Chapter 12

12

JACK

Standing face to face, my arms lace around Ella’s waist. I inhale her cocoa butter scent. Edging toward the veranda, she wiggles as if trying to escape, knowing there’s a good chance I might toss her in the pool.

I tickle her, resulting in a fit of giggles. Her laughter makes me smile inside and out. With her, I can take a deep breath of the fresh night air.

Outside, we both go abruptly still as if we just surfaced from whatever this is.

Our eyes lock.

A silent question floats between us.

I lean in. She angles her head.

My pulse lurches. Her eyes dip.

Our mouths crash together.

The pace races recklessly, filled with longing as if we both have been shipwrecked and were finally rescued.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders. Mine tangle in her hair. My inhales become Ella’s exhales and hers meld with mine .

Awareness quickly fades away and there is just the two of us.

That’s all there needs to be.

The thought disappears into the darkness of my mind as our kiss deepens.

When we part, my thoughts spin with every reason I shouldn’t be doing this. Teasing Ella with a kiss, with the room, with anything other than the truth that I’m the spoiled and arrogant son of a billionaire with a terrible track record when it comes to relationships and commitment.

I’m loyal … but only for a few dates before I move on. In recent years, I’ve made it very clear that I’m not looking for love or any of the things that come before or after that. And definitely not cookies with my face on them made out of royal icing—unless Ella baked them.

She is sweet.

Charming.

Adorable.

Strong.

Cute.

“Can I have your number?” I ask.

She sinks back slightly. “No, I’m sorry.”

“What—?” I ask, taken by surprise that she wouldn’t give it to me, especially after that kiss.

“I had to sell my phone, but I kept the little chip so I could get my family photos back someday.”

My gaze dips to her mouth, to her neck, and to her collarbones where the ruby red heart necklace sat that first night I saw her—the night she must’ve met Slater.

She stares at the floor. “I’ve had to make some hard choices.”

“The necklace, too?” I ask, guessing that she regrets it.

She nods and liquid fills her eyes.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t be sad. I didn’t mean to?—”

“The necklace was my mom’s. The only thing I had of hers. My phone went first. Then clothes. I got rid of everything before the necklace.”

A surge of determination rushes through me. I’ll scour the entire island and get it back. Then again, I’ve heard stories of newlyweds losing wedding bands and other guests losing jewelry to the briny deep. What the island wants, it takes.

She says, “All of this was generous of you. I’m sorry if I seem entitled. The necklace was special to me and?—”

“Ella, you don’t seem entitled at all. I almost tore my father’s head off when I thought he’d given his new wife my mother’s favorite diamond. The red one I was telling you about before. Trust me, I get it … and it’s not about the bling. It’s because it was special to someone we loved and it’s a way to remain connected to them.” I chuckle. “Though, it would be odd if I went around wearing my mother’s jewelry.”

Ella exhales a laugh. “Thanks for understanding.” She hesitates and then says, “There’s one more thing. In addition to giving you the fake name, remember when I said I was looking for my lost contact lens?”

I recall every moment of that night.

She bites her lip. “I don’t wear contacts. Thankfully, I have great vision.”

So do I and I really, really like what I see. Ella is beautiful and vulnerable and so real.

A moment charged with magnetic electricity passes between us again, but this time her eyes droop like she’s tired. Exhausted, probably from having to make decisions and get by in a way I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Maybe except for Slater. Even though there are worse places to be homeless, I’d like to kick him into the resort’s sewer .

“You should get some rest. Prepare yourself for room service tomorrow morning.” I wink.

The corners of her lips lift into a grin like a kid on Christmas Eve. Her eyes shine with hope and it’s the most splendid thing I’ve ever seen.

If only we could continue to exist in this fantasy world. I’ll do what I can to take care of her, but I have to return to my real life tomorrow night. It’s an exceptional one, but I have a hockey career to save. Though, I don’t see how that’ll happen with the Storm. My other option is the Knights. I can’t compare my tough decisions to Ella’s, when hers have been a matter of survival, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s still hard to know the right thing to do.

Unless …

An under-rested, overstimulated fledgling plan comes to mind. If I want to remain on the ice, I need to find someone—anyone—to wear my jersey which will demonstrate that I’m serious. Committed. Maybe Ella is the answer to all my trouble.

“I have a question …”

She looks up at me with sleepy eyes and a half smile.

“Will you wear my jersey to my next game? Possibly my last one.”

“Your what?” Confusion flickers across her features.

“My hockey jersey.”

“Like of your favorite team?”

“No, my jersey. Number ten. Center. Carolina Storm. NHL.”

Her jaw lowers. “Are you saying that you’re a professional hockey player?”

“I didn’t mention it?”

She playfully whacks me and I catch her hand, lacing my fingers through hers.

“No, Jack. I would’ve remembered that not-so-little detail, along with you being a billionaire’s son.”

I sigh because I didn’t tell her on purpose. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but with Ella, I’ve been anonymous. She’s not a crazed fan, playing cat and mouse in the halls of the arena, cornering me at clubs, or showing up at my condo at all hours. I didn’t realize it until now because I was so deep in that life, but this has been a major relief. Not that I don’t want her to know me, but we connected without her having a clue about my background, which tells me everything I need to know about who she is and what she values.

“So will you?” I ask.

She must be very tired since she seems to be processing this so slowly. It was an impulsive and bold question, but it’s also perfect.

Ella is the first woman I’ve ever asked to wear my jersey. Given my reputation, that speaks volumes. Plus, since she’s not part of my father’s world, nor is she part of the puck bunny circuit, no one can question whether we’re legit.

The Storm management will see I’m serious and have second thoughts. I’ll remain on my team. Problem solved.

I blurt, “You do this one thing for me, no strings attached, and I’ll pay you a year’s salary.”

Ella looks at me sharply. “I earn a wage.”

“How much? I’ll quadruple it. Name the price.”

As if caught off guard, she stammers, “I’m not for sale.”

“Of course, not, but I will pay you to wear my jersey to one game.”

“One game?” she repeats.

I nod, feeling a burden lifting.

“Can I tell you tomorrow?”

“Of course, we fly out at 11:59.”

The night we met, I recall her asking me about my “one thing.” I’m not proud to admit it, but when I’d visit the resort, I would enjoy a weekend fling. What happened on the island stayed on the island.

My-oh-my, how times change. But hope sparks that this time, when I leave, Ella will be by my side.

She has a certain glow that sparks something inside of me. I can’t resort to my usual flirt-and-flaunt moves to have a good time. But maybe that’s because I want more than a fling with her. Something more meaningful.

For once, I don’t want the attention so much as to give mine to her. But how can I convince her that I’m not the guy she thinks I am—was?