The Movie Star's Red Hot Holiday Fling(20)
Why did the idea put a cold feeling in his lungs? Blake resisted the urge to crawl back into bed and hold her. Instead, he went to the living room window. Moonlight illuminated the smoky mountains, giving them a ghostly veil. He didn’t want to leave her with a shallow memory.
He wanted to give Jessie something more tangible to hang onto after he left.
They’d talked once about the day she’d been injured. Blake mulled over the scenarios that Constanza and Woodall had remembered. Something didn’t add up…and then the dots connected. He rushed to his desk and opened his laptop to switch on another program. If he was right, this program would give Jessie what she needed to grab the life she deserved.
Even if it was without him.
Chapter Eight
After she finished working out with Blake on Monday morning, Jessie hurried to double-check the state of the ladies’ lounge off the main dining hall. Two of the women she’d met at Maisey’s wedding sat in front of the mirrors chatting until they caught sight of her.
The way the practically-perfect-in-every-way models looked at her made Jessie’s skin crawl. Still, they’d been pleasant enough to her during the wedding. “Good seeing you again,” she said. “Hope you’re enjoying the resort’s amenities.”
One, a brunette linked to some other hottie in Hollywood, nodded. “It’s a bit rustic, but when Blake Johnston wants something, he gets it.”
The other woman stifled a laugh. “He doesn’t want anything for long.” She applied another coat of bright lipstick.
Jessie’s heart punched against her ribcage. Their snub had been deliberate and cruel. “I hope the rest of your stay is pleasant,” she said before going to the bathrooms to check the stall area.
Jessie straightened the fancy paper towel dispensers and made note of the supplies the room needed. She’d never fit into Blake’s world based upon what the wanna-be Hollywood Housewives said. Not that she’d signed on for more than a casual fling, but the snide remarks stung.
She heard the women leave and swiped her palms down her jeans, telling herself that as long as Blake wanted her, she should hold her head high. No one had the right to pour mental acid on her newfound sense of self. With that thought in mind, she went to find her mother and sister, who had arranged a shopping spree to get ready for the New Year’s Eve gala in three days.
Several hours later, Jessie walked into the lobby with her mother and Hannah. Her equilibrium had been restored, and she had dozens of new items to wear that gave her confidence a mini-boost.
She took in the resort’s decorating changes. The lodge’s Christmas garlands and holly berries had been replaced by tinsel, glitter, and silver stars. Even the resort’s Christmas tree had been retrimmed with matching balls and stars and crystal lights.
“Wow,” she said. “The staff has turned this place into a winter wonderland.”
Jessie put her shopping bags behind the front desk, then hooked her arms into her sister’s and mother’s. They walked to the ballroom where oversized custom-designed snowflakes hung from the ceiling at varying lengths. Strings of white bulbs looped from the high pine beams. White, silver, and frosted branches had been arranged in tall crystal vases, which the lodge’s staff placed on the silver-linen-covered tables circling the dance floor.
Blake stood in the center of the room, holding a ladder while Maisey adjusted the length of an invisible string.
Yummy couldn’t begin to describe the way Blake made her tummy flippity-flop. His black T-shirt molded to his torso, defining his broad shoulders, muscled chest, and ten-pack abs. And the way those jeans molded across his athletic thighs and chiseled bottom did all kinds of wonderful things to her lady parts.
Beside her, Hannah giggled. “Sis, you’ve got it so bad.”
“Hello? Mother in the room,” her mom cautioned.
Jessie’s face heated. “Sorry,” she said. “He’s just so…”
“Delicious,” her sister said.
“Definitely Grade A, all man,” her mom agreed.
“Mommm,” Jessie and Hannah groaned. “You’re married.”
“Just because I’m on a diet doesn’t mean I can’t look at the menu,” her mom said. “But your dad’s my number one dish.”
Maisey stepped off the ladder. “Perfect.”
“You sure? Because this is the hundredth time I’ve had to stand here.” Blake tilted his head toward Jessie. “Andrew’s hiding in the bar with your brother and some of the guests, but Maisey roped me into this before I could escape.”
Jessie laughed. He talked tough, but deep down Jessie knew how much Blake adored his sister. Seeing him in the ballroom, he seemed like he belonged in her world. Part of her became wistful. But the memory of the women who had dissed her kick-started a platoon of ants under her skin. How could she blame the models for questioning Blake’s taste when she couldn’t wrap her own brain around it?