The Redhead Revealed
Page 3

When I finally calmed enough to form sentences again, I sighed deeply, making my way toward the couch from where I’d collapsed in front of the door. I didn’t actually make it off the floor—my tummy hurt too much from laughing to let me up. I had truly gone fetal.
“What the hell was that, Sheridan?” he asked, laughing again as he heard me moan dramatically when I finally lifted myself back onto the coach.
“Just a little emotional breakdown, Hamilton. They happen, you know. When are you getting here? Don’t tell me you’re in the hallway! I can’t handle that.” I smiled into the phone, my heart leaping at the thought he might be that close.
“No, sorry. I will be there this Friday night, though. Soon enough for you?”
My heart now leaped out of my chest. I quickly did the math. “You’ll be here in four days?” I squealed, arching my ass off the couch as every muscle in my body clenched involuntarily.
“Yes, ma’am. Will you be ready for all that lovin’?” he teased, voice getting lower.
“Oh, God, Sweet Nuts, I’m gonna work you over so good, you won’t be able to get back on that plane. How long will you be here?” I asked, my voice getting husky as well.
“What if I said you get to keep me until Tuesday night?”
I actually closed my eyes and bit down on my knuckles to keep the shrieking inside. “Five days? Do you have any idea the kind of damage we can do to each other in five days?”
“I have some idea. What do you want me to do first?” he asked, indicating the beginning of the sex. I smiled contentedly, and as my hands began to work their way down, I imagined all the ways I could answer that question. They were spectacular in their promise.
Chapter 2
“So what do you two plan on doing this weekend, as if I didn’t already know?” Even over the phone from L.A., Holly’s voice made me smile.
“Believe it or not, we actually did make some plans,” I said. “We’re seeing a show Saturday night and a new exhibit at the MOMA on Sunday. And between my rehearsal schedule and his interviews, we’ll barely have any quiet time at all.” I sighed, stretching out across the old couch in the back of the rehearsal studio.
Holly had called in between early-morning phone meetings. Being both my best friend and my manager—not to mention Jack’s manager—was a multifaceted role she was so far handling really well. She was great at her job, especially with new talent like Jack. She was crafting his career with precision—keeping him visible, but not overexposed.
And speaking of Jack, he was due in tonight! His flight got in around five, and I was meeting him at his hotel. We were strategic that way—we didn’t want to waste any time. I was hoping our hellos would be quickly followed by my panties’ removal.
“Why do I think quiet times aren’t on the menu this weekend anyway? More like screaming times,” she chuckled, no doubt remembering the caterwauling she’d had to endure all those weeks at her house in L.A.
I blushed. He did get me to scream louder than any man before him, and then there were the nights when he stunned me silent. Oh, God. Is there a way to speed up time?
“So how’s the show going? You and Michael still getting along, or have you scratched his eyes out?”
“No, actually things are going surprisingly well. I forgot how damn funny he is, and we’re really having a good time together. It’s like we never stopped being friends,” I said. I was so glad we’d put the past behind us.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just saying ‘uh-huh’,” she said, the smile back in her voice.
“Holly, you never say anything without meaning something. Now give it up, bitch.”
“It’s nothing. I’m just glad you guys are friends again. It isn’t weird at all? No old chemistry knocking around, nothing coming up between you two?” she asked.
“No, none at all. Thanks for asking, though, you scandal whore.” I laughed, hoping to change the subject quickly. There was nothing going on. However, while Michael and I had spent plenty of time reminiscing, we hadn’t addressed the feelings we’d had for each other back then, or any impact they might have on the present. I thought briefly of his eyes locked on mine during the eggroll standoff, but I brushed this aside.
“So when are you coming to visit, you dumb bitch?” I segued smoothly.
“Nice talk. I’m trying to get out there before Thanksgiving. And by the way, where are you planning on spending the holiday? Can you get back here, or will you still be in rehearsal?”
