The Hot Corner

by Amy Noelle

  “Why would he do that?” I asked. “All you had to do was talk to me and you’d know it wasn’t true.”

  “Lance has always been competitive with me. He wants what I have and it pisses him off that he can’t get it. Once he heard you and I had been involved, I’m sure he thought getting you, or even implying that he had, would set me off.”

  “And it did.” Boy had it. My muscles were still sore.

  “Well, yeah, in the best possible way.” He laughed. “Speaking of that, what are you wearing?”

  He used to ask me that whenever he was away on a road trip. “Nothing, actually. I’m in the bathtub.” Coughing filled the phone line, and I giggled.

  “For real?” he asked when he finally caught his breath.

  I splashed the water for his benefit, and he groaned. “Now I’m never going to get to sleep.”

  “Hey, you’re the one who asked.” My lips stretched in a grin. “I was more than happy to keep that to myself, but since you inquired, I had to be truthful.”

  “Hmm, is that what we’re being now?”

  My smile slipped away. “What?”

  “You brought it up, baby.”

  “No, I told you I was naked. That’s all.”

  “If only you were.”

  I stopped splashing. “What in the hell does that mean?”

  “I just remember a time when you were completely transparent to me. Open. Naked, if you will. You’re not that now. You’re very guarded.”

  I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have to be open to him. Not after everything he’d done. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be open to me,” I reminded him. “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I have been.”

  I snorted, and he sighed.

  “I’m working on it, anyway. And I’m more open than you are.”

  “This isn’t about me,” I said.

  “No, it’s about us.”

  “There is no—”

  “Don’t even try it, Dani. There is an us.”

  Damn him. My head was spinning. It was easy to forget how to keep him at arm’s length when everything he said and did reminded me of how we used to be. The touching, the teasing and, hell, even the fighting.

  “I slept with you, much to my great regret, but that doesn’t mean we’re an us again.”

  He laughed. “You don’t regret sleeping with me, Red. And maybe we’re not the way we used to be, yet, but we’re an us. You and me. Dani and Brad. That equals us.”

  Arrogant son of a bitch. “Don’t tell me what I do or don’t regret. And I’m not even addressing your ridiculous semantics.”

  “Good, then we’re agreed on the us thing.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You already did, sweetheart. Do me a favor. You’re in the tub, right?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not touching myself for you.”

  He laughed long and loud. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask, but now that you mention it—”

  “Not happening.”

  “Maybe not yet. But what I was going to ask, before I was so rudely interrupted, was for you to look up and to the left.”

  Against my better judgment, I did. And, just like he wanted me to, I remembered that a little over twelve hours ago he’d had me pressed against the shower wall as he’d pounded into me.

  “Now tell me you regret the way I made you scream my name last night. And again this morning.”

  I wanted to. Because it would knock the arrogant smirk I could hear through the phone right off his face. But I couldn’t. I’d always been terrible at lying to him, except that one time—the last time—when I’d ended it.

  “Dani, are you there?”

  “You know I am.”

  “And are you looking?”

  I hadn’t moved my eyes from that spot. “Yes.”

  “And are you remembering?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you regret it? Be honest now.”

  “No.”

  “No, you won’t be honest, or no, you don’t regret it?”

  He was being a pain in the ass on purpose. “I don’t regret it.”

  “Good. And even now you’re wishing I was there, sliding into the water behind you, pulling you against my chest as I kiss your neck and move my hands over your wet, bare skin.”

  Fuck. I felt that pull down deep in my belly as I closed my eyes and responded to the mental image he was painting.

  “Brushing your hair to the side so I can nibble and suck on the curve of your neck, moving my hand down your stomach, pushing your legs apart.” I moved my hand between my legs and I let out a soft moan as I imagined his strong, capable one.

  “Are you touching yourself, Dani?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew I’d get you to touch yourself.” His voice was a whole new level of smug.

  My eyes flashed open and I jerked my hand away from my body. “You are such an asshole.”

  He laughed. “If it’s any consolation, I’m hard as a rock and definitely touching myself to thoughts of you naked in the tub.”

  No, it wasn’t, though it was oddly flattering. Still, I sat up and pulled the drain.

  “Aww, why do you have to be so mean, Red? You’re naked and horny, I’m naked and horny, why don’t we—”

  “No.” I set the phone down so I could stand and grab a towel. I wrapped it around me and picked up the phone to more of his whining.

  “We’re not having phone sex, and after that crap you just pulled, we’re not having regular sex again either.”

  His warm laugh echoed in the phone. “Don’t make it a challenge, baby. You’ve already lost one. Do you really want to lose another?”

  No, I didn’t. And he was probably right. I was far too weak to resist him, and I hated myself for it.

  “I don’t like you.”

  “Now, that I believe. But don’t worry, you will again in due time.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I don’t like arrogant assholes, and that seems to be your default setting these days. I’m attracted to you, but that doesn’t mean I like you, or that I ever will.”

