Chapter 5
Jane awoke at the crack of dawn against the wishes of every single cell in her body. But lying in bed wasn’t going to burn off the six hundred calories she’d consumed in chocolate cake last night when she’d returned to her room and ordered room service. Because when in doubt, order chocolate cake.
She glanced at her smut and Clitorator on her nightstand and wondered how many calories an orgasm burned, then stopped herself because last night’s big O had been sponsored by one Henry Norris. And she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of adding two notches to his headboard. Not that she’d ever tell him about her night. It was bad enough that just thinking about it made her thighs all tingly.
So she threw on her leggings and running shoes, secured her hair in a ponytail and went for a long run in the frosty London morning. Her brain was always more alert and sharp when she’d put in a good five miles between her and her thoughts. In fact, by the time she returned to her room for breakfast and a shower, she didn’t have a single Henry thought in her mind.
Nope, Jane had channeled Elle, pulled on her Upper East Side attitude like a Burberry coat and was ready to jump into her role. First up was a spa day with the bridal party followed by afternoon tea at the Dorchester. It was one of the things on the week’s itinerary that she was most looking forward to—a way to soak up some of the local culture.
She’d never been to high tea before. Sure, she’d gone to bridal showers that shared the theme, but not the real deal. In fact, for a girl who had lived all over the globe, Jane’s world had existed mainly of military bases since her mom lived to work and worked to live. The only time Jane was able to take in the sites was on a field trip or when one of the other families invited her along.
After a hot shower, Jane ordered a light breakfast off the room service menu and ate it on the balcony in her silky robe, imagining Elle doing the same. And instead of the sundress she’d packed for the day, Jane went for something more refined, a couture number Sarah had sent her, and hung it in the bathroom as she finished her hair and makeup.
With every swipe of the brush and lipstick she became Elle. Even her freckles, which were made from an old mascara wand and fake tanning lotion, screamed Elle. She put on the final touch—green contacts—then slid into her dress.
It was a strapless, sweetheart neckline dress, that flirted with her thighs. She paired it with a cropped angora cardigan, light-cream pumps, and a cute cream-colored clutch. She pulled her hair into a fancy knot at the base of her neck so she could still wear her fascinator at tea.
Spinning in the mirror, she smiled. She’d spent most of her teenage years bemoaning her hair which was neither blond nor brown, her eyes that were somewhere between green and blue, and her face that was decidedly ordinary. But she’d been Jane Pearce—someone she’d liked just fine. But now she was Elle Vaughn, primped and contoured and looking like a spring day in February. Nothing could throw her off her game. Not today.
She had just finished packing her bag for the spa when an urgent pounding started at her door, startling her and making her drop her tote.
“Jane, Jane, open the door. There’s been an emergency!” Only one person here called her Jane and she’d been specifically told, many times, never to use that name in case someone overheard.
Jane’s heart pounded out of her ribs, and she raced to the door to shush Sarah before someone blew her cover. She opened the door to find a frazzled bride-to-be, looking as if the sky had fallen.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“It’s the wine!”
Jane had to collect herself because she’d been prepared for Sarah to say the wedding had been called off. Or Henry had discovered Jane’s true identity. Not something about wine.
She looked up and down the hallway—blessedly empty—and pulled Sarah in and slammed the door. “You called me Jane.”
“What?”
“You’re supposed to call me Elle. Always. Remember?”
Sarah waved it off. “I am freaking out about wine and you want me to remember names?”
Yes, yes she did. “If someone discovers that you hired a bridesmaid, people will start asking questions. Questions you don’t want to answer.”
Sarah sank down on the bed. “You’re right. I just didn’t know who else to go to.”
“This is why you hired me. Now, did you get it on your dress?” she said calmly, as it had happened to so many brides in the past. “Not to worry. Just some baking soda and fizzy water and it will come out in a flash.”
“No. The wine that was being imported from France is destroyed. There was a run-in with a chicken truck. No chickens were hurt in the accident.”
