kiss you since the first time you came into my office at the beginning of the year.”
“Oh.” She touched her mouth. “I didn’t know.”
“But now that you do, am I in danger of being slapped for being forward?”
“That wasn’t my first thought, no.”
“Good.”
She looked down at their entwined fingers, hidden against the sides of their legs. “Today’s been a dream. I keep waiting to wake up.”
“I hope it’s a happy dream.”
“It’s the best.” Though she didn’t think she’d mind waking up—not if he were next to her in bed.
Could she risk it?
She never took chances anymore—she had too much at risk. But—damn it all if she didn’t want to risk everything right now.
Her shoulder angel whispered caution to her. This was how she ended up with Jamie.
Her shoulder devil told her to fuck it.
“Jamie,” she called, getting out her wallet.
Her son ran over to her.
She held out a pound. “For the curse jar.”
His little face lit up. “You said a bad word?”
She glanced at Peter, who watched her with avid interest. The headteacher leaned toward her as Jamie danced away. “I didn’t hear anything either,” he said softly, his breath tickling her neck. “Should I ask you what you’re thinking?”
“No,” she replied quickly.
He grinned. “Holly, I like you.”
She felt the press of his thigh against hers and swallowed. She wasn’t sure like was strong enough.
Chapter Seven
Best friend, her ass.
Gigi glared at Merrick Graham’s absurdly handsome face, shining up from her iPad, smiling at his dear Valerie. They were featured in the society column because they’d attended some sort of state function the night before. Merrick looked delicious in his suit. Gigi guessed that the only way he’d look better was naked.
Valerie didn’t look like any best friend Gigi had ever encountered. If this were a movie, Valerie would secretly have the hots for Merrick and want him naked for herself.
The cow.
Gigi punched the button on the treadmill to increase the incline on her brisk walk. It was her fault—she shouldn’t have looked at the society gossip.
But now she knew his name.
She snorted. So she knew what name to call out as he took her to heaven in her fantasies? Like that did her any good in real life. She needed to occupy her thoughts with positive affirmations of her goals instead of dreaming up trouble with Merrick.
She increased the speed on the treadmill for good measure.
She changed websites, going to an industry news site. She clicked through to different articles, until she came upon Delilah Jones’s barracuda face grinning at her. The caption underneath read Delilah Jones, Hollywood’s next big thing, wooed by Russell Sherman for a Shakespearean adaptation.
Gigi tripped and slid off the treadmill as she grabbed the iPad to get a closer look. The article said that nothing was decided, but Jones was quoted to have said she was excited to work with Sherman.
“Like hell she is.” Gigi grabbed her phone and called Betty, time zones be damned.
Betty answered groggily. “This better be important, Imogen.”
“It’s the most important thing you’ll ever do.”
“Like, on par with yearly health exams?” Betty sighed. “Okay, I’m awake. Tell me what you need.”
“I want Ophelia in Russell Sherman’s Hamlet .”
“I thought Delilah Jones was signed for that.”
“Sherman promised me a read as long as I could keep my reputation clean.”
“Well, that’s that then.”
Gigi narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what I’m picturing right now?”
“As your manager, I feel I should tell you to be careful what you say over the phone lines. You know they record everything these days.” Betty sighed loudly. “If I promise to call Sherman and assure him you’re his girl, will you let me go back to sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, then. Goodnight.” Betty hung up.
Gigi tossed her phone aside and began to pace.
Holly strode into the study, a sweet
“Oh.” She touched her mouth. “I didn’t know.”
“But now that you do, am I in danger of being slapped for being forward?”
“That wasn’t my first thought, no.”
“Good.”
She looked down at their entwined fingers, hidden against the sides of their legs. “Today’s been a dream. I keep waiting to wake up.”
“I hope it’s a happy dream.”
“It’s the best.” Though she didn’t think she’d mind waking up—not if he were next to her in bed.
Could she risk it?
She never took chances anymore—she had too much at risk. But—damn it all if she didn’t want to risk everything right now.
Her shoulder angel whispered caution to her. This was how she ended up with Jamie.
Her shoulder devil told her to fuck it.
“Jamie,” she called, getting out her wallet.
Her son ran over to her.
She held out a pound. “For the curse jar.”
His little face lit up. “You said a bad word?”
She glanced at Peter, who watched her with avid interest. The headteacher leaned toward her as Jamie danced away. “I didn’t hear anything either,” he said softly, his breath tickling her neck. “Should I ask you what you’re thinking?”
“No,” she replied quickly.
He grinned. “Holly, I like you.”
She felt the press of his thigh against hers and swallowed. She wasn’t sure like was strong enough.
Chapter Seven
Best friend, her ass.
Gigi glared at Merrick Graham’s absurdly handsome face, shining up from her iPad, smiling at his dear Valerie. They were featured in the society column because they’d attended some sort of state function the night before. Merrick looked delicious in his suit. Gigi guessed that the only way he’d look better was naked.
Valerie didn’t look like any best friend Gigi had ever encountered. If this were a movie, Valerie would secretly have the hots for Merrick and want him naked for herself.
The cow.
Gigi punched the button on the treadmill to increase the incline on her brisk walk. It was her fault—she shouldn’t have looked at the society gossip.
But now she knew his name.
She snorted. So she knew what name to call out as he took her to heaven in her fantasies? Like that did her any good in real life. She needed to occupy her thoughts with positive affirmations of her goals instead of dreaming up trouble with Merrick.
She increased the speed on the treadmill for good measure.
She changed websites, going to an industry news site. She clicked through to different articles, until she came upon Delilah Jones’s barracuda face grinning at her. The caption underneath read Delilah Jones, Hollywood’s next big thing, wooed by Russell Sherman for a Shakespearean adaptation.
Gigi tripped and slid off the treadmill as she grabbed the iPad to get a closer look. The article said that nothing was decided, but Jones was quoted to have said she was excited to work with Sherman.
“Like hell she is.” Gigi grabbed her phone and called Betty, time zones be damned.
Betty answered groggily. “This better be important, Imogen.”
“It’s the most important thing you’ll ever do.”
“Like, on par with yearly health exams?” Betty sighed. “Okay, I’m awake. Tell me what you need.”
“I want Ophelia in Russell Sherman’s Hamlet .”
“I thought Delilah Jones was signed for that.”
“Sherman promised me a read as long as I could keep my reputation clean.”
“Well, that’s that then.”
Gigi narrowed her eyes. “Do you know what I’m picturing right now?”
“As your manager, I feel I should tell you to be careful what you say over the phone lines. You know they record everything these days.” Betty sighed loudly. “If I promise to call Sherman and assure him you’re his girl, will you let me go back to sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, then. Goodnight.” Betty hung up.
Gigi tossed her phone aside and began to pace.
Holly strode into the study, a sweet
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