The Redhead Series

by Alice Clayton

  “I don’t have a crush,” I replied. “Well, maybe I have half a crush. I have a ‘cruh,’” I admitted, giggling. “But it’s strictly Joshua-inspired,” I added, knowing that was not entirely true.

  “Well, hell—even I have a crush on him that’s Joshua-inspired. How could you not?” She sighed, getting a little goo-goo eyed.

  With that, I knew that the discussion was over, and I was anxious to get back to my reading. As we cleaned up the kitchen, we talked about our plans to go dancing with Nick the next night.

  Then I grabbed my magazines and took them upstairs with me, telling Holly that I was going to go to bed early. After washing my face, I changed into my favorite old white button-down. I had been sleeping in this shirt since college. I snuggled under my duvet and dove back in, determined to find out what the hell happened to Joshua.

  One thirty A.M.

  I was still reading.

  I only stopped once, to go downstairs and get some coffee, practically running back upstairs to return to the story. I was now solidly into the series and very engaged. So engaged that I was startled by my phone ringing on the bed next to me. It was Jack . . . sigh.

  “Seriously?” I grumbled, trying to hide the delight in my voice.

  “Sheridan! Are you up?”

  “What if I wasn’t? Do you know what time it is? Some of us sleep at night,” I answered, rolling onto my side.

  “You don’t sound like you were sleeping. You sound quite alert, actually, almost stirred up. What are you up to?” he asked. I could hear rustling in the background.

  “Well, you caught me. I am up. And I was reading.” I smiled into the phone.

  “What are you reading?” he asked.

  Shit.

  Not wanting to be schooled for reading these stories, my eyes whirled around the room, finally lighting on the other book on my nightstand.

  “The History of Salt,” I answered.

  “The History of Salt, Grace? Wow, that sounds . . . dreadful. Why the hell are you reading that?” He laughed.

  “Hey, it’s really good. Did you know that salt was used as currency throughout history? Many major European cities are founded on or near a salt quarry. This is good information to have,” I retorted, settling into my pillow. I could hear more rustling in the background. “What’re you doing? What’s that sound?” I asked.

  “Ever since the other night, I have been craving Chex Mix.”

  “Well, save me the Wheat Chex. They’re my favorites.” I giggled, swallowing a yawn.

  “So, what should we talk about?” he asked through a mouthful of what I assumed were melba toasts.

  “Hey, you initiated this booty call, you tell me. And don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s rude,” I said teasingly.

  “Booty call? Is that what you think this is?” he asked with mock outrage.

  “Let me clue you in to something, Hamilton. In America, when a guy calls a girl in the middle of the night, especially when they’ve just met, it’s most certainly a booty call,” I said, deadpan.

  “I know what a booty call is, Sheridan, and if I understand the term correctly, I’d be expecting to come over and get some, right?” he asked.

  “That’s the general idea, yes,” I answered, rolling over onto my stomach, in which butterflies had now taken up permanent residence.

  “Well, then that is rather presumptuous of you. Who’s being rude now?” he said, teasing me back, leaving me feeling foolish.

  “Eh, I . . . um . . .” I struggled to finish a sentence. I had nothing. There was a long pause.

  “Maybe I just called to talk to your booty,” he said finally.

  “You are so fucked in the head,” I said, having trouble keeping my laughter contained.

  We talked for a few more minutes, then I began to yawn, which he noticed.

  “What do you have going on tomorrow?” he asked as I put away my magazine and turned out the lamp on the nightstand.

  “Um, not too much. I have yoga in the morning and then I’m meeting up with Holly for coffee and to work on the pieces I’m doing in her showcase.”

  Often agents and managers would host showcases for new talent to introduce them to casting directors. Holly held them about twice a year, depending on how deep she was in new talent. She had agreed to bring me on as a client again, and we were in the process of auditioning scene partners for me to work with.

  “Oh, are you in that? She mentioned she had something coming up. What time are you meeting her?” he asked.

