The Unidentified Redhead
Page 11

“I do?”
“Yeah, it’s right outside. Go get your package.” She smiled as I walked past her, raising an eyebrow. She just shrugged and pointed me toward the front door.
I walked out and saw a white envelope on the front step. I opened it, and found a Starbucks gift card. The note attached said: Sheridan,
You didn’t say anything about handwritten delivery when you cut off all forms of communication.
Turn around.
“Oh man, Hamilton, are you here?” I called out as I turned around. He caught me up into a close hug, pulling back to kiss my forehead.
“I brought you this, since you didn’t really get your money’s worth this morning.”
“You’re sil y, and I told you no communication. Obviously this would include face to face,” I pouted, relaxing a little into his grasp.
“Why are you so serious about this no communication thing?” he inquired, lowering his face to mine and beginning to sweep gentle kisses from my ear down to my neck.
“This is why. Because I can’t focus when you do that,” I sighed, leaning in to him against my better judgment.
“Can’t focus, huh? So, I shouldn’t do this?” he asked innocently, brushing his fingertips down my bare arms. He slid his hand along my shoulder, inside the linen dress and began to move toward my breast.
“No, you shouldn’t,” I protested, weakly. I was already beginning to get worked up and could feel my br**sts tighten as he moved closer.
“I like this dress, Grace. I’ve never seen you in a dress.”
“No kidding. We just met! So far, you have seen me in workout clothes, a racing suit and a slutty pair of jeans. And a Saltine shower.”
He laughed, remembering the Saltines. “Well, they were all memorable. But the dress? My favorite so far.” He continued his assault on my senses, running his hands further down my sides, and starting to gather handfuls of linen, lifting my dress up high on my thighs.
“For fuck’s sake, we can’t do this here! This is so inappropriate. This is wrong.
This is … Oh, God … ” I stopped, unable to speak.
He’d allowed his fingertips to slide all the way up my legs, stopping only when he reached my lacy panties. He traced the edge of the lace, starting at my hip and moving down, then covering me with his hand. I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me.
“Are you focusing right now, Grace?” He breathed into my ear.
“Um, yes? But you don’t affect me as much as you think you do.” I tried feebly to keep control of the conversation, since I was losing control of the lower half of my body.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He frowned at me, pulling the lace aside, his fingers hovering just above me. Like before, even though he wasn’t actually touching me, I could feel him. I could feel where he was, and I knew he knew exactly what this was doing to me. “In fact, I would say, you are very affected by this,” he whispered hotly, holding my gaze with his own, his piercing eyes not allowing me to look away.
Then, his fingers touched me.
I have never in my life felt so aroused. It was magic. His fingers fluttered along, grazing me lightly. I almost came right then. I shuddered.
“Mmm, Grace. You sure this isn’t affecting you?” he continued, pressing down on me. I almost lost my balance. He pushed me back up against the door, slamming me against the doorbell. I heard it ring out.
“Coming!” I heard Holly say as she clicked across the floor to the front door.
“Not quite, but she’s close.” He chuckled, removing his hand and leaving me breathless and rosy cheeked.
“I’ll just let you get back to focusing. Call me when you’re ready to finish this,” he said, laughing lightly at my frustrated and confused look.
“Guh,” I mumbled. He slipped into the darkness, but I could hear him.
I amused him.
Holly opened the door and took one look at me. I was still against the door with my dress bunched up around my hips. I was shaking my head in wonder-ment, looking frazzled and thrilled all at the same time.
“Oh, God, the British have landed, haven’t they?” she asked.
I looked up at her, incapable of speech.
I distinctly heard Jack’s laughter slice through the night as his car sped away.
“You better not have f**ked her up against my front door, Jack!” she called after him.
As his car disappeared around the corner, I heard him yell, “Not yet, Holly!” Holly shook her finger at me in a tsk-tsk fashion and went back inside.
Seconds later she turned the porch light out on me.
You just lost the power of speech.
Chapter 10
Though we had only known each other for a few days, that night had marked a turning point in our “relationship.” It was on. I knew that we were stupid attracted to each other. I knew that it made no sense at all that we were even engaging in what was now beyond a mild flirtation. I knew that the nine-year age difference was huge and that whether I wanted to or not, it would eventually be something that I would have to deal with. I knew that he was already Mr.
Hot Shit, UK version, and about to blow up into a huge star. I knew that there was little to no chance that we would both make it out of this OK.
I knew that he was going to f**k me like it was his job.
And I knew that I was going to let him.
Even though all of that other stuff was there and would eventually have to be dealt with, I was now beyond the point of being able to resist. I was going to let my body take over and my brain worry about something else. All the mental junk got pushed to the side and placed in a box titled, “Grace Will Deal With You Later, She Is Now Being Run By Her Oonie.” The rest of that week, we talked on the phone, we emailed, we texted and even made Holly act as a go between, much to her consternation. She was forced to relay messages like: “Tell Sheridan I saw a seagull this morning that needed a soft place to land.” and “Tell Hamilton there is a sale on ChapStick if he needs to stock up. That bottom lip is looking a little ragged.” and “Tell Sheridan that she should use Bengay if her joints are acting up. That’s what my dad uses.” and
“Tell Hamilton that the meter reader guy put some on me last night, and it felt gooood.” Eventually Holly refused to continue this telephone game, shouting over the phone in front of a famous client who was there to take a meeting,
“Would you two just f**k and get it over with?” We didn’t see each other until the following week. I really was behind on work. I was getting ready for the showcase and that night I was finally testing out my two songs at open mike night. Holly and Nick were meeting me at a club off Fairfax. I was a little nervous, but more excited than anything else. I needed to practice, and I was just becoming comfortable performing in front of an audience again.
