I laughed, and as I got out of the car, he swatted me on the butt.
“Damn, George, you need to watch that. I’m already bruised from the drilling you gave me last night!” I said teasingly, backing away from the car, watching him chuckle. I backed right into a wall.
A rather warm wall that was laughing.
I turned around to see Lane smiling down at me. Nice, Grace; way to keep it quiet. I blushed crimson and hung my head as he roared.
“Drilling? You’ve got a naughty girl here, Hamilton.”
“Oh, man,” I mumbled as Jack came up beside me.
“She is naughty, but in the best way. Now, back off, ass.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, back off, ass!” I cried, pushing on Lane’s well-muscled chest. He grinned at me, and I faked a punch at him.
He was cool. I think he has a meeting with Holly next week . . . interesting.
“See you tonight?” I asked, leaning into Jack’s side as he waved Lane away.
“Yep. I’ll get a ride with one of these guys when we’re all done. Call you later?” he asked, kissing my forehead.
“Call me later, yes.” I smiled, pulling his face down so I could kiss him a little less chastely. I could hear Lane whistling behind us, and we both rolled our eyes.
“Kick his ass for me, will ya?” I chuckled.
“Grace, have you seen the size of that guy?” he shot back as I turned to get back into the car. He watched me pull away and then headed toward the trailers with Lane, laughing like a little kid.
When I got back to the hotel, I settled in with my laptop. I had an e-mail from Holly’s friend in New York, who was setting up where I’d be living for the next few weeks or months. Turned out I would be staying at the W in Times Square while they got my sublet worked out. Times Square . . . a little touristy, but I did like W properties, and it would be close to the theater.
I also had an e-mail from Michael, giving me some details about the rehearsal schedule that was due to begin on Friday. I’d have a few days to get my bearings before we did the first read on Friday morning. He’d attached some notes about the characters, as well as a new batch of rewrites. He also wanted to get together Wednesday night to go over some character outlines so that I felt ready for the first reading.
I’d executed a one eighty with Michael. He’d gone from being someone I never thought of, to someone I wanted to strangle, to someone I was glad to know again. It would be nice to have a friend in New York, and I was sure he would become a good friend again.
I filled my morning nicely with another massage and a facial at the hotel spa. I had a lovely lunch at the poolside café, then spent about an hour engaging in a mildly pornographic texting marathon with Holly back in L.A. But mainly, I was waiting for Jack to call.
When I saw his name on my phone screen, it immediately brought to mind the feeling of him inside of me the night before, and I answered the phone with a soft growl. Which may have come out like a cough.
“Are you choking?” he asked.
“No, it was my attempt to be sexy for you,” I managed to say, my face turning red as I wheezed. He waited and chuckled as I got myself under control. “How’s the shoot going?”
“It’s good—it’ll probably take most of the day, but I should be headed back to the hotel by late afternoon. What’ve you been up to?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Nuts Girl. Wait a sec, hang on . . . I’m on a call! I’ll be right there . . . with my girlfriend, if you must know,” he told someone, and my heart jumped when he used the term girlfriend.
“Oh, tell Marcia I said hi!” a woman’s voice chirped, then I heard a rustling as Jack covered up the phone. My heart stilled in my chest as I waited for Jack to come back.
“Grace?”
“I’m here,” I said quietly.
“Sorry about that. There’s some cast members here that I haven’t seen for a while,” he replied, his voice uneven.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your shoot. See you later.”
“Right, see you later,” he answered.
I hung up the phone and sat for a moment, not moving.
What did you really hear, huh?
Someone who still thinks this Marcia is his girlfriend—that’s what I heard.
I pushed the shit aside and went for a run. At some point, I’d really need to deal with all the things I’d been repressing lately. But as I began my run it all fell silent, and I concentrated on the view of the ocean and smell of the salt air. It really was pretty here.
