part0029

My breath is stuck in my lungs as I stare at the one man who’s always had my heart—even when I didn’t want him to. There’s no doubt about the sincerity of his words. His eyes have always given him away, and there’s nothing but honesty there.

It took me a while to recognize it after all these years, but it’s been there from the first moment we saw each other again.

“Jack…” I don’t know what to say. So many emotions are clamoring to the surface right now. It’s overwhelming feeling everything that I’ve kept buried for so long. I’m still hurt, but I understand better now. So, where does that leave us?

He doesn’t speak. He just watches me with his emotions written all over his face.

“Jack, I…I don’t know where to go from here.”

He reaches out and grabs my hand, the connection sending a flare of warmth and familiarity through my body. God, it feels good to hold his hand again. Mine always fit so perfectly in his, his large warm fingers wrapping securely around my own.

“Give me another chance.” His eyes plead with me, but not in a desperate way that would normally be a turnoff. Instead, it’s hopeful, almost like he’s convinced if I give him another chance, our whole future could be different.

But can I take that risk?

“Okay,” I say, my voice a breathless whisper.

His bright baby-blue eyes light up, and his thumb moves to brush across the apple of my cheek. I can’t stop the sharp inhale of breath, even if I wanted to. Nor can I deny that his touch sends warmth pulsing straight to my core. All of my defenses are screaming at me to hit the brakes, but for once I ignore them and lean in ever so slightly until Jack and I are only a breath apart.

“Paige,” he says reverently. “Am I dreaming?”

“Thank fuck,” he exhales and then his lips are on mine, and I’m completely lost to the sensation of his lips caressing mine with the same ease that was always there. His hand slides into my hair as his tongue licks across the seam of my lips. On a soft gasp, I open and welcome his tongue with my own.

My entire body feels like it’s engulfed in flames, the heat incinerating any reservations I had about giving him another chance. He owns me with a kiss. I’m increasingly thankful that we were already sitting down because this is definitely a kiss that makes you weak in the knees. He pulls away before I’m ready to let him go, but I don’t protest because my brain is now a scrambled mess.

His thumb grazes my cheek, and his eyes shine with joy. “That was better than I remember.”

I nod, still incapable of forming sentences.

He stares at me for a moment longer, almost like he can’t believe I’m real. That we’re really doing this. I almost can’t believe it either.

But then, Jack Fuller’s always been my weak spot.

It’s not until we’re almost back to our cars that my head clears enough for a realization to burst through my happy bubble.

How the hell am I going to get out of Vince’s assignment now?

Jack’s schedule has kept him busy for the last week, which I thought would be a problem for our newly rekindled relationship, but it hasn’t been an issue. He’s called me every night and asked about my day. It’s been easy to fall back into our old comfort with each other. I thought there would be some awkwardness, but there hasn’t been any. The only thing that’s been hard is not being able to tell him about the article that I’m supposed to be writing on him.

At the thought of my career, my stomach dips. Vince has been hounding me more and more about the article and if there have been any new developments. It’d be easier to hold off a rabid dog than my editor. As I drove to the stadium tonight, I told myself to finally tell Jack the truth, but every time I even consider it, my stomach clenches with dread. I feel like we’re still on shaky ground and we’ve barely even been together.

I don’t want to risk it.

For the first time ever, I’m putting a man before my career, and that’s terrifying in its own right.

The game starts, and I watch Jack play incredibly through the night. I also don’t miss that he takes the opportunity to look at me whenever he’s on the sidelines. Each time our eyes meet, a smile lights his face, and it takes my breath away.

How did I stay away from him for so long?

It seemed so easy to be away from him before, simply because pride and necessity demanded it. But being this close to him, I am drawn to him more than ever.

I always longed for him, but I had an easier time convincing myself that I was doing the right thing by not trying to contact him before, by burying all those feelings until I convinced myself they didn’t exist. Now, all those reasons are flying right out the window.

I keep telling myself that I need to guard my heart—feeling this strongly for him is dangerous, especially with how things ended last time. Not to mention that so much time has passed.