  There was a long pause at his end of the line, and I took the opportunity to pull on my nightshirt. I sat on the bed and waited. “Brad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” His words were short and clipped.

  “Okaaay.” I waited again, but still he said nothing. “Did you need to go?”

  “No.”

  I sighed. “Are you pissed at me?”

  “Why should I be pissed at you? You’re just being honest, right?”

  I could hear the anger in his voice. “Sometimes honesty can piss you off.”

  “You don’t know me anymore.”

  The words hurt, even though they were true. “I know.”

  “Then don’t presume to define me after only a week with me. Yes, I can be an arrogant asshole, but that’s not all that I am.”

  I leaned back against the headboard. “I didn’t say that was all that you are, I just said—”

  “That I was an arrogant asshole and you’d never like me,” he said. “You don’t know why I am the way I am, and you certainly don’t want to know just how much of that stems from you, do you?”

  I sat up straight. “Excuse me? I’m to blame for your being a jerk?”

  “No, you’re to blame for my being unable to commit to anyone ever again. I never forgot you, or what it did to me when you ended it. You’re to blame for my being unable to love anyone the way I loved you. You’re to blame for getting under my skin again, to the point that all I can think about is being with you.”

  My mind whirled. “I can’t, I don’t . . . what do you want from me?”

  “I want you, damn it. I want the girl who stole my heart nine years ago and threw it back at me with some lame explanation about my career and it being for the best. I want the woman I spent last night with, who I couldn’t get enough of. I want you, even though you judge
me and piss me the hell off.”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m not that same girl anymore.”

  “I’ve changed a lot, too. I guess the real question is, do you want to get to know me?”

  Did I? It depended on the time of day, it seemed.

  “No, the real question is, will you let me? I don’t want to have to piss you off to get behind that egotistical exterior.”

  There was another long pause. Just when I was about to prod him, he spoke. “My mother contacted me four years ago.”

  I blinked and felt short of breath. “She did? What did she say?”

  He laughed bitterly. “What do you think she said? What does one say to the kid she hasn’t seen in over twenty years? She said she missed me and there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think of me.”

  I chewed on my lip. “Well, that’s a nice sentiment.”

  “Yeah, if it were true.” His tone was so cold. “She also said she had a little birthday cake for me every year on March second.”

  My eyes stung. “Your birthday is March fifth.”

  “Exactly. She was too lazy to even bother looking it up. It’s not like my bio’s not available anywhere on the Internet. Yet she had no problem looking up my agent and contacting him to get to me. How does a woman forget the day she gave birth? Then again, for all I know she has any number of kids.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “We didn’t get that far. She said she was dying to reconnect with me and she really wanted to come visit but she’d need a little cash to do so.”

  “Oh no.” I wished he was with me so I could hug him.

  “Oh yeah. Of course I offered to buy her a ticket, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted the money.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t really her. Maybe it was just someone pretending to be her to get money from you.”

  “It was her. I asked her how she met my dad, and she remembered that well enough. It was I who was the afterthought. She didn’t even ask about him. I told her he was dead and she didn’t even care.”

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” I said softly, the last word slipping out.

  “Thanks. I told her she wouldn’t get a dime from me, and she yelled about how she’d given birth to me and deserved compensation or some such bullshit. She threatened to go to the press about how I’d turned my back on her, but I pointed out that she’d done it first. She told me she’d been better off without me, and I echoed the sentiment, and that was the last I heard from her.”

  “Why are you telling me this now?” I asked.

  “You need it for your book, right?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And because I want you to know there’s more to me than you think you know. That maybe there’s a reason you’re the only girl I ever let know me. I don’t know. I’m tired.”

  “Maybe you should go to sleep,” I suggested, my voice tentative. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to get rid of him, especially now, when he needed me.

  “Maybe.”

  “Brad, I don’t think you’re just an arrogant asshole.”

  He laughed. “Only part of the time.”

  “Most of it.” He laughed harder, and I smiled. “But there are times I see flashes of more, and then I remember what you used to be like. And I like that person. And thank you for telling me about your mother. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

  “Yeah she does. Millions of dollars.”

  Maybe that’s what she thought, but she was a fool. “Much more than that. She’s missing out on a person who can be a really great guy when he wants to be. A man who’ll skip class and risk getting suspended for a game or two because his girlfriend has the flu.”

  He chuckled. “You were so sick. I couldn’t leave you alone.”

  “A man who’ll suck it up and pick up tampons for his girlfriend.”

  “Say what you will, but that’s the scariest aisle in the grocery store.”

  I giggled. “But you did it, for me.”

  “I would have done anything for you.”

  I swallowed. “And you would have done anything for your mother had she been a real mother to you. She’s the one who missed out, not you. You turned out great without her.”

  “You don’t think I’m great.”

  “I think . . . no, I know you can be. If you want to.”

  “Yeah? Are you going to let me try?”