I spent the afternoon wildly obsessing about this Marcia and how to bring her up with the Brit. Admittedly, I’d been a tad shady when I opened that text from her, and aside from the photos I’d seen on the Internet, I had no basis for knowing anything more than what I’d overheard some woman say today. Her words proved that they used to be an item. But how recently had they stopped being an item?
What, do you think he had no relationships before you?
No.
Do you think he came out of a box like that, just for you?
No.
You have a helluva past. Do you want to be judged on that?
NO.
Then fucking grow a set and ask him! Or shut up about it. You’re leaving in three days. You want to spend it talking about some ex-snatch of his?
Wow, my inner monologues were getting decidedly nastier.
After my run, I went for a swim, worked on a project for a client that I was almost finished with, and watched some reality TV. I kept busy.
About five thirty, I got a text from Jack.
Hey, up for a drink? Some of the cast and crew from the shoot are meeting in the hotel bar. Yes? Say yes, Grace.
I texted him back.
Yes, Grace.
He quickly responded.
See you in an hour. Then, room service . . . me . . . and all the pounding you can handle. Say yes, Grace.
I texted back.
Yes, yes, yes, please.
I wasn’t too proud.
When he got back, he texted me and I met him downstairs. I saw Lane and Rebecca and a few other people from the shoot, including the photographer.
I went up to Jack, who was at the bar with his back to me. “Are you Joshua?” I asked in a timid voice. He turned around with a resigned look, until he saw me.
“Not funny, love.” He frowned but then pulled me into a kiss so passionate it literally swept me off my feet. He actually picked me up. I heard Lane wolf-whistling behind me.
I kissed him back feverishly, pressing myself against him, letting him feel my breasts under my thin cotton shirt. I got a reaction instantly. I loved tasting the beer and the whiskey in his hot mouth.
“Get me a shot, will you?” I asked, pulling away and nodding to the bar.
“You want a shot?” He knew I rarely did shots.
“Yep,” I answered, rubbing my gloss off his lips.
Lane mouthed the word drilling at me from behind Jack. I rolled my eyes at him and gave him an obscene expression involving my tongue and cheek. He laughed aloud.
“Okay, here ya go,” Jack said, handing me a shot and taking his own in hand. I winked at him and tossed it back. It burned and I made an awful face, which almost made him spit his out.
After we found seats with the rest of his group, he introduced me to some of the other cast members, including the woman I had overheard on the phone earlier.
“So sorry about that. Jack sure was irritated with me over that little slip,” she said, shaking my hand and introducing herself as Bailey. She played Joshua’s sister in the film.
“No worries.” I smiled evenly.
“No, really, I felt like such an ass. Although I can tell you, I’ve never seen Jack so worked up over a girl the way he is with you.” She smiled sincerely, and my stomach unwound a bit.
Jack winked at me from across the booth, and I shamelessly blew him a kiss.
We hung out i
n the bar for almost two hours, laughing and talking. I thoroughly enjoyed spending time with people from Jack’s other life. I really liked Rebecca. She congratulated me on the show in New York, and she promised she would do her best to keep the ladies away from him as much as possible. That chick was damn funny, and she didn’t let Jack give her any shit, which I loved. He was in his element with this group, telling stories and cracking everyone up with his Brit wit.
And Lane? Well, Lane was a dear. He was funny and sweet and so pretty. He was just great—a really great guy.
One shot turned into two, and then two into three, and when you added the dirty martini that I sucked down, I was feeling no pain. The photographer was still there, and as I got tipsier, I got friendlier as well. I’d started out the evening sitting next to Jack, and by the time I noticed it was after eight o’clock, I was sitting fully in his lap, his arms wrapped around me, and I was trying to get him to suck the pimento out of the olive from my cocktail. I happened to be holding the olive between my teeth. The photographer saw this as a perfect opportunity to get some candids, and away he clicked.
