“It’s better. Thanks for the distraction,” I replied, kissing his forehead, his temples, his nose, his eyelids, his eyebrows. He sighed again, making a light humming sound in the back of his throat that I’d filed away as “Jack’s Happy Sound.”
A horn honking brought me back down to earth, snapping me out of my memory. I brushed my fingertips over my still-swollen lips and grinned. My shirt had still been wet with espresso when I left, so I was wearing one of his shirts. The long-sleeved white thermal would have fit him snugly, but I was swimming in it. He’d taken the time to roll up my sleeves for me at his front door, and I noticed again how much taller he was than me. He was easily over six feet, and he gazed down at me adoringly. We had made out all morning, hardly joking at all, and I wondered if things would change now. Would we be friends? Would we be mushy? Would we be anything now?
He leaned to kiss me good-bye and whispered in my ear, “In case I didn’t tell you, you have gorgeous tits.”
I grinned inwardly, then placed my mouth right next to his ear. “I know. Wait until you see the rest of me.”
We both cracked huge smiles and I trotted away toward my car. When I got there, I looked back and saw him still standing there, watching me.
“See ya, Hamilton!”
“Later, Sheridan.”
Yeah, things will be just fine.
Jack and I had agreed that for the rest of the day, I was working. He was between jobs right now, although he was doing more and more press for the film. Holly also had him taking meetings all over town, making sure that the doors would be open when this movie premiered. All the industry trackers were predicting a commercial success, possibly even forty million plus on opening weekend. If all went well, Jack would have significant bargaining power when choosing his next few jobs. Holly was determined to use his new power position to secure his career, rather than capitalize on just the next eighteen months while he was the new “it boy.”
Because he wasn’t technically working right now, he was enjoying his last few months of relaxation in relative anonymity, although even that was no longer guaranteed. I thought about the pictures from yesterday, and I thought about how a picture of me leaving his apartment in what was obviously his shirt could affect him.
It would have looked like we were indulging in a little morning delight, to which I was no longer opposed.
But I was behind on my work with my scene partner, not to mention almost overdue on a project that I was working on for a client. I told Jack emphatically that he was not allowed to call me, e-mail me, or send me texts until I reached out to him. He was so charming that he would pull my focus from whatever task I was trying to complete—not that I was complaining. The time we’d spent together that morning was crazy-town good. I needed to keep both feet planted firmly on the ground, however. It would be so easy to get carried away with all things Hamilton. Besides, I had another motive for spending the afternoon alone.
I wanted to Google him.
Ever since he’d mentioned it at the beach, I’d been considering it. I mean, really, it wasn’t too stalkerish, was it? If I was dating any other guy and I knew there was oodles of information available, just waiting for me, wouldn’t I take advantage of it? Was this creepy?
Hell’s bells, Loretta, just Google him for fuck’s sake.
I made myself work for a few hours when I got home, after I took a peek at my back. It was still red, but not too bad. I thought I might milk it a little next time I saw him, score some sympathy points. Maybe even a back rub. Yeah, a back rub. His hands would trail lightly down my back, farther still to my panties, and then . . .
Focus up, Grace.
I did work for a few hours, and then I switched over to the open-mike night I had planned for the following week. I strummed my guitar, practicing the songs I’d chosen. I’d recently begun to write some of my own songs, but I wasn’t quite confident enough about them yet to sing them in public.
I was still singing when I noticed it was almost dinnertime and Holly would be home soon. I’d have to Google later. I raced through the shower and was just getting dressed when she called to let me know she was about five minutes away. She was bringing Thai home for dinner.
I was slipping into a white linen shift when she poked her head into my room.
“Hey, dinner’s downstairs and you’ve got a package waiting for you on the front porch.”
“I do?”
“Yeah, it’s right outside. Go get your package.” I walked past her, raising an eyebrow. She just shrugged and pointed down toward the front door.
Outside, I saw a white envelope on the front step. I opened it and found a Starbucks gift card. The note attached said:
Sheridan,
You didn’t say anything about handwritten delivery when you cut off all forms of communication.
“Oh man, Hamilton, are you here?” I called out as I looked around.
He caught me up into a close hug, pulling back to kiss my forehead. “I brought you this since you didn’t really get your money’s worth this morning.”
“You’re silly, and I told you no communication. Obviously this would include face-to face.” I pouted, relaxing a little into him.
“Why are you so serious about this no-communication thing?” he inquired, beginning to sweep gentle kisses from my ear down to my neck.
“This is why. Because I can’t focus when you do that.” I sighed, leaning fully into him against my better judgment.
“Huh. So, I shouldn’t do this?” he asked innocently, brushing his fingertips down my bare arms. He slid his hand along my shoulder, then inside the linen dress, and began to move toward my breast.
“No, you shouldn’t,” I protested weakly. I was beginning to get worked up and could feel my breasts tighten as he moved closer.
“I like this dress, Grace. I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
“No kidding—we’ve just met! So far you’ve seen me in workout clothes, a racing swimsuit, and a slutty pair of jeans. And a saltine shower.”
