One Hot Secret by Sarah J. Brooks

Chapter 15

Grace

“I’ll never be able to move from here,” I tell Jack after we’ve had the second sex session of the morning.

He chuckles. “What you need is some energy,” he says and reaches for his phone.

I roll onto my side and shut my eyes. I drift in and out of sleep with a smile of contentment on my face. I don’t regret giving in. Not that I had a choice. My body had already decided, as had my heart.

My mom and I always talked about the day I would meet my prince charming, and then we’d get married and fill the house with babies. It’s a fantasy that I’ve carried up to adulthood, but I think it’s time to let it go. Sometimes, it’s special to enjoy a man without the end goal of marriage.

My beliefs are so intricately woven into my being that they are not changeable. No matter how special a man is, and Jack is pretty up there, I’ll never compromise my privacy. I was nine years old the last time my picture was plastered on the front pages of tabloids and trashy magazines. Never again. I hear Jack pad out of the room and into the bathroom. Seconds later, I hear the sounds of the shower, and I drift off to sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that when I wake up, Jack will still be here.

When I rouse myself, it’s to the scent of coffee teasing my nostrils. I groan at the unfair temptation. Then I hear a chuckle and a kiss on my lips. I open one eye and then the other.

“Is that how you wake up, one eye at a time?” Jack asks with a chuckle.

“Only when I suspect there might be an intruder in the house,” I tell him and stifle a yawn. “I was dreaming of coffee.”

“It wasn’t a dream. I brought you some breakfast.”

Before the words are completely out of his mouth, I scramble to sit up in bed. Jack laughs and places a tray on my lap.

I stare at the contents of the tray in disbelief. “Where did you get Starbucks coffee, oh and a cinnamon roll?” I’m practically drooling.

“I sent my driver,” Jack says casually.

“Oh. Is he like parked outside?”

“No, he goes and does his thing until I call for him,” Jack says. “Eat, your breakfast will go cold. I’ve already had mine.”

I slip the cinnamon roll from its packaging and take a big bite.

“This is so good, thank you. I could get used to this lifestyle.”

Jack chuckles. “That’s the plan.”

He watches me while I eat, and several minutes later, the cinnamon roll is gone, and so is the coffee. I pat my stomach in satisfaction.

“Hands down, that was the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome. Have a shower. I want to take you to my place. I’ve wanted to do that since the first day we met.”

I force a smile as he leaves me to shower and get ready. I wish we could stay in my little apartment. Going to his house will destroy the fantasy that he’s still my Jack, the firefighter.

With a sigh, I throw back the covers and swing my legs to the floor. I make the bed and then pad into the shower. Ten minutes later, I’m done and back in my room, trying to decide what to wear.

I settle on simple black pants and a white sleeveless top. At the last minute, I put on a hat and a pair of dark sunglasses. I grab my purse and go in search of Jack. I find him in the kitchen drinking coffee and reading something on his phone.

I make a face. “After the Starbucks coffee, I wouldn’t touch that stuff with a stick.”

His laugh reverberates in the room. “You’re easily spoiled.”

I sit next to him and rest my head on his shoulder. His arm goes around me protectively.

My phone shrieks from my purse, and I snap it open and pull it out. I swipe the screen to answer. “Hi, Mom.”

“Grace, thank God you’ve picked up. I called you twice last night. I was worried when you didn’t call back,” she says.

Guilt floods me when I remember what made me not hear my phone. “Sorry, Mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine on our end. Your father has stopped being such a pain. He’s realized the cast is here to stay,” she says with a laugh.

“That’s great, Mom.” I can’t concentrate with Jack so close to me or with his hand rubbing small circles on my back.

“Grace,” Mom says, her voice taking on a serious tone. “Your father and I saw a disturbing item on the news yesterday. That’s why I called you. They were saying that Jack is Kyle Bryce, the movie star. Is that true?”

I move away from Jack to think. I should have called my parents before they saw the news. “Yes, Mom, it’s true. He was researching for a role.”

“Did you know about it?” she says.

“No, he never told me until it came out.” It sounds horrible when I say it out loud.

“Was he serious about you and is that what you want?” she says.

“I think so, Mom, but I don’t know the answer to the second question. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

I know what she means. Over the years, I’ve expressed my dislike for people in the limelight. She knows too what my parents went through. A lot of it was their own fault. They brought it on themselves, but the tabloids made it worse. They published pictures of my dad partying with different women, driving my mother to take her own life. The press can do that to you. I don’t think I’m strong enough to spend my life in the limelight for everyone to see.

“Please be careful. He seemed like a good man, but the kind of life he lives is so different from yours.”