Jack saw I’d had enough to drink, so he complied with my pimento request because he knew I wouldn’t let it go. Once he completed this task and Rebecca and I stopped laughing, the photographer insisted on getting one of the two us, just smiling at each other. I realized that I had no pictures of the two of us that weren’t on TMZ, and suddenly all I wanted was one great shot to take with me to New York.
We posed a little, making it fun, and the last click of his camera got one of us looking straight into the lens, pressed together, me still sitting on his lap.
I yawned suddenly, and he leaned in and whispered, “Hey, Nuts Girl, let’s get out of here. I need some quiet time alone with you. I missed my girl today.” He kissed my neck, and I shivered.
I put my mouth next to his ear and whispered, “I had a drink. I had several, in fact. Now let’s go back to the room so you can fuck me six ways from Sunday.”
Of course, I hadn’t whispered as quietly as I thought I had, and loud giggling broke out all around.
Jack’s green eyes darkened in the most wicked way, and he quickly threw a handful of cash on the table. “Night, all.”
“See ya!” I said, giving a sloppy high five to Rebecca as Jack walked me quickly from the bar, leaving everyone to stare after us with amused looks.
“I freaking love her,” I heard Rebecca say as we walked out.
We walked through the gardens toward our cottage, tiki torches lighting our way, and at some point I decided it would be a good idea to jump on his back and make him carry me piggyback style. I was kissing his neck as we walked and squeezing him between my legs—which wasn’t a good idea, because he’d just run his hands up my legs and almost under my shorts—when a group of women, about my age or maybe a little older, walked by on their way toward the restaurant. They stared at me, on the back of this very young and very hot guy, with his hands all over me, and they looked impressed.
They grinned and one actually gave me a “You rock!” and a high five as they passed, and I laughed aloud.
“You sure are giving a lot of high fives tonight, Nuts Girl,” he said teasingly over his shoulder as I played with his hair. I sighed and rested my chin on his shoulder as he took out the key to let us in.
“What can I say? They love me in Santa Barbara!” I sang, Ethel Merman style.
“Wow. That was loud and right in my ear.”
“Shut it, Hamilton, or you will get the entire Oklahoma! score tonight—and don’t think I don’t know all the words to every song.” I laughed, ducking down as we walked inside. He kept me on his back as he put his bag down and plugged in his cell phone.
“Are you going to get down any time soon?” he asked, walking over to the patio doors and sliding them open.
“No, I like it up here,” I answered promptly, and launched into a song from Oklahoma! “ ‘Don’t throw bouquets at me . . .’ ”
“Grace . . .”
I continued, louder, and added a tongue in his ear.
“Gracie . . .”
The song went on, an actual Oklahoma twang now making itself known.
“A few shots and I get a musical?”
“‘People will say we’re in love.’” I continued to sing, playful still.
“Oh man, you really do know all the words.” He swung me around to his front and sat me on the patio railing.
I sang on, thinking about the lyrics, losing the twang and adding my heart.
He was quiet now, moving to stand between my legs, with his head cocked to one side like the dog in that stereo ad, smiling at me.
I ended the song, wrapping my legs around him and pulling him closer to me. He leaned his forehead toward mine, resting against me. We were both quiet for a minute, and then I giggled. “This is why I don’t do shots. They make me go all Broadway.”
“I like when you’re all Broadway, sweet girl.”
We were quiet for another minute, and then I pulled away.
“Let’s order some dinner so we can get to the sexy times sooner,” I said, breaking the spell that Rodgers and Hammerstein always cast.
I moved past him to get the room service menu, but he caught my hand. “Hey, Gracie. Where you running off to?” he asked, pulling me toward him.
“I’m not running anywhere,” I answered as he wrapped his arms around my waist. Feeling emboldened, I continued. “Wanna know a secret?”
“What’s that, love?” he asked, sweeping gentle kisses along my jaw.
“It’s not that much of a secret, but I want you to know—”
“Hey, if you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say . . . wait, are you going to say it?” he asked, smiling down at me.
