The Unidentified Redhead (1) (15 page)

I sat up, then leaned back again, and then arranged myself in what felt like a natural pose. As I continued to struggle to find a cute sitting position, I heard, “Sheridan, do you have to pee?”

“Huh, what?” I stammered, surprised to find he was already in the kitchen and looking at me strangely. He was dressed in his jeans from last night, barefoot and bare-chested. His jeans were hanging low and he looked like disheveled sex.

“Why are you wiggling about so?” he inquired, opening cupboards, looking for something. He picked up the coffee pot and gestured to my mug.

“Forget it,” I answered, flustered. I got up to get him a mug and I found that I was nervous all of a sudden.

Maybe this was it. This was one night stand time. This was when the awkward conversation would start, the promises to get together that would never take place. This was when the tension would begin. Dammit. I cared too much already. As I reached up to grab the mug, I felt his hand on my behind.

“Hurry up with that coffee, you little screamer, and then you can fix your man a proper breakfast,” he said seriously, giving my ass a smack and then pressing his lips to my neck.

I smiled into the cupboard. We were good.

The_Unidentified_Redhead

Chapter Fourteen

I made him breakfast and he watched. Eggs, scrambled. Toast, slightly burned, the way he liked it—with marmalade, like Paddington Bear. Juice and coffee.

While I cooked, he snuck kisses to me every time I walked near him. He tried to peek beneath his shirt, which I was currently wearing. I kept him away, although the toast might have been a little more burnt than he would have liked as I was fighting him off somewhere over by the Mr. Coffee.

I was famished myself, and we ate at the breakfast bar together, albeit on opposite sides. I felt it was necessary to keep two feet of granite between The Brit's roving hands and me. When he finished, he groaned, patting his full belly and letting out a loud burp.

“Gross.” I grimaced, placing our plates in the sink.

“Get used to it, Sheridan. I am disgusting,” he said, crossing over to meet me by the dishwasher. “Piggy piggy piggy.” He laughed as he pointed at himself. He was looking devious again, his fingers reaching out to touch my bare legs and migrate north.

“Seriously, Hamilton, I can't take anymore. I need a shower and I actually have things to do. Not all of us can slack full time,” I scolded, backing away but finding myself in a corner.

Trapped. Damn.

“Are you really telling me you want none of this?” he teased, sticking his tongue out and wiggling it at me like a cheeky schoolboy. My stomach fell out of me and ran out the front door.

“Nice tongue. What are you, thirteen? You're disgusting.” I laughed in spite of myself. “And yes, I'm telling you exactly that,” I answered, my voice wavering. I was trying to put on a stern face, but he could tell I didn't have the guts to back it up. My guts, you see, having just left through the front door.

“I didn't hear you complaining last night or this morning about this very tongue,” he said mischievously, moving closer. I pulled myself up onto the counter behind me, the only place I could go.

Bad idea.

“What about these?” he asked, holding up his magic hands, waving his fingers at me. “Surely you wouldn't object to these, would you?”

“Umm…I, hmm…what?” I was having trouble following the conversation.

Tell him not to call you Shirley…

He positioned himself between my legs and nudged them open. I stared at him; he was a vision. I do not have the vocabulary necessary to communicate how devastatingly handsome the man truly is. I had seen him in a suit and tie, his scruffy hipster uniform complete, even his own birthday suit. Yet there is nothing in the world that was more excruciatingly, painfully, pinch-yourself-to-make-sure-you're-not-dreaming beautiful than the sight of Jack Hamilton, hair standing on end, shirtless and shoeless, in jeans, between my legs.

My breath caught in my throat as he slid his hands up the outside of my thighs and hooked his thumbs around the band of my panties. I regained a little control.

“No, No, Sweet Nuts. I can't. I have calls to ret—” I tried to say, his mouth interrupting me with a kiss.

“Mmm hmm,” he responded, his mouth moving down my neck, his hands slowly tugging at my panties and sliding them over my knees.

“And I have a meeting this afternoon with my contractor…” I tried again, noticing that my panties were now on the floor.

“Mmm hmm. Contractor. Got it,” he whispered, locking eyes with me as he spread my legs further. He pulled me to the edge of the counter and quite deliberately bent one leg and hooked it around his waist, giving him better access to me. His fingers touched me and I struggled to keep my focus.

