by Maggie Riley
Frowning, Reagan followed me to the other end of the theatre.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her eyes then widening with some sort of understanding. “Oh, is it too hard to be around him?”
Hard. I had definitely felt something hard pressing against my stomach backstage.
“No!” I said quickly, embarrassed. “That’s not it.” Because that would sound unbelievably unprofessional. And if I was anything, I was professional. Or at least I could do my best to fake it in this situation.
“Then what’s the problem?” Reagan asked.
Yeah, Allie. What was the problem?
“The union,” I finally blurted out. “The union won’t allow some random person to come work on the sets.” Which was true. Completely, utterly true. God bless the union, I thought.
“Oh,” Reagan’s mouth twisted thoughtfully as she considered this. “You’re right.” But then she brightened up. “That’s OK,” she said. “We’ll have him fix stuff around the theatre—unrelated to the sets.”
“It’s a newly renovated building,” I reminded her.
“Yeah,” she said. “But the doors squeak. Haven’t you noticed?”
I sighed and put my face in my hands. Clearly I was fighting a losing battle.
Chapter 14
SHANE
It was pretty easy to tell that Allie wasn’t too thrilled about my temporary handyman position at the theatre. I hadn’t meant to offer my services, but Reagan and the others had seemed so excited to learn I was good with tools. Besides, what was one or two afternoons fixing stuff? Especially if it put me in view of a certain gorgeous and stubborn stage manager.
OK. Maybe I had been a little too eager to volunteer to help.
I was put to work on the doors leading into the theatre, which meant I had a pretty good view of the rehearsal—and a really good view of Allie. And this was a new Allie to me. Allie in her element. I didn’t think it was possible to be more attracted to her, but watching her boss people around with complete and utter confidence was pretty damn hot.
I was replacing some screws in the squeaky door when a tall, statuesque woman in a white suit came over to me. Her blonde hair was pulled back in some fancy twist thing, and I was pretty sure I had seen her somewhere.
“Who are you?” she asked, not mincing words.
I stood, wiped my hand and held it out. “Shane Garrett,” I told her. “Reagan asked me to fix the hinge. I’m a friend of Allie’s,” I added, a little unnerved by the woman’s intense stare.
She looked over at the stage and gave Reagan a small nod.
“Take five everyone,” the director said and, the actresses stopped what they were doing, most of them gathering over by Allie, who had been writing non-stop in her binder.
“Great, you’ve met Shane,” Reagan said, coming to join us. “Shane, this is Joanna Millet, our producer.”
That’s why she was familiar. It was hard to find a New Yorker that didn’t know the Millet family. They were the very top of the upper class, the 1 percent of the 1 percent. I had probably seen her face splashed across nearly every local paper at some point or another. Hadn’t she been engaged to someone from another wealthy family? Big family alliance and all that stuff that occupied the lives of rich people? But a look at her bare finger contradicted that. I clearly needed to be updated on the lifestyles of the rich and famous.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, but Joanna wasn’t looking at me.
“We need a handyman?” she asked Reagan, who shrugged.
“He’s fixing the door,” she pointed out. “You were complaining about that the other day. How it squeaks.”
“Shouldn’t take much longer,” I told them.
“Hmm,” Joanna sniffed and walked away without another word.
Reagan shook her head. “Don’t mind her,” she said. “She did the same thing at our first rehearsal when I had everyone take off their clothes.”
My eyebrows shot up.
“Everyone?” I asked, my gaze shifting to Allie, who was still talking to some of the actresses. Immediately my mind imagined her standing naked in the middle of an empty theatre, just me watching. It was an incredibly appealing image. And exactly the kind of theatre I could get behind. Literally.
“Well, not everyone,” Reagan said, and I glanced back at her to find that she had followed my gaze. “Allie’s pretty great, isn’t she?” she asked with a knowing smile.
What was it with everyone trying to convince me how great Allie was? I wasn’t the one who needed convincing. Hopefully after what had happened backstage, she wouldn’t need to be convinced, either.
“She’s an amazing stage manager,” said Reagan.
“She does seem to enjoy telling people what to do,” I noticed.
Reagan laughed. “I guess that’s true. But she always does it with a smile. We’re really lucky to have her.” She had a thoughtful look on her face. “I’m surprised she agreed to work with us, actually.”
“Why?”
Reagan lifted a shoulder. “Well, in case you can’t tell, we’re kind of flying by the seat of our pants here. Joanna’s our extremely generous source of income, and I’ve got the ‘artistic vision.’ ” She made air quotes as she said it, obviously not taking herself seriously. “But none of that means anything if we don’t have someone who can keep it all together. Something who can keep things running.”
“And that’s what Allie does?”
Reagan nodded. “She’s totally overqualified for this position,” she said. “She could be stage managing some big Broadway show or working with more experienced directors.” She let out a sigh. “We’re all hoping our first show isn’t our last one.”
For the first time since meeting her, I noticed a shimmer of uncertainty in Reagan’s eyes. But it was quickly gone.
“I’m sure it will be great,” I told her, with all the confidence of a guy who knew pretty much nothing about theatre.