He laughed, clearly remembering the saltines. “Well, they were all memorable. But the dress? My favorite so far.” He continued his assault on my senses, running his hands farther down my sides and starting to gather handfuls of linen, lifting my dress high on my thighs.
“For fuck’s sake, we can’t do this here! This is so inappropriate. This is . . . Oh, God . . .”
He’d allowed his fingertips to slide all the way up my legs, stopping only when he reached my lacy panties. He traced the edge of the lace, starting at my hip and moving down, then covering me with his hand. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me.
“Are you focusing right now, Grace?” he breathed into my ear.
“Um, yes? But you don’t affect me as much as you think you do.” I tried feebly to keep control of the conversation, since I was losing control of the lower half of my body.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He frowned at me, pulling the lace aside, his fingers hovering just above me. Like before, even though he wasn’t actually touching me, I could feel him. I could feel where he was, and I knew he knew exactly what this was doing to me. “In fact, I would say you are very affected by this,” he whispered hotly, his piercing eyes not allowing me to look away.
Then his fingers touched me.
I have never in my life felt so aroused. It was magic. His fingers fluttered along, grazing me lightly, and I almost came right then. I shuddered.
“Mmm, Grace. You sure this isn’t affecting you?” he said, pressing down on me. I almost lost my balance. He pushed me back up against the doorbell and I heard it ring.
“Coming!” Holly said as she clicked across the floor inside.
“Not quite, but she’s close.” He chuckled, removing his hand and leaving me breathless and rosy cheeked. “I’ll just let you get back to focusing. Call me when you’re ready to finish this,” he said, laughing lightly at my frustrated, confused look.
“Guh,” I mumbled. He slipped into th
e darkness, but I could hear him. I amused him.
Holly opened the door and took one look at me. I was still against the door with my dress bunched up around my hips. I was shaking my head in wonderment, looking frazzled and thrilled all at the same time.
“Oh, God, the British have landed, haven’t they?” she asked.
I looked up at her, incapable of speech.
I distinctly heard Jack’s laughter as his car started up.
“You better not have fucked her up against my front door, Jack!” she called after him.
As his car went down the driveway, he yelled, “Not yet, Holly!”
Holly shook her finger at me in a tsk-tsk fashion and went inside. Seconds later, she turned the porch light out on me.
ten
T hough we had only known each other for a few days, that night was a turning point in our “relationship.” It was on. I knew that we were stupid attracted to each other. I knew that it made no sense at all that we were engaging in what was now beyond a mild flirtation. I knew that the nine-year age difference was huge and that whether I wanted to or not, it would eventually be something that I’d have to deal with. I knew that he was already Mr. Hot Shit, UK version, and about to blow up into a huge star. I knew that there was little to no chance that we would both make it out of this okay.
I knew that he was going to fuck me like it was his job.
And I knew that I was going to let him.
I was beyond the point of being able to resist. I was going to let my body take over and my brain worry about something else. All the mental junk got pushed into a box titled “Grace Will Deal with You Later, She Is Now Being Run by Her Oonie.”
The rest of that week we talked on the phone, we e-mailed, we texted, and we even made Holly our go-between. She was forced to relay messages over the phone, like “Tell Sheridan I saw a seagull this morning that needed a soft place to land” and “Tell Hamilton there is a sale on ChapStick if he needs to stock up. That bottom lip is looking a little ragged” and “Tell Sheridan that she should use Bengay if her joints are acting up. That’s what my dad uses” and “Tell Hamilton that the meter-reader guy put some on me last night, and it felt gooood.”
Eventually Holly refused to continue this telephone game, shouting, “Would you two just fuck and get it over with?”
We didn’t see each other until the following week. I really was behind on work. I was getting ready for the showcase and that night I was finally testing out my two songs at open-mike night. Holly and Nick were meeting me at a club off Fairfax. I was a little nervous but mostly excited. I needed to practice, and I was just becoming comfortable performing in front of an audience again.
I was also still working my way through the Time series. I was hooked. Was I reading erotica? Time-traveling erotica? Perhaps . . .
I had talked to Jack in the late afternoon. He’d been on set all day, doing reshoots at a studio in the valley, and was going to try to make it to the club in time.
“I’m not sure what time I’ll be done. They tell me I should be out of here by eightish, but that’s usually rubbish.” He sighed.
“Well, if you get here, you get here. If not, no big deal. I might be doing another open mike next week, too,” I answered, picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on my jeans. I was getting more nervous about tonight than I’d expected. This was good, though—good energy to have.
“Actually, I’m not sure if I’ll be here next week,” he said. “Holly said I have to start doing some more press. They’ve got interviews lined up for me all next week, and at some point I have to head up to Santa Barbara for a photo shoot.”
“Oh, okay. Well, whatever. It’s just an open-mike night. I understand,” I replied, shocked that this affected me so. I could feel my stomach tightening up as I realized that I had really been looking forward to having him hear me sing.
Grace, this isn’t your boyfriend. This is someone who hasn’t even seen you naked yet.
That wasn’t for lack of trying, though. Although I’d kept him away all week while I was working, he’d tried almost every night to talk me into going out, or at least letting him come over. After his front-door performance, I was sorely tempted. Nevertheless, I was being an adult and getting my work done first.
