The Redhead Revealed (Redhead #2)(62)
Author: Alice Clayton

“Look at who’s evolved now!” I laughed. “So now that I have my shit worked out, when are we gonna see about getting you a man, huh?” I kicked her back under the table.

“I’m fine. Don’t play matchmaker with me, asshead,” she warned, gulping down her cocktail and waving at the waiter, indicating we were ready for a second round.

“I just think it’s a shame that such a fine-looking piece of ass is going to waste. You need to get some, girl!” I laughed and sipped my drink, trying to tease out the olive. She blushed a little, then tried to distract me by pointing out Randy Quaid over in the corner.

“Don’t go all Quaid on me. What’s up with the blush, please, Ms. Holly?” I prodded, setting my drink down with a flourish.

“What? I’m not blushing. It’s the spicy tuna roll,” she said, looking at the table.

“Idiot, they haven’t brought the tuna roll yet. Are you—wait, are you seeing someone?”

The blush deepened. She was now trying to get Randy Quaid’s attention.

“Don’t you dare try to bring Cousin Eddie over here while I’m interrogating you. Are you seeing someone? Fuck me, you are! Who are you seeing?” I asked, pointing a soybean at her.

“Ya know, you point food at people a lot. Just sayin’. And I’m not seeing anyone, okay?”

I sat back and looked at her. “You’ve been with a man, haven’t you?” I asked, dissolving into laughter.

She glared at me and sucked her soy, hard.

“Oh, man, who are you f**king?” I laughed harder, almost choking on pimento.

“Okay, look, I’m not f**king anyone. There’s someone I’ve…well…who I’ve f**ked a few times, but it’s nothing. I am thirty-four years old, by God, and I have needs from time to time. Shut it!” she huffed, and sat back in her seat.

“Hey, girl, I get it. I’m glad for you. I know it’s been a while. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Why wouldn’t you tell me? Unless…wait a minute…do I know him?” I asked, eyes wide.

She slunk further down in her chair and hid her face behind her hands.

“Does this man happen to have killer blue eyes and a very sweet disposition?” I asked, arching my eyebrow.

She nodded, still covering her face with her hands.

“And does he happen to have abs you could grate cheese on?”

She nodded again.

“I knew it! I knew it when I saw you two at the premiere. You’ve been schtupping Lane, haven’t you?” I screeched, and she finally lowered her hands.

“Grace, shut up,” she hissed.

The waiter brought our second round over, and I immediately sipped my new cocktail.

“Lane, Lane, Lane. Well, I’m impressed. Well done, sister.” I nodded and raised a glass.

“You think it’s okay?” she asked, looking guilty.

“Do you think it’s okay?” I asked right back.

“It’s more than okay. It’s amazing.” She chortled, smiling big.

I raised my glass again and clinked hers. “Here’s to the hottest thirty-four year olds in this city getting it on with two of the hottest young actors! Hell, yes!” I said.

She grinned back at me. “Actually, Grace, you’re thirty-three. I’m thirty-four,” she corrected as she sipped.

“Oh, I know. I just wanted to make you say it,” I said. She threw her napkin at me.

Over the next few hours she brought me up to speed on what had transpired between her and Lane. Apparently when she first met with him (right after I left for New York), there were some definite sparks flying. However, she’d been concerned about representing two actors in the same film, particularly one that was branded so heavily. But she enjoyed their meeting so much that when he asked her if she wanted to grab a drink later, she was surprised to hear herself say yes. She would never date a client, but since they’d agreed that her representing him was not a viable option, she felt okay about it.

Later that evening, she felt more than okay about it. She confided that it was the most powerfully raunchy, explosive night of amazing sex she’d ever had. But she quickly concluded that was all it was, and she tried to pretend nothing had happened. Poor Lane was lost in the signals and tried for weeks to get her to go out with him again. She continually refused, which explained the tension I knew I’d noticed at the premiere. Finally, he cornered her after an event and she came clean.

That night, they struck a sort of sex-only accord—it wasn’t as if Lane was looking for a soulmate—and they’d been getting it on every so often ever since. I was happy for Holly, as she’d needed to get laid for such a long time, and by someone who knew what he was doing. As they now knew neither was interested in pursuing anything beyond the physical, it seemed to work for them.

She was concerned about anything ever being leaked to the press about this very Alanis-like arrangement, so she was reluctant to tell even me. I, of course, assured her I wouldn’t tell a soul, especially since I was one of the few who could empathize with her predicament.

***

We stayed at the restaurant long enough so I was okay to drive, then after I dropped off the slut, I headed back down the mountain toward my canyon.

The Porsche was not there when I got home, so as I pulled in I made to sure to leave him enough room in the driveway. I let myself in and headed toward the kitchen. I wasn’t quite ready for bed, so I poured myself a glass of red and slipped out to the patio. I sank into one of the comfy deck chairs and turned on the stereo. I’d taken a page from Holly’s house when I remodeled, and I made sure to have speakers installed throughout. I selected my “quiet sexy times” playlist on my iPod and settled in. The canyon was so still at night, even though mine was a well-traveled street.

I smelled the honeysuckle and lemons and relaxed into the solitude. Did I miss the hustle and bustle of New York? Eh, a little. But not enough to ever give this up. I sat quietly in the dark, in the quiet, in the wonderful. I soaked in the moon and the few strong stars that punctured through despite the city lights close by. I absently wondered why my cheeks hurt until I realized I’d been smiling for hours. I heard Jack’s new car purr softly into the driveway, and the smile grew bigger.

I tracked him through the house, hearing the jingle of his keys on the table inside the front door, the lock clicking closed for the night, the slip of the leather jacket as it left his shoulders, and the soft slap of his shoes on the floor.