But we still seem like two magnets, always drawn together.

Max comes at the end of the game to take me back to meet Jack. The locker room is cleared out except for Jack, who looks more handsome than ever in a pair of well-fitted jeans and a T-shirt that shows off his deliciously sculpted arms. His dark brown hair is short on the sides and longer on top, and my fingers itch to run through it. His blue eyes scan my body, and my breath stalls in my chest as I do the same to him.

Damn, Jack has filled out so much. His body is male perfection, and I find my body responding to him in the same ways it always has—that rapid staccato of my heart, the heating of my cheeks as dirty thoughts spin wildly in my mind, and the pulse between my thighs reminding me how good he always made me feel when we were together.

A bright smile breaks across his face when he catches me checking him out, and I can feel my cheeks heating from being caught.

“Hey,” he says softly as he moves toward me and gives me a light kiss on the cheek. He’s so tender it makes my heart melt.

“You ready to go?”

“What about my car? Should I follow you?”

“We can come back for it. I’d rather talk to you on the way, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure.” As soon as the reply leaves my mouth, I feel his hand at the small of my back as he guides me out to the team parking lot.

I shouldn’t be surprised to see that he has more than one car, the sleek, black Range Rover a different vehicle than the truck he drove to our hike.

“Impressive car. You know, all these years I kept picturing you in your BMW from high school.”

“You kept picturing me?” he asks with what sounds like a tinge of hope in his voice.

I belatedly realize that I’ve exposed more than I meant to with that statement. We’ve talked about our breakup and some of the years that followed, but never much more about how we felt about the other after our breakup. Instead of playing it off I decide to be honest with him.

“Yeah. I’ve followed your career here and there. I watched you during the draft. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your parents so proud of you, as they should be. You got everything you ever wanted.”

“Not everything,” he whispers.

My smile drops at the serious expression on his face, and it feels as if all the air in the car evaporates. I know now exactly what he’s referring to. It’s impossible not to after his confession on our hike last week. This whole time he’s wanted me. I take a shaky breath and try to find some composure. There are still moments where all of this feels like some parallel universe. Although, I guess in a parallel universe Jack and I never would’ve broken up in the first place.

He clears his throat. “I still have the BMW. It’s in my garage with a couple of other cars I own.”

“How many cars do you have? I didn’t expect you to become a car collector. Following Leno’s footsteps?” I tease, trying to get back to that ease we had before.

His smile returns as he lets out a chuckle. “Something like that. I don’t know how it happened, really. I had the BMW, then bought a Mercedes with my first signing bonus, then I got a kick-ass deal on a Ferrari, which of course, I couldn’t pass up.”

“Of course,” I confirm.

“Eventually, I decided I wanted something a little larger with more space, so I got this bad boy.” He affectionately rubs the dashboard. “I also have the Ford Raptor for whenever I need to transport any kind of loads. It came in handy when I moved into my house.”

“So now you have five cars?”

“Actually, I have six. I got a Subaru after I did some promotional work for a local dealership.” He glances over at me. “What about you? Anything you unintentionally collect?”

I think about it for all of five seconds. “Coffee mugs. It started in college. I unintentionally took one from the student union building once after eating breakfast, and by the time I graduated, I had this insane collection that I’d either bought or been gifted. It seemed whenever I was in souvenir shops or something, I’d buy a cute mug. My friends found out about it and started adding to my collection. Now, I have like fifty. I don’t have the heart to part with any of them, even though I only use a few over and over again. But they each carry a memory, so I don’t want to get rid of any.”

“Coffee mugs fit with the whole journalist thing.”

“Yeah, I suppose they do.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been keeping track, you know? I’ve followed your career.”

Shock floods my face. He’s been keeping tabs on me?

He continues, “I’ve probably read a majority of the articles you’ve published. If it was online, I read it. You’re really good.” He furtively glances in my direction, a blush forming on his cheeks. I find it endearing, and my shock turns to relief knowing that he looked into me as much as I looked into him.

