The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(9)
Author: Alice Clayton

Holy shit, did I really let Jack almost give me an orgasm in the middle of that club? Hollywood . . . Damn, it’s a powerful drug.

“I remember. They barely paid Nick and me any attention at first. They sure went crazy when Jack showed up, though.” I winced, thinking of that night.

“Pfft, they barely paid any attention to you until one of them figured out you were the unidentified redhead. I was doing damage control all night! Gimme that.” She gestured for the water.

I winced again, remembering when a photographer had made the connection that I’d been the one connecting with Jack for months. There weren’t many pictures of us together, but before Time had come out, we’d had a few weeks of relative anonymity early in our relationship. We didn’t really think too much about showing affection in public, and the pictures were still out there.

“That was a bad night all around.” I grimaced. Many cocktails and a shaky sense of self combined into not one of my better moments. I’d almost lost Jack for good.

“Listen, I know he doesn’t always want to listen to me, but my job—in fact, my only job—is to make his life work for him. That’s it. He needs to remember that.” She turned onto Laurel Canyon.

I thought about what she said carefully before I answered. Soon she’d be doing that job for me. Maybe. Possibly. “He knows, Holly. He’s just having a little trouble with all this. It’s so much to get used to. I think he’s doing pretty great, all things considered.”

“Sure, but it’s my job to consider all things, and we still have to figure out what we’re going to do about you two.”

“What about us?”

“Asshead, listen. When you two first got together, it was manageable. He hadn’t really hit yet, and you, well, you were nobody.”

“Thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” She laughed, turning into my drive. She killed the car and the lights, and we sat for a moment in the quiet. “Now he’s the guy everyone is clamoring for, and you’re about to take off on your own path. The same rules don’t apply.”

“So what are you suggesting? That we go public? I thought you said his fans wouldn’t stand for that.” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair and crinkling my nose at the club smell that lingered.

“They won’t. They definitely won’t,” she said, worrying at a fingernail. “Eh, let me think on it. Let me figure out a few things. Don’t worry about it.” She grinned.

“You coming in?” I asked, gesturing toward the house.

“Hell no. I’m exhausted. I’ve got meetings all day tomorrow. Say good night to Jack for me, will you?”

“Will do.” I slid out of the car but turned back toward her as she called my name. “Yes?” I asked through the window.

“He won’t want to hear it from me, but Jack needs to be careful with Adam, okay?”

“Adam? Why?”

“Just tell him to watch it.”

“Anything I need to be worried about?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet anyway. Just mention it?”

“Sure thing. Call me tomorrow.”

“’Night, asshead.”

“’Night, dillweed.” I snorted as she pulled away.

I walked into the house, the weight of the evening hitting me like a ton of bricks and making me very tired.

Watch out for Adam?

Hmmm.

I showered the club stink off, and as I thought back over the night, I was still glad I’d gone out. Did things go a bit far? Yep. But damn that Jack, when he wanted something, he got it. And that included an almost peep show on the dance floor. Images of what could have happened if someone had gotten that on their cell phone made me shiver, even under the hot water. Images of how he’d made me feel made me shiver again, for a very different reason.

I wrapped my hair up in a towel, threw on a cotton nightie, and padded around the house while I waited for Jack to come home. I was a bit surprised he was still not here, but I knew Bryan would get him home safely. It was not uncommon for him to drive around for a while if he thought someone was following him. A sad but true commentary on our lives together.

And you want this career too?

I do.

As I passed a mirror on my way to the kitchen, I stopped and scrutinized a bit. I saw where there could be a bit more cheekbone. I made a mental note to find a trainer this week.

Tomorrow.

I made another mental note to find a trainer tomorrow. Damn.

I went into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of red, and headed out to the patio to wait for Jack. Curling up on the love seat, I let myself relax into the night. I had barely started to worry again about what was taking him so long when I heard a car pull into the driveway. Moments later I saw him walking through the house via the big windows that lined the living room. He made a weavy sort of path toward the patio. He knew where I’d be.

“How’d everything go?” I asked as he stepped out onto the flagstone. His eyes were bloodshot, his feet heavy as he went to the chair opposite mine. He sat down heavily, slipping off his jacket and turning to me.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice quiet but his eyes beginning to darken.

“So . . . I take it everything went okay?” I pulled the towel off my head and shook my hair out a bit. “I was getting a bit worried, but I figured Bryan had you stay for a bit so you could—”

“Grace?” he interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“C’mere,” he repeated, beckoning me forward with two fingers. I let myself be beckoned. As soon as I was close enough, he pulled me down onto his lap, pressing the entire length of his body to mine. Whiskey heat poured from his skin, dark and the tiniest bit dangerous.

“I don’t want to talk about tonight,” he whispered into my skin, his jaw sandpapering my neck in a very good way.

“Don’t you think we should? I mean, what happens if—”

“No more talking tonight,” he muttered, his mouth crashing down onto mine.

His lips were sure and insistent, his tongue exploring my mouth with a need that was answered quickly by my own.

His hands pushed up my shift, searching, needing, finding my skin. I shivered at his touch, not just from the chill of the night but because his hands on me always caused the same effect. I needed him, always.

“I need . . . Christ, I just need,” he stammered between rough kisses on my lips, my cheeks, just under my ear.

“What, love, what do you need?” I asked, arching into him, holding him to me.