She’s bluffing and I know it. There’s no way in hell she could have felt what I did when we kissed and still want to fuck Caleb, or anyone else who isn’t me, any more than I want to fuck anyone who isn’t Georgina.
When I say nothing behind her, Georgina calls out over her shoulder, still striding toward the door, “I’ll see you in a week, Mr. Rivers—that is, if Caleb hasn’t fucked me to death by then.”
Oh, Jesus Christ. I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s bluffing, but on the off-chance she’s not... “Georgina!” I shout, much more loudly than I mean to say it. “Stop.”
She freezes at the door, her back to me.
I’m quaking. Flooded with adrenaline. Arousal. Jealousy. “I’ll negotiate with you about the scope of my interview,” I choke out. “But only if you don’t walk through that door right now. If you walk out of here, you’ll get absolutely nothing from me but a fluffy, bullshit interview that’s barely suitable for Rock ‘n’ Roll.”
She turns around slowly, and the minute I see her face, I know every cell in her body is sighing with relief. Obviously, she had no desire to walk out that door. Indeed, she was counting on me stopping her, exactly the way I did.
I’m expecting her to head back to the couch, but she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a slow step toward the armchair—toward me—her hazel eyes on fire. “Here’s an idea, Reed: How about you let me shadow you this whole week to see what your life is really like? If I can’t tour with RCR, then I’ll ‘tour’ your life. I’ll observe you and interview you along the way, about whatever topics you’re comfortable talking about.” She’s closing in on me, making my dick come alive with each step.
Without consciously telling my body to do it, I rise from my chair, my body drawn to Georgina’s like steel to a magnet.
“You won’t have to answer any question you don’t want to,” she purrs. “So, really, what’s the risk to you in saying yes to this idea? I’ll shadow you for a week, and then I’ll write my piece, whatever it turns out to be, and take my chances as to whether CeeCee decides to publish it in Rock ‘n’ Roll or the other magazine. Either way, you’re required to do an interview. Let’s spend a week together and see what comes of it.”
Georgina has reached me now. We’re standing mere inches apart, our body heat mingling. I swallow hard. I have no desire to let anyone see how the sausage gets made in my world. On the other hand, though, Georgina is right. I can pick and choose the questions I answer. Control the narrative. And it certainly wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have this woman tied to my hip for an entire week. By day two, at the latest, she’ll surely be naked and spread eagle in my bed.
She looks up at me, her full lips wet and her hazel eyes sparkling. “I won’t take no for an answer,” she whispers. And for the first time in my life, the phrase doesn’t make me want to scream “No, motherfucker!” It makes me want to whisper, “Yes, baby, yes. Whatever you want.”
I extend my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Well played.”
Her face lights up with surprise. Joy. Relief. And, suddenly, she looks every bit the twenty-one-year-old newbie she is. “Seriously?”
I nod. “One week. You’ll be my shadow. I’ll be your interview subject. And we’ll see what happens.”
“Will you still get me a hotel room, so I won’t have to commute from the Valley?”
I force myself not to smirk. If I get my way, Georgina won’t be sleeping in a hotel room this coming week. She’ll be lying next to me, naked, every fucking night. “Of course,” I say, extending my hand again. “Do we have a deal, Madame Reporter? Can we finally agree to put this Penny Lane bullshit to rest?”
She stares at my extended hand without moving. And I can practically see the gears in her head turning. I lower my hand. Oh, for the love of fuck. What now?
She looks up and grimaces at me. “Sorry, I just realized there are two more things I have to ask for—”
“Georgie!”
“Before shaking on it.”
“No.”
“Two teeny-tiny things.”
“No.”
“And, then, I swear, we’ll absolutely be able to put this deal”—she smiles adorably—“to bed.”
Chapter 24
Georgina
Reed lowers his hand and plops onto the couch, looking highly annoyed with me. “Whatever else you’re going to ask for, the answer is no. I’m done negotiating with you.”
“But you haven’t even heard what I—”
“It doesn’t matter. Amateur hour at the poker table is over. Scoop up your chips and walk away while you still can, Miss Ricci. The deal we just negotiated is my final and best offer.”