The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(46)
Author: Alice Clayton

I settled into a lawn chair and breathed in the sunshine. People said L.A.

was smoggy, and it was, but there are parts of Southern California that just plain smell better than anywhere else. I could smell sun, grass, oranges and honeysuckle. It was late in the day, and the warm golden glow of the sun bathed me. I felt wrapped in it. I loved L.A. I would miss it.

I dozed in and out and finally took out my earbuds when I noticed that the sun was low in the sky. It was later than I thought. I stretched in my chair like a cat, and I heard Jack’s car pulling into the driveway, the unmistakable putta putta of his silly little car. He called out to me as he came in through the kitchen.

“Out here, George!” I answered him, bouncing in my seat, waiting to see him for the first time that day like a little schoolgirl. He rounded the corner.

Wow.

He was dressed for the evening. White button down, black jacket, black pants. He was clean-shaven, my favorite stubble from the last few days gone. He smiled that super sexy grin and closed the distance between us.

“Hello,” he said, placing his hands on the lawn chair armrests on either side of me. He leaned down, bringing himself closer.

“Hello, yourself,” I answered, a little high from the hit of Hamilton that was just blasted at me.

He leaned in and kissed me slowly. He had hesitated just before his mouth touched mine. He was so near I could feel the energy zapping between us, but he still held his lips there for two agonizing seconds. All I could hear was his breathing—mine had stopped.

I would never get tired of kissing this man.

He pulled back when I clutched at him, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

He laughed.

“Grace, get ready for dinner.”

“Dinner schminner. Let’s stay in … ” I purred, parting my legs, trying to pull him between them.

“Ah ah. I’m taking you out,” he scolded, trying to stay away from my arms and legs as I did my best to ensnare him.

“Why don’t you skip the out, and just take me?” I whispered hungrily in his ear. My talk with Holly today had made me question this whole “special” thing.

I could see hesitation in his eyes as he looked at me, weighing his options. To further entice him, I placed my hand directly over the noticeable bulge in his pants.

I squeezed.

He groaned.

I was going to win this one.

He gave in, pulling me up from the chair, snaking his arms around my waist and crushing me to his chest. Jack lifted me straight up off my feet, lips planted firmly to mine, and carried me backward through the house toward the stairs.

My arms wrapped around his neck. He was holding me against him as though he was dancing with me standing on his toes—except my toes barely brushed his knees. I loved how tall he was. We locked eyes like laser beams. There were no words. We both knew where this was going.

Yeah, let’s get after It …

“Hi, f**kface, I’m home!”

He stopped dead on the stairs, my feet swinging like a hanged man. He closed his eyes in frustration, and I sighed into his shoulder.

“Holly,” we both said at the same time. He put me down on the step, kissing my forehead.

“Dinner?” he asked wearily.

“Give me twenty minutes,” I groaned back, giving him a chaste kiss and hopping up the stairs. He gave my ass a smack, and I squealed on the way to my room.

Twenty-two minutes later, I walked into the kitchen and was greeted with whistles from both Jack and Hol y. I had chosen wel , apparently. I was wearing a deep green swing dress with tiny straps and an empire waist. The neck dipped low enough that it was sexy, but not slutty, thank you. I wore my hair down. Luckily, I had let it air dry this morning and my natural curls were lazy and soft, exactly the way Jack liked it. I finished off with gold kitten heels and lots of sparkle.

And my boobies were definitely sparkly.

I felt gorgeous, and the way Jack was staring at me with a dropped jaw told me I had done well. The green of my dress exactly matched the green of his eyes, something that I didn’t realize until I saw him in front of me, his eyes burning as he took me in.

“Grace, wow, you are … ” he stammered in a low voice.

“Now, now, be nice,” I teased, anxious to hear what he would say.

“Illegally beautiful,” he finished, brushing my hair back to plant a soft kiss where my neck meets my jaw. My toes, freshly painted with I’m Not Really A Waitress, curled. I literally shook in my heels from that one touch of his lips.

“Ahem,” I heard Holly say, bringing me back from orbit, although only slightly as Jack was now planting baby kisses from my neck to my collarbone.

Sweet Sassy Molassey, he is off the charts tonight …

“Guys, a moment?” she asked, throwing a grape at Jack and hitting him in the mouth.

“Hey, bitch, don’t mess with my Johnny Bite Down. I’ll kick some ass,” I snapped, removing the grape and tossing it in my mouth. Jack chuckled, and we both turned to her.

“No messing with the, wait, Johnny Bite Down? Forget it, I don’t want to know. What I would like to know is how you are gonna explain this?” she asked, in a serious tone.

We both turned to her and saw she had her laptop open. Curious, I stepped behind her and looked over her shoulder. Jack stayed where he was.

TMZ had posted the picture of the two of us at Yamashiro’s, with me kissing him on his neck, exactly the same way he had just been kissing me. There was no way to misinterpret the intimacy of this shot, especially the way he was holding my hand. The look on his face as I kissed him implied that there was definitely something between us. The caption read: “New star, Jack Hamilton, dines at local L.A. eatery with unidentified redhead.” Then, there was another picture of us at FatBurger, I hadn’t even seen the cameras that day. “Time hunk Jack Hamilton and mystery redhead.” Finally, there was a picture of he and I holding hands again, walking out of Whole Foods. He was laughing, and I was gazing up at him adoringly, with a simpering look on my face. This time there was a paragraph.

“British heart-throb Jack Hamilton has been photographed all over Los Angeles with a mystery girl. Has this Brit Boy been bitten by the love bug? Or has a cougar gotten her claws into this very single guy?” I felt tears prick at my eyes as I read the last part. Cougar.

As in, what the f**k was I thinking, dating this much younger man?

As in, what the f**k was he thinking, hanging out with my ancient ass?

As in, what the f**k must everyone be thinking when they see us together?