I screamed, feeling the corn sprinkle everywhere. In my frenzy to get at the corn, I fell off the counter and onto the floor, landing with a loud splat. I rolled around in a frozen-corn-induced fit, trying to get up but slipping on niblets every time I got my feet underneath me. Jack was doubled over in absolute hysterics, and I saw Holly and Nick peering over the counter at me. I was still on the floor with corn everywhere.
“You are a pig!” I screamed, finally scrambling to my feet, niblets glued to my thighs and other delicate parts.
“I told you so! And your sense of humor is so corny!” he yelled back.
Holly and Nick shook their heads at us.
Nick pointed at my hoo-ha and said, “Is that what you call cornpone?”
“Hey, your favorite show is on, Grace. It’s The Corny Collins Show!” Holly said, chiming in.
“What’s your favorite Poison song, Nick?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know, Jack. What’s yours?” Nick answered back, vaudeville style.
“‘Every Rose Has Its Corn’!” he shouted as they both waved around jazz hands.
I glared at all of them as they laughed, making my way back toward the stairs, shaking out niblets the entire time. “Whatever, Hamilton. You were an infant when that song came out.”
“What’s that, Sheridan?” he yelled as I walked up the stairs.
“Oh, suck it!” I yelled back. I heard them all laughing as I went in for my second shower of the day.
“Every Rose Has Its Corn” . . . funny.
After that, I refused to see Jack. I did communicate with him through a series of notes passed under the door of my bedroom. I agreed to meet him later at my new house, and then we were going out for dinner.
I was excited, as this would be our first official “date.” It was weird that he had already had his mouth on my lady business before our first date, but then again, nothing was conventional about us, so why start now?
After my audition, I went straight to my new house. I was excited to see how things were coming along since I had been there last week. They were at the end of refinishing the hardwood floors and tiling the kitchen. Many of my new appliances had just been delivered and were being installed, and most of the crew had already gone for the day. I walked through with Chad, the contractor, making notes here and there on things that were still being finished.
“Hey, Sheridan, where are you?”
My heart lurched at the sound of his voice. Even though it had only been a few hours since I’d seen him, I’d missed him.
This is getting serious.
No kidding.
“In here!” I yelled, and listened to him walk toward us.
When he came around the corner, I grinned, letting my gaze travel over him. The late-afternoon California sun was streaming through the windows, making him glow. Black leather jacket, green T-shirt, black jeans, and . . . the ball cap. Damn it, the ball cap would have to go. I needed to see those curls. They were just too good. He smiled, biting down gently on his lower lip, and I nodded to him as I continued talking to Chad.
“So, the colors for the painter have been chosen and I taped the swatches up in each room. Also, there are some scuff marks on the tile in the shower that haven’t been removed. Can we take care of that this weekend?”
I motioned to Jack to follow us as we finished our tour, and he tagged along. He was smiling at me with that devious grin, and I wondered what he was thinking.
As I walked around the house, making notes with the contractor on things that they were still working on, I noticed him eyeing my legs with great interest. I was still wearing my audition outfit: black pencil skirt, black turtleneck, wide red belt, and red pumps, very forties style. My hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and I was still wearing my glasses. I winked at him over the rims when I was discussing the new Viking stove with Chad, and he winked back. Knowing he was watching as we walked around, I might have put a little extra sway in my hips.
By the time Chad left, the rest of the crew had disappeared, and it was just Jack and me. Most of the lights were off, and he wandered back into the house while I saw Chad out. Then I walked through the rooms, looking for him.
“Hey, Hamilton, where are you?” I called out.
“In here, Nuts Girl,” he answered from my bedroom.
I walked in and saw him looking at the walls, where I had instructed the painter to test out different swatches of paint color.
“Hey,” I said softly.
“Hey yourself,” he answered.
We stared at each other from across the room for a moment.
“Is it crazy that I missed you, even for that short amount of time?” I asked boldly, putting it right out there.