  “I’m stopping by her offices at eleven thirty,” I answered.

  “Well, then I’ll let you get some sleep, Sheridan. I enjoyed our booty call. Was it good for you?” He chuckled.

  “Oh my, yes.” I laughed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk in the morning. It’s a good thing I have yoga. I can work a few things out.”

  We said good night and hung up, and I snuggled down deeper into my covers, thinking about Jack. He was funny, twisted, and dangerously cute. My hands found their way to the bottom of my button-down and slipped underneath. My fingers ghosted upward across my stomach until they touched the soft swells of my breasts. I thought about Jack’s lower lip and the way he bit down on it.

  Why do his lips turn you on so much?

  My nipples immediately hardened as I thought of what he would look like hovering over me and biting down on that very lip. What his hair would feel like as it brushed across my belly as he pressed tiny kisses on his way toward my . . .

  Go to sleep, Grace. This is not helping.

  My inner schoolteacher interrupted my daydream just as it was getting good. I placed my hands safely above the covers.

  I was going to have to get some. And soon.

  six

  I  woke up early and fixed a quick breakfast for Holly and me while she got ready for work. Since my schedule was much freer than hers, I tried to be a good houseguest and I kept her well fed. I mixed up a berry fruit salad and added it to a parfait glass with vanilla yogurt. As she headed down the stairs, I quickly poured her a cup of French-press coffee, with just the right amount of milk and two sugars—exactly the way she liked it.

  “Bitch, you are spoiling me. I think I’ll finally need to get a housekeeper when you move out,” she said jokingly, sitting down at the breakfast bar and sipping her perfect coffee.

  “That, or get yourself a house husband. Then you can get your house cleaned and your lady bits pleased all in one fell swoop,” I said, beginning to stretch before my yoga class.

  “My lady bits wouldn’t know what to do if a man came within two feet.” She sighed, looking sadly at her fruit salad. “Have you talked to your contractor lately? Not that I want you to move out. I love having you here.”

  “Yes, in fact I’m heading over to the house on Friday to check on the progress. Seems like things are moving along as planned. I’ll miss being roomies with you, but I’m anxious to be in my own home again,” I replied, thinking fondly of my new house.

  I had sold my house back home and was in the process of renovating my new home here. Once I’d made the decision to move back to L.A., I flew out at least once a month to go house hunting with Holly. She was a godsend to me then, doing drive-bys on properties I had seen online so we could maximize our time and avoid looking at crap while I was there.

  I had saved my money over the years, not having a lot to spend it on. Added to a sudden windfall in the form of an inheritance from a great-aunt I barely knew, I had enough money to brave the L.A. real estate market. I finally found exactly what I was looking for in a smallish California bungalow off Laurel Canyon. It had great bones and a beautiful old garden that needed a lot of work. I couldn’t wait to move in. I had a contractor and a team of professionals working ’round the clock trying to get it ready for me. Walls had been removed, trees and shrubs cleared, floors refinished; I loved a fixer-upper. I was hoping to be moved in within the next month or so.

  “This is good fruit, by the way—farmer’s market
?” she asked, spearing a blueberry.

  “Yep, I stopped by the other day and stocked up. Speaking of fruit, are we still on for dancing with Nick tonight?” I asked, pulling my hair up into a tight bun on top of my head.

  “Oh, yes. I can’t wait to shake this ass all over West Hollywood tonight. I am channeling my inner hag,” she answered, shaking her ass right there in the chair.

  “It should be fun, although I’m not allowed to have too much to drink tonight. Cut me off after two. Three tops,” I said.

  “That’s a deal. I don’t want to have you lying around like third base all day tomorrow,” she replied, finishing her coffee and grabbing her bag for work.

  “No third base, got it. Love you, bitch. See you at eleven thirty,” I said as I put her dishes in the sink.

  “You’re a dick. I love you, too,” she shot back, and off she went to work.