Was I maybe also playing a little hard to get? Hell yes.
“Grace, you know I’ll be there if I’m in town, right? You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” he said. Then I heard someone talking in the background. “Right, then. They need me back on set. I’ll ring you if I can’t make it. Otherwise, I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll talk to you later. Hey, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If I do see you tonight, you’re going to finish what you started,” I said teasingly, remembering what he’d promised the last time we were together.
He was quiet, and I thought he’d hung up until he said, almost in a whisper, “Grace, I will focus on nothing else in life until you come. I will start it and I will fucking finish it.”
Oh. My. God. The Brit was a little dirty birdie. I scraped myself off the floor and tried to start breathing again. “Hamilton, I have no words for you.”
“Good. I like you speechless. Now, let me go work so I can get to you faster.” He hung up.
Christ on a crutch . . .
I arrived at the club early. Sitting at the bar to wait for my friends, I nursed a hot tea, trying to get my mind off Jack’s words. I was getting warm for his form just thinking about him, and I found myself wishing that the night was over so we could be together.
Girl, you got it bad.
Yes, but I was hoping to get it good.
I felt a pair of hands on my waist and smiled as I turned around. But it wasn’t Jack.
“Bitch, this redhead has been identified!” Nick was holding a copy of the TMZ picture from the beach, and he was not pleased. “Tell me you are not fucking him. Please, God, tell me you haven’t hit this.”
“Why would you assume that just by looking at this picture? Maybe we were just sharing a harmless lunch,” I said, protesting innocently.
“So, you haven’t slept with him? Oh, thank you, Lord. I was going to smash my head through a plate-glass window if you stole my British dreamboat before he knew he was secretly gay. I need some more time to convince him.” He laughed.
“No, Nick, I haven’t slept with him,” I answered truthfully, wondering how I was going to dodge this particular bullet.
“Not yet,” Holly piped up, sneaking around me to steal a cherry from behind the bar. “I give it another week before penetration happens.”
Nick’s face moved through all shades of red and on toward purple. “How could you? My dreamboat, my British hotness, my steak-and-kidney pie, my, my . . . ,” he stuttered.
I struggled not to laugh. “Nick, I am sorry for your loss, but he’s thoroughly, completely straight. If there were a chance that he wasn’t, I never would’ve kissed him. And that’s all I’ve done.”
“He felt you up the other day. Oh, and almost made you scream up against my doorbell,” Holly added gleefully.
“Not helping.” I seethed through my teeth.
“Well, at least he’s putting it to someone I know,” Nick said. “That makes me a little happy, and no one needs it more than you. Except maybe you, dear,” he said, suddenly turning on Holly.
She gulped, swallowing her cherry. “When did this become about me? I’m fine,” she said in protest, turning her own shade of red.
“Oh, please, it’s been months since you had sex with someone else in the room. And don’t try to lie. I am in tune,” he said fiercely, placing his fingertips to his temple in an attempt to divine the last time Holly had gotten some.
I pulled myself away from the conversation as they bickered back and forth, smoothing down my outfit. I’d settled on a tight, fitted black linen button-down, strategically leaving the top few buttons undone. I’d paired it with black swingy pants, finishing off with the
Urban Shoe Myth: black patent-leather Mary Janes. My hair was down, and I didn’t even pretend to fool myself that it wasn’t for Jack. He’d told me on the phone one night that he loved my hair, especially when it was curly.
Yes, I was now analyzing what he said as if I were in junior high—which I practically was, when he was born . . . oh, man.
Grace, settle. You’ve been over this. Jack is just Jack. Forget the age difference. Focus on the prize. The package is the prize.
The package was indeed the prize. I’d been dying to peek at that package ever since the day I was straddling him on his bed. The boy was excited, and I had taken notice.
I kibitzed with Nick and Holly for a bit, and when performers started taking the stage, I scanned the crowd for Jack. It was almost nine thirty, and no sign of the Brit. Ah well, reshoots must have run longer than he’d anticipated.
When the host called my name, I climbed onstage with my guitar. I had picked two different songs, and I was happy with my choices. Watching Holly and Nick applaud for me, I let the familiar feeling that I got from performing take me. It always made me a little high. I closed my eyes, found my center, and when I finished the intro, I opened my eyes to sing.
Jack was by the bar, several feet away from Holly and Nick, and he was staring at me, smiling. I sucked in my breath with a whoosh and grinned back at him, feeling my tummy flip. I was so knocked out by this guy—it was seriously twisted, how into him I was.
As I began to sing, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. They penetrated me all the way down to my tingling tiptoes, and it was all I could do to get through the song. I’d chosen “Strong Enough” by Sheryl Crow, which was perfect for tonight.
I focused on the lyrics, asking with my eyes if he was up for this, for all of it, for all of me. He nodded his head as the lyrics asked him all the questions that it was way too soon to actually ask. When it was over, he applauded louder and longer than everyone else did, adding a few wolf whistles.
I thanked the audience and strode purposefully through the crowd. I was taking what I now considered mine, and damn the consequences.
The Redhead Series Page 8