ALLIE
Shane stayed way past rehearsal, waiting for me as I closed up the theatre. It had gotten cold and dark; the air had that fresh fall feeling, but it still chilled me to the bone. Winter was right around the corner. I couldn’t wait for snow. The whole city looked so beautiful under the first snowfall—all white and pristine. Everything felt magical and full of possibility.
I rubbed my arms, feeling awkward standing there with Shane. I didn’t know what he thought of what had happened between the two of us backstage. I didn’t know what he wanted from me. And worse, I didn’t know what I wanted from him. Well, I did, but I didn’t know if it was a good idea. It probably wasn’t. But I wanted to do it—to do him—anyways.
He smiled and took my hand. “Let’s get something to eat,” he said. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry.
We went to a diner that was open late just around the corner from the theatre. There were a few people there who had clearly come from shows nearby, some of them dressed in fancy suits and beautiful dresses, some of them in jeans and sweaters, some of them obviously tourists looking at photos of their day on their phones.
“I love this place,” Shane said after the waiter took our order. “My folks used to take me and Megan here whenever we came into the city.”
“Did they do that a lot?” I asked.
Shane nodded. “Yeah. My parents moved outside the city to raise us, but they loved it here and found any excuse to take us into Manhattan. Museums, concerts, that kind of thing. We did a lot of stuff together, especially when I was a kid.” He looked down at his hands. “When I was a teenager, though, I never wanted to come with them. I always wanted to stay local—close to girls and friends—instead of spending time with them.”
“Sounds like you were a pretty typical teenage guy,” I told him gently.
“Sure.” He lifted a shoulder. “That doesn’t mean I don’t regret not spending as much time with them as I could.”
“You must miss them a lot.” Before I could stop myself, I reached across the table and put my hand
on his.
“I do,” he said. “And there isn’t much I wouldn’t do to have gotten more time with them, but at the very least it’s made me appreciate different things. Family. Living in the moment. And it’s made Megan and I closer. Which has been nice.”
“She’s very lucky to have you.”
He smiled at me and turned his hand over so we were palm to palm. Heat spread through me, but not the sharp, overwhelming lust that I was used to when Shane touched me, something deeper, more intense.
Our food arrived and the topic shifted to my family. I told him about everyone back in Nebraska, about my parents, my sisters, my brother, and, of course, Emily.
“She sounds hilarious,” he said, and I nodded with a smile. I adored talking about my niece.
“She’s like a mini-me,” I told him. “Loves planning and bossing people around and making lists. She’s a champion list maker already and a girl after my own heart.”
Shane leaned his chin on his hand, regarding me.
“What?” I asked, a little unnerved by his stare.
“What is it that you like some much about lists?” he wanted to know. “You’re damn near obsessed with them,” he teased.
I squirmed, because he wasn’t wrong. I just hadn’t ever thought about it.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess they just help me figure out what I know. Or what I need.”
Shane raised his eyebrows, obviously skeptical. “You really think lists can help you with what you need?”
“Of course,” I told him. “Lists can do anything.”
“I’m going to have to disagree,” he said, almost as a challenge. “You can’t plan everything out. Sometimes you have to let things happen. Naturally.”
“That’s not my style,” I told him.
“No?” He winked at me. “That kiss backstage seemed to happen pretty naturally.” Then a look of mock outrage appeared on his face. “Unless you planned that. Was that on one of your lists?”
I blushed.
He reached across the table and pushed my hair back from my face. “I know you like to be in control,” he said. “But maybe it’s time to let go. At least for one night.”
After dinner, we headed outside, and Shane slipped on his jacket and held out mine. Putting it on, I got a whiff of the incredible smell of him—soap and sawdust—and for a moment, I closed my eyes and took it all in. I must have leaned back as well, because I felt him behind me, and then his arms wound around me, warming me up. It was wonderful and perfect and yet not enough. I wanted more.
I turned around in his arms, still not exactly sure what was happening. I looked up at him, searching for answers, but all I got was that gorgeous blue gaze staring at me like I was the only thing in the world. It was intoxicating. Magical. I felt as if I was outside of myself and yet more aware of my body than ever before. Every part of me wanted him. Wanted to be touched, kissed, caressed by him.
As if drawn by some invisible force, I tilted my chin up. He met me halfway, his lips hot in the cold air as he kissed me. I melted into him completely as he cupped my face. My hands went around his waist, inside his coat, pulling him close. He was so warm.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest, and I thrilled at the power that flowed through me. I had never been the kind of girl to drive guys wild with lust. Except for Shane. And there was no denying the attraction. The evidence of his desire was pressing against my stomach as I leaned into him. Parting my lips, I drew his tongue into my mouth, kissing him deeply as the cold fall air swirled around us. When we broke apart, we were both breathing heavily. Shane pressed his forehead against mine.
“Let’s go back to Brooklyn,” he said, his voice husky, his thumb brushing against my cheek.
I nodded. I was more than ready to lose control.
Chapter 15
ALLIE
It wasn’t often that New York felt quiet, but when the door closed behind Shane and we were alone in the apartment, I swore I could hear my heart beating. We both stood there, staring, and then, as if someone had flipped a switch, we grabbed for each other.