“I especially liked when you covered that football game at San Francisco University two years ago. It reminded me of when you’d talk about my games with me,” he says.

I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you remember an article from so long ago.”

“I remember a lot of things from further back than that.” The look he gives me is heated with desire, and I can feel the goosebumps spread across my suddenly flushed skin. Before I can respond, he parks in front of a tiny restaurant called Olive Oil. The ambiance in the restaurant is modern romance with votive candles in the center of each table and soft overhead lighting, but the rest is all modern décor that is surprisingly comfortable.

We’re seated at a table tucked in the back corner. Jack’s fame comes with certain perks since our table offers the perfect amount of privacy to ensure eager fans won’t interrupt us while we eat.

Our waitress hands us menus and walks away to get us some waters and our beverages—whiskey for Jack, red wine for me. We both pick up our menus to look at the selection, but my gaze wanders up and over to glance at Jack. I can see the definition of his pecs through his snug shirt.

God, seriously, why does he have to be so sexy?

“I’m gonna need you to stop looking at me like that.”

My eyes shoot up to his face, and it’s clear he’s fighting a smirk.

My cheeks heat as I blush. Damn, he caught me ogling him. “Sorry,” I mumble and move my gaze back to my menu.

“Hmm?” I murmur, my eyes glued to my paper in front of me, although I have no idea what I’m actually reading right now because I’m still picturing Jack’s toned chest and the heated desire I saw in his eyes.

“Paige. Look at me,” he demands.

I sigh and then look up. The second our eyes meet, it’s like the temperature in the restaurant skyrockets. When did it become a hundred degrees in here?

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Damn, he caught the blush. I was hoping the restaurant lighting would hide it.

“But if you keep looking at me like you are now, all I’m going to want to eat is you.”

My jaw drops at the implication.

Oh, yes, please, my body begs.

Have I mentioned it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex? Jack sitting there looking fucking drool-worthy is any sane woman’s fantasy. I’d be crazy not to respond to his boldness.

I clear my throat, trying to cover up my ridiculous reaction to him. When he smiles knowingly—the cocky bastard— I realize I am not playing this smooth and sophisticated at all. I shake my head at him, and he laughs, picking up his menu and continuing to peruse the options.

The intensity between us grows as we look over our menus, glancing at each other every so often. By the time the waitress has taken our order, the air feels thick from the tension flowing between us.

Jack takes a smooth sip of his whiskey on the rocks and then leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “So, how long have you been in LA?”

This is good. A topic that isn’t sex-related. “Just a couple of weeks actually. I recently got hired at the LA Chronicle , which you already know.”

He shrugs unapologetically. I wasn’t even surprised that he found out where I worked after that first press conference. His fame comes with connections, one of those being the ability to find information. But it just confirms that he could’ve found me sooner if he really wanted to. That thought sedates the desire pumping through my blood. I break eye contact and shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Jack must be able to tell that something has changed because he gives me a curious look that quickly morphs to determination. “What made you want to be a journalist?”

“I took a class in high school and really enjoyed it.”

His brow furrows. “I don’t remember that.”

I shift again in my chair. “It was after we broke up.”

“Oh.” He drops his gaze to the table, and I’d pay a million dollars to know what he’s thinking right now. When he lifts his eyes, the resolve in them pierces me straight in the heart.

“I’m determined to make this work, Paige. I know there are going to be things that come up that make us both uncomfortable. I know our breakup is still a sore spot for you just like it is for me, but I also don’t want our past to hold us back. There’s still something between us. I know you can feel it.”

I take a sip of my wine to clear my throat before responding. “You’re right.”

“I’ve made mistakes, but I’m trying to fix them. So ask whatever you want.”

I know he’s opening the door for me to ask about our relationship but I’m not quite ready for that yet. “Why do you refuse to give personal interviews to the press?”

He sits back in his chair, disappointment coating his features. “Are you asking as a reporter or as my date?”

“Is there a difference?”

“You know there is.”