“I don’t know, but my guess is I’ll be here. Hey, I’ll get to see the parade up close and personal. That’ll be kind of cool!” I said. I hadn’t really thought about the upcoming holidays.
“Maybe I’ll wait and come out then. Can’t have my best friend alone on Turkey Day,” she said, laughing.
“Aw, that’s sweet, babe. You know there’s no one I’d rather share yams with than your bad-ass self.” I chuckled.
“So when’s he getting in?” she asked.
I ignored the obvious double entendre. “Around five-ish. I have to be here all day for rehearsal, but that’s good. It’s keeping my mind off things. I’m so freaking excited! I really didn’t expect to miss him as much as I do.”
I sighed, leaning back on the couch again and sipping my coffee. It was still early—not even lunch yet, and I knew this day would positively drag.
Six hours until boom-boom…
“I knew you’d miss him this much, and I have to tell you, he’s like a little lost puppy without you,” she said.
“Really? Why do you say that?” I asked, wincing a little at the image.
“I can just tell how much he misses you. He’s doing a ton of promotion, and he’s starting to really get recognized, which is a little weird for him. I know he’s going out with his friends at night a lot, but I still think he’d rather be with you, watching your God-awful Golden Girls,” she said, groaning in distaste.
“Yeah, I’m sure he’d rather be snuggled up watching Bea Arthur than out on the town,” I sniped.
“Grace, you’re an idiot. The boy is in love. Let him miss you,” she said.
I chewed my lip thoughtfully. “I know he misses me. I miss him too. A lot,” I muttered.
Just then Michael came into the studio with the musical director.
“Hey, Holly, I gotta go. I’ll call you later this weekend,” I said, rolling off the couch and walking over to the piano.
“Don’t you dare call my ass when you should be f**king the shit out of your hot British nasty! I love you, now goodbye,” she said, and hung up.
I smiled as I clicked off the phone.
“Was that Holly?” Michael asked, grinning down at me.
“Yep, she was harassing me.” I laughed as we began to page through sheet music.
“About this weekend?” he asked, his smile tightening.
“Yeah, she’s always trying to give me advice. You know how she is,” I said, nodding to the accompanist to begin.
We worked together on the song, finding the emotional beats and drawing out the subtext. Once we finished, Michael packed up to leave just as Leslie came in from the studio next door.
“So I heard your boyfriend is coming in this weekend. Are you stoked?” she asked, bounding into the room and curling up on the couch next to me.
“He is coming in. How did you know that?” I asked.
“Michael told me,” she said, digging in her bag and pulling out a few magazines.
“What are all these?” I asked as she spread them out on the couch.
“My favorite crush, Jack Hamilton, is supposed to be in these magazines. I thought we could look through them and begin a little shrine for our dressing room!” she screeched, bouncing like a schoolgirl.
I was beginning to wonder if I should tell her about me and Jack. I didn’t mean to keep it a secret so long, but I was following Holly’s directive that we keep our relationship private—out of the newspapers and off the internet—even though I knew Jack was against it. He trusted Holly implicitly, though, and he knew we were only looking out for his career. It wasn’t that it was a secret, we just weren’t public. And me on another coast solved a lot of problems with the press, especially now that Jack was doing so many interviews.
Holly had taught him the phrase, “I’m not dating anyone right now,” and he was sticking to it in the interviews. If those few pictures they got of us in L.A. just stayed on the back burner, we’d be okay. Still, I knew Leslie would eventually find out, and I didn’t want her to think I was keeping things from her.
“Wow…he is so hot,” she sighed, finding the first picture.
It was in a teenybopper magazine, but my Brit still looked fine. I allowed myself a quick glance, which of course made my heart do a little double-time, and then I looked at her.
“Hey, Leslie?” I started.
“I mean, my God, he’s on fire, that boy! I might need to concentrate on booking more jobs in L.A. I wonder if he’s single?” she continued, flipping through the pages of the next magazine.
“So, listen, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. My boyfriend, the one that lives in L.A.?” I started again, only to be interrupted by another squeal.
