The Billionaire's Temporary Bride (Scandal, Inc #3)(32)

The thought of them only reminded Jack all the more not to allow himself to get emotionally attached to Charlotte. He knew what would become of their marriage and their relationship, and he didn't want to hurt her by drawing her too deep into the quagmire of his personal life. However, kissing her now and then when they were both in the mood could be excused, couldn't it?

Brushing away his thoughts of secrets and sex, Jack rubbed his chin and smiled as he looked around the room. He didn't know where he stood with Charlotte, but he did know that she had given him an incredible gift. He looked at himself in the small mirror hung on her closet door. For once in his life, he almost didn't recognize himself.

The sweatshirt, the khakis, the carefree grin — even if it only lasted the night, he felt like a normal person. He would meet his fiancée's parents, and he wouldn't have to worry about their social connections or their agenda or any of that. He wouldn't have to worry about his family or his job. When they got back to DC, he could worry about Maria and little Jack or what was happening between him and Charlotte, but for now, he just wanted to go downstairs, eat a home-cooked meal and find out more about his fiancée. And maybe, just maybe, give her a hard time.

He looked at himself in the mirror one more time and ran his fingers through his hair. He wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to kiss Charlotte, but he couldn't help it. For a week, he had held back so that the two of them could figure out their feelings for each other, but Charlotte's mixed signals seemed to be clearing up. Walking in on him just as he had taken off all his clothes didn't seem like the action of a woman conflicted over her attraction.

Jack walked over to the wall of bookshelves. Many of the books had had been read so often their spines were falling apart. One of the most worn-down paperbacks, Pride and Prejudice, popped out to him from the way its beaten-up cover contrasted with the bright silver letters down its spine. Jack picked it off the shelf and opened to a random page. Charlotte had underlined entire passages and filled the margins with neatly cramped notes in two colors of ink.

Riffling ahead without reading, Jack found a piece of paper folded between the pages. In the top corner a date and a class number were both crossed out. The paper must have started as a high school essay, but Jack found something else. Written a half dozen times in various styles of cursive was Mrs. Charlotte Darcy.

This is too good, he thought. He slipped the book back onto the shelf and headed downstairs.

When he entered the kitchen, Jack found himself face to face with a tall redhead who looked just like Charlotte, only a few decades older, pointing at him with a slotted spoon.

"You must be the man who is stealing my daughter," she said, looking him over, "and apparently my husband's clothes. I'm Ellen."

She held out her hand. Jack walked in and shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Ellen," he said.

"Come on, we have a dinner to finish. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."

"Just let me know what I can do."

"We're just waiting on the roast to finish, but in the meantime you can help set the table." Ellen led Jack to the pantry and started stacking plates in his arms. He'd had never been great at math, but he soon realized that she was handing him more than four sets of dishes.

"Ellen, I couldn't help but notice that there are places for six here," he said.

"Can't slip one by you," she said. "Charlotte's sister Emily and her husband Steven will be joining us."

"Oh, of course," Jack said. Charlotte had a sister? "I didn't know she lived close by."

"Emily and her husband live in Philadelphia. They haven't heard the good news yet. We thought it best to let them hear from you."

"How did you and Pete find out so quickly?" Jack asked. "We hadn't told anyone yet."

"Pete follows just about every political blog known to man. He came across a post about it and told me that someone with Charlotte's name had gotten engaged. There was a picture with it, and sure enough, the Charlotte was our Charlotte. You can imagine we were a bit surprised."

"I think she was too," Jack said.

As Jack finished setting the table, Charlotte came back from the laundry room, and Pete walked into the room with a bottle of wine.

"I had to raid our reserves. It might not be what you're used to, but it was the best we had on hand," he said.


Jack looked at the bottle. With a quick look, he could tell it was nice. Pete had probably gone out and bought it just for this occasion.

"I've always believed that the most important aspect of a bottle of wine is the atmosphere around it," Jack said. "A thousand dollar bottle will taste sour in the wrong company, and a five dollar bottle will taste like nectar if the conversation is just right."

"Well, then," Pete said, "I guess we'll know soon enough whether we're good company."

"Or perhaps Jack can do us the honor of starting the conversation," Ellen suggested. "After all, he and Charlotte must have quite the story to tell. How exactly does a congressman cross paths with my daughter? And how does he convince her to marry him in such a short amount of time?"

"The story of how we met might require more than one bottle of wine," Jack said. "Charlotte, honey, would you like to tell the story or should I?"