“Thank god,” Jane deadpanned.
“But they got splattered by the overturned barrels of wine. It was a gift from my mother’s old friend Andre. Now I have no wine for the rehearsal dinner, which is French-themed, so I need French wine. And I have to tell Andre about not receiving his gift. What am I going to do?”
Jane sat next to Sarah and took her hand. “You are going to do nothing. You are going to enjoy your stay at the spa with your friends and sister and have a relaxing time while I, your bridesmaid for hire, take care of this.”
She blinked back the tears. “Are you sure?”
“This is why you hired me.”
Sarah pulled Jane in for a bone-crushing hug. “Thank god for you.”
“You’re welcome. But we also need to talk.”
Sarah went white as rice. “About what?”
“Elle.”
Sarah wrung her hands. “What about her?”
“She put bleach in your shampoo?”
Her head snapped up. “Who told you that?”
“Your brother. But it should have been you.”
She dropped her head in her hands. Jane rested a hand on Sarah’s leg. “I need you to be straight up with me. About everything. When I get caught off guard, I make mistakes and now your brother is suspicious.”
Sarah straightened like she’d been bit by a snake. “What? No, no, no. Henry can’t find out. Then I’ll have to tell him why I’m no longer friends with Elle, that it was because of me and my fat mouth that Elle told the tabloids about him considering signing with another team. It will only convince him everyone is out to get him. He can never find out.”
“He won’t, I swear. But this will only work if you are completely transparent and follow the rules. Like no coming to my room unannounced. I can’t risk anyone seeing me out of costume. Always text me and I will come to you,” Jane reminded her.
“Why?” she asked, and Jane pointed to her Bride Board. Sarah gasped. “Oh my goodness. Are you like a spy or something?”
More like an imposter. An interloper who jumped from one wedding to the next pretending to be other people so she didn’t have time to examine her life too closely. And for a while it worked. But lately it had become lonely. Which was why she wanted to expand her business. She loved love and romance and happily ever after. Like her dad, she was a hopeless romantic, but she was starting to forget who Jane was, and it would be nice to know who was staring back at her in the mirror every once in a while.
“Or something. Now back to Elle. What else do I need to know?”
“She could be a bitch, but when she was nice you felt like the only person in the world. I was a scholarship kid. The scholarship kid at camp. No one wanted to be my friend, but she let me in her group. And I know it sounds stupid now, but at the time I just wanted a place to fit. My dad had just left, we’d lost our home, Henry was living in the dorms and training, and the only place where I got to be a normal kid was at summer camp. And Elle wrote me every month like clockwork. Those journals we passed back and forth were my lifeline. But when we’d see each other at camp she’d go back to being Mean Elle. But then we hit college, she outgrew her mean streak, and our friendship matured. She’s been there for me through a lot.”
“She sold your family out to a tabloid.”
“Yeah.” Sarah sniffled. “I keep forgetting. It’s easier to forget a broken heart than relive it all day long.”
“Later you and I will chat about anything else your family might know about you and Elle. That way I’m not ambushed.”
“I really am sorry.”
“It’s okay. I get wanting to hide the hurt parts of your soul. After my dad died, I used to make up stories about what great adventure he was on so that kids wouldn’t know he was gone.”
“I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Me too,” Jane said and took a deep breath. “Now, back to Elle the Bridesmaid. She has a wedding to save.”
Sarah suddenly stood. “My brother! He’s waiting downstairs to drive me, now you, to another winery.”
“Your brother?” she croaked. “No need, I can handle this myself.”
“But you can’t. Henry has a friend in the countryside who he knows from his racing days, whose family owns a winery. After I told him about the mishap, Henry called Louis and he offered to provide the wine for the rehearsal and wedding. It would be rude for family not to attend the tasting. So Henry has to go.”
“Of course he does,” Jane said under her breath.
“What?”
“I just meant he is a man of action.”