  I thought about the boy I’d once known. He was still in there, somewhere. This new man might drive me nuts, but I still wanted him. I’d told Pam I was going to try. She’d said I could hurt him. Could I? I’d heard the pain in his voice from his mother’s abandonment, and I knew I could probably cause that kind of pain, too. Maybe we could hurt each other. But maybe we could heal each other.

  “Yes,” I said. “But no more teasing.”

  “No, no more teasing. I plan on following through.”

  I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms around my chest. “Goodnight, Brad.”

  He laughed. “Night, Red. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. I disconnected and lay back on the bed. Tomorrow was a new day. And maybe a new beginning.

  Chapter 16

  “Bradley Reynolds is a lying, cheating, cold-hearted son of a bitch.”

  I blinked, those being the first words Karen Grant had to say when she answered the door to her modern Beverly Hills mansion. Brad hadn’t been entirely accurate when he’d said Karen Grant wasn’t fond of him. She hated him.

  “Uh, can you hold that thought while I get out my tape recorder and notepad?” And maybe I could sit down or something? Jeez.

  “I suppose.” She shrugged one slim shoulder and stepped aside, gesturing for me to come in. I followed her down a marble tiled hallway and fought the urge to roll my eyes at the columns and shiny vases everywhere. Did everyone here decorate like they lived in a museum? I bet Pam didn’t. I thought I should get her to invite me over for a drink after the interview. I had a feeling I might need one.

  I took a seat on another all-white sofa, which was impractical as hell if you asked me, and got hissed at by a Persian cat that matched the sofa so well I hadn’t even noticed her. Well, they said animals often reflected the personalities of their owners. In this case, it looked like that might be true, not that I knew anything about Karen Grant yet, other than the basics.

  I cleared my throat. “So . . . I loved you on Clueless in California,” I said. The hit television show about a fish-out-of-water Midwestern girl moving to Los Angeles had been one of my favorites. Karen had been charming as its star. I wondered where all that charm had gone.

  Karen shrugged, but I saw a small smile. “Thanks. It was kind of a grown-up’s 90210, but it really launched my career.”

  I nodded, and Karen sat across from me after pouring herself what appeared to be vodka from a crystal decanter. She didn’t offer me any, but I couldn’t say I was upset as it wasn’t even noon yet. I set up my recorder and got out my notebook as she regarded me with what I could only describe as complete disdain.

  She brushed her blond hair over her shoulder. “Are you ready now? I really don’t have all day for this. In fact, spending a minute of my time talking about that man is the last thing I want to do.”

  Did she have to act like I’d forced her to see me? She’d agreed to the interview. I hadn’t held a gun to her head. “I thought you wanted to tell your story. If you’ve changed your mind, I can go.” I started to reach for my tape recorder, but she shook her head.

  “No, no. I’m sure I’ll be the only voice of reason in your little puff piece, so I’m going to tell it like it is.”

  “I’m not writing a puff piece. I’m writing Brad’s biography, which includes his highs and lows. His wins and his mistakes.” I’d definitely put her in the latter category. What had he been attracted to? She was beautiful, with caramel-colored eyes and a perfect body that was probably only ten percent plastic—nobody that thin could have a chest that big naturally—but I
’d only been around her for three minutes and already I wanted to punch her in her button nose. I wondered how long it took her to get a surgeon on the phone. Ten seconds? Twenty, tops.

  She sniffed derisively. “As if he’d allow you to write anything unflattering about him. That man thinks the sun rises and sets on his ass.”

  I sighed. “If he wouldn’t allow it, I wouldn’t be here talking to you and getting your version of the truth, would I?”

  “My version is the only version!” she yelled, slamming her hand on the coffee table. “Did he tell you I was lying? What has he said about me?”

  I was almost afraid to answer her. “Nothing. We haven’t talked about you yet.” She narrowed her eyes and her nostrils flared and I realized I’d said the wrong thing. “He said you weren’t very fond of him.”

  “Fond! I loathe him with every fiber of my being.”

  “Why? You said he cheated on you?”

  “He cheated, he lied, and he made me look like a fool!”

  I needed to calm her down if I was going to get anything of substance out of her before I lost her to vodka and rage.

  “All right, let’s start at the beginning, why don’t we? How did you meet?”

  Karen took a deep breath followed by a long pull on her drink. “We met on the set of my show. He had a guest appearance as himself.”

  I remembered that episode. I was ashamed to say I’d recorded it and watched it several times, for reasons I couldn’t even begin to name.

  “We had instant chemistry and he asked me to dinner.” She sulked, her lip poking out in a pretty pout. I wondered if I was supposed to take her picture to include in the book. She seemed like she was posing for one.

  “So you went out and then what?”

  “I didn’t put out, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m hardly the type of girl to fall into bed with a guy I don’t know.” I’d read rumors to the contrary, but I wasn’t about to set her off again so I just nodded.

  “He wooed me. He invited me to a ball game and took me out several times over the next few weeks. Then I made the mistake of sleeping with him.”

  While I still wasn’t sure how I felt about my sleeping with Brad again, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a mistake. The man had skills. “Why was it a mistake?”