The Redhead Revealed (Redhead #2)(37)
Author: Alice Clayton

“Nick, will you please quit molesting the Brit?” I called down. I stopped a few steps from the bottom. Nick stopped, and smiled. Jack’s back was to me, and as he turned I took a moment to admire him in profile: Gray suit, black tie. Strong jaw line, messy hair, great stubble. Guinness in hand. He ran his fingers through his hair, and I once again admired his hands. He completed his half turn, which took at least an hour, and his green eyes pored over me.

“Beautiful,” he breathed and came to stand in front of me at the bottom of the stairs. Holly waited in the wings to give us our moment.

“You like?” I asked, struggling to keep myself from launching down the last few steps and throwing myself at him.

“I like,” he whispered, and my eyes filled with tears for the millionth time today. Waterworks, freaking waterworks.

He held his hand out to me, and I took it, stepping down so we were on the same level. On even ground. He spun me like a ballerina, watching as my skirt puffed out. When I came back around, he was smiling.

“Fucking Nuts Girl,” he muttered, the same half grin on his face. He led me by the hand toward the kitchen where everyone was gathered. Holly came downstairs and commenced running around like a chicken with her head cut off. A chicken with fabulous shoes.

She noticed mine. “New Manolos?” she asked, pointing.

“Yep. You?”

“Of course,” she laughed, then cocked her head like a dog, listening for something.

“The limos are here,” she said and raced outside.

“Wait, we have to get pictures!” Nick cried, looking resplendent in his own right in a charcoal gray suit.

Jesus, it is prom.

At his insistence, we found ourselves lined up on the stairs like the New Kids in their Step by Step video.

“This is stupid,” I said.

“Oh, come on, it’s cute,” Holly said, posing a few steps below me like she was taking her senior pictures.

“All we need is a corsage and a Vanilla Ice song and I’m back in high school,” I muttered.

Jack nudged me from behind and said in my ear, “Shut the f**k up and enjoy this, Crazy.”

I rolled my eyes and let the makeup artist finish taking pictures of all of us.

Finally, we piled into the limos. I was to ride with Nick, and the cars would be staggered by about an hour, so Jack would arrive well after me. Just as I was about to get in, he pulled me back against him for a passionate kiss.

I kissed him back with all the force I could, without actually mounting him in the driveway. No matter what may have transpired this morning, I loved him dearly, and my body could never resist him. “I’m so proud of you, George. You deserve all the success that’s about to come to you,” I said, kissing him just below his ear.

“Is it crazy that I want to skip this whole thing and go back to your place?” he asked.

We did cocoon really well. If there was one thing we knew how to do, it was hide away from the world.

“No, love. It’s not crazy, but it’s impossible. I’ll see you there.”

“Yes, but not too close now. We can’t have anyone thinking Jack Hamilton is actually getting laid. Can you imagine?” he said mockingly.

“I heard that,” Holly said, clicking across the driveway to talk to the driver of the car she and Jack were taking.

I kissed him again and squeezed his hand once more. He smacked me on the ass as I got into the car, and I squealed. Nick made a big show of getting into the car really slowly, keeping his bum in the air and pointed toward Jack as long as possible. Jack sighed and smacked Nick on the ass as well. Nick squealed too.

I watched his face as we pulled away. He was smiling.

“Are you excited to be meeting Jack’s dad?” Nick asked as he straightened my dress around me.

Oh, f**k…

“Oh, f**k!” I exclaimed. I’d forgotten about Jack’s dad.

I started drinking in the limo. Vodka. Bad idea. As soon as I made that decision, the stage was set.

A little while later we approached the theater, and Jack was right when he said the sound was petrifying. I’d never heard this sound before. No, that’s not entirely true. I’d heard it, but prior to now I was always one of the people making the noise. I’d screamed my ass off at a concert or two, and when Holly and I went to see the New Kids last summer, we’d screamed like teenagers.

It is an entirely different thing to be on the outside watching the pandemonium than it is to be inside it, part of it. No wonder Jack had started using security.

Nick and I stared with wide eyes at the hundreds, maybe even thousands, of women standing and screaming and waving signs that said things like “Marry me, Jack,” and “Take Me Back In Time,” and, my favorite, “Lay on top of me, Joshua.”

Nice.

I took one last slug of vodka and our limo pulled up to the red carpet. We were early enough that none of the cast was here yet, but that didn’t stop the crowd from screaming when they saw the door open, and the cameras immediately started flashing. Nick strutted a bit before turning to help me out of the car. I was semi-graceful, managing not to flash my business at the crowd. Jack had asked several times if I would please go commando, which I steadfastly refused to do. But he made sure to tell me he was going commando.

Jesus.

Holly had made me show her my panties to be sure I had some on.

When the press realized we weren’t anyone, the flashes stopped almost instantly, but a few asked who we were. Nick had been down the carpet a few times and gave his name. Someone asked for mine and without thinking, I gave it as well. Then I noticed few of the photographers looking at me more carefully, and I heard the word “redhead.” I saw a few more flashes in my direction, and my flight instinct kicked in. I hurried Nick down the carpet.

“Why’re you rushing me, girl? I am shining,” he said, a smirk on his face. The women in the crowd were actually cheering for him. They were so amped up, anyone with a penis would make them shriek.

“I’ll meet you inside. I need to get off this carpet,” I said, glancing at a photographer. This one was following me. I could see him peripherally, and he was continuing to take pictures. I looked the other way, trying to hide my face.

“How will I find you?” Nick asked.

“Just find the bar. That’s where I’ll be,” I answered and made for the door.

Right before I got there, the photographer got close enough for a tight shot. He said my name, and I turned. Someone says your name, you look.