Sarah gave her a strange look. “That he is.”
“Now you go and have fun. I’ll take care of Henry and I’ll write an email of apology for you to send to Andre, so you don’t have to use up another brain cell on it.”
“Thank you.” Sarah sighed in relief. “Hiring you was the smartest thing I ever did.”
Sarah departed with a hug and Jane glanced at herself in the mirror, wondering if she should change into something more casual. She didn’t want Henry to think she’d dressed up for him. Then she checked herself.
“You are Elle. He is your friend’s brother. He’d expect you to be dressed to the nines.”
With that parting reminder, she grabbed her clutch and headed downstairs. Every floor the elevator descended, the sweatier her armpits became. Her goal had been to steer clear of him, not go wine tasting. How was she supposed to keep her distance when sharing the interior of a car with the guy?
You are Elle Vaughn. You are snooty and aloof and know how to play coy. You will flirt just enough, be a little demanding and self-absorbed, but awed by his status.
Gah. That last part made her want to gag.
But this was the role she’d taken on. And she would play it until the wheels fell off. If he grilled her, she’d have the perfect answer prepared. And if she didn’t, she’d redirect. She had a PhD in redirection.
Head held high, Jane didn’t acknowledge a single person as she strutted through the lobby, especially ignoring the staff—which really made Jane uncomfortable. When she reached the door, she waited with a folded twenty between her fingers for the doorman to open it for her.
She brushed past him with a tip and walked under the circular drive. It wasn’t hard to spot Henry. All she had to do was look for the obnoxious cherry-red McMansion on wheels idling at the curb.
Giving her bangs a flip, she glided toward his car, stopping at the passenger door, but not opening it.
Henry was reading an email on his phone and didn’t see her arrive. She was about to open her own door when she thought WWED? Elle would not open her own door.
Jane cleared her throat.
Henry took his time looking up, which told her he’d known she was there the entire time. Jerk. She was about to make a snarky remark when he looked up and she swallowed her tongue whole.
He was dressed in a casual blue sweater, with the sleeves pushed to the elbow, showing off a hint of a tattoo. His black hair was slicked back with a perfect curl coming down over his forehead, like it was windblown. Then there was the way his eyes heated when their gazes clashed.
It left her speechless.
This was what happened when your Lady Land took a self-inflicted sabbatical. Your hormones took over and you became sex crazed. Stupid hormones.
“Morning, love,” he said, his accent more potent than any aphrodisiac she’d ever had.
“Hank,” she said, trying to sound pleasant.
With a pleased grin, he unfolded himself from his car and strode around the front. She did her best not to stare, but seeing him in dark jeans that hugged his thighs made it difficult.
“You look lovely.” Instead of the “American hug” he’d given her last night, he gave her a gentle peck—one cheek, then the other. But instead of air kisses, his lips brushed her bare skin, leaving tingles behind.
He pulled back and she didn’t say a word. She must have looked as dazed as she felt because one side of his lip curled in satisfaction. “Are you ready for a little tasting?”
“What?” Jane squeaked.
That other side quirked. “Wine. I assume that’s why you’re here. Wine tasting?”
“Of course. I didn’t want Sarah to miss her day with her friends.”
Something in his amused expression softened. “So you gave up your spa day?”
“Of course. This is Sarah’s week. I know you think I’m a self-centered bitch, but I am really here to make sure Sarah has the best week of her life.”
“Even if that means spending the day with me?”
“In the name of transparency, I agreed before I knew you were my chaperone.”
He laughed and, wow, it changed his whole demeanor. He no longer looked like the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, he looked . . . happy? Had she done that?
No, Elle had.
“Looking your fill or contemplating your next barb?” he asked.
“Neither. Just realizing that I forgot my head scarf.”
“When I first met you, I didn’t take you for a high maintenance kind of girl.”
