Getting Real - Page 41

“One.” She nodded.

“Harriet Young, are you married?”

She grinned. “No.”

“Are you with someone?”

“We said one question.”

“That was one question, it has two parts. Are you with someone?”

“Are you Randall Mainline?”

“I’m asking the questions tonight. And I won’t call you Harriet, if you don’t call me Randall.” He shuddered.

Harry sighed. She looked away. She was going to break his heart. He had no idea what was going through her head, but he’d been a fucking idiot to think she’d be interested in him again. He was as bad as Rie making up gothic horror fantasies in her head about being home. He was about to let Harry off the hook when her eyes came back to his.

“No.”

He grinned. He felt the force of his smile in the skin around his ears. “Well what do you know.”

She was grinning now too. But she had no idea how much trouble she’d just put a rocket under.

17. Brain Snap

The sharp-toothed gnawing, that swallowed-a-rat-whole feeling in Rielle’s stomach eased when she heard the knock. Rand had come back—he wasn’t angry anymore. It was going to be all right. She opened the door and flung herself through it into his arms.

“Whoa,” said Jake, his surprise hot in her ear, his hands coming up to catch her. She had a light silky robe on, it slithered under his fingers as they grasped her.

“Oh shit!” She pulled away. She wanted Rand; she wasn’t ready to face Jake. “I thought you were Rand.” She dragged the robe closed, and belted it, but not before he copped a look at her skimpy black lace underwear. “Come in.” She stepped back to allow him into the room.

“I’ll wait til you’re dressed.” His voice was flat, expressionless. His eyes were on the floor. Her mouth was full of chewed up heart and lung, but if she didn’t deal with this now she was a coward as well as a complete bitch.

He reached for the door handle; she put her hand on the door. “Stay.”

He stood half in, half out of the room with his hand still on the door handle.

“Please.”

He came in, closed the door and when she gestured to the couch, he sat, but he was four continents away, his face was Switzerland, a mask of neutrality. It cut worse than if he’d raged at her. Whatever he’d come to say, she needed to speak first. She went down on her knees in front of him. The same posture he’d taken when he cleaned the cuts on her neck, when he’d thought he was at fault. Even if she lay face down at his feet she wouldn’t be low enough.

“Jake, I’m so sorry. I have no excuse. I had a brain snap. I have no idea why I did that to you.”

In the midst of her own insecurity about the performance, she’d seen him standing there, so solid and secure and she’d wanted to be with him, right then, right in the middle of it all with thousands of people screaming for her. It made no sense. This tour was ripping her apart and with no logic, she’d reached for a man who was frightened of what she did and rejected who she was. Jake frowned, his eyes narrowed. His mouth was a rigid line. Ah shit. She couldn’t have Jake hating her tonight as well as Rand. She folded one arm across his knees and put her forehead on her arm to avoid his hard stare.

He shifted in discomfort. “A brain snap.” He slid out from under her arm and patted the space beside him. All she was doing was making him more uncomfortable. She got up and sat on the couch, shoulder to shoulder with him. There was nowhere else to sit. They were silent, awkward, too close, arms, hips and thighs touching. She was cold, but heat came off him in waves.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.” Her voice came out weak, soft like a child’s.

“Felt like it. I don’t have to tell you how bad it was for the show.”

She dropped her head. “I’m a complete fuck up. I’m making a hash of everything. Rand is furious with me. You hate me,” her voice cracked, “and I I’ve hurt my hand.”

“Show me. That’s why I’m here.”

She gasped. “Not to flay the skin off me?”

He quirked a shoulder and an eyebrow in concert, in agreement, in denial, who knew. He was giving nothing away, but reached for her hand and had her make a fist. The top of her knuckles were split and bruised blue, her hand felt stiff and tight, but she could move her fingers.

Tags: Ainslie Paton Romance
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