“What?” Pres shot up out of his chair. He began to pace.
“That’s right. So, I called the other guy, and he countered. I’m in the middle of an auction. Whoops. Someone’s on the other line. Hang tight.”
Max hung up. Pres thought he’d jump out of his skin, waiting for Max to call back. He watched the clock, put up another pot of coffee, watched the clock, paced, watched the clock, threw a toy for Buddy, and watched the clock. It took a full twenty minutes before his agent’s name showed up again on his cell.
“Okay, calm down. I’ve got two offers for you. Your decision.”
Pres could hardly take in Max’s words as his agent explained about the two production companies, their positives and negatives. And the offers. The dollar figures were close. Pres asked Max’s opinion. They talked for ten more minutes then Pres decided to go with East/West because Gunther Quill had a great track record.
“I’ll get back to you,” Max said. Pres laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the wall. His dream was coming true. Excitement bubbled up inside him. He couldn’t wait to tell Brooke. Then, the phone rang again.
“They want you out here on Monday to sign the contract and start work.”
“What? It’s Thursday.”
“Yeah, so? You got something better to do?”
“I have to write out there?”
“They’re contracting for six. They want the scripts for six. Fly out there. They’ll put you up in a four star hotel, and you’ll write.”
“Can’t I write here?”
“They want to work with you. The first two or three are going to be a collaborative deal. Then, they expect you to do the rest on your own, flying out for a couple of script conferences. You need to be there when they’re shooting, too.”
“I’m not moving to California.” Pres began to pace.
“I don’t give a shit where you live when you’re not working. But when they say jump, buddy, you say ‘how high.’ Do you want this deal, or don’t you?”
Pres was torn. Can Brooke come with me? “No, no, of course, I’ll be there. Thank you, Max, for getting this.”
“You’re welcome. Congratulations, Pres. You’ve earned it, buddy. Let me know what time you arrive in L. A. on Monday. I’ll have a car there for you.”
“How long do you think I’ll need to be there?”
“Depends on how you all get along. Maybe a couple of months? How long will it take you to come up with the script?”
“I’ve got three doped out now. But if they don’t like them…”
“You’ve got to consider all angles. They like your work, so that’s good. Figure two months. Maybe three at the outside.”
He swallowed. “Okay. Thanks. See you Monday.”
“Have a great trip. Fly first class, Pres. You deserve it.”
“Are they paying for my ticket?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, then.”
He closed his cell and sat back. The best news and the worst news. Three months! Will Brooke come with me? Will she wait for me? If she stays here, will I lose her?
He picked up his basketball and went to the backyard, where he had a hoop tacked up on a tree. He dribbled and shot a few, but sank none. His concentration was off. Finally, Pres picked up the phone.
* * * *
Brooke slipped the black cocktail dress over her head and shimmied it down over her bosom. She smoothed the skirt with her palms then sought Nan’s help. Her grandmother zipped up the back.
“You look gorgeous, sweetheart. Wait a minute. I have something.”
Brooke slipped her feet into high pumps. Love that about Pres. I can wear tall shoes, and he’s still taller.
Nan reappeared with a pearl necklace in her hand. “Come, darling.” She fastened the strand around her granddaughter’s neck.
They hung down just above the swell of Brooke’s breasts, revealed by the low neckline of the silk dress. She went to the mirror on the back of her closet door. “They’re perfect, Nan.”
“Keep them.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Of course, you can. Should’ve given them to you long ago. I haven’t worn them in five years. I don’t know what I’ve been waiting for. Maybe I just forgot I had them. They look fabulous on you.”
Brooke grinned. She ran a brush through her hair, refreshed her red lipstick, and grabbed the small, black, beaded bag on the bed. “Where’s my shawl? The restaurant’s going to be air conditioned, I’m sure.”
“Yes, it’s warm for September. Here it is.” Nan handed her the black lace wrap.
“I can’t believe Pres’s parents are taking us out to dinner. I didn’t expect this. I hope they like me.”
“What’s not to like? You’re beautiful, brilliant, perfect for their son. They’re lucky he found you.”
