The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(74)
Author: Alice Clayton

Once I was on the plane and settled into my seat, the tears came back. I sat quietly sniffling, watching everyone else file on toward the back of the plane.

The flight attendant had already offered me a cocktail, but I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

One of the reasons I felt so sad was that I didn’t know when I would see him again. I could be in New York indefinitely—three months, a year. It was all dependent upon how well the show did and the kind of backing it received.

I knew Jack would be out to visit, and I knew that, at some point, I’d be able to get back out to L.A., but the idea of not knowing when, that’s what was making it so difficult for me. Not to mention that I hadn’t slept alone in weeks and I knew that tonight, when the lights went out and I didn’t have the Brit scrambling under the covers after me, searching out my boobies with his hot little hands, I’d miss him something fierce.

I thought of his sweet face, looking as lost as I had ever seen him as I walked away from him today. I saw the same sadness in his eyes that was in mine, and even though I realized that men and women felt things very differently, I knew he would miss me. I thought of his smile and how happy I made him when I did something as simple as scratching his head, and my insides actually ached.

What would he do if he was here now and I was crying? I smiled immediately, thinking of how quickly he would have me pressed tightly to him, making me laugh through my tears, or simply letting me cry it out. I would do the same for him. All I wanted to do was take care of him and have him take care of me.

We needed each other equally. I knew that now.

God, I realized that I should have gone shopping for him before I left. He would eat nothing but freaking fast food for the next three months if no one got involved.

But that was enough sad-sackery. I needed a distraction.

I pulled out a magazine and I laughed ruefully when I saw that the Brit was featured in an article about faces to watch. Yeah, no kidding.

Somewhere over Utah …

I put the magazine down after rereading the pages with my Brit several hundred times. The flight attendant nodded toward the article I was clutching to my chest as she handed me my Bloody Mary.

“Did you read the article about Jack Hamilton? I could get arrested for the thoughts I have about that kid.” She grinned as she took in my surprised face.

I blushed and grinned back. “He’s a tall drink of water, that’s for sure,” I giggled.

“God, yes. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to his new film,” she confided, leaning on the seat and making the guy next to me roll his eyes.

He’d already attempted to engage me in conversation, which I had quickly thwarted. Now I was ready to talk, but about a heartthrob? I’m sure he thought I was nuts.

Mmm, someone I loved called me Nuts Girl.

“Yeah, it looks really good. I love me some Super Sexy Scientist Guy.”

“You must be talking about Jack Hamilton,” I heard a voice say from behind me, and the woman in 4D had popped her head over my seat to participate.

“Ha! Everyone I know adores that kid,” the flight attendant squealed.

“Oh, my goodness,” 4D started. “Did you see his last movie? I almost died when he was in that towel … gah!”

“Yeah, he’s pretty to look at.” The flight attendant sighed, and all three of us began to giggle like school girls.

“He really is … ” I added, smiling to myself as the other women continued to fawn over the man who had hit his head on my toilet bowl only hours before.

When the plane finally landed, I was exhausted. It had been an emotional day, I’d gotten no sleep the night before, and plane rides were always tiring, especially when you take advantage and imbibe the free Bloody Marys.

I grabbed my bags off the carousel and made my way toward the line of cabs into the city. When it was my turn, I gave the driver the address of the W

hotel, then checked my messages and smiled as I listened to Holly instructing me to call her as soon as I reached my hotel. I couldn’t help but call Jack, and was a little saddened by the fact that I just got his voicemail.

“Hey, love, I’m in a cab heading into the city now. Wanted to call and let you know I made it here safe and sound. And I even met a few fans of yours on the plane! I told her I f**ked you repeatedly and often. They seemed oddly shocked by that. Kidding. Well, call me when you get this, I don’t care how late. I want to talk to you before I go to sleep. I love you, and would you believe I miss you already, George? OK, bye.”

I sank back in the seat and watched as the neighborhood of Queens quickly gave way. We crossed the bridge, and as I saw the lights of the city, I began to smile uncontrollably.

It was after nine and the sky was fully dark. Everything was lit up, and the way the city looked as we crossed the river was magical. Absolutely magical.

We drove through the concrete canyons, across town, and then made our way through midtown. Hundreds of people were out, crossing the streets, sitting at cafes, pouring in and out of doorways.

There was a pulse to this city, and after leaving the laid back charm that was Southern California, my brain was hungry for the fuss and the muss of Manhattan. It was hot and steamy and even though it was nighttime, it was still thick and humid. I pulled my hair up off my neck immediately and shrugged out of my cardigan.

We raced along, the driver slamming the brakes every block or so, honking back at other cabs and at the pedestrians crowding the streets. Even though many left in late summer, there were still tons of people, and my eyes drank in the masses.

Every time I was here, my heart beat a little faster. And this time was no different.

As we pulled in front of the W, the bellman came out to help with my bags, and I was soon whisked inside. While I was checking in, I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned.

It was Michael.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” I exclaimed, hugging him.

“Holly told me when you were getting in, so I thought I’d stop by and buy you your first drink in New York. You’re not too tired, are you? Shit, I should’ve given you time to settle in.” He grimaced as he pulled back. He was dressed casually like me, loose khakis, gray t-shirt, Converse. His hair was quite curly in the humidity and framed his dark brown eyes.

“No, no. I would love that! I’m tired, but really it’s not even seven to me.

Let me drop off my bags and then we can grab a drink. Do you mind if we have it here?” I said, gesturing to the gorgeous lobby bar.

“That sounds like a plan. Lemme help you,” he said, grabbing my bags and leading me toward the elevator.