The Redhead Revealed (Redhead #2)(68)
Author: Alice Clayton

I stood up and set everything down on the coffee table. I straddled his lap and wrapped my arms around him. His hands went to the small of my back and held me to him.

“George, you’re going to get so lucky tonight,” I said, laying my head on his shoulder and letting him hold me.

“I’m already lucky, sweet girl,” he whispered in my ear.

We clung to each other, in the light from the Christmas tree and the fireplace, with the music enveloping us, in my home. In our home.

Later that night, when he slipped into me, we were wrapped around each other as tightly as two people could be. I could feel his heart beating against mine, and it was perfect.

We’d gone through hell and back, and he stuck with me. My life was a sum of all its parts. Everything I’d been through, everything I’d done had brought me to this place with Jack.

We were solid. We were strong. And we were moving forward together.

***

He stirred in his sleep, clutching me closer. I scratched his scalp, feeling the silky strands of hair slip between my fingers. I felt the weight of his body press against mine. I rubbed my present back and forth between my fingers again, feeling it against my skin.

He came awake momentarily and rolled me onto my side, snuggling in behind me.

“Love you, Grace,” he mumbled, and slipped back to sleep.

“Love you too,” I whispered.

And his hands?

Please. Where else would they be?

Chapter 22

I closed my eyes and let the sun wash over me. It was so strong that even with my eyes shut, the world was bright.

I felt the sand between my toes, warm through the thin bamboo mat I was curled on. I smelled the tang of the ocean, rolling in only a few feet away. I tasted the salt in the air, and the afternoon heat was thick and lazy on my tongue. I heard the waves knocking against the sand, and the call of a seagull overhead—careful there, bird.

Then I heard the door swing shut, and I turned and saw. I saw the most beautiful man in the world. He trotted down the porch steps holding two beers and headed my way. He wore a pair of loose jeans rolled up at the bottom, no shoes, and, God, no shirt.

“Hey,” he called, shuffling through the sand.

I leaned up on my elbows, exposing myself to him. What was the point of a private beach if you couldn’t sunbathe topless?

“Hey yourself,” I answered, rolling a handful of sugar sand between my fingers. His eyes widened when he saw I was topless, and his mouth stretched into that grin I loved so damn much.

He sank down on the mat next to me and handed me my beer.

“You weren’t checking your voicemail in there, were you?” I asked, arching my eyebrow at him as I sipped. Cold and delicious.

“Nope. I promised. No email, no cell phone, no messages. Holly has the house phone, but she knows it’s only for emergencies.”

I sighed happily and sat up. I scooted over and tucked myself into his side so we could both stare out at the ocean. I pretended not to notice that he was sneaking peeks at my boobies. We smiled and sipped and watched.

When I’d opened the plane ticket at Christmas, I couldn’t believe what I read. I had to look on a map to make sure I knew where I was going. The Seychelles were a tiny chain of islands in the middle of the Indian Ocean. We were about 200 miles off the coast of Africa, and 200 million miles away from anything Hollywood. When I realized what he’d planned and how we were going to ring in the new year, you could have knocked me over with a feather. And the hits just kept on rolling.

The day after our Christmas party, I’d met Michael for coffee as planned, and he told me why he’d been in L.A.

“So, interesting story,” he said, sipping his latte. “When the show was running in New York, a producer friend of mine saw it, and he really enjoyed it. When he heard it hadn’t been picked up, he gave me a call. He said he thought it was a great concept for TV, and he wondered if I was interested in adapting it for the small screen.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s fantastic news, Michael!” I shouted, throwing my arms around his neck.

He laughed and hugged me back. “So I flew out here, met with some of the other producers, and worked up some different ideas. They want to shoot a pilot and position it for cable.”

“Like TNT? USA?” I asked.

“Like HBO,” he said, winking at me.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

“And, of course, the kicker is…they want you too, Grace.”

So, unreal my life was about to become.

I spent Christmas in L.A. with Holly while Jack flew home to London. He needed to spend some time with his family, and after the Premiere Implosion, it wasn’t really the best time for me to come along. There would be plenty of time for that, and I wanted him to have some time with them by himself.

So after Christmas, I flew across the Atlantic and met up with him in Paris. We spent almost an entire twenty-four hours changing flights and flying in progressively smaller planes—not to mention watching three movies, rehashing the holidays, and talking about all kinds of things—until we were finally over the Indian Ocean.

As the archipelago began to appear, and tiny islands and atoll began to dot the water, I clutched Jack’s hand in excitement, startling him out of his novel. He was interested in producing one day, and was cramming in a last little bit of work by reading books he was considering optioning. However, he promised to be in full relaxation mode by the time we landed at our destination. We were both exhausted, but ready for a vacation.

We changed planes one last time, picking up a puddle jumper for our last island hop. When we landed at the tiny airport, Jack had arranged for a car to pick us up. We were positively dragging by this point, but very excited. The early-evening sun was just beginning to dip as we drove along the quiet roads. The island Jack had chosen was almost uninhabited—just a few vacation homes, one small store, and miles and miles of peace.

We pulled up to the house, and we both gasped. He’d seen pictures. I hadn’t. But apparently the pictures didn’t do it justice because we both stood there, mouths agape.

Pure beach house. It was huge and secluded and private and gorgeous.

As we explored we found the caretaker had already brought in a supply of food, wine, beer, and everything we would need. As we walked through the house, the ocean breeze billowed through the gauzy white curtains that lined every window. The back of the house opened completely onto a huge deck, and there was the ocean. In our backyard.

Too exhausted to do anything, we’d snuggled into the giant bed, pulled up the covers, turned out the lights, and let the ocean lull us to sleep.