“Is it crazy that I missed you and I almost called Holly to find out where your audition was so I could pick you up?” he answered.
“Is it crazy that I want to kiss you so badly right now, I almost can’t stand it?” I retorted, walking across the room toward him.
“Is it crazy that when I saw you in that insanely sexy outfit, I wanted to ravage you on that pile of furniture pads in the other room?” he said, crossing to me and meeting me halfway.
“Is it crazy that—” I couldn’t finish; his mouth was on mine.
Is it crazy that you are probably in love with this guy after only a few weeks?
Yep. Apeshit, batshit, insane crazy in love. Shit.
Just don’t tell him that . . .
Don’t worry.
fifteen
We made out like teenagers, kissing and caressing softly as we stood in my bedroom. There wasn’t the urgency of earlier, although I sensed that it could be brought to the surface within seconds. Now there was gentleness, a quietness to our exploration. I had forgotten what it felt like to simply kiss a man and have him kiss me back, echoing my pace. This was sweet, nurturing, lovely, and loving.
This was a romance that was beginning.
We kissed until the sun began to set, then he leaned my head on his shoulder, holding me close, and kissed near my ear.
He said, “Is it crazy that—”
“Let’s not start that again. We agree, we are both crazy,” I said, interrupting, and patted him on the backside.
“I wasn’t finished, you rude girl,” he said, frowning down at me.
“Oops, sorry. Please continue,” I said apologetically.
“I was going to say, is it crazy that I think your tits look amazing in that turtleneck?”
I pulled back to look at him. He was gazing down at me with a twinkle in his eye.
“You have a one-track mind, Johnny Bite-Down.”
“That’s true, I do.” He laughed.
“And the turtleneck might have something to do with the hickey you left behind!” I scolded him, pulling it down so he could see what he’d done. He just rolled his eyes and laughed.
“By the way, I’m going to make a rule, right here and now,” I said, pulling out of his arms and facing him with my hands on my hips. When I saw him laughing, I jiggled my chest at him. He was mesmerized instantly. Now that I knew the girls had such power over him, I would be using them more often.
“Eyes up here, Hamilton. My rule?” I dragged his focus back.
“Yes, your rule. What is it?” he asked, moving closer to me again.
“This,” I said, flicking his lower lip. “You are not allowed to bite down on that lower lip unless you’re planning on spending at least an hour using it on me.”
“What is with you and my lip? I don’t see the big deal.” He frowned, making a show of biting down aggressively.
“It’s just plain hot, so knock it off! Promise me—hey, promise me!” I snapped my fingers and squeezed his face, pressing his cheeks together so that his lips were pushed out. “Promise me you’ll be my Johnny Bite-Down, and mine alone, or no more slap and tickle.”
“Grace, please. I do believe if I want a little of anything, you’ll be begging to give it to me,” he said, challenging me.
I raised my eyebrows at him and prepared to go nuclear on his ass.
He called your bluff. You will totally give him anything he wants, whenever he wants it.
Damn it.
“But, in the interest of keeping the peace . . . and our dinner reservation,” he said, “I will agree to restrain the biting down until I can use it on you, as much as I can help it, agreed?” He smiled that grin that he knew I couldn’t resist, and I melted.
“Yes, please. Thank you.” I smiled back. He kissed me softly again as I fixed his hair, and we made our way back through the house, locking it on our way out.
We decided to take my car, but he drove. We went to Yamashiro, a Japanese restaurant in the hills with amazing views of Los Angeles. He had timed dinner just right for when the sun was setting, leaving behind a lovely glow around the gardens. The restaurant was situated in a series of Japanese gardens and was a rather famous place to dine in L.A. It was also very romantic—something that wasn’t lost on me. The boy did good.