Brooke blushed with pleasure. “Nan, you’re a little prejudiced.”
“Ya think?”
Their laughter was interrupted by the formal ring of the doorbell. Brooke opened it to admit Pres. She caught her breath. She’d never seen him dressed up before. The dark navy suit hugged his fit body. He looked slim and sexy.
“Holy shit! Oops, pardon me, Ruth. You look amazing, Brooke. Wow.”
“So do you. So, so…grown up?”
“Thanks a lot. Geez. Can’t you come up with something better? Hell, you were an English major.”
“You mean like, hot, sexy, devastatingly handsome?”
He grinned. “Yeah, like that.”
“Nope.” She shook her head and laughed.
“They’ll have to turn up the air conditioner when you walk in, baby. You’re smokin’.” Pres took her hand.
“Have a wonderful time, kids,” Ruth said.
The pugs came to the door. They looked over the situation and barked their displeasure.
“They never like it when anyone leaves,” Brooke said.
“She’s mine tonight, guys,” Pres said, bending down to scratch them behind the ears.
Rocky hailed a cab, and within a few minutes, Brooke and Pres were whizzing through Central Park, on their way to Club Monaco, a posh restaurant on East Sixty Third Street near Park Avenue.
“I can’t believe I’m meeting your parents. Isn’t it a little soon for this?”
“Ten years from now would be too soon. They insisted. Especially mom. She wants to make sure you’re not a Martian with three heads.”
Brooke laughed. “Some might say I’m worse.” She leaned over and kissed him.
Pres pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. Brooke melted against him, closing her fingers around his shoulder. When they broke, his eyes were bright with lust.
“Slow down. We have to do dinner.”
“I’d like to do you for dinner,” he whispered.
She sensed the heat in her cheeks. “Down, boy. Family, food, then you and me.”
“I can hardly wait.”
Brooke reapplied her lipstick after wiping Pres’s mouth.
The doorman at the restaurant offered her his hand. Inside, the Club was dark. Mahogany walls with imitation Old Masters oil paintings and a thick, dark red carpet kept the elegant, hushed quality of the small, intimate dining room.
The head waiter showed them to a table in an alcove. Pres’s parents were already seated. His father rose when Brooke approached. He kissed her hand. Pres held her chair. His mother nodded. He’s taller and more distinguished than I thought. Fairly slim for a man his age. His mom’s pretty. Blonde, petite. Aqua dress matches her eyes, same color as Pres’s.
An open bottle of fine champagne, wrapped in a linen towel, sat nestled in a bed of ice in a silver bucket. Jonathan nodded at the waiter, who then filled the empty flutes in front of Pres and Brooke. They raised them.
“To the tremendous success of Night Cops and Preston Carpenter.” They clinked glasses.
Brooke took several sips to bolster her courage. Jonathan asked her questions about what she did. When she revealed she ran a dinner and movie night
at her grandmother’s house, he raised his eyebrows. Not the corporate chickie making a mil you envisioned for your son, am I? She shoved a piece of bread in her mouth to stifle a chuckle.
“This place is known for the tenderest steaks, Brooke, if you like meat.”
A sexual connotation with the word entered her head, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. Hell, yeah, I like meat. She avoided Pres’s gaze, too, knowing he’d read her mind. “I love steak,” she replied.
Jonathan smiled. “Good. Excellent. How do you like it?”
Again, Brooke had to pinch herself to keep from laughing. I like it from your son, right between my legs. She sensed Pres staring at her and fought to control herself. After another sip of champagne, she realized drinking might not be the best idea.
“Medium. I like it medium, Jonathan,” she squeaked out, avoiding direct eye contact.
Pres leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You okay?”
She nodded, allowing herself a wide grin, which was met with a quizzical look from him.
Jumbo shrimp cocktails to start were followed by steak, Lyonnaise potatoes, and salad with artichoke hearts. Pres’s mom complimented Brooke on her dress and her pearls. She explained where she got the necklace, and Carolyn’s eyes misted.