“I know, Mom.”

We say goodbye after a few more minutes. I go back to the island.

Jack has a concerned look. “They’re worried about you?” he says, part question and part statement.

“A little bit. They know what life in the limelight entails,” I tell him.

Jack takes my hand. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, including looking at another woman.” His forehead is creased with worry.

“They’ll be fine; it was just a shock to them to hear that you’re not Jack Acker. How did you come up with that name anyway? It suits you more than Kyle does.”

He chuckles. “I had a friend back in the day whose name was Jack. Acker has no significance. It’s just a name.” He stands up, carries his cup to the sink, and rinses it.

“Ready to go?”

I nod, and we leave my apartment. In the elevator, Jack slips on his sunglasses when he sees two people inside. They don’t pay any attention to him. After all, why would Kyle Bryce be in a nondescript apartment block in LA?

Outside, Jack leads me to a black, obviously high-range SUV and opens the black passenger door for me. I slide in and meet the dark eyes of a big man in the driver’s seat. His fierce look melts away when he smiles. He nods at me as Jack slides in next to me.

“Grace, this is Ethan, my driver, bodyguard, and friend,” Jack says warmly.

Ethan smiles again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” I say and sink back into the comfortable creamy leather seats. The car smells of luxury and Jack. It’s the fanciest car I’ve ever ridden in. I can’t even tell whether we’re moving or not unless I look out the tinted windows. I’m sure I must have ridden in other expensive cars when I was living with my parents, but my brain has more or less blocked that period of my life.

We’re both quiet on the way to Jack’s place. For me, it’s uncomfortable to have a conversation when there’s someone else in the car, hearing us. My relationship with Jack has been private from the very beginning. It’s odd to be a couple in the presence of someone else.

The car slows down, and ahead, I see a pair of large white gates sliding open. My heart skips a beat as we drive into Jack’s compound. It’s difficult to imagine that the Jack I know is the owner of this gorgeous property. The grounds are beautifully landscaped with large mature oak trees that provide extra privacy to the home. Ethan brings the car to a halt in front of a stately two-story home.

I’m still staring at the house when Ethan opens the door for me. I’m about to tell him that I could have opened it myself when I change my mind at the last minute. I don’t want him to feel awkward around me, so I just flow with it and get out of the car.

I love Jack’s home. It has an older, warm look, with ivy growing on the walls and a wide porch wrapping the house. The second story has a balcony, and I can imagine sitting there and watching the sunset in the evenings.

Jack takes my hand. “Welcome home.”

I smile at him. “You have a beautiful home.”

“I was hoping you’d think so. I can’t wait to give you a tour,” he says, enthusiasm brimming from him.

“Let’s go.”

We go up the stairs that lead up to the front door, and before we touch it, it swings open to reveal a uniformed, smiling lady.

“Hello, Kyle.”

“Hey, Maria.”

I really need to start thinking of him as Kyle. He introduces us, and she offers me a warm welcome. The centerpiece of the entryway is a large chandelier sparkling with what looks to be a thousand bulbs. On the left is a beautiful staircase that is truly a piece of art.

Kyle takes me to the living room, and the first thing I see is the portrait I did of him hanging above the mantel. It warms my heart. “It looks good up there,” I tell him.

“The artist is very gifted. I’m hoping to convince her to sell me a few more,” Jack says.

I laugh as I walk around his comfortable living room, looking at the paintings on the walls. Clearly, he’s an art lover, and I’m glad he saw something he liked in my work.

We chat about his favorite pieces, and then we move to the kitchen. A man working on a laptop stands up when he hears our footsteps. Next to him is Ethan, engrossed in reading a newspaper.

“This is Chris; he’s my friend and PA. Chris, this is Grace.” He drapes an arm around my shoulders, drawing me close.

I smile at him, a little taken aback by the number of people in his house. It was foolish of me to think that he’d be alone. We exchange greetings and polite words.

“Chris is just back from his honeymoon,” Jack says.

“Congratulations!” I tell him.

Jack teases him a little, and then we continue with our tour.

“How many people are usually in your house?” I ask him as we enter the library.

He laughs. “Not many. There’s Maria and her husband, Carlos, who takes care of the grounds and cars, and then there’s Chris, Ethan, and sometimes Sebastian, who is my agent. Oh, and a cleaning company who come every other day.”

I’m at a loss for words but what strikes me is the lack of privacy in his life. I lose my train of thought when I step into the library. It’s paneled with mahogany, has hundreds of books arranged on dark shelves, and a comfortable desk on one side.

“This is what I call my office,” Jack says.

“I love it.”