Page 37 of Cupid's Beau

“What?” he asks, fingers tracing patterns on my back.

“Just thinking about how you scowled at me that first day at the inn. If someone had told me then that Jack Ellis would be my personal space heater…”

“If someone had told me then that the innkeeper’s daughter would steal all my clothes…”

I poke his chest, laughing. “You gave me this shirt.”

“Did I? I don’t recall.”

Oh, My God. My heart and ovaries cannot take playful Jack Ellis.

“No take backsies.” Unable to resist, I press a kiss to his delicious lips, loving the scratch of stubble on my skin, the taste and smell of him.

Jack laughs, pulling me even closer.

The joy in his voice and expression makes my heart skip. This is a different Jack from the guarded man who arrived in Starlight Bay - still intense, still capable of making my heart and panties melt with one look, but soft, open. Mine.

My phone buzzes on the coffee table.

“My mother,” I groan after grabbing it. “Apparently the press conference is all over the media.”

“Of course it is.” He reads over my shoulder. “Did she just send fifteen heart emojis?” His chest shakes with amusement.

“Twenty. And she wants to know when we’re coming to visit.” I roll my eyes but I’m smiling.

Jack’s arm tightens around me. “Soon. But maybe we should wait until the media circus dies down a bit.” He sits up, taking me with him. “But I may have already talked to your parents.”

“About?”

“Spending some time back at the inn.” His fingers play with my hair. “Where it all started.”

I turn to face him fully. “Jack Ellis, are you being romantic?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

I kiss him quick but deep. “Though fair warning - my mother’s probably already planning our wedding.” I laugh.

“Good.” It’s so quiet I almost miss it.

“Jack?”

He stands, pulling me up with him. “Come on. Time for the rest of that tour.” His smile turns wicked. “We still have rooms to christen.” He squeezes my waist, making me giggle like a schoolgirl.

His laugh echoes through the apartment as he chases me down the hall.

* * *

One week later, we pull up to Starlight Inn. The presshas mostly lost interest since Jack’s declaration at the conference - apparently, happy couples are boring news. A few photographers still linger, but nothing like before.

“Ready?” Jack turns off the engine but makes no move to get out.

I study his profile in the winter light. Sharp jaw, devastating cheekbones. Movie star good looks and beautiful heart.

“You’re nervous,” I realize, smiling.

His, “no,” isn’t very convincing.

“Liar.” I laugh, reaching for his hand. “Jack, you know my parents love you, right?”

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