I was also still working my way through the Time series, and this Joshua was one Super Sexy Scientist Guy—who happened to engage in a ravishingly steamy love affair with a different lady in each time period. I was hooked. Was I reading erotica? Time-traveling erotica? Perhaps …
I had talked to Jack in the late afternoon. He’d been on set doing re-shoots at a studio in the valley all day and was going to try to make it to the club in time.
“I’m not sure what time I’ll be done. They tell me I should be out of here by eight-ish, but that’s usually rubbish,” he sighed into the phone.
“Well, if you get here, you get here. If not, no big deal. I might be doing another open mike next week, too,” I answered, picking at a nonexistent piece of lint on my jeans. I really was getting more nervous about tonight than I thought. This was good, though, good energy to have.
“Actually, I’m not sure if I’ll be there,” he said. “Holly and I talked today and I’m going to have to start doing some more press. They’ve got interviews lined up for me all next week, and at some point I have to head up to Santa Barbara for a photo shoot.”
“Oh, OK. Well, whatever. It’s just an open mike night. I understand,” I replied, shocked that this affected me so. I could feel my stomach tightening up as I realized that I had really been looking forward to having him hear me sing.
Grace, this isn’t your boyfriend. This is someone who hasn’t even seen you na**d yet.
Well, he saw me almost na**d. That was not for his lack of trying, though.
Despite the fact that I had kept him away all week while I was working, he tried almost every night to talk me into coming out, or at least letting him come over.
After his front door performance, I was sorely tempted. Nevertheless, I was being an adult and getting my work done first.
Was I maybe also playing a little hard to get? Oh, hell yes.
“Grace, you know I’ll be there if I’m in town, right? You’re not going to get rid of me that easily,” he assured me, and I could hear someone talking in the background. “Right then. They need me back on set. I’ll ring you if I can’t make it. Otherwise I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll talk you later. Hey, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
“If I do see you tonight, you’re going to finish what you started,” I teased, remembering what he promised the last time we were together.
He was quiet and I thought he had hung up until he said, almost in a whisper, “Grace, I will focus on nothing else in life until you come. I will start it and I will f**king finish it.”
Oh. My. God. The Brit was a little dirty birdie. I scraped myself off the floor and tried to start breathing again. “Hamilton, I have no words for you.”
“Good. I like you speechless. Now let me go work so I can get to you faster,” he teased and hung up.
Christ on a crutch …
I arrived at the club early and waited for my friends. Sitting at the bar, I nursed a hot tea, trying to get my mind off Jack’s words. I was getting warm for his form just thinking about him, and I found myself wishing that the night were over so we could be together.
Girl, you got it bad.
Yes, but I was hoping to get it good. As I was sitting there, I felt a pair of hands on my waist and I smiled. I turned around and was not expecting what I saw.
“Bitch, this redhead has been identified!” It was Nick, and he was holding a copy of the TMZ picture from the beach. He was not pleased. “Tell me you are not f**king him. Please, God, tell me you haven’t hit this.”
“Why would you assume that just by looking at this picture? Maybe we were just sharing some shrimp, a harmless lunch?” I protested, innocently.
“So, you haven’t slept with him? Oh, thank you, Lord. I was going to smash my head through a plate glass window if you stole my British dreamboat before he knew he was secretly gay. I need some more time to convince him.” He laughed, relaxing his posture.
“No, Nick, I haven’t slept with him,” I answered truthfully, wondering how I was going to dodge this particular bullet.
“Not yet she hasn’t. I give it another week before actual penetration happens,” Holly piped up, sneaking around me to steal a cherry from behind the bar.
“Dammit, Holly,” I started, watching Nick’s face move through all shades of red and on toward purple.
“How could you? My dreamboat, my British hotness, my steak and kidney pie, my, my … ” he stuttered, as I struggled not to laugh.
“Nick, I am sorry for your loss, but he’s straight—thoroughly, completely straight. If there were a chance that he wasn’t, I never would’ve kissed him. And that’s all I’ve done, just kissed him.”
“He felt you up the other day. Oh, and almost made you scream up against my doorbell,” Holly added, smiling gleefully.
“Not helping,” I seethed through my teeth.
“Well, at least he’s putting it to someone I know,” Nick started. “That makes me a little happy. And no one needs it more than you, except maybe you, dear,” he said, suddenly turning on Holly. She gulped, swallowing her cherry.
“When did this become about me? I’m fine,” she protested, turning her own deep shade of purple.
“Oh, please, it’s been months since you had sex with someone else in the room. And don’t try to lie. I am in tune,” he said fiercely, placing his fingertips to his temple in an attempt to divine the last time Holly had gotten some.
I pulled myself away from the conversation, listening to them bicker back and forth. I needed to focus. I once again smoothed down my outfit, picking at nonexistent lint.
That night I had settled on a tight black linen button down, which was fitted, and I had left the top few buttons undone, strategically. I had paired it with black swingy pants, finishing off with The Urban Shoe Myth: Black Patent Leather Mary Janes. My hair was down, and I didn’t even pretend to fool myself that I didn’t wear it down for Jack. He had told me on the phone one night that he loved my hair, especially when it was curly. I was now analyzing what he said as if I was in junior high—which I was practically in when he was born … oh man.
Grace, settle. You have been over this. Jack is just Jack. Forget the age difference.
Focus on the prize. The package is the prize.
The package was indeed the prize. I’d been dying to peek at that very package ever since the day I was straddling him on his bed with a back full of espresso welts. The boy was excited, and I had taken notice. Let’s just say that he could have had a gun in his pocket and been glad to see me, as well.
I kibitzed with Nick and Holly for a bit, and when performers started taking the stage, I scanned the crowd for Jack. It was almost nine-thirty, and no sign of the Brit. Ah well, I knew he was going to try. Re-shoots must have run longer than he’d anticipated.