The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(41)
Author: Alice Clayton

“I’m not; I’m not. Forget I asked.”

“He’s just really hard to get ahold of right now, and we’re in the middle of negotiating the Time sequel. Not a great time to go incommunicado.” She poofed her cle**age. “What do you think?”

“Hot. Way hot. What are all these dresses for anyway?”

“Michael’s taking me somewhere tropical. Not sure where. He just said bring frilly dresses.”

“Frilly?”

“I figured out that frilly translates to skimpy in Michael language.”

“Not even close.”

“Yeah, frilly means flouncy, which means blowy, which means barely there. That took about five minutes and some show-and-tell to figure out what he meant.” She laughed, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

“I’m so glad you two are together,” I said suddenly. I watched her smile into the mirror.

“You are?”

“Are you kidding? Of course! Things worked out perfectly.”

“Not gonna lie, I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it,” she said as she turned toward me.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” I asked her, looking everywhere else.

She huffed as she headed back into the dressing room. After a moment the dress came up over her head. “Grace, shut up. Obviously there’s history between you.”

“Okay, sure, but it’s just that: history. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier for you two.”

She poked her head back up over the door. “I’m pretty happy too. Now we just need to get Jack figured out and my world will be all roses and f**king fairy tales.”

“I’m getting worried, Holly, like, really worried.” I met her eyes.

She nodded. “Me too, fruitcake.”

The next day started out like all Shit Days: totally normal. Sex with Jack—awesome. Breakfast after sex with Jack—delicious. Call-in radio interviews all afternoon—stellar. That night? Oh boy.

Jack was out and about most of the afternoon, which was better for me. Talking about myself was weird, and talking on the radio—selling myself and my show—was hard to do when you have a hot Brit making faces at you and trying all manner of naughty to get you to screw up. Once the interviews were over, I went for a run in Griffith Park to unwind and calm my nerves. No such luck. I was wired. I ran my normal circuit almost ten minutes faster than I usually did, and I could’ve gone another round without thinking twice. I was nervous, I could admit that. Tonight was the real test. Up until now only industry people had seen the show, now it was up to the public to say if it was any good.

I kept busy all afternoon: cutting up fruit for a salad, setting out plates and bowls and silverware for everyone, mixing up a batch of margaritas to go with the guacamole I made with avocados from my trees in back, and I was just putting the finishing touches on a cheese platter when Jack blew in.

“Crazy, you ready for tonight? I’m ready. You ready?” he shouted from the front door. I caught sight of a black Suburban as it left the driveway. Was it Bryan? Or was it Adam? They both drove the same car . . .

Before I could think on it too long, Jack swept me up in his arms and swung me around. “Mmm, I missed my girl!” he murmured, pressing wet kisses all along my neck and into the top of my dress. “Christ, Grace, you know what it does to me when you wear that apron.”

I pulled away from him for a moment, laughing as I smoothed my dress. I did know what it did to him when I wore this apron.

That’s why you put it on.

Also to protect my dress from the avocados. That green stain is hard to remove.

Who are you fooling?

No one. I totally wore the apron to drive him crazy.

Speaking of crazy, Jack was looking all around the house, taking in the spread I’d laid out for our friends.

“Everything looks great, looks great. When are they all getting here?”

“Um, any minute now. I think Holly and Michael were going to—”

“Do I have time for a shower? I’m just gonna take a quick shower before everyone gets here, okay? Okay, Grace?” He started for the bedroom.

I caught his arm before he could get away. Turning him toward me, I took him in. His face was flushed, and his eyes were almost black as he looked down at me.

“You okay?” I asked, smoothing his hair back from his face.

“Of course. Why?”

“I dunno,” I replied as his arms came around me.

He tapped out a drumbeat on my bum, his hands moving fast.

“Totally fine, Grace. Excited for tonight?”

“Um, yeah, I think so. A little nervous but—”

“I’m gonna hit the shower before everyone gets here, okay?” He kissed me soundly on the forehead before peeling away and heading off down the hallway.

I looked around, wondering what the hell just happened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Holly’s Mercedes pulling into the drive. I shook my head to clear it, then untied the apron and threw it into the kitchen as I went out to greet my friends. This was Michael’s big night as much as it was mine, and I wanted to enjoy it with him. Besides, I had all night to worry over this latest development.

Twenty minutes later I had Michael and Holly slicing up French bread to make little crostini when I heard Nick’s voice at the front door.

“Grace! There’s a big ol’ hunk of man out here on your porch. Let him in!” he called. When I came around the corner, I burst out laughing. Nick was grinning ear to ear at Lane, who stood sheepish with his hands full: literally with bottles of wine and figuratively with Nick and his waggling eyebrows.

“There’s two big ol’ hunks of man out here! I love it! Get in here, you two.” I laughed again as Nick gestured for Lane to go in first, ever the gentleman.

Lane leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Where’s that idiot boyfriend of yours?”

“He’s in the shower. He’ll be out in a bit.” I swatted him on the butt as he passed.

“The shower, you say? I’ll go get him, let him know everyone’s here,” Nick insisted, nudging past me on the way to the bedroom.

“Hold it, mister. No ogling my man.” I grabbed his arm and swung him around. He pouted a bit.

“You’re no fun now that you have your own TV show,” he huffed on his way to the kitchen, where he immediately began antagonizing Michael. He really was in heaven around our boys. And speaking of boys, where was mine?

I headed to the bedroom, where I could still hear water running. Which is why I was so surprised to find Jack on the bed, sound asleep in his clothes. What the hell?