We sat at a table by the windows so we could watch the sunset, and after ordering our sushi and sake, I excused myself to run to the ladies’ room. I checked my reflection in the mirror, smoothing my hair, and noticed the flush in my face. Right before I had left the table Jack had mentioned what he planned to do to me later that night, and it was enough to get my blood pumping.
It may have involved his tongue.
I overheard two girls talking back and forth between the stalls, obviously discussing a celebrity who was dining there tonight.
“I saw him over by the window! Damn, he looks good. He’s all dressed up. Normally when I see him out he’s much grungier.”
“He’s fucking hot, is what he is. I wonder who he’s with.”
“Eh, some woman. It must be business related. Maybe it’s a meeting. That’s probably why he’s dressed up.”
The hairs on the back of my neck began to prickle. I had a pretty good idea who they were talking about. I ducked my head into my purse to hide my face, but as they exited the stalls, I took a quick look.
They were tall. They were beautiful. They were young. They stood at the counter, washing their hands and touching up their lip gloss. I suddenly felt like a fool, an old fool.
One of them—I’ll call her Stunning—caught my eye in the mirror and she spun around. “Oh! You’re the one who’s eating with Jack Hamilton, right?” she exclaimed.
The other one, Also Stunning, took me in, eyes flickering over me, head to toe. Not considering me any kind of threat, she turned around as well with a saccharine smile.
I looked at Stunning and said, “Yes, I am. Did you want me to relay a message to him?” I asked, remembering my manners and that Holly would not want me to start a brawl over her client in a ladies’ room.
“Oh no, we’ll maybe stop by the table later. Will you two be meeting long? We were hoping he might want to grab a drink with us afterward,” Stunning answered, as Also Stunning smiled at the thought.
Breathe, Grace . . .
The fact that they had dismissed me as competition pissed me off royally, but I kept my cool. “I really don’t know how long, but you’re welcome to stop by the table. Jack always enjoys meeting his fans.” I took one last glance in the mirror and swiftly exited.
My heart was pounding as I headed back to the table. What I was doing? The idea that this could work beyond a few manic sexy times was ludicrous. We were worlds apart, despite the powerful connection that we had.
I was a thirtysomething with a giant mortgage and a fledgling career. He was about to be a huge movie star and should have been with girls like Stunning and Also Stunning back there. A thousand thoughts ran through my head in the thirty seconds it took me to walk back to our table, and all but one ran back out as soon as I saw him.
He stood up when I got to my chair and pulled it out for me. His hand found the small of my back as he guided me into my seat, and then it rose up my spine and landed at the nape of my neck, his fingers sliding under the fabric of my shirt, grazing the skin underneath. It was a sweet moment, more telling than a dozen red roses or a box of chocolates or anything else he could have done.
He wants you. Why, we don’t know. But he does. He wants his crazy girl, his Nuts Girl.
I caught the eye of Also Stunning as the pair walked back through the bar, and I couldn’t help but plant a soft kiss on his fingertips as they moved from the back of my neck to my cheek. His hand finally settled over my own on the tabletop, clasping my fingers in clear view of everyone in the restaurant.
I saw her nudge Stunning, and the two of them stared at our entwined hands. I couldn’t stop the slight smirk that flitted across my face as their eyes narrowed at me. Jack was oblivious to all of this, as most men are in the ways of snide womanly behavior.
I sipped my sake, sucked my edamame, and, in spite of the slight confidence boost, tried to ignore the quiet but persistent alarm bells that had begun to ring in my head.
After dinner I dropped Jack off at his car, and we agreed to meet at Holly’s house as soon as he picked up a few things from his apartment. There was no discussion about his spending the night; it was automatically assumed that neither of us would be sleeping alone any time soon.
I pulled into Holly’s driveway, thinking about our wonderful date. On two occasions girls had approached the table, and they were so young, it was sweet to watch Jack interact with them. Thankfully, the two whores stayed away. I think they knew better.
