The Redhead Revealed (Redhead #2)(69)
Author: Alice Clayton

Jack nudged me, and I snapped out of my reverie. We’d been here three days now, and had almost another two weeks to go. I was turning a pleasant shade of tan. Jack had burned a little, but was now bronzing and becoming even more beautiful.

So, while I sunned my buns in the middle of the ocean, Michael was hard at work in L.A., writing the pilot. We were due to begin shooting in March.

How the hell was this my life?

New Years Eve we sat on our deck, sipping wine and watching the fireworks someone was setting off on the other side of the island. It really doesn’t get better than that.

And my other present? I smiled as I sipped my beer, feeling Jack’s hand gently rubbing my back. I’d been wearing nothing but a sarong and bikini top (sometimes not even that much) for the last few days, plus my one new piece of jewelry.

Before I opened the box from Harry Winston, of course for a second the thought flitted through my mind that it was…well…a ring. I’m a girl, and that’s how our minds work sometimes. But he was twenty-four, and neither of us was in any position to get married. We’d barely been together six months, and it was way too early to be thinking it. We hadn’t even managed to move all his stuff into my house yet. Would I like to get married someday? Yep, absolutely. And hopefully to this man. But we both had some growing up to do, and things were pretty freaking awesome the way they were. So a ring? Nope.

It was so much better.

There in the box was proof not only that Jack loved me, but that he got me. He got me and understood everything I needed.

On a platinum chain was a small, circular platinum charm—a little bigger than a dime, but smaller than a nickel. Thin. Engraved on one side, the side that faced my heart, were the words George Loves Gracie. And engraved on the side that faced the world?

schmaltz

No one would understand it, and that’s what made it perfect. It was just about him and me—our own little platinum private joke.

I felt the weight of it against my skin, and my fingers slipped up toward my collarbone, traveling along the chain and coming to rest against the charm. I could feel the engraving, and I rubbed it constantly. Each time Jack saw me do it, he grinned.

As we sat and watched the end of another day, I snuggled deeper into his side. Here we were just another couple relaxing on the beach.

“You getting hungry, Nuts Girl?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“Yeah, a little. We still have some of the shrimp from last night. You okay with that?”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, standing and draining the last of his beer. He shuffled around in the sand a little, not really walking away, just dragging his feet.

I watched the last of the sun as it dropped below the horizon, making everything glow yellow and red and orange. The lights from the house cast an inviting warmth behind me, and I stood slowly, tying my bikini top back on. He frowned as I covered up the girls, but took my hand when I extended it to him. As we walked back to the house, he tugged my arm, turning me back around. His eyes were twinkling mischievously.

“What’s up, George?” I asked, smiling back at him. He was up to something. He nodded back toward the beach.

There, in the sand, he had written me a little message with his feet:

GRAND GESTURE

“What the hell?” I asked, laughing as he swept me into a hug.

“I know you don’t like big grand gestures, but I thought that one was perfectly sized.” He chuckled as he kissed on my neck.

“You know me way too well, Hamilton. It’s a little frightening sometimes.” I squealed as his kisses became more and more persistent.

“I do know you, Sheridan, and I love you.”

“I know.” I winked and managed to get out of his grasp. I got halfway up the steps before I felt his hands grab my waist again and begin to work at the knot in my sarong.

I turned and looked into his eyes. The green was getting darker by the second.

That green belonged to me.

***

From StarTracks magazine, press date December 31:

Rumors continue to swirl regarding the whereabouts of popular Time actor Jack Hamilton. Last seen in London’s Heathrow Airport just before the holidays, he has since fallen completely off the radar. Fans want to know where he is—and they’re getting desperate.

Stories have been percolating since late summer about the possibility of Jack being involved with an older woman—a redhead he was spotted with in L.A. on numerous occasions. This woman, eventually revealed to be stage actress Grace Sheridan, 33, shares Jack’s manager, Holly Newman. Although the entire management team has denied claims that Jack is romantically linked to her—nine years his senior!—the internet has been flooded with pictures of them together. After Sheridan attended the Time premiere in Los Angeles, the rumor resurfaced, along with pictures of the pair in New York City, where the two looked cozy as they walked in Central Park.

When asked for comment, Newman said, “They’re great friends. They met at a party I hosted for several of my clients months ago. They’re thrown together a lot. They’re not a couple.”

Nevertheless, for many fans, whether he’s disappeared with Grace or not, the question still remains: Where have you gone, Jack Hamilton?

Coming Soon: Book Three in the Redhead series

I sat back in my chair, breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, just like they always tell you to. My heart was pounding, my pulse was racing, and my palms currently were more clammy than a bowl of chowder.

To calm myself and take the attention off my nerves, I allowed my eyes to sweep across the room, again taking in the congratulations balloons in the corner, the tasteful bouquet of sugar-pink peonies on the table in front of the sofa, and the strategically placed bowls of hard candy scattered about. As my gaze roamed, it landed back in the mirror directly in front of me. I studied my face as I continued to work through my breathing.

Hey, fruitcake, you got this. No sweat.

I do have this. You’re right.

I glanced down at the stack of magazines next to me, grinning when I saw my boy on the top cover, finally anointed The Sexiest Man Alive. Oh, well, duh! I’d known that for a while now. His face adorned several covers further down the stack as well—smiling rakishly into the camera, casting that pure sex vibe across the entire country. But I kept People on the top because it was my fave. The paparazzi had been unrelenting for the past few months, catching him at all hours of the night and day, and not always at his finest—although this was a relative concept. He was always pretty fine.