“I don’t have a daughter to hand down my jewelry to.”
Brooke instinctively reached over and squeezed her hand. “No, but you have a wonderful son.” Pres’s mom looked up, clearly startled, and smiled.
This is going okay. Jonathan thinks I’m a bloodsucker, but Carolyn likes me. Under the table, Pres took her hand and rested it, laced with his, on his thigh. His simple gesture of support put her at ease. The warmth of his fingers surrounding hers signaled his love. She kept up with the conversation, answering his parents’ questions without hesitation.
Brooke dug into her steak with glee. Suddenly, she was starving. They killed the rest of the champagne, and Jonathan was ready to order another bottle when Pres raised his hand.
“I have to work tomorrow. Can’t be hung over. I’ve had enough.”
“Me, too. I’ve got a ton to do, shopping, cooking. It’s better for me to stop.”
Jonathan chuckled. “I could drink you young people under the table.”
Carolyn put her hand on his arm and leaned over to whisper in his ear. He blushed and signaled to the waiter not to bring another bottle. Brooke wasn’t sure, but she thought Pres’s mom was telling Jonathan not to get drunk so they could have sex later. The idea made blood rush to her face. She lowered her gaze to her food and tried to push the idea out of her head. What’s the matter with me? I have sex on the brain.
The meal was delicious. Dessert dazzled. She split a warm lava cake with Pres. As she watched him lick the chocolate off his kissable lip, she could feel heat begin inside her. By nine, the bill was paid, Brooke had said her thanks, hugged Carolyn, shook hands with Jonathan, and was pressed snugly against Pres in a cab.
He nibbled on her ear. “Can’t wait to get you home. You’re staying tonight, right?”
“I have so much to do tomorrow. It’s Friday.”
“But I’m leaving on Sunday. We only have two more nights.”
“What?” She pushed him back and locked his gaze with hers. “Leaving? For where?”
“L.A. I didn’t tell you. Didn’t want my parents to know. They’ll freak out if they think I’m going to be away for two or three months.”
“Three months!” Brooke’s heart began to beat faster. Her pulse kicked up, and her mouth went dry.
“I’m sorry, honey. I meant to tell you sooner, but I only found out yesterday.”
The vehicle stopped. Pres shoved some bills in the driver’s hand while Brooke got out. Tears clouded her eyes. He’s leaving. Damn. Three months? Might as well be a lifetime.
Pres came up behind her, directing her to his door with his palm on the small of her back. Once inside, her control dissolved, and tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh, baby. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’ll be back. Maybe two months. Three at the outside. It depends on how long it takes to write the scripts.”
“What about us?”
“Will you come with me?”
“I can’t leave Nan. I’m all she has.”
“She has a ton of friends at the senior center.”
“It’d kill her. I can’t. Don’t make me choose.”
“I have to go, Brooke. They said they want me out there to write the first three scripts. I’ve already got them plotted out. If they agree with my ideas, or I can agree to their changes, we can do them in no time.”
“What about us?” she asked, reaching for a tissue.
“Will you wait for me?” She turned tearful eyes to his. His brow was puckered and a worried look swept over his face. “I don’t want to lose you, kitten. I love you. Once I get going on this, we’ll have enough money to make it permanent.”
“Do you mean that?”
He nodded.
“I’ll wait for you if you wait for me,” she replied.
“Deal.” He kissed her.
Brooke hugged him tight then buried her face in his chest. Everything was so good. Now this. So good and so bad at the same time. Her heart hurt. Distrust and fear filled her veins. Out in L.A., where beautiful women are everywhere. Buddy barked.
“Come on, let’s take the dogs then go back to my place for the night.”
“Okay.”
Pres leashed his pug then went along with her to Ruth’s. Freddy and Ginger ran out of the bedroom when Brooke opened the door. She fastened them into their harnesses, and they joined Pres and Buddy.
As they walked, Pres laid out his hopes and plans for his career. “I want you with me for everything.”