  After a grueling yoga class, I showered and got ready at the gym. I changed into a clean pair of black yoga pants and a fresh white camisole, then wrapped a hot-pink tracksuit jacket around my waist and called it good. Holly and I were going out for coffee, so I didn’t feel the need to get dressed up.

  Her offices were in a new space off Wilshire. It was near all the museums and the La Brea Tar Pits, close to where we had shared our first apartment. You could even see the E! building from her window. She said it helped her focus during the day.

  After parking, I walked through the lobby and made my way up to the fifteenth floor. She had half of the floor, and when I walked into reception I saw Sara, her assistant, standing at the front desk. She was young and pretty and sweet—a bit fluttery, but nice. Speaking of fluttery, she seemed very on edge this morning.

  “Hey, Sara,” I said, before she let out a little scream and turned around.

  “Oh, Grace! I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. I’m a little out of it today,” she stuttered.

  “No problem. What’s going on? You look a little crazed.”

  “Do I? Shit, I was trying to play it so cool.” She sighed, sitting down at her desk and then banging her head against it.

  “Hey, hey! Stop that! Who is here?”

  Sara had a tendency to get a little starstruck. Once a rather famous movie star had come in to take a meeting with Holly, and she freaked all over reception, making an ass of herself. She actually tripped and went headfirst into a potted fern. Holly had been working with her on her self-control, which she needed if she wanted to continue a career in the industry.

  I found it funny watching Holly lecture anyone on control, because I had once seen her chase Donnie Wahlberg across a Carl’s Jr. parking lot to get an autograph. New Kids were definitely her Achilles’ heel.

  “Your new boyfriend, that’s who’s here! I almost died when he asked for your phone number the other day. How the hell did you land Jack Hamilton?” she asked incredulously.

  I groaned. Damn it, you really have to start wearing nicer clothes when you come in here.

  “First of all, I did not ‘land’ anything. Nothing has been landed on, no one is landing anything. Second of all, I barely know him.” I tried not to look too conspicuous as I ran my hand through my hair, fluffing up my ponytail.

  “Sheridan, I’m hurt. Did my booty call mean so little to you?” a ridiculously lovely voice said from behind me.

  Sara silently mouthed, “Booty call?” and I shook my head.

  “Shut it,” I mouthed back, and turned.

  Fuck, he’s pretty.

  Jack was wearing light-colored jeans with the same Doc Martens he’d had on the other night. His white T-shirt and gray sweater were tight enough that I could see his lean yet firm build underneath, but slouchy enough that it didn’t look like he was trying. Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing the demon ball cap, and those curls were begging me to run my fingers through them. Actually begging.

  He grinned at me unabashedly, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

  “Huh. Fancy meeting you here,” I said teasingly. “I recall telling you that I had a meeting with Holly this morning. Coincidence?”

  “Sheridan, that’s rubbish. Are you insinuating that I only came here in the hopes of running into you? I happen to have had an appointment as well,” he said, taunting me.

  “That’s crap, you stalker,” I said, deadpan, moving in closer to him.

  “Really, I have an appointment. Ask Sara to check her book.”

  I looked to Sara, who was watching this little exchange with the same interest she usually reserved for reality TV.

  “It’s true, Grace. He had the appointment right before you,” she replied, trying not to get worked up again with him so close to her.

  I knew the feeling. Jack shot me a cocky half grin, thinking he’d won this round.

  “Sara, when did he book this appointment?” I asked, not taking my eyes off Jack, who suddenly looked at Sara in conspiratorial panic.

  “Um, let’s see. There was an e-mail from him this morning when I turned on my computer,” she answered, still looking dazed.

  “What time was that e-mail sent?” I asked with my own cocky grin beginning to form across my face.

  Sara clicked around a few times and then said, “Two-oh-seven A.M.”

  “Shit,” Jack said quietly while I laughed aloud.

  “I knew it! You are so busted, Hamilton!” I cried, inwardly dancing like an imbecile.

  He totally came up here to see you. Girl, you are on.

