“He got pictures of us that she threatened to make public as an excuse for why she cheated on me.”

“Us?” I racked my brain to think of where we’d been public. Jogging on the beach? On his bike? What if they’d been taken at my home? The invasion made my stomach sour.

“She was going to put it all on you, Keri Ann. She was going to say you were why she had an affair. That’s part of why I didn’t come back. I wanted you as far away as possible from me.”

“What pictures did she have?”

Jack swallowed.

“Jack?”

“They were taken here. In this room. Most were pretty grainy, you couldn’t really see anything. But there were some clear ones of you and me standing right there.” He motioned toward the French door and balcony that was now closed, although the blinds were open to the blue sky. “The morning after. I was hugging you from behind.”

I remembered the moment, perfectly. My skin prickled as my blood pooled in my gut. “The grainy pictures …?”

Jack winced and nodded. “We had the light on in here.”

I remembered him turning it on. Me wanting it off, but not because someone could have been watching. My eyes stung as tears welled.

“You really can’t tell it’s us, but that wouldn’t have mattered. And really it was lucky she paid a local P.I. and not the paparazzi. They have far better equipment to capture a moment.”

I let go of Jack’s hand, clutching my middle and straightened my legs so I could lean my head down. I needed some blood back. “Oh God, I don’t think I can do this,” I finally managed and brought my hands up to cover my face.

How could I possibly? The idea that he would be a target for salacious pictures and stories was obvious, but it was just so opposite from anything I could want for my life. I’d known this all going in, yet I’d let it get so far. I’d willingly gone down the path with him back then, pretending what he did didn’t matter because it wasn’t the real Jack Eversea. The Jack I fell for. But, the Jack I fell for was part and parcel of this crazy, voyeuristic society we lived in. And I’d walked right back in.

Jack pulled away and I heard a thud. I peeked through my fingers to see he’d slid to the ground, his back against the bed. His denim-clad legs were bent, his arms resting on his knees, cradling his head. The nape of his neck was stretched and … and I wanted to kiss it. I couldn’t reconcile any of this. How I felt about him with how I felt about who he was.

“Where are the pictures?” I whispered.

“I own them. All of them,” Jack muttered and took a deep breath, raising his face and letting his head drop back on the bed. “It was part of the deal. The deal I made with her and with my production company. She gave me the pictures, and I promised not to see you until the end of the contract term, which ran out last week.”

He’d made a deal for me. To protect me. And he’d come here as soon as the obligation was fulfilled. But Audrey? “God, why does she hate me so much? What did I ever do to her?”

“She doesn’t hate you. She hates to lose.”

“Doesn’t everyone? How do you know she’s done with this, this … vendetta?” I thought back to us on the beach earlier today and felt irritated that Jack had willingly put himself, us, at risk again.

“I don’t,” Jack admitted.

I let out a wobbly breath. “I can’t—”

“I know,” Jack interjected sharply and fisted his hands with frustration. “I know you don’t want this. But I’ve done everything I can to make sure her part in this is done. I just can’t promise about anything else. I just don’t know.” He got up and paced toward the offending window, glaring at it, his hands clutching his hair again. “Shit.”

“Well, you invited it the other night by going public at the Grill. So it’s probably just a matter of time before someone comes here to follow you around, or whatever it is they do. Stalk you,” I added bitterly. God, I hated this version of me. This bitter, fearful, miserable version of me. Jack brought out my best parts and my worst parts.

I slid my legs off the bed and reached for my heap of clothes. I pulled his boxers off under the t-shirt and got my underwear back on as modestly as possible.

Jack paced back from the window to the door to the room, my exit, blocking it, but keeping his back to me as he clutched the frame.

Satisfied he wasn’t looking, even though I was mesmerized by the fact I could outline every muscle in his back, I pulled his t-shirt off, put on my bra, and hastily followed with my top and pants. I sat back down on the bed and gathered up his borrowed clothes. “I’ll wash these—”

“Don’t.”

I stopped. “Don’t wash these?”

Jack turned around and grabbed the t-shirt and boxers from me, tossing them aside. “Yes, don’t wash those, but I meant don’t leave. Not like this.”

“Jack—”

He sank to his knees in front of me, his hands on my legs, pushing them apart and making room. “I’ll keep us a secret. I promise. I want to tell the whole damn world, but I’ll keep it to myself or kill myself trying, if it means I get to keep you.”

I gulped down the ball that seemed to be lodged in my throat. “I’m not leaving you, Jack,” I whispered, running a hand down his chiseled face, grazing over his stubble.

He closed his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have come here today if I wasn’t willing to deal with the bad as well as the good. You know that.” I slid my hands into his soft hair and leaned forward, resting my forehead against his.

“Dammit, Keri Ann.” He ran his hand up and fisted it in my wavy mass, pulling it tight. “How do you do this to me? I’m completely out of control. Since I met you, every emotion I have is tied to how I think you’re feeling. I’ve never felt like this in my life.”

“Same here,” I breathed and curled my other hand around his thick forearm. “I think … I think this is new for both of us.”

Jack opened his eyes and looked at me for several long moments. Then he kissed me, a long, but chaste kiss, and got up to his feet. “I know you have to go.” He offered me a hand. “Can I walk you home after your shift?”

I smiled, remembering the first night I’d met him, when he’d ended up doing the same. “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you.”

“Still have my number?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “Though I thought of deleting it at least once a day. Still have mine?”

God, why did I ask that? If he said no …

“Yes,” he answered, in a tone that suggested I was crazy. “And I thought about texting you at least once a day.”

I wish he had, we could have avoided lots of misunderstandings. Then again, it could have made it worse. And I had no idea how we were going to move forward with “us.” It was obvious he was more comfortable with his “celebrity” than I’d assumed when I met him, even though he still didn’t relish it. But just like I wanted to announce my relationship with Jack to all the people in my life, Jack obviously wanted to do the same. But the people in his life … were the citizens of the whole freaking world, with all of their judgments.