“I’m a blue jeans and T-shirt kind of woman,” popped out and she cursed herself because she doubted Elle owned a pair of blue jeans. Designer denim yes, but blue jeans from Target? Hell no. He stared at her in a way that made her nervous. “And what’s the point of a car ride like this without a little Grace Kelly moment. Every woman deserves their Grace Kelly moment.”
He looked her up and down. “Cute shoes. Now stay put. I’ll be right back.”
He held the door open and offered her his hand. She took it and there went those sparks again. Their eyes met, but neither let go. Reminding herself of who she was, Jane gave a demure smile and slid into the passenger’s seat, pulling her legs in with grace.
He frowned and then turned to leave.
“Where are you going?”
“To get you your Grace Kelly Moment.”
Well,that was a mistake of epic proportions.
He’d been so thrown by the abrupt change in Elle that he’d walked through the main entrance of the hotel and straight into a line of waiting fans, who had heard he was staying there. The first to approach him was a kid about six or seven who had a model race car he wanted Henry to autograph. It brought a smile to his lips.
Henry loved meeting his fans, especially the young ones. He’d been one of those kids with big dreams of becoming an F1 World Champ one day. He still remembered when his dad had pulled some strings and snuck him into the paddock when Henry had been around eight. He’d met his first World Champion that day, his hero, and it lit a fire within that had only grown with time. That fire was what drove him every day to be at the top of his game.
So when kids approached him with racing dreams, Henry loved the chance to pay that moment forward, be a part of that change between going from a racing fan to a racer.
Ten minutes and a hundred autographs later, security came and ushered him up the back elevator; if not he would have been there all day. And some days that would have been okay. But today he had a date with a stunning woman who was as mysterious as she was a contradiction.
He thanked the security guy and made his way to her room. The second he got to her door an overwhelming calmness settled around him. It wasn’t just getting away from the chaos—this was different. There was still a faint scent of her perfume lingering, which was light and floral, like a bouquet of spring breeze. Then there were the answers to all the secrets and questions she had piqued within him lying just beyond the door.
Bollocks! The door. He forgot to get her key. How the hell was he supposed to get in her room and fetch her a Grace Kelly moment without a key?
“Were you smelling Elle’s door?” Sarah asked, and Henry nearly jumped out of his shoes.
“No,” he lied.
“Sure looked like it to me.”
“I was fetching her a scarf for her hair and realized I didn’t have her key.”
“Did you knock?” Sarah asked, looking nervous as hell.
“She’s not there. She’s in my car waiting.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll just call security to let me in.” The room was booked and paid for under his name anyway. All the rooms were.
Sarah blanched. “No need for that. I have a scarf she can borrow.” She wrapped her arm around Henry’s and led him down the hallway, practically yanking him.
“Why are you acting so weird?”
“You left my best friend waiting in your car. You’d think Mum raised you in a pasture.” She stopped them in front of the bridal suite. “And here we are. I’ll be right back.”
Sarah disappeared and quickly returned with a light-blue patterned scarf that would match Jane’s number to a tee. And there went that suspicious pinch to the gut again.
“Did the wine really spill or are you trying to shove us together for some reason?”
“No.” Sarah looked so horrified, he believed it. “I am definitely not. She is one hundred percent off-limits. To you and your friends. So make sure you tell them.”
“I already did.”
“Good.” She side-eyed him. “I mean it.” When Henry remained mum on the topic she added, “I’m trying to give you a normal day out. Like a normal person at a destination wedding.”
“Destination? I live here.”
“You live in Monaco. You haven’t called London your home since you were a kid.”
It was true. He felt more himself when he was back in Monaco surrounded by other racers, where they talked about racing, strategy, and guy stuff.
“And I’m sending Elle because she is so stressed out, she needs a break. Plus, she was a sommelier for a few years back in college. Now go have a normal day out like a normal person.”
He had to laugh. Henry hadn’t felt normal in quite some time. Actually, that wasn’t true. For a brief moment down on the street he’d felt a flash of normal pass between him and Elle. And he was interested to see where the hell that led.