I was hauled up against Shane’s long, hard body, his mouth hot on my throat as my hands scrambled to push his jacket off his shoulders. It fell to the ground, followed quickly by my coat, and suddenly my shirt was being lifted up over my head and tossed aside. Before I could do the same to Shane’s shirt, he was kissing across my collarbone and down to my bra. Without pausing, he pushed the lace aside and drew my nipple into his mouth.
Gasping, I sunk my fingers into his hair, the pleasure so intense and perfect that my knees nearly gave out. He lavished attention on my breast, before switching to the other and giving it the same wonderful attention.
Tearing at his shirt, I finally managed to get it off him, while he unhooked my bra and tossed it across the room. My hands skimmed down the hard, smooth planes of his body, loving the way his stomach tensed as I slid my fingers lower. But before I could get to his belt, he had pulled my hands away and was lifting me up in his arms.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling his hardness against me, my hips moving urgently against his. It was everything—my entire being lost in this moment—in the perfection of it all. My hands were greedy, reaching, wanting everything. Shane groaned as he captured my mouth again, and it slowly dawned on me that I was being set down on something.
Shane pulled away and I realized he had me seated on the back of the couch, our bodies now perfectly aligned. But instead of returning to kiss me after he yanked my jeans off, he dropped to his knees, his mouth hot on the inside of my thigh.
I gripped the sofa as he dragged his tongue upward, his hands keeping my legs apart, my toes just barely touching the ground. When he reached the apex of my thighs, where my panties revealed how much I wanted him, he smiled.
“You’re so wet,” he growled, and then he pulled aside the lace and put his mouth on me.
I practically arched off the couch.
His hands slid up to my hips, holding me in place while he stroked me, his tongue hot against me. I closed my eyes, my head falling back as he drove me to the edge. I could hear my breath coming out in desperate pants, but it only seemed to encourage him, and he held me open as he licked into me.
I was so close.
“Shane—” I pleaded, my voice harsh with need.
I could feel him smile, and then as if he knew exactly what I needed, he slid a finger inside me, and I came so hard, I heard a ringing in my ears.
My legs gave out and I slid to the floor, right into Shane’s arms. He kissed me and I tasted myself on him—the taste so erotic that I nearly came again. I could still hear ringing in my ears, and I realized that Shane could hear it too as he leaned back.
“I think your phone is ringing,” he told me, kissing the hollow of my throat.
Answering my phone was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment, but he was already reaching for my jeans and pulling my cell out of the pocket. He tossed it to me, and somehow, in my boneless state, I caught it.
It was my parents. A call I really didn’t want to answer. Especially since—with the exception of my panties—I was naked.
“You should answer it,” said Shane, tossing me his shirt.
I stared at him, not sure why he wanted to stop in the middle of something so unbelievably hot just so I could answer my phone. My confusion must have shown on my face because he gave me a shrug.
“I can wait,” he said. “Especially when it comes to parents. Talk to them.”
Right. After what he had told me in the diner, it made perfect sense. Pulling on his shirt, I answered the phone, hoping I didn’t sound as if I had just had the most incredible orgasm of my life.
“We haven’t heard from you in a while,” my mom said after the initial greeting. I had spoken to them the day before.
“I’ve been busy.” I did my best not to look at Shane when I said that. Because I really wished I was getting busy right at that momen
t.
“How’s the new job?” my dad asked, and I put my hand to my forehead. Talking to the two of them on speakerphone was always a little overwhelming. I could barely take them one at a time.
“It’s good,” I told them. “Look, can I—”
“Josh said it’s a new theatre,” my mom interrupted before I could beg off the call. “Avast garde? Is that a thing? Like, with pirates or something?”
Oh, my sweet, little Midwestern parents. I had tried dozens of times to explain the basics of theatre to them, but nothing seemed to have stuck. Not that I blamed them—there were plenty of people who lived in Manhattan, within walking distance of theatre row, who probably knew even less than my folks.
“Avant-garde,” I corrected her. “Experimental theatre.”
“How nice,” my mom said, in the same way Liz would say “bless your heart” to someone she hated. Not a compliment.
“What play are they doing?” my dad wanted to know.
“The Iceman Cometh,” I purposefully left off the all-female and puppet part. Baby steps.
“I think I’ve heard of that one,” my mom sounded triumphant.
“Look, can I call you guys back?” I asked quickly before they could interrupt again.
“Oh, but we never get to talk to you,” my dad said, the disappointment evident.
I sagged against the couch, looking up at Shane, who had a look of amusement on his gorgeous face. He was still sans shirt. God, he was nice to look at. All lean muscle and wide shoulders and perfect, lickable abs. My mouth watered.
“It’s so hard to get a hold of you, you know with the time difference and everything,” my mom added, piling on the guilt. Dammit.
“I know,” I said, putting my head in my hand. Their timing was truly unbelievable. Today was the first time I had gotten any significant action in over a year! And it was mind-blowingly amazing action. And I wanted more. So much more.
“How’s New York?” my dad wanted to know.