Page 23 of Mistletoe Mistake
Rather than arguing, Cole put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. We had no time to discuss it further anyway since we'd arrived at the edge of the park where a line of taxis waited at the rank, and Jackson and Holly turned back to us. “We were just talking about going for a drink,” Holly informed us. “Do you two want to join us?”
I hadn't told Holly anything about the deal that Cole and I made, and I assumed Cole hadn't told Jackson either. It might seem suspicious if we blew them off now, but I knew the only thing I wanted to do right now was to get back to his hotel.
Cole was obviously on the same page. “I've actually got some work I need to review this evening,” he lied, stealing my excuse.
“And I've got some… uh, phone calls to make,” I added lamely. Holly’s raised eyebrows made it clear she had her doubts, but she didn’t call me out on it. I turned away from her questioning look and back to Cole, trying to sound as if the thought had just occurred to me. “Are you heading back to the Lytton? We could share a taxi and I can get on the tube from there.”
“Sure.”
We said goodnight to Jackson and Holly, and Cole held the taxi door open for me.
“Do you think we fooled them?” I asked him as he got in and closed the door behind him.
“Not at all,” he said, pulling me close to him. “Do you care?”
“Not at all,” I murmured in reply as his lips found mine again.
~Cole~
At last. This evening hadn't been as bad as I feared it might be, but each minute that I had to wait to get Gemma alone had still been painful. Now, we were making out in the back of the taxi like horny teenagers rather than two professional, rational adults. I couldn't keep my hands off her for another second.
There were still way too many clothes in the way, but I managed to find a bit of skin on Gemma's back when I put my arms around her. My fingers traced the waist of her jeans on the back and she shivered beneath my touch.
“Your hands are cold,” she laughed, breaking the kiss long enough to admonish me before pressing herself to me again.
"And your skin is very sensitive," I murmured back, the words coming out as almost a growl in my desperation. "Fortunately for me."
My hand slipped down the back of her jeans, beneath her panties, and she gasped into my mouth, letting my tongue in deeper. The lingering sweetness of the food she'd had at the park mingled with her own sweet taste, and it only made me hungry for more. There wasn't an inch of her I didn't want to taste.
Much too quickly and yet not quickly enough, the taxi pulled up outside my hotel. As fast as humanly possible, I paid the driver and got out of the car, holding my arm out to help Gemma exit.
As soon as she did, flashbulbs started to go off around us, throwing me completely off balance. Ovals of light danced in front of my eyes as I tried to figure out what was happening. Gemma instinctively turned away to shield her eyes from the brightness while I scowled at the photographers. Even through the bursts of light, I could see three of them and they'd clearly been waiting for us. For me, at least. One of them called my name, trying to get me to look over at him.
Putting my arm around Gemma, I led her inside as quickly as I could.
“What is that about?” she asked once we were in the lobby and out of reach of the cameras.
My lips tightened into a frown, not really sure what to tell her. “I don't know. I haven't had paparazzi interested in me in years, not since I stopped dating.”
“You stopped dating? Why?”
I hadn't expected her to focus on that part of what I'd said, and I really didn’t want to talk about other women right now. “It doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”
“I'm fine. It just surprised me. You’re alright?”
“Fine. Let's go upstairs.”
As we got in the elevator, I pulled out my phone to send a text to my office in New York, and Gemma kept her distance while I typed my message. She still looked a little thrown off by what had just happened, and honestly, I felt that way too. I really couldn't figure out why the paparazzi were suddenly interested in me, and here in London of all places. I had never been a household name over here.
“Do you want a drink?” I asked once we were in my room, taking off my coat and scarf. “I'm just waiting for a call from my publicist to see if she's heard anything that might explain the photographers.”
“Sure.” Gemma also removed her outer layers while I poured her a glass of wine in the small kitchen of my suite. As I handed it to her, my phone rang and I had a quick conversation with my publicist, Nellie. However, the sudden attention surprised her as much as it did me, which didn’t make things any clearer.
By the time I hung up and sat down beside her, Gemma had almost emptied her glass, and she gave me an apologetic half-smile. “I’m afraid the paparazzi might be my fault, actually.”
I had no idea what she meant. “Your fault? How?”
“Because of the woman we ran into earlier tonight at the park,” she explained. “The blonde one. Her name is Annabel Clarkson and she's a minor celebrity over here. Very minor. A reality TV star, one of those people who's famous for being famous.”
