Read Online Turning It on (Red Hot Russians) by Elizabeth Harmon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Harmon
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when you and Jack are back in Port Pleasant with a family of your own.”
* * *
That night, Hannah waited in bed for Jack. The buzz of his electric toothbrush, the one Dr. Martinez and squeaky Robynne were always pushing, came from the master bath. With a sigh, she reached for her tablet and brought up her notebook app. Eric wanted her completed last fling list first thing Monday morning.
She’d already sent two names: Fitzwilliam Darcy and Heathcliff. How Eric was supposed to produce living versions of fictional characters, she had no idea, but that was his problem, not hers. She didn’t feel the least bit guilty making his life difficult, considering how much he and his show had already disrupted hers. Besides, he’d known her long enough to realize she’d never been fascinated with boy-band singers or prime-time hunk-du-jours. But his past text had begged her to name real people. She tapped her stylus against her chin. Maybe it was time to throw him a bone.
Jack came out of the bathroom in his Yankees sleep pants and no shirt. He’d started working out with a personal trainer after New Years and his upper arms had a nice bulge. Not Incredible Hulk bulge-y, but arms a girl could get lost in. And his shoulders had a swagger that had been missing since he joined Windsor and St. Clair. He climbed into bed beside her. She moved a little closer, tugging at the wide neck of her oversize sleep shirt to show off more of her neck and shoulder. Oblivious, Jack tapped the screen of his phone and began to scroll through messages. He sucked in a breath and muttered. “Assholes.”
It was as though a trio of gray-haired lawyers had just climbed into bed with them. “Big Windsor, Little Windsor or St. Clair?” she asked.
“All three.” His answer was more of a groan. He tapped the screen and the message closed. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” She scooted closer, though work had already encroached on Jack’s mood. “You’re looking good tonight.”
He gave a short laugh. “Thanks, but too much of Mom’s cooking means more hours in the gym this week. Like I’ve got time for that.” He scrolled to a sports site and began to read an analysis of the Giants’ play-off loss. They were out of contention for the Super Bowl, but that was a small blip on the radar. For a true fan like Jack, football season never ended. “Looks like Quentin Brown’s having knee surgery this week,” he said.
Whether that was good or bad, she didn’t know, so she simply nodded and turned back to her fling list. Athletes were a possibility. She respected the dedication it took to succeed in a sport, even if she’d always been picked last in gym class. She added one more name to her list.
Jack glanced over. “Who’s Crusher?”
“A pro wrestler. Bettendorf published his book on how to be a well-dressed manly man. I met him last year when he was in town to do the
Today
show. Nice guy.”
Jack still had his gaze trained on her list. “Fitzwilliam Darcy? Heathcliff? Isn’t that a cartoon character?”
“
Wuthering Heights
, Jack. The foster child with gypsy blood who fell obsessively in love with Catherine Earnshaw, even after her death? Remember? Mrs. Barclay’s class senior year?”
“Sort of. You’re not making this easy for Eric.”
“I don’t care. We’re the ones doing him a favor. Who’s on your list?”
“No one that interesting.”
“I want to see.”
“You know the rules, the flings are supposed to be a surprise for when we get there. Besides, I sent it already. And I agree, this is bullshit. But it’s also a ten-week semi-vacation.”
“Come on, who did you pick? I showed you mine...”
Jack chuckled and put his arm around her. “All right, one name. Cristal Glass.”
“Who?”
“She’s a model and she was on a reality show. She married that guy who died skydiving last year.”
Hannah remembered the news stories about the Texas oilman and his surgically enhanced teenage bride.
* * *
That night, Hannah waited in bed for Jack. The buzz of his electric toothbrush, the one Dr. Martinez and squeaky Robynne were always pushing, came from the master bath. With a sigh, she reached for her tablet and brought up her notebook app. Eric wanted her completed last fling list first thing Monday morning.
She’d already sent two names: Fitzwilliam Darcy and Heathcliff. How Eric was supposed to produce living versions of fictional characters, she had no idea, but that was his problem, not hers. She didn’t feel the least bit guilty making his life difficult, considering how much he and his show had already disrupted hers. Besides, he’d known her long enough to realize she’d never been fascinated with boy-band singers or prime-time hunk-du-jours. But his past text had begged her to name real people. She tapped her stylus against her chin. Maybe it was time to throw him a bone.
Jack came out of the bathroom in his Yankees sleep pants and no shirt. He’d started working out with a personal trainer after New Years and his upper arms had a nice bulge. Not Incredible Hulk bulge-y, but arms a girl could get lost in. And his shoulders had a swagger that had been missing since he joined Windsor and St. Clair. He climbed into bed beside her. She moved a little closer, tugging at the wide neck of her oversize sleep shirt to show off more of her neck and shoulder. Oblivious, Jack tapped the screen of his phone and began to scroll through messages. He sucked in a breath and muttered. “Assholes.”
It was as though a trio of gray-haired lawyers had just climbed into bed with them. “Big Windsor, Little Windsor or St. Clair?” she asked.
“All three.” His answer was more of a groan. He tapped the screen and the message closed. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“Good idea.” She scooted closer, though work had already encroached on Jack’s mood. “You’re looking good tonight.”
He gave a short laugh. “Thanks, but too much of Mom’s cooking means more hours in the gym this week. Like I’ve got time for that.” He scrolled to a sports site and began to read an analysis of the Giants’ play-off loss. They were out of contention for the Super Bowl, but that was a small blip on the radar. For a true fan like Jack, football season never ended. “Looks like Quentin Brown’s having knee surgery this week,” he said.
Whether that was good or bad, she didn’t know, so she simply nodded and turned back to her fling list. Athletes were a possibility. She respected the dedication it took to succeed in a sport, even if she’d always been picked last in gym class. She added one more name to her list.
Jack glanced over. “Who’s Crusher?”
“A pro wrestler. Bettendorf published his book on how to be a well-dressed manly man. I met him last year when he was in town to do the
Today
show. Nice guy.”
Jack still had his gaze trained on her list. “Fitzwilliam Darcy? Heathcliff? Isn’t that a cartoon character?”
“
Wuthering Heights
, Jack. The foster child with gypsy blood who fell obsessively in love with Catherine Earnshaw, even after her death? Remember? Mrs. Barclay’s class senior year?”
“Sort of. You’re not making this easy for Eric.”
“I don’t care. We’re the ones doing him a favor. Who’s on your list?”
“No one that interesting.”
“I want to see.”
“You know the rules, the flings are supposed to be a surprise for when we get there. Besides, I sent it already. And I agree, this is bullshit. But it’s also a ten-week semi-vacation.”
“Come on, who did you pick? I showed you mine...”
Jack chuckled and put his arm around her. “All right, one name. Cristal Glass.”
“Who?”
“She’s a model and she was on a reality show. She married that guy who died skydiving last year.”
Hannah remembered the news stories about the Texas oilman and his surgically enhanced teenage bride.
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