“Really? Long distance? I’ll be your cheerleader. I know you’ll succeed. I hope you don’t forget me.” Successful, sexy, handsome, single writer in the land of bronzed, bikini-clad beauties.
He turned to face her. “How could I ever forget you? The girl who made me stand up to my father?”
“I didn’t. You did that on your own.”
“Brooke, I mean it when I say I want you with me.”
She ran her finger down his cheek and stared into his eyes, shadowed by the night. “I love you, Pres. I’ll be here.”
“As soon as I leave, a bunch of guys are going to swoop down on you. You have to be strong. I won’t be here to punch them out.”
She giggled. “Such an imagination.”
He pulled her close, slinging his arm over her shoulders. Before long, the pugs were tired and turned around, heading for home. Brooke grabbed a change of clothes and slipped quietly out of the apartment, so as not to wake Nan. Pres took her hand as they ambled back to his place. Once there, Buddy curled up on the bed after eating his late-night treat.
“Come here, kitten,” Pres said, the light of desire shining in his eyes.
Brooke toed off her pumps and sauntered over slowly. “Hey, handsome, what did you have in mind?” She ran her palms slowly up his chest.
Pres ripped his tie off and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Brooke smacked his hand away and slowly undid the rest. After each one, she slipped a finger inside and slid it through his chest hair.
“No undershirt tonight?”
“Didn’t want to waste time.”
“I like the way you plan ahead.” She shot a flirtatious glance at him. Pres’s palms smoothed down the sides of her dress. Stepping closer, he reached around behind and grabbed her rear end. His hot breath warmed her forehead. She opened his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders before placing her lips on his pecs. She clasped his sides as she slowly kissed her way down. God, he’s gorgeous.
Pres moaned and didn’t move. As she got lower, his hands moved up her back. He combed his fingers through her long locks. When she got to his belt, she undid it and unzipped his pants, which fell to the floor.
“Ummmm. Yeah,” she murmured as she inched his boxers down his hips to his
thighs. His erection sprang free. Brooke caressed it before she took him in her mouth.
“Holy shit, baby. Honey. Oh, God.” He closed his eyes and moaned as she moved on him. “Stop, stop. Kitten. I’m gonna come if you don’t.” He bent over, cupping his hands under her arms, and lifted her to her feet. His lips descended on hers, tongue demanding entrance, devouring her. He crushed her breasts into his chest and ground his hips against hers. If he gets any hotter, he’ll burst into flame.
While unzipping her, he whispered in her ear, “Take it off for me. Slowly, ya know?”
Brooke threw a wicked smile at him as she stepped back. She hummed the tune “The Stripper” as she eased her dress up over her rear. When her hem hit her waist, Pres put his hands on her hips, glided them up and down her sides, and then down her hips to her outer thighs.
She wiggled and bumped in time to the song. When he slipped his fingers under the waistband of her panties, closed them over her bottom, and squeezed, a bolt of desire shot through her body. His touch sent heat through her.
He awakened something new in her. Her passion for him was so strong, she couldn’t refuse him, no matter what. Her knees weakened when she saw the fiery look of lust in his eyes. At first, she had resisted because he wasn’t the type of man she thought she should be with, but as she got to know him, she changed her mind. When he turned up the heat, she melted like a candle in the sun.
Sure, he wanted her. So did all men. Lloyd had, and she knew it. But Pres wanted her in a different way. He wanted her heart along with her body, whereas she had never thought Lloyd cared about that part of her anatomy. Pres wanted love. Lloyd had only wanted to get laid.
She lifted the dress over her head, but left it there for a few moments. He cupped her breasts and squeezed. It was like a direct jolt to her core. “May I?” He reached for the garment.
“Uh, uh, uh, naughty boy. Patience.”
He dropped his hands and laughed. She resumed humming, slipped it off, and tossed it on a chair. Then, she stood in front of him, gyrating to the beat in black lace panties and a push-up bra so small it was almost not there. His gaze scorched her skin. He stepped closer, but she stepped back. Reaching around behind her with one hand, she popped the bra open.
Shine Your Love on Me Page 16