“And I also have to…oh, God…I have a project due that I need…oh, wow…a project that I…fuck, that's good…Oh!” I cried out, abandoning all reason when his fingers slipped amazingly into me.

His thumb pressed against me. It was instant. I held onto his shoulders as I almost immediately climaxed and then began another. I had always been lucky enough to be a multiples kind of gal, but never like this. He kept me close, watching my face as I came again and again in rapid succession. His eyes burned into me, that sexy half-grin giving way to a furrowed brow as he worked harder to keep me where I needed to be.

“Right here, Grace. Keep your eyes on me.” He groaned. I came once more, our eyes locked as I screamed his name.

I slumped over onto him, wrapping my arms around his neck and collapsing fully.

“You're too good to me,” I whispered in his ear, kissing his neck.

“I think that goes both ways, Nuts Girl.”

I giggled at my nickname. “Why don't we finish this in the shower, George.” I smiled, hooking my fingers through the waistband on his jeans, giving him a firm squeeze through the fabric and pulling him towards the stairs. He snarled and chased me into the living room. I started up the stairs before him, giving him a peek at my nakedness beneath his shirt.

“Grab my panties, will you? I don't think we should push Holly any further than we already have,” I fired back over my shoulder on my way upstairs. “Meet you in the shower.”

I couldn't wait to have my Brit naked and wet.

***

After the shower, I insisted that Jack leave me alone long enough to dry my hair. Holly had come home from the market, and after banging on the door for several minutes to no avail, finally shoved a note under it saying that I had an audition at four o'clock if I could make it. I was meeting with the contractor at my new house at five-thirty, so it worked out perfectly.

It was an audition for a cop show and I was reading for the part of a crooked lawyer. After finishing with my hair, I had to shoo Jack out of the bathroom and away from my flat iron. He had gotten it in his head that he should help me get ready and would be in charge of my hair. After I vetoed that idea, I printed off my sides and was busily making notes on the character when I noticed that he was making up the bed. He seemed to be having trouble with the bottom sheet. He couldn't get it to lie very smoothly.

“You never make your bed at home, do you?” I asked, watching him attempt this.

“No, no reason to. You just get back in it at the end of the day. Why bother?” he answered, staring at the corners, trying to get them to match up.

“Take off all the pillows first, then you can see all the corners and it'll help you match them up,” I instructed, admiring this technique. That wasn't technically true, I was admiring the way his ass looked in his jeans, but that was neither here nor there. He began taking pillows off, and then I noticed that it got much quieter in the room.

“Grace, do you have something to tell me?” he asked.

“Hmm?” I questioned, looking up from my notes.

Shit.

He was holding one of the magazines with the Time stories. He'd found my hidden stash under my bed.

Shit. Shit.

“I can't believe it. You fangirl!” he teased, pointing at me with a glint in his eye.

“No, no, I'm not really. Holly gave them to me, she made me read them! I didn't want to…I…” I stammered, trying to figure a way out of this that wouldn't leave me looking like a total stalker.

“Grace. Don't lie to me,” he admonished, looking serious.

I walked over to the corner and stood in it, facing the wall, looking like the guy at the end of The Blair Witch Project. “OK, I admit it. I started reading it because I promised Holly,” I confessed, feeling my cheeks flame.

“And then?” he asked, walking over to me.

“Ummm. Now I'm reading it because it's interesting?” I asked more than answered.

“Grace…” he warned.

“I'm reading it because I like it. I more than like it, OK! I, I freaking love it!” I wailed, placing my head against the wall in shame. I waited for him to tease me, to taunt me, but there was silence.

Uh oh, now he thinks you are only interested in him because he's playing Joshua.

I spun around quickly, ready to show him that nothing could be further from the truth. He was sitting on the end of the bed, laughing.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked, walking over to where he sat.

“I love that you felt so guilty that you stood in the corner!” He laughed again. “But this does mean the official tryst is off, Grace.”

“Well, technically, since when I met you I had yet to read anything, the tryst should still be on.”

“You got me on a technicality, huh? All right then, tryst on. Only if you agree to never call me Joshua when we're in bed,” he offered.

