Making It (The Making It Series) A Romantic Comedy

by Christina Ross

  At first, his lips barely brushed against mine—which was enough to set my body on fire. But then, as he leaned in and wrapped his arms around my waist, he pulled me toward him, kissing me deeply, and the connection I felt with him as his tongue slipped into my mouth was undeniable. I kissed him back, running my fingers through his thick, black hair, and my heart began to race in ways that it hadn’t in years. Or maybe ever—because there was something about him or us that was different from anything I’d ever experienced before.

  What’s happening? I thought as I felt his arousal press against my thigh, and he kissed me even more sensuously. This is the very last thing we should be doing, but what if he’s right? What if we take this friends thing too far, and we miss out on something that might indeed be amazing? How many regrets will I have then?

  A shitload . . .

  When we parted, all I could do was look up at him, and what I saw on his face—shock, surprise, lust, delight, and desire—was everything I was feeling. I couldn’t deny it. Just as he’d said there was more to me than mere looks, I felt the same about him. Yes, Hunter was hot—but because he was so much more complicated and interesting than his good looks, it only fed into that heat.

  “Have dinner with me,” he said.

  “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “I need to speak to Harper today, and since I don’t know what she’s going to say about how we deal with Pepper going forward, tonight might not be the best night if she says things I don’t want to hear. I’d rather be in a good mood if we’re going to have dinner together.”

  “I want the same,” he said. “So, how about tomorrow?”

  “Sienna comes home tomorrow. You know she’s my best friend, and I haven’t seen her in months. We’ve already made dinner plans.”

  “Julia, as impatient as I might appear when it comes to you, I’m actually a patient man. Maybe the day after that?”

  “Hunter, if I agree to this, I’ll be breaking every rule I’ve made when it comes to you . . .”

  “Maybe, but you’ll only be doing so because you can’t deny what happens when we kiss, Julia. So, come on. Say you’ll have dinner with me. Come to my apartment and let me cook for you.”

  “Here’s what I’m thinking,” I said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Baby steps.”

  “Baby steps?”

  “Otherwise known as taking things slowly. Because I have a feeling that sharing dinner and a bottle of wine with you could turn into a hell of a lot more, especially if we’re at your apartment.”

  “And that’s bad because . . . ?”

  “Baby steps,” I reiterated.

  “All right then, I’ll take you to a restaurant,” he said. “And we’ll both agree that nothing will happen afterward. At the end of the evening, we’ll say goodnight, we might share a kiss, but nothing more.”

  “Now you’re talking my language . . .”

  “Good,” he said. “Because we need to figure this out between us, and that means spending time with one another. Have dinner with me at a restaurant, we’ll part ways afterward with no pressure or expectations, and from that point forward, we’ll just take things day by day. Does that work for you?”

  “It does,” I said. And it did. I actually felt relieved at that moment, because all along, it was the comfort of having boundaries I’d been seeking when it came to Hunter. If we put some into place—if we allowed our story to unravel in inches rather than in miles—at least we’d have time to make informed decisions about each other before any serious intimacy took place. If it happened at all, because it might not if we came to the conclusion that it was best for us to be just friends. Taking things slow and steady was something I could wrap my head around—and get behind.

  Get to know him—let him get to know me—then at some point down the road, we can decide if we want more . . .

  “So, I’ll be in touch about dinner,” he said. “Otherwise known as two days from now.”

  “Please do,” I said.

  “Just one last thing,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  Effortlessly, Hunter swept me into the air, twirled me around, then kissed me again as I lost myself in the strength of his arms while the sun shined down upon us.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Over the next two days, my life became a strange, chaotic blur filled with epic lows—and a handful of highs.

  First was my meeting with Harper, who was dead set against me becoming Pepper’s legal guardian should she need that from me. Her reasoning was simple and understandable—I’d been promoted to be an assistant agent to represent new clients and thus to earn more money for CAA. That was my job—period. It wasn’t that Harper didn’t feel for Pepper, which she did. Instead, she reminded me that in this business, every decision always and forever would come down to money, “even when it shouldn’t,” she’d said. “But that’s nevertheless how it is in this industry, my dear, despite how heartless it often seems—and frankly is.”

  On the following day, I was sidelined from having dinner with Sienna when Pepper called late in the day to say that her mother was now in rehab. Savannah’s sister, Pauline, had somehow managed to convince her sibling that if she didn’t commit to getting sober, she was well on her way to ruin.

  After a blizzard of phone calls between Pepper and her billionaire douche of a father, Oleg, the man actually agreed to help Pepper out. He lived in Russia, but he nevertheless kept an apartment in New York. He said that for her, he’d move back to the city so she could continue to legally work on the Teens. But the moment Savannah was out of rehab, which shouldn’t take more than a month or so? He told her that he’d be gone the moment he was cleared to do so.

  “Well, at least Pepper has been spared from the guillotine,” Harper said when I told her what had happened. “And thank God for that.”