While we stood by the valet stand, waiting for the car to be pulled around, Jack held my hand while I naughtily kissed his neck. Suddenly there were flashes—there was a photographer and he’d gotten it all. I immediately dropped Jack’s hand, trying to melt into the background, as Jack smiled for the camera a few times. Then the person backed off. I looked guiltily at Jack as the valet brought my car in front, and Jack walked around to open the passenger side for me.
“Don’t worry about it. No harm done.” He got me tucked in before tipping the valet and taking the keys.
As we pulled away from the restaurant I said, “Oh man, that’s not good. Holly is going to kill me.”
“Grace, if I’m not concerned, why should you be? Maybe you’ll be the identified redhead soon,” he said teasingly.
I smiled, but I knew she was not going to be pleased if that picture showed up anywhere.
Thirty minutes later, I let myself in the back door, hearing her call out my name from the living room. She was curled up on the couch watching the news.
“Hey, asshead. How was dinner?”
“It was good.”
“Where’s Jack? No orgy tonight?”
“He’s stopping by his place to pick up a few things, and then he’ll be along.” I smiled, grabbing a piece of the brownie she was munching on.
“So we have a few minutes to talk?” she asked.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Well, remember the meeting with the producers for that musical you auditioned for a few weeks ago? The one that’s still being workshopped? They want to see you again.”
“Seriously? That’s great! When is it?”
“Tomorrow, so I wouldn’t recommend any screaming tonight. Besides, I can’t take another night like that.”
“That’s okay. I can’t, either.” I smiled, thinking of how much I’d enjoyed myself, then shook my head to clear it and started toward the stairs.
“Will you send him up when he gets here?” I called over my shoulder.
“Yes’m.”
As I headed upstairs, my thoughts moved from my Brit to the meeting tomorrow. This musical was very exciting, exactly what I’d have loved to be doing.
“My Brit”? When did you start calling him your Brit?
Shhhh . . .
I changed into my white button-down, yawning. I was still tired from last night. I slipped between the sheets and had already started on the last story in the series when I heard Jack coming up the stairs. I smiled in anticipation of seeing him a
gain, and when he opened the door to my bedroom, his smile mirrored my own.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself,” he answered, bringing a duffel bag and a guitar case into the room.
“What, are you moving in?” I asked, shocked at the size of his bag.
“No, Nuts Girl. I just brought what I needed, and I usually play my guitar at night—unless I am otherwise engaged, that is.” He smirked at me. “A little late-night reading?” He nodded at my reading material.
“Hey, we went through this already. I will no longer apologize for this. This series is amazing, and your candy ass should be glad you got cast,” I retorted, snuggling deeper into the bed and reopening my magazine.
Jack putzed around for a few minutes, rummaging through his bag, plugging in his iPod, plugging in his phone, plugging in his laptop. Guys have so much gear. He seemed very comfortable here already, and I equally loved and hated how much I liked seeing that. When he went into the bathroom to take a quick shower before bed, I kept on reading.
Just as Joshua was coming out of the bathroom in 1920s New York to seduce Ruby the Ziegfeld Girl, Jack came out of my bathroom. I looked up quickly and then had to look again to truly appreciate what was coming toward me.
Jack’s hair was wet and yet still artfully tousled . . . how did he do that? He was clean-shaven, wearing black boxer-briefs and a grin. His strawberry-blond happy trail was calling out to me.
“Did I tell you, by the way, that I love your glasses?” he asked, nodding to the frames that I was peering over to get an unobstructed view of him.
“Thanks, um, thanks . . . hi,” I stammered, once again incoherent and idiotic at the sight of his seminakedness.
“I brought you something,” he said, digging through his duffel and then climbing into his side of the bed.
Isn’t it a little early to start assigning sides?
Shush.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I asked.
He slipped under the covers with his laptop and turned to me. “Shut your eyes,” he said. I did what I was told. When I opened them, he had placed a new bag of Chex Mix in my hands.
The Redhead Series Page 12