He’s right, I do. If I’m asking as a reporter, then that means this won’t go anywhere, and whatever we’ve just restarted will come to an abrupt end. I’ll have made my intentions clear. If I’m asking as his date, then it means I’m open to us really having a second chance to make things work. It means my job is no longer the priority.

Am I asking as a reporter or his date?

My job was the last thing on my mind as I got ready to see him tonight. I just wanted to see him after a week apart. Whether he knows it or not, I made my choice the moment I kissed him.

He’s watching me cautiously, nerves written clearly on his face. “Paige?”

“I’m here as your date,” I whisper, my eyes pleading with him. Don’t make me regret this.

His shoulders sag in relief, and he nods his head once before replying to my earlier question. “I was never a huge fan of media digging into my personal life. Then I got burned by my girlfriend junior year of college, and that pretty much solidified my resolve to never give the media anything unless it’s related to football.”

I rack my brain for what he could be referring to with his ex. I did massive research on him before going to that first game. I never found anything from his college days.

“What happened with your girlfriend?”

He takes another sip of his whiskey. “I caught her fucking my teammate the night before our championship game in the Lemon Cup.”

I inhale sharply. I definitely would’ve remembered a story like that. “I never saw or heard anything about that.” I don’t tell him that I’m referring to my recent research. I remember seeing posts on social media of him with some blonde his junior year of college. I didn’t look into him for over a year after that. When I did finally read his social media accounts again, I didn’t see anything about a cheating scandal.

“It was big news for about three months, but then other scandals happened, and my dad helped bury anything that was still out there.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can tell that experience affected him immensely. Jack’s always been insanely loyal. I can’t imagine how much that hurt to have her cheat on him.

“I’m so sorry you went through that. Nobody deserves to be cheated on.”

He brushes off my sympathy. “It sucked, but honestly, we should’ve broken up months before. We weren’t right for each other.”

I nod my head. I can relate to that.

“How about you?” he asks.

“How about me, what?”

“Any exes who screwed you over?”

I give him a hard look, and his face blanches as he registers the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Uh, I mean, besides me, I guess,” he mumbles awkwardly.

“I haven’t had the best of luck with the men I’ve dated,” I respond honestly.

“Me either,” he says. “But I know the reason why none of my relationships ever worked.”

I look at him curiously. “Why?”

His penetrating gaze is fierce as he responds heavily, “None of them were you.”

My breathing becomes shallow as I watch his face, searching for any clue that he might be joking, but his expression holds nothing but open honesty.

The waitress breaks the spell when she shows up with our food. The rest of the meal is spent talking about lighter topics. I’m stuffed by the time I finish my meal, but more than that, my heart feels fuller than it has in a very long time.

By the time he drops me off at my car, the only thing holding me back from fully embracing the chemistry that zings between us is the fact that I still have this article assignment hanging over my head. I don’t want to tell Jack about how hard my editor is pushing me to write a piece on him. Honestly, I don’t want to tell him about the article at all. We’re getting along, but it still feels fragile. I can’t ruin this second chance.

I get out of his SUV, preparing myself to say goodbye, even though I really wish the night didn’t have to end. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the crazy sexual tension, it felt really good to just be with him again.

It felt like coming home.

He meets me at my door and cups my cheek with his large, calloused palm, the warmth from his hand feeling like heaven. He leans down to kiss me, but this isn’t a chaste kiss like I was expecting. The moment our lips meet, passion explodes within me. I grip his hair, moan into his mouth, and give in to everything I’m feeling. All the longing, the desire, the confusion, and the fear that he’ll break my heart again. I let it all go in that kiss, and he takes it all, his own mouth eagerly molding with mine. I don’t know how long we stand there passionately kissing before he reluctantly pulls his lips from mine.

“God, Paige, you have no idea what you do to me,” he whispers as he leans his forehead against mine.

“Ditto,” I whisper back.

He smiles before placing one more quick kiss on my lips and then opening my car door for me. I wave to Jack as I pull away from him, my heart beating profusely and my mind made up. I need to talk to Vince. For the first time ever, I’m putting my career second.

When I get home and see that Jack has already texted me asking when he can see me next, I know I’m making the right decision.