  He laughed and ran his hands through his hair, biting down on that damnable lower lip as I heard Sara gasp audibly. I had trouble controlling myself as well. He was that hot.

  He grinned sheepishly and said, “Okay, you caught me. I wanted to see you. Is that so terrible? I’m bored, and you’re fascinating.” He was smiling, but I swear I saw a look of nervousness flit across his face.

  “Well, I’m glad I can amuse you. You’re mildly entertaining to me, as well. Although, as Holly can attest, I can become a lot to take,” I replied, suddenly becoming shy. Sara had answered a phone call during our latest round of banter, and I found myself alone with him.

  I was very aware that our only physical contact so far had been two handshakes and a perfunctory rubdown through a towel when he was helping me to dry off. I wanted contact.

  “I somehow doubt that, Sheridan. In any case, I’m quite sure I can handle it,” he said, moving slightly closer.

  If I weren’t so conscious of where he was in relation to me, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Nevertheless, every single molecule, every particle, every speck of matter between us had begun to hum, and I was aware of everything. I knew exactly where he was.

  Keep moving over here, sweetie, keep moving.

  “I don’t think you realize how nuts I actually am. And no one ‘handles’ me, Hamilton,” I said tauntingly, creeping infinitesimally closer to him. Now I was the one on the move.

  “I think you’re the right kind of nuts. I like girls who are nuts.”

  I could literally feel his eyes on me. I could feel them moving across my body. I watched as his lips pushed his words out, watched the tip of his tongue slide gently across his lower lip as he punctuated his sentence. He cocked his head slightly to the side and as he raised his right hand to his head to run his fingers through his hair, I finally noticed his hands, his fingers.

  Holy Lord, look at his hands. Good. Night. Nurse.

  The tension was so thick in the room, it was too much. He was too much. I couldn’t take the pressure, so I panicked. Sexy and in-control Grace left, and twelve-year-old-dork Grace took her place.

  “Heh heh, you said nuts.” It burst out of me. My self-edit button was now turned off for good.

  I began to giggle uncontrollably as I watched his face scrunch up. My giggles turned into chortles, then guffaws, and finally full-on belly laughs—the kind where you look more in pain than anything else. I was completely into the ugly-laugh stage. Thankfully, he joined in.

  I grabbed on to him, almost losing my ba
lance. I was laughing so hard I was seeing stars, and about the same time Jack started wiping tears away from his face, I could feel mine fall as well.

  When we finally began to settle down, I noticed he was staring at me with a look of contentment. The kind you only get after a truly great laugh.

  “Oh man, you really are nuts.” He sighed.

  “Don’t start. I can’t handle another fit like that.” I began to giggle again and then squelched it down. We stared at each other for a long moment, our breath still coming fast from the insanity of what had just happened. And not just the laughing.

  Sara came out from the inner offices and said, “Grace, Holly is just finishing up on a call, but she said to come on back.”

  Holly? Who’s Holly? Oh, right . . .

  I turned back to Jack. “Well, it’s been—” I’d started to say when he interrupted me.

  “Huh-uh. You have a meeting with Holly for coffee right?” he asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’m staying right here, and when you’re done, you and I are going for a drive,” he stated, rather than asked.

  “Yes,” I answered, not even bothering to try to come up with something witty. I started for Holly’s office but then stopped to look back. Jack was settling himself down on the couch, getting out his iPod.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Sheridan. Now, get your ass in there and take your meeting,” he commanded with that sexy half grin. He was serious.

  “Okay,” was all I could come up with as I continued toward Holly’s office, totally dazed and confused.

  You are so in over your head.

  I walked down the hall, trying to regain my focus. Holly knew me too well, and if she saw me at all flustered, she would give me hell. I composed my face and pushed the office door open.

  “So, are you two fucking yet?” she asked, a telltale grin on her face.

  Heat burned across me with the image of Jack underneath me, face flushed with passion, that same sexy grin on his lips as he said my name. I quickly recovered and sat down.