fifteen

When I opened my eyes the next morning, I was staring into green. Jack was awake, turned sideways on his pillow and watching me. I grinned back at him, snuggling deeper into the covers and into him, breathing in the scent of his warm skin all over me. Kissing the exact center of his chest, I rested my head over his heart, the tiny hairs tickling my nose.

“How long have you been up?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

“Awhile.”

“You should have woken me up.”

“I wanted to let you sleep. I know it’s been a busy week.”

“It’s been a busy everything.” I groaned and stretched a bit, which resulted in the sheets pulling down just enough that the boobies made their first appearance of the day.

Just as Jack waggled his eyebrows enough to communicate his intent and make the girls go on point, his phone buzzed on his nightstand. Huffing, he rolled away to get it as I pulled myself together a bit. I sat up to lean against the headboard and could see over his shoulder just enough to note the call was from Adam, although Jack at least had the good sense to not answer it. Rolling back over with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he looked right where he’d left the girls, grumbling audibly when he saw they had been put away.

“But, wait, where did they—”

“Shut it, George. We’re talking.”

“We’re already talking, Grace.”

“If the boobies are out, no talking will happen.”

He snorted and tried to sneak a peek. “Just because you’re incapable of paying attention doesn’t mean I can’t.”

“No way. Uh-uh. No boobies till we talk.” I tucked the sheets under each armpit and clenched my hands at my sides.

“How about one booby? One booby while we talk, and if I can contain myself, then I get them both before breakfast,” he offered, throwing his hands up in the air in supplication.

“How old are you?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

“You know ruddy well how old I am. Recovery time, remember? Now drop the sheet on the left one and talk, woman.” He poked me in the left shoulder.

Sighing, I adjusted the sheet so that the . . . good lord . . . so that the “left one” was out.

“Okay, what are we talking about?” he asked it.

“Eyes up here, George. It’s out, but you still have to make eye contact.” I grabbed his chin and twisted him to look straight ahead.

He blinked, shook his head, and then looked me in the eye finally.

“Okay, let’s talk about last night, just for a minute. I don’t want to rehash everything, I promise.”

He sighed heavily, then nodded for me to go on.

“I mainly just want to talk about Adam, but in a calm, rational way. I want you to understand more about why I don’t like him. I probably shouldn’t even say I don’t like him. I barely know the guy and—”

“Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t like him. It’s okay. You can say it.”

“Okay, yeah. I don’t like him. But more than that, I don’t trust him. But hear me out. Haven’t you noticed that whenever we’re out, whenever you’re out—if he’s there, the cameras are there? I mean, yeah, they’re there sometimes even when he isn’t around, but have you ever been somewhere with him when they aren’t there?” I nudged his chin once again. His eyes had started to drift south.

With a cheeky grin, he met my eyes once more. “Off the top of my head? No, no, I can’t. So you think he’s calling them, orchestrating all of this? For what purpose, Grace?”

“His career,” I answered quickly. “It makes sense. He was over; he was being cast in all kinds of crap, and then once he was cast in a film with you—the new heir apparent to his golden-boy status—now he’s getting exposure again, right? Maybe he’s ensuring that doesn’t go away. He’s making sure people are talking about him again.”

“Seems a stretch to me. He’s always complaining about the paparazzi. He can’t stand them when they’re around,” he said, but I could finally see the wheels beginning to turn just the tiniest bit.

I didn’t want to lose any ground, so as much as I wanted to smack him upside the naive, I kept quiet, let him think on it for another moment. He chewed on his lower lip, looking pensive, and I let the sheet drop on the right one. He looked back up at me in surprise.

“You’ve earned it.” I smiled.

“Are we done talking? Already?”

“I said what I needed to say. You listened. I appreciate that,” I answered softly as he reached out to cup an exposed breast. His fingers were tender as he stroked me, not sexual this time, but deeply sensual. Comforting. Warm. Coaxing me onto my back, he snuggled into me, head on my breast, fingers now pressing into each tiny dent between my ribs. We breathed together, watching as the sun crawled across the ceiling.

“When are you leaving to go back to the desert?” I asked the top of his head. I hated that he had to leave again, but they still had a few scenes left to shoot.

“Two days.”

“I’ll be glad when you’re done. It’ll be nice to have you at home for a while.” I kissed his forehead.

He was quiet for a minute, then started to get out of bed. He leaned back down over me and gave me a small smile. “Let’s get some breakfast, Crazy.”

Once I had him full of toast and marmalade, we relaxed over coffee, which is what we were doing when Holly called. Kissing me on the head, he took off for the shower before I could even answer, mouthing the words in the shower to me. I rolled my eyes as I answered the phone. I wasn’t sure what was going on there.

“Hey, dillweed.”

“Hey, asshead. What are your plans this afternoon?”

“Um, I didn’t really have any. Was going to go for a run maybe?”

“Nope, you’re shopping with me.”

“I am?”

“Yep, let’s meet at Monica’s at one. I need to get some new dresses—something beachy and cute.”

“Ah. You and Michael going somewhere fun?”

“Perhaps, can you go?”

“Sure, I’ll see you there.”

“By the way, do you still want us all to come over tomorrow night to watch?” she asked. We’d talked about getting together to watch the night the show premiered on TV.

“Yes, definitely. I need everyone here to make sure I don’t go looking for the bad reviews.”

“Can we bring anything?”

“Yes. Vodka. Lots. Not sure what you guys will all drink, but the vodka’s for me.” My heart stuttered a bit when I thought about the fact that my TV show would be debuting tomorrow night for all the world to see. Well, the American world. “Okay, see you in a bit,” I said, starting to hang up.

“Wait, wait, is Jack there with you?”

“He’s in the shower. Why?”

“But he’s been home with you all morning?”

“Yeah, why? What’s up?”

“I’m going to wring that limey’s neck! Never mind. Not your problem. Tell him to check his fucking messages, okay?”

“Okay,” I answered, not wanting to get involved.

“Okay, see you in a bit, fruitcake.” She hung up.

Thoughtful, I sat there for a bit, tossing my phone back and forth. I didn’t want to get involved, but I had to admit I was curious what was going on.

Not your problem. Don’t get involved.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I headed back toward the bathroom, smiling when I heard him humming in the shower. Opening the door, I reached out for him through the steam.

“Hey, get that sweet ass in here.” He grinned, shampoo suds turning his head into a cotton ball.

“Nope, no time. I’m meeting Holly for some retail therapy,” I answered, dodging his soapy hands. He responded by sticking his tongue out at me. “Speaking of Holly, she told me to tell you to check your messages?” I tried, raising my eyebrows but keeping my tone light. He nodded at me but submerged under the spray. “I’m also going to pick up some things while I’m out today for tomorrow night. I was thinking we’d just make little nibbly things and everyone can nosh while we watch. Sound good to you?”