  But as the day wore on, I learned that wasn’t the end of it, because apparently Oleg was only prepared to go so far when it came to helping his daughter. Yes, he’d come to the States and stand as her legal guardian, but he also made it clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her life on the Teens.

  Since he was friends with CAA’s president—who got Pepper into CAA in the first place—a deal was struck. Harper called me the moment she heard the news, and I was told that until Savannah was well enough to have full guardianship over her daughter, Pepper was to be my sole client. For the time being, my job wasn’t just to represent her, but also to manage her, because her father wanted nothing to do with any of that, presumably because he knew his daughter and her antics all too well.

  “But isn’t this just taking money away from CAA when you’re supposed to be giving me new clients?” I’d asked Harper.

  “Not in this case, love.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because dear, loving, caring Oleg agreed to pay a significant daily rate for you to be her watchdog.”

  “He did?” I’d said. “Do I get a share of that money?”

  “Of course you do,” she’d said. “In fact, I think you’ll be very happy when it comes to your cut, darling. It is rather substantial, after all. So, congratulations. Now, all you need to do is keep Pepper in line, manage her, and make sure that she behaves like a professional on that show.”

  “Pepper’s been nothing but professional,” I’d said to Harper. “She wants to own that show, because she knows that if she does, they’ll be eager to hire her for another season.”

  “But how far will she go to ‘own’ it, Julia?” Harper had wondered aloud. “Just the other day, you told me that Lexi hurled a handful of spaghetti in Pepper’s face, and that it was caught on camera. Do you really think for one minute that Pepper is going to take that one for the team? Or, like me, do you think that Pepper will choose her moment wisely to pay Lexi back with a stunt that’s far more significant than what Lexi did to her? I think we both the answer to that, but the burning question neither of us knows the answer t
o is what Pepper has in mind. If things get too far out of hand, you’re going to be the one who will need to step in to set Pepper straight, provided she does anything serious to Lexi while you’re still managing her. For the time being, Pepper is all on you, my sweet girl—and I have to say good luck to you. Because while Pepper might have behaved professionally when Lexi slammed her with the spaghetti, that girl is already plotting her revenge, and I fear that when she claps back, it will be epic. I mean, come on—Pepper is a terrible teen after all. You and I both know what she’s capable of.”

  * * *

  Thankfully, on the evening that I was to have dinner with Hunter, everything seemed to be going smoothly with Pepper, which was a relief.

  She’d shot the show’s introduction with flying colors from Hunter. She’d already appeared in several scenes with the girls, which Hunter said that Pepper had nailed. And from what Pepper was telling me, she was enjoying herself on the show—but only because she was creatively finding ways to put each girl in their corner with a devastating series of verbal put-downs.

  Given Harper’s warning about the fact that Pepper would one day seek revenge on Lexi—which of course she would, because that’s just who Pepper was—I couldn’t help feeling anxious about when that day would come.

  Worse, how far would she go? How cruel would she be? If she went too far, what would the ramifications be for her when it came to the show? I wasn’t sure, but I did address it with her by phone. I told her of Harper’s fears, I told her of my own fears, and Pepper just sailed through all of it, not batting a lash while she assured me that she’d never go so far as to jeopardize her position on the show.

  “But I will get her back, Julia,” she’d said to me during that call. “Because that’s what the audience expects from me—I mean, right? I’m supposed to be a terrible teen on this show. That’s why I was hired. Because of social media alone, people have already seen her pathetic spaghetti smack, and they already know that one day I will get my revenge. In fact, my peeps are craving for me to fight back because of her attack—and in a big way. You and I both know that. All I need to do is to deliver—oh, I don’t know—maybe something so electrifying, it truly will shoot this show into the stratosphere?”

  “Please don’t go too far,” I’d begged her.

  “I’ll go just far enough,” she’d said. “Because I already have it planned. You’ll see—and honey, girl, it’s going to be epic!”

  “How epic?” I’d asked in concern.

  “As in so epic, I will have earned my salary on just one episode alone! Because when I do what I’m going to do to that bitch, Julia? And the network starts to tease that shit? They are going to make so much money, they should be tossing cash and roses at my goddamned feet, because I sure as hell will have earned it.”

  And then, just like that, she’d ended the call.

  And when she went all silent on me? Oh, hell had it unnerved me.

  Please, God, don’t let her go off the rails . . .

  If she did, what could I do? I’d done my job and I’d tried my best to reel her in. But Pepper was Pepper. She was her own Maleficent—otherwise known as the Mistress of All Evil. At this moment, her actions were her own. For now, her future was in her own hands, even though I wished it was in mine.

  * * *

  At seven-thirty sharp, I was ready for Hunter. I didn’t know where he was taking me for dinner, but since he continued to be completely considerate, when I asked him what I should wear, he’d suggested something a little dressy.

  “As in a little black dress kind of dressy?” I’d asked.

  “That would work perfectly,” he’d said.

  And that’s just what I went with. Since signing Pepper, it was the first time in my life that I actually had extra money to spend, so I’d gone shopping yesterday at Bergdorf Goodman—of all places!—and I’d splurged on a dress that had cost me nearly two grand. The idea that I could even afford that still astounded me, but I could, and I was beyond grateful for that.