“Jesus! Look at those eyes! I mean, they just scream sex, don’t they?” She tore out another picture and added it to the pile.
“Yes, yes, they do. Anyway, like I was saying…,” I started yet again, determined to get through it this time.
“Holy shit, Jack Fucking Hamilton,” she said softly. I heard her rip another picture.
“Jesus, Leslie, enough already! I’m trying to tell you something about my boyfriend!” I shouted. I looked at her sitting there with a ripped picture in her hand. She looked dazed. It really was a pretty hot picture.
“What about your boyfriend?” I heard a sexy voice behind me, with a distinctly British accent. My eyes grew wide as I slowly turned, now realizing what Leslie meant.
Holy shit, Jack Fucking Hamilton.
He stood in the doorway of the studio, leaning against the door frame. He had a bag over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, clothes rumpled, and his hair needed its own zip code. He smiled at me, and I was struck stupid by the sight of him.
“You were saying something about your boyfriend, I think?” he asked again. His eyes twinkled, the green getting dangerously dark. Then he bit down on that damn lip.
I was off the couch and across the room in mere seconds, and I jumped at him. He caught me in midair, dropping his bag, and the force of me carried us both out into the hallway. I pressed myself into him, wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. He stumbled backward, laughing at my exuberant welcome, and his back hit the wall.
I didn’t see the other cast members in the hall. I didn’t see the ballet students in their tutus on the way to a dress rehearsal on the main stage. I didn’t see Leslie, still dumbfounded on the couch, mouth hanging open, surrounded by pictures of my very own Sweet Nuts. I didn’t see Michael standing at the end of the hallway, watching.
I saw nothing but the front of Jack’s T-shirt as I clung tightly to him, the colors beginning to swim as I blinked back tears, sudden and hot. I smelled nothing but the scent of warm pipe tobacco, chimney smoke, chocolate, and Hamilton. I felt nothing but his strong arms enveloping me and his hands running up and down my back, soothing my shaking body. I heard nothing but his quiet laughter, and then his perfect voice whispered, “Aw, Gracie, I missed you too.”
And then I tasted nothing but his sweet lips, pressed firmly to mine, as I kissed him like it was my job.
After things almost got out of control, I finally peeled myself off the Brit and brought him back into the studio, where Leslie was still sitting and waiting.
“I can’t believe you took the red eye and didn’t tell me, you ass!” I yelled, pummeling him.
“I know. It was last minute. But I finished up what I needed to in L.A. yesterday, and it seemed silly to wait until this morning to go. I couldn’t wait any longer, Nuts Girl,” he said, ruffling my hair and tucking me into his side like he always did.
I looked at Leslie, and while she’d recovered somewhat, her eyes were still as big as dinner plates.
“So, Leslie, this is my boyfriend who I was trying to tell you about. This is Jack.”
He extended a hand, and to her credit she took it, beginning to realize this was in fact real. She was meeting her celebrity crush.
“Leslie, it’s nice to meet you. Grace has told me all about you. Sounds like the two of you are quite a handful together, yes?” He grinned wickedly at her.
He was doing that on purpose…that flirty fuck. Those fans didn’t stand a chance.
“Hi—hi—um, hi,” she stammered, and then quickly got control. “Sorry, I’m not usually so ridiculous, but we were just cutting up pictures of you, and then you’re standing there, and Grace is trying to mount you in the hall—it’s a lot to take in. It’s nice to meet you, and wow, you sure are hot,” she finished.
I heard someone else come in, and when I turned I saw Michael.
“Hey, I heard there was soft-core p**n going on in the hallway,” he said. I noticed his fists were clenched.
“Hey, Michael. Sorry about that. Jack kind of surprised me. You remember Michael, right?” I asked, turning to Jack.
They looked at each other for a second, then Michael held out his hand. “Hey, man, good to see you again. That was quite a surprise. Grace wasn’t expecting you until tonight,” he said, pumping Jack’s hand twice, then dropping it.