it. Holly sighed; she had resigned herself to the fact that it was only a matter of time before he did.

      If she found him quickly enough she planned on being the one to tell him so she could make sure he didn’t read anything into it.

      Her heart skipped a beat as the pages fell open to the incriminating photo. She took a sip of wine to wet her suddenly dry mouth and forced herself to study the picture—she had to get over this ridiculous infatuation. And that’s what it was. It was just a harmless crush. Or at least it had been harmless when he was just tabloid eye candy and she was just another tabloid junkie.

      But then he’d gone and become a real person. He’d come crashing into her sister’s life and then hers. She took another, larger gulp of wine as she studied the picture. She couldn’t believe this was happening again.

      Few people knew the real story of how Jack came to know the Sinclair sisters and that’s the way they had to keep it. If anyone discovered the truth…well, no one looked good in the harsh light of the truth.

      It had all started with an incriminating photo of Jack and Ivy that made it look like Jack was proposing. Taken totally out of context, of course, as the two had practically been strangers at the time. The photo became a tabloid sensation and everyone got the wrong impression.

      Ivy was coerced into playing the part of Jack’s fiancée in order to save a business deal with Brunelli but when Ivy fell in love with Jack’s best friend, Daniel, the fake engagement came to an abrupt end, and Jack was cast as the rejected, heartbroken lover.

      Until now.

      There beneath the photo on page thirteen, the caption read: “Jack Everett shows he’s the bigger man by coming out to support the union of his ex-fiancée and his business partner at their wedding in Italy last month. Perhaps his ability to forgive and forget is thanks to the beautiful blonde who sources say never left his side.”

      Holly drained the rest of her glass.

      The wine was delicious and went directly to her head, enveloping her in a lovely warmth from her head down to her toes and taking the harsh edge off of her jangled nerves. She slipped the magazine back into her purse. That was a problem for another day. For tonight, she was going to enjoy herself.

      She was in no rush to get back to her hostel, where she was sharing a room with three loud, college-age Polish girls who didn’t speak a word of English. One glass of wine led to two and then a lovely elderly gentleman offered to buy her a round and really, who was she to refuse a sweet old man?

      It was in a state of giddy, lovely tipsiness that she sauntered back into her hostel. The ground floor had a bar area that was popular with expats—a sort of backpackers’ United Nations. She’d spent a lot of time at that bar the last time she’d stayed. Her boyfriend-of-the-hour, Lyon, had worked at a nightclub nearby and he’d meet her there for drinks before, during, and after his shift. Holly hesitated for a moment. But no, that was years ago, there was no way Lyon still haunted this bar.

      She headed toward the bar area. Had it always smelled so strongly of smoke? Probably. Ooh, but that pool table was new. A group of young men were standing around it. Almost all looked to be too young for her. They had the straight-out-of-college look going on with their backward-facing baseball caps and faded T-shirts. For a brief moment, Holly had a stab of longing to be back in her early twenties; footloose and carefree. Back then she would take off to a new destination on a whim, never worrying about those pesky grownup things like health insurance or pension plans or declining fertility rates.

      Granted, this trip to Paris had been a whim. But that was different. She was on a mission.

      She sauntered over to the pack of English speaking young’uns and caught enough of the conversation to know that they were betting on the next game. One of the boys closest to her threw out a number that made her jaw drop.

      No college grad had that kind of money unless they were tapping into a trust fund. Unless… She wandered closer to the group to get a better look. Yup. They were techies, the early twentysomethings who could be found in droves in Silicon Valley and who tended to travel together in packs. The famous website logos on their faded T-shirts were far better marketing than business cards. Whoever the poor sucker they were gambling against, he was in over his head.

      The poor sucker was currently out of eyesight but a shockingly familiar voice said, “Bring it on, boys. Double or nothing.”

      Holly’s saunter turned into a stumble. It sounded like—but no, it couldn’t be. But it really sounded exactly like—

      A cheer went up from the group of boys and several of the boys started chanting their new hero’s name. “Jack, Jack, Jack….”

      A wave of dizziness struck her as she froze in the middle of the room. Oh. My. God.

      Before she could wrap her head around the fact that Jack Everett was here—here 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 СКАЧАТЬ