“Yes, I think so.” I grinned shyly back.
“Well, then I think we should say it at the same time, yes?” he said.
“Count of three?” I asked. He nodded.
I started. “One . . .”
“Two . . . ,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Three,” we said together. We both paused, smiling hugely, and then I took a deep breath.
“Jack, I love you.”
“I know,” he said at the same time.
“Ass!” I said, smacking him on the arm.
“That was great!” He laughed.
I turned and started to walk off the patio in a mock huff, feeling his arms grab me and not let me go. I smiled since my back was to him and he couldn’t see.
“Gracie, Gracie, Gracie. You know how I feel.” He chuckled, turning me around to face him.
“Say it, George. I want to hear you say it,” I said teasingly, scratching his scalp the way I knew he loved.
“Well, lately I find myself quite in love with you, Sheridan,” he said, tracing my mouth with his fingertips.
I kissed them and then said, “Mmm, I love you too, Hamilton. I really, really do.”
He kissed me slowly and sweetly, and then pulled away a little to look at me.
“You didn’t just say it because I got you drunk, right?” he asked, grinning sexily.
“No, dear, I got drunk all on my own. Now can we please order dinner?”
“Let’s go get the menu, Nuts Girl.” He laughed, taking my hand and leading me into the cottage.
“I don’t need to look at the menu; just order me a grilled cheese and a chocolate shake. And ask them to bring more candy, please,” I said, heading toward the bedroom to change into something more comfortable.
“Grilled cheese, shake, got it,” he answered, grabbing the phone.
“And see if they have any energy drinks, something with ginseng,” I called back to him from the other room.
“You want an energy drink and a shake?” he asked.
“No, silly. The ginseng is for you, to keep up your stamina.” I laughed, changing into one of the hotel robes.
I heard him muttering about not needing help with his stamina. He was right about that.<
br />
“Oh, and, George?” I asked, poking my head around the corner just in time to see him put the phone down again, rolling his eyes slightly at me when he saw me.
“Yes, bossy?” he asked.
“I love you,” I said, blowing him a kiss.
“I love you, too,” he answered, catching my kiss and placing it on his cheek.
Yeah, we were pretty freaking great.
twenty-three
As promised, we ate our room service in bed, clad only in our hotel robes. I insisted that he be naked beneath, making it easier for me and my trusty oonie to pounce after dinner. We laughed and talked, and I even let him have a few bites of my grilled cheese. The shake I kept for myself. Grace does not share ice cream. She does, however, talk about herself in the third person.
By the time he wheeled the cart away, I was thoroughly sated and happy. I giggled and applauded when he began performing an impromptu striptease on his way back into the bedroom, and I even hummed a burlesque bump-’n’-grind tune while he danced about. I hooted and hollered, and threw a flower in appreciation of the show.
He was truly one of the funniest guys I had ever met. I hoped that as his fame increased, his fans would get to see that side of him. He wasn’t just a pretty face. He was damn smart and had one of the quickest wits I’d ever encountered. What I loved about him was that he was never embarrassed. He always let go of how silly he sometimes looked and it was absolutely endearing. Who would’ve guessed the guy who was making women swoon across the country could engage in the silliest robe removal I had ever seen? Certainly not me.
He finally dropped the robe while I screamed in laughter, then he crawled under the covers at the foot of the bed, now humming his own tune. I watched as his truly biteable buns disappeared under the comforter, and I squealed as I felt his teeth nip at my ankles. His entire body crept under the covers, and I tracked his progress based on the bites on my calf, the side of my knee, the top of my thigh, and finally my Hamilton Brand. This was reached only after he prodded my legs apart with his nose, his hands wrapping around my hips and pulling me roughly down the bed. He continued to hum his merry little tune, and at some point, I heard it change into something that sounded like “God Save the Queen.” I began to hum along with him, and I felt him smile against my skin.
The Redhead Series Page 22
