in the night. Then she wouldn’t be able to quit him as if she was switching brands of pop. “Right on time.”
* * * *
He was late. Tessa stood in front of her living room window staring out at the empty street. She should have given him what he’d wanted—what she’d wanted—in her office this afternoon. Brett had probably left her and gone directly to some bar, picked up a girl, and was trying out all kinds of new moves on her right now.
Might be for the best. This thing they had going on was ruining her life. At night she stared at the ceiling thinking about being with him. Not just the sex, but talking to him. Holding him. Being held by him. The way he made her laugh and challenged her. He let her feel like she was running her own show instead of watching someone else’s from backstage. Then all day she sat around wondering why she wasn’t doing all the normal adult stuff, or even any of the normal adult stuff. There had been men she could have married. Good bets who were not entertainers. Over the years, she’d turned down a couple of proposals and headed off a couple more before they happened. Watching her sisters’ divorces hadn’t inspired confidence in her, but that didn’t mean she needed to swear off marriage for life.
Frank. Frank was an excellent example. Working with Jerry, he did have to travel, but not all the time. At least nine months a year he was right here in LA. He would do anything she asked. Jerry had produced Touchstone’s first three records and made them superstars, so she and Frank had been bumping into one another regularly for over twenty years. Most of Brett’s life. Frank was reliable, connected, pre-vetted, and would be overjoyed to have her.
Brett was unreliable and needed her connections, and that was all the vetting she needed on him. Why did he have to be the one to make her all swoony and stupid?
He pulled in the drive.
Tessa stepped away from the window and watched him duck back into the car to retrieve a bag from the passenger seat after he climbed out. He moved with a kind of lethal energy. Every motion made him the center of attention. Her thighs shivered as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. No matter what he’d spent the last five hours doing, he was eager to get to her.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said when she opened the door. “The restaurant got the order wrong and had to fix it.” He kissed her cheek as he charged past her into the house and upstairs to the kitchen.
Tessa touched her cheek. What was that about? She followed him.
“I got steak fajitas.” Brett opened her cupboards. “Where are your plates?”
“Plates?”
“Yeah, the flat things you eat food off. Unless you want me to feed you.” He grinned over his shoulder as he opened the correct cupboard. “Here we are.” He found the silverware on the first try, too.
Tessa trailed him into the dining room. Brett had left his bag on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Setting the table. I figured you would be hungry.” He spread cardboard food boxes on the table around the plates and silverware.
“Starved.”
“Then let’s eat.” He straddled a chair.
Tessa watched him opening up boxes and assembling his fajita. The food smelled great. Spicy and hot. Looked good, too. Colorful, juicy. Utterly unsexy. Her stomach growled.
Brett looked up at the sound. “You waiting for something?”
“I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Brett glanced at the table and then back at her. “Dinner?”
“Dinner? Like normal people?”
“No, like two people who are going to need energy later.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a chair. “Come on. Eat. You told me to bring dinner.”
Tessa sat down next to him. “I never use this table.”
“You never use this floor.” He gestured to the living room.
She followed his hand. The living room had a dark oak bookshelf along the wall with a high backed wing chair and couch facing it. “Why do you say
* * * *
He was late. Tessa stood in front of her living room window staring out at the empty street. She should have given him what he’d wanted—what she’d wanted—in her office this afternoon. Brett had probably left her and gone directly to some bar, picked up a girl, and was trying out all kinds of new moves on her right now.
Might be for the best. This thing they had going on was ruining her life. At night she stared at the ceiling thinking about being with him. Not just the sex, but talking to him. Holding him. Being held by him. The way he made her laugh and challenged her. He let her feel like she was running her own show instead of watching someone else’s from backstage. Then all day she sat around wondering why she wasn’t doing all the normal adult stuff, or even any of the normal adult stuff. There had been men she could have married. Good bets who were not entertainers. Over the years, she’d turned down a couple of proposals and headed off a couple more before they happened. Watching her sisters’ divorces hadn’t inspired confidence in her, but that didn’t mean she needed to swear off marriage for life.
Frank. Frank was an excellent example. Working with Jerry, he did have to travel, but not all the time. At least nine months a year he was right here in LA. He would do anything she asked. Jerry had produced Touchstone’s first three records and made them superstars, so she and Frank had been bumping into one another regularly for over twenty years. Most of Brett’s life. Frank was reliable, connected, pre-vetted, and would be overjoyed to have her.
Brett was unreliable and needed her connections, and that was all the vetting she needed on him. Why did he have to be the one to make her all swoony and stupid?
He pulled in the drive.
Tessa stepped away from the window and watched him duck back into the car to retrieve a bag from the passenger seat after he climbed out. He moved with a kind of lethal energy. Every motion made him the center of attention. Her thighs shivered as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. No matter what he’d spent the last five hours doing, he was eager to get to her.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he said when she opened the door. “The restaurant got the order wrong and had to fix it.” He kissed her cheek as he charged past her into the house and upstairs to the kitchen.
Tessa touched her cheek. What was that about? She followed him.
“I got steak fajitas.” Brett opened her cupboards. “Where are your plates?”
“Plates?”
“Yeah, the flat things you eat food off. Unless you want me to feed you.” He grinned over his shoulder as he opened the correct cupboard. “Here we are.” He found the silverware on the first try, too.
Tessa trailed him into the dining room. Brett had left his bag on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Setting the table. I figured you would be hungry.” He spread cardboard food boxes on the table around the plates and silverware.
“Starved.”
“Then let’s eat.” He straddled a chair.
Tessa watched him opening up boxes and assembling his fajita. The food smelled great. Spicy and hot. Looked good, too. Colorful, juicy. Utterly unsexy. Her stomach growled.
Brett looked up at the sound. “You waiting for something?”
“I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Brett glanced at the table and then back at her. “Dinner?”
“Dinner? Like normal people?”
“No, like two people who are going to need energy later.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a chair. “Come on. Eat. You told me to bring dinner.”
Tessa sat down next to him. “I never use this table.”
“You never use this floor.” He gestured to the living room.
She followed his hand. The living room had a dark oak bookshelf along the wall with a high backed wing chair and couch facing it. “Why do you say
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