“Agreed. But could you do something for me?” I asked sweetly, moving closer to him. In my head, I was secretly rejoicing that he talked about us in bed like it was going to be something we did a lot.

I was standing in front of him in the robe I always wear when I'm getting ready. His hands came up around my waist and I leaned closer to his right ear.

“Next time, ya know, when we're together?” I whispered, planting a kiss on his neck below his ear. He smelled all soapy and warm.

“Mmm hmm?” he answered back, his hands clutching at my hips.

“And things are getting, ya know, really hot?” I continued, switching to the other ear, kissing his neck there as well.

“Mmm hmm?” he said, his hands moving to the tie that held my robe together, starting to pull it apart. His breath was growing heavier by the second. I had him right where I wanted him.

“Could you maybe, possibly…”

“Yes?” he asked, pushing open my robe and planting his mouth in between my breasts, beginning to kiss me.

“Call me Penelope? You know, your woman in the first story? I've always wanted to work in a hat store…” I finished, holding perfectly still. I closed my eyes and my body tensed…I was sooo going to get it for that one. He was still for exactly four seconds, and then he started blowing raspberries all over my chest.

“Grace, that is rubbish! I knew you were as insane as all the rest! C'mere!”

I squealed as he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I was dying, I was laughing so hard. He carried me kicking, screaming and laughing all the way downstairs and into the kitchen. I was shouting out ideas the whole time through my laughter.

“Maybe,” I wheezed, “you could be all Super Sexy Scientist Guy, wear a lab coat? Or maybe,” I choked, “you could explain the space-time continuum? Or maybe…oh, God, I am hilarious,” I began before screeching, “maybe you could just take me away in your little time machine? Hahaha!”

I was laughing so hard I couldn't see straight. This was fine, because I was upside down over the shoulder of an enraged Brit. However, the way he was playing grab-ass the whole way down the stairs made me think he wasn't too upset.

He carried me into the kitchen, still screaming in laughter. I didn't even notice Holly sitting at the table with Nick. He went straight to the freezer, grabbed a bag of frozen Green Giant corn niblets, set me on the counter, ripped the bag open with his teeth, pulled my panties straight out like a cash drawer and dumped them in.

I screamed, feeling the corn sprinkle everywhere. In my frenzy to get at the corn, I fell off the counter and onto the floor, landing with a loud splat. I rolled around in a frozen corn induced fit, trying to get up, but slipping on niblets every time I got my feet underneath me. Jack was doubled over in absolute hysterics and I saw Holly and Nick peering over the counter at me. I was still on the floor with corn everywhere.

“You are a pig!” I screamed, finally scrambling to my feet, niblets glued to my thighs and other delicate parts.

“I told you so! And your sense of humor is so corny!” he yelled back. I saw Holly and Nick shake their heads at us.

Nick pointed at my hoohah and said, “Is that what you call cornpone?”

“Hey, your favorite show is on, Grace. It's The Corny Collins Show!” Holly chimed in.

“What's your favorite Poison song, Nick?” Jack asked.

“I don't know, Jack. What's yours?” Nick answered back, vaudeville style.

“Every Rose has its Corn!” he shouted, as they both waved around jazz hands.

Mother fucking jazz hands…

I glared at all of them as they laughed, making my way back towards the stairs, shaking out niblets the entire time. “Whatever, Hamilton. You were an infant when that song came out,” I mumbled.

“What's that, Sheridan?” he yelled as I walked up the stairs.

“Oh, suck it!” I yelled back. I could hear them all laughing as I went in for my second shower of the day.

Every Rose has its Corn… funny.

***

After that, I refused to see Jack. I did communicate with him through a series of notes passed under the door of my bedroom. I agreed to meet him later at my new house, and then we were going out for dinner. I was excited, as this would be our first official “date”. It was weird that he had already had his mouth on my lady business before our first date, but then again, nothing was conventional about us, so why start now?

After my audition, I went straight to my new house. I was excited to see how things were coming along since I had been here last week. Things were almost done. They were just at the end of refinishing the hardwood floors and tiling the kitchen. Many of my new appliances had just been delivered and were being installed, and most of the crew had already gone for the day. I walked with Chad, the contractor, making notes here and there on things that were still being finished.