  The dress I chose was a Halpern satin bustier dress with a dramatic side drape that fell down the length of my otherwise exposed left leg. It featured a strapless neckline, a structured bodice and a fitted silhouette, and it fit me as if it had been made for me. When I tried it on and looked at myself in the dressing room mirror, I was sold. The dress was perfection.

  Since I also needed a new pair of shoes, I wound up spending another $700 on a pair of Christian Louboutin décolleté pointed-toe pumps. Since the dress was so specific, distinct, and memorable in its style, I wasn’t sure when or if I’d ever be able to wear it again. But when it came to the shoes? They had two things going for them. They were just sexy enough for a night out on the town, and they also were totally suitable for the office.

  And look at me justifying my spending!

  But I have to if only because I hail from Hartford, I thought with a smile as I applied a final swipe of red lipstick in my bathroom. As Tootie Staunton-Miller would tell me with pleasure, we Hartford girls should take nothing for granted.

  When Hunter arrived to pick me up, I buzzed him through and waited for him in the foyer. I’d decided to wear my golden hair down, but with a little flip that lifted at my shoulders. To get me through the night, I’d once again chosen to wear my grandmother’s diamond earrings, because I knew for a fact that that woman would have my back. I carried a black clutch, in which was a compact, a tube of lipstick, and my iPhone in case any kind of Pepper craziness broke out while we were dining.

  When Hunter knocked on the door and I looked through the peephole, I saw him wink at me, and I laughed.

  “You’re too much,” I said to him.

  “I just want to be enough,” he answered back.

  When I opened the door and saw him, I swear to God that I couldn’t help my heart skipping a beat. He was perfectly manicured in the most masculine of ways. He was wearing a black suit with a black tie, his thick, black hair was slicked down with gel and parted sexily at the side—and then there was the stubble on his face, which just about did me in.

  When we looked at one another, our lips parted at the same time, which gave me goose bumps because now I knew that spending so much money on my dress had been worth it. As he gazed at me, I could see the lust in his eyes—and there was no question that he felt the same from me.

  “Hi,” I said after a moment.

  “Hi, yourself,” he said in return. “Jesus, Julia, you look stunning.”

  “Don’t make me blush . . .”

  But I blushed.

  “I’m just speaking the truth,” he said.

  “Well, you look dashing, Hunter. I love seeing you in your T-shirt and jeans, but I kind of love this look a little bit more.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I don’t know, Hunter. Maybe because when you’re in a business suit, you look like a total alpha dom who could tear me up in the bedroom?

  “I love a man in a suit,” I said. “Especially if its tailored correctly, which yours is. I don’t know—a man in a fitted suit is kind of a turn on for me. You know, for lack of a better word.”

  He came toward me.

  “Do you think I look hot in my suit?” he asked with a smile.

  “Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m feeling . . .”

  “Is it too soon for a kiss?”

  “Well, I don’t know—I mean, we can’t destroy my makeup,” I said. “Because then I’ll just need to fix it, we’ll be late for dinner, and then—”

  “How about a peck on the lips?” he offered.

  “I think I’d rather like that—but nothing more than that. Because, you know, for all the reasons I just laid out.”

  With an arched eyebrow, he took me gently into his arms and kissed me so softly on the lips, I swear to God that mere peck was sexier than if he’d just gone all in. Why? Because the chaste touch of his lips against mine left me wanting more of him, which I’d just denied myself because I didn’t want to have to correct my makeup if we had
really gone for it and toppled over like a couple of teenagers.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “Hungry for what?” I asked in delirium.

  “Umm . . . maybe dinner?”

  “Oh, dinner,” I said. “Right. And I mean, of course! I am absolutely hungry for dinner, Hunter. I mean, dinner, right? It’s kind of important. One needs nutrients!”

  Could I sound more pathetic? Probably not . . .

  He looked amused when I said that.

  “Is there something else you’re hungry for, Julia?”

  “No, no,” I said as I felt my cheeks burn with the heat of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I haven’t had time to eat today. You know—too busy and all that. Well, I did have coffee. But you know—coffee, right? The fuel of life, and all that! Today, I began my day with coffee, but because Pepper has been blowing up my life as of late, who has time for food? Not me, that’s for sure. I’m mean, right? She’s a handful, that one!” Why am I rambling? Girl, you need to get yourself together! “Actually, to be honest with you, Hunter, I am kind of famished.”

  He proffered his hand to me, which I took. And I swear to God that whenever I touched that man’s flesh? My body literally betrayed me. Because when we did touch? My damned nipples began to stiffen.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Let me take you to dinner,” he said.

  “All right . . .”

  “And maybe we’ll enjoy something else afterward . . .”

  “Hunter,” I warned.

  “Julia, it’s not that,” he said. “It’s something else. You might find it clichéd, and that’s OK. I’ve lived in this city my whole life and I’ve never done it before, but for a specific reason, I want to do it with you.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” he said—and then we were gone.