Chapter Five #3
“Have a good night, Pix. See you tomorrow.”
Pixie heard the rear door of the studio close.
With a quick change of music, this time Sarah Brightman’s “Think of Me” from The Phantom of the Opera came over the speakers.
Fortunately, Trent kept a really tidy workspace, and Lia had cleaned hers before she had headed out, so straightening up didn’t take long.
With the stations returned to the clinical state she preferred, Pixie was almost ready to go home.
She let out a yawn. It had been a long day. An exciting one. E-tickets had arrived for her trip to Canada. Trent had encouraged her to take an extra day if she wanted to, but she was happy coming home on Monday. The trip was just long enough to get a sense of where her feelings were really at.
As she waited for the computer to shut down, her phone pinged.
Go somewhere private.
Dred.
Pixie looked around the studio and decided on the office. Within moments, her phone buzzed and she opened the video chat.
“Hey, Snowflake.”
Holy guacamole. Talk about not playing fair.
Dred was naked. At least, as much as she could see was uncovered.
He was sitting at a table or desk in a really bright room.
His hair was wet, slicked back from his face, which was shadowed with scruff.
Water dripped down his body like it had the first time she’d seen him at the hotel.
“Hi.” Her voice cracked and she coughed to clear her throat that suddenly seemed drier than the Sahara. “How are you?”
Dred’s simple smile tugged at her. “Better now I can talk to you. How was your day?”
Nothing remotely interesting. “Went to yoga this morning before work. Came here. Nothing very exciting. You?”
“Don’t play that down. The idea of you doing yoga is very exciting. How flexible are you?” he teased.
“Very.” During drug withdrawal, hot yoga had been a blessing. It occupied her mind when she was itching to find something to take the edge off.
Dred reached out of sight of the camera, and then returned to the screen with a bottle of beer. “Wanna play a game with me, Pix?” He tipped his head back and took a drink.
“What kind of game?” If he was about to ask her to take her clothes off and get naked, that was a definite no. Because, well, work . . . and she really wasn’t ready for that kind of thing.
“I want to know more about you. So we exchange. I ask you a question, and if you answer it, I have to answer it, too.” Dred placed the beer bottle back out of sight and ran a hand through his hair.
The dark lengths were starting to dry, and it was falling over his shoulder.
His brown eyes were clear of the black eyeliner he wore to perform, and wholly focused on her.
“Okay. Why don’t you go first?” Pixie offered.
“Let’s keep it simple. Favorite movie?”
“Oh, easy. The Sound of Music and The Wizard of Oz. You?”
“The Shawshank Redemption. Your turn.” Dred grasped his hands behind his head, his biceps flexed, his shoulders were . . . gah! What was the right word? Jacked? She closed her eyes for a minute and looked away.
She gazed back at him, and tried to ignore his grin. “What place would you most like to visit?”
Dred paused thoughtfully. “I want to go skiing in the Alps. Or maybe travel around Australia. Really see the country and not just tour it. Where do you want to go?”
“Easy. London’s West End or Broadway. I’d see as many shows as I could possibly squeeze in.”
“I sense a theme. Okay. I’m changing gears. Favorite part of your own body?”
Pixie narrowed her eyes at him. Uncertain of where he was going with it, she was reluctant, but a small part of her was curious.
“Not doing anything more than talking, Snowflake. Favorite part of your own body?”
Taking a mental inventory, Pixie thought about her better assets, critiquing and dismissing them until she settled. “I don’t know. My arms, maybe. I have tiny wrists.”
“No comment. Yet. My favorite would be my fingers. I couldn’t play piano or guitar without them. Now you have to ask me the reverse of the question.”
“What’s the least favorite part of your body?” Pixie asked.
Dred laughed loudly. “No. Which is your favorite part of my body?”
“Really?”
Dred raised both eyebrows and nodded.
“Okay. Which is your favorite part of my body?”
“Where to start?” Dred sat up straight in the chair and leaned toward her.
“Honestly, Pix. Straight up, you’ve got the most expressive eyes I’ve ever seen.
When I kissed you the day I left, I swear to God you stripped me bare.
It was the most honest expression of emotion I have ever seen. I want to drown in them.”
Pixie’s hand went to her mouth. Dred’s intensity was overwhelming.
He sat back suddenly. “So, what’s your favorite part of me?” he asked with a smile.
The statue of freaking David couldn’t hold a candle to Dred. But she wanted to play the game. It felt safe to flirt with him this way with all those miles between them.
“Keep looking at me like that, Pix, and I’m on the next flight to Miami,” he said, his voice low and rough.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” she asked.
“Not at all. You realize all you have to say is yes, right?”
“It’s only four days until I’m there. Three and a half really.”
“I didn’t mean about the flight. I meant say yes, and we can take this conversation to a totally different place.”
A loud knocking sounded, and Dred looked to his right.
“Limo’s leaving in fifteen,” she heard someone say in the background.
“Fine,” he snapped to whoever it was. “Fucking timing. I gotta go. Sorry, Snowflake.”
Pixie let out a whoosh of breath. The intensity lifted, and a sense of relief that the conversation hadn’t gone further washed over her. “Limos sound fancy. Where are you off to?” she asked, hoping to steer him away from their game.
“An industry awards thing in L.A. Maybe next time, you can come with me. Then it wouldn’t be so incredibly dull.”
“You’re going tonight? Oh my God. I was going to go home and watch it.”
“Nah, don’t waste your time. Go home and think about saying yes to this kind of conversation, and I’ll spend the night thinking about the things I’ll say to you if you do.” With a wink, he disconnected.
Damn. Now she was all hot and bothered. In a way it was a good thing that he wasn’t there with her, because the temptation to go further was killing her.
And if they did, he’d quickly figure out exactly how sexually messed up she was.
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