Read Online After She's Gone by Lisa Jackson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Jackson
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preceded a loss of time. She was aware of the symptoms and fought them. She’d find a dark room, maybe some coffee or a cola, something with caffeine, pain reliever, and food, yes . . . that’s what she needed.
Ouch! Another jab that made her blink. If she could just get home before . . . “Oh, God.” The edges of her vision began to blur and her heart pounded. She leaned against her car for support and waited.
The pain would pass.
It had to.
She had too much to do to be compromised or incapacitated.
“Not now,” she whispered and took in long breaths as the blackness threatened and the pain sliced through her brain. “Not now.”
Cherise Gotwell slipped out from between the sheets. She hazarded one last look at the smooth back of the man in the bed. What was his name? Ryan? Or Riley? Or Reed . . . something that started with an R.
She was pretty sure.
The guy, whom she’d picked up in Vintner’s House, a Portland bar Allie Kramer had been known to haunt, had found her beautiful. (Of course.) Interesting. (No surprise there.) And witty. (Well, that was a bit of a stretch.) But then he’d learned she’d worked for Allie Kramer and he’d been hooked.
How sick was that?
He probably pretended the whole time they were screwing that she was actually Allie. It had happened before and yeah, there was some resemblance. But it always left her feeling a little empty inside and like now, as she picked up her clothes to put them on in the living area of his bachelor pad, she knew she’d been playing the game as well.
Didn’t Ryan or Riley or whoever look a little bit like Brandon McNary, who just happened to be her new boss? Okay, so yeah, it was all a little sick, head games if you will, but she didn’t mind.
Until she could have the real thing, why not have a little fun?
And she didn’t want to be just another score for Brandon, she wanted all of him, heart, body and soul. The trouble was, she thought, slipping on her panties and hooking her bra in the half-light of the apartment, she thought Brandon wasn’t over Allie. Oh, sure, they’d split for the bazillionth time again just before Dead Heat went into production, but Cherise had wondered about that. The timing seemed a little too perfect for public fodder, a way to propel the on-again, off-again couple onto the front page of the tabloids, movie magazines, and Internet gossip. Brandon loved nothing more than to be “trending” and Allie was no better.
Also, Cherise had seen the way they’d looked at each other when they’d thought no one was looking; not so much with anguish and longing, but as if they’d shared some huge private secret or joke.
Or had it all been in her head?
She’d been in love with Brandon since like for-ev-er. It was all she could do not to fall into his bed and fuck the hell out of him. God, she wanted to. So badly. But she needed more. So much more. And she was willing to sacrifice to get what she wanted.
Hadn’t that always been the way? Since she was a little girl. She’d been the pretty one, the ambitious one. Her sister? Not so much. She’d been the daring one, always ready to take a dare or a risk.
She still was.
She slid on a pair of tight jeans and a sweater. Well, not just any sweater, but one that had been Allie’s from the costume department, one that Cherise had decided to “borrow,” a sweater people might recognize as belonging to or being a knockoff of one Allie had worn in a famous scene where she’d pulled it slowly over her head while straddling her male lead on a picnic table.
Yep. Memorable.
Riley or Reed or Randy had noticed. The sweater was definitely an ice-breaker and nearly any red-blooded man in America would love to see it pulled off by Allie Kramer, or someone who looked like her, while being straddled.
Ryan or Whoever certainly had been turned on. Nearly came before he’d even kicked off his jeans.
She loved that kind of power over men. Hey, it wouldn’t be bad over women
Ouch! Another jab that made her blink. If she could just get home before . . . “Oh, God.” The edges of her vision began to blur and her heart pounded. She leaned against her car for support and waited.
The pain would pass.
It had to.
She had too much to do to be compromised or incapacitated.
“Not now,” she whispered and took in long breaths as the blackness threatened and the pain sliced through her brain. “Not now.”
Cherise Gotwell slipped out from between the sheets. She hazarded one last look at the smooth back of the man in the bed. What was his name? Ryan? Or Riley? Or Reed . . . something that started with an R.
She was pretty sure.
The guy, whom she’d picked up in Vintner’s House, a Portland bar Allie Kramer had been known to haunt, had found her beautiful. (Of course.) Interesting. (No surprise there.) And witty. (Well, that was a bit of a stretch.) But then he’d learned she’d worked for Allie Kramer and he’d been hooked.
How sick was that?
He probably pretended the whole time they were screwing that she was actually Allie. It had happened before and yeah, there was some resemblance. But it always left her feeling a little empty inside and like now, as she picked up her clothes to put them on in the living area of his bachelor pad, she knew she’d been playing the game as well.
Didn’t Ryan or Riley or whoever look a little bit like Brandon McNary, who just happened to be her new boss? Okay, so yeah, it was all a little sick, head games if you will, but she didn’t mind.
Until she could have the real thing, why not have a little fun?
And she didn’t want to be just another score for Brandon, she wanted all of him, heart, body and soul. The trouble was, she thought, slipping on her panties and hooking her bra in the half-light of the apartment, she thought Brandon wasn’t over Allie. Oh, sure, they’d split for the bazillionth time again just before Dead Heat went into production, but Cherise had wondered about that. The timing seemed a little too perfect for public fodder, a way to propel the on-again, off-again couple onto the front page of the tabloids, movie magazines, and Internet gossip. Brandon loved nothing more than to be “trending” and Allie was no better.
Also, Cherise had seen the way they’d looked at each other when they’d thought no one was looking; not so much with anguish and longing, but as if they’d shared some huge private secret or joke.
Or had it all been in her head?
She’d been in love with Brandon since like for-ev-er. It was all she could do not to fall into his bed and fuck the hell out of him. God, she wanted to. So badly. But she needed more. So much more. And she was willing to sacrifice to get what she wanted.
Hadn’t that always been the way? Since she was a little girl. She’d been the pretty one, the ambitious one. Her sister? Not so much. She’d been the daring one, always ready to take a dare or a risk.
She still was.
She slid on a pair of tight jeans and a sweater. Well, not just any sweater, but one that had been Allie’s from the costume department, one that Cherise had decided to “borrow,” a sweater people might recognize as belonging to or being a knockoff of one Allie had worn in a famous scene where she’d pulled it slowly over her head while straddling her male lead on a picnic table.
Yep. Memorable.
Riley or Reed or Randy had noticed. The sweater was definitely an ice-breaker and nearly any red-blooded man in America would love to see it pulled off by Allie Kramer, or someone who looked like her, while being straddled.
Ryan or Whoever certainly had been turned on. Nearly came before he’d even kicked off his jeans.
She loved that kind of power over men. Hey, it wouldn’t be bad over women
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