Chapter 17 #2
Her shoulders relaxed, giving him permission to do the same. “I’m sure a lot of women would be interested to know that,” she said, but her smile was uneasy. The room dipped about twenty degrees as she knotted her fingers together.
It was risky. Technically, they were working together now. But the itch, he knew, demanded to be scratched. He had to slip through the cracked door.
“What if I wanna know what you think?”
He only slightly kicked himself for his lack of finesse.
Brinton eyed him inquisitively. “About what?”
“About anything.”
A soft smile danced across her lips, daring him to do unspeakable things. Especially to her Cupid’s bow. It was so damn deep, Jamie pictured teasing it with his thumb. Or sucking it between his own lips.
But he’d never cross that line, not unless she wanted him to. It was embarrassing how much he wanted to.
“I think…”
Her breath hitched, and his gut clenched in anticipation. As if cued by a bejeweled fairy godmother, a few errant braids tumbled down the front of her black blouse. He swept them over her shoulder, hand lingering against the warm slope of her neck.
It was long enough for him to inch closer. She smelled amazing. Creamy vanilla with little hints of something herbal, and her lips looked so achingly ripe for contact.
He swallowed a groan.
They stared at each other, shallow breaths communicating secrets they didn’t quite yet dare to say aloud.
Was it his imagination, or was she leaning in?
Slowly, she licked her lips, and he was immediately entranced by her tongue. Warm and wet and begging to be tasted. What he wouldn’t give to taste her.
He angled his head. She tilted her chin closer.
“Jamie,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t…”
“I know,” he breathed. “But I can’t stop thinking about—”
“How it would feel?” she asked, still craning her neck. “Me too. I just—”
Gently, he cupped her jaw. “Brinton, do you want this? Just tell me you do. Tell me right now, and I’ll—”
When she moaned, her warmth caressed his lips. Just another millimeter, and she’d be his.
Instead, the studio door flung open, snapping that invisible string between them. Jamie Sr. walked through first, followed by Tex.
Jamie’s spine straightened, and he pushed his chair a good foot from Brinton’s. She took the cue and did the same.
“Hey, y’all,” Jamie said, voice cracking at the exertion. “I was showing Brinton how the mixer worked.”
“That so?” Jamie Sr. asked, disapproval thick on his tongue. He crossed to the wet bar next to the couch, poured two whiskeys neat into etched crystal tumblers, and passed one to Tex. He set a beige folder on the counter.
“We should put in a few hours,” Tex said, sucking his teeth after a hearty sip. “The guys’ll be here in twenty.”
Jamie’s tense smile fell. “Oh, I thought today was an off day?”
“There are no off days.” His father laughed dryly.
“That’s what kills me about your generation. Nobody wants to do the work. Why don’t you get in the booth and warm up?”
“Yeah, got it,” Jamie said, head slung low. He needed his father to believe nothing had changed with Brinton. Even though he wanted nothing more than to rewind to sixty seconds earlier, when they were alone.
“Sorry, honey, this is a closed session,” Jamie Sr. told Brinton.
Slowly, she rose from her seat. “Sure. I have plenty to transcribe anyway.” She slipped on a brave face, but from the time they’d spent together, the waver in her voice meant she was hurt.
That explained the battering ram he felt in his chest. But his hands were tied.
“We can pick this up later,” Jamie called out.
At the door, she offered him an unconvincing smile. “I got what I needed.”
Once she was gone, Jamie was still at the soundboard, holding his head in his hands.
He’d almost kissed Brinton merely minutes ago.
He wished he had. Even as he knew that would be harder to hide from his father than his betrayal.
That threat paled in comparison to the spark he felt the day he met Brinton.
That spark refused to be snuffed out. He was completely fucked.
His father loomed over him like a specter. “You tell her anything I should be concerned about?”
“I told you, I was showing her how the mixer worked,” Jamie retorted, brows creased.
“Yeah, that’s why I called a few friends at Highland.”
Highland was Landmark’s publisher. It was a family business that had been around since nineteen-fifty.
“It seems they’re lukewarm about Ms. Shaw carrying this story. And that she hasn’t been the highest performer in the past. It’d be a shame if I expressed my own concerns, don’t you think?”
Reflexively, Jamie clenched his fists. It was one thing for his father to antagonize him, but Brinton was innocent. “Daddy, c’mon. That’s not necessary.”
“I think it’s time you prove where your loyalty lies.” Jamie Sr. reached for the folder and thrust it into Jamie’s lap.
Inside, Jamie’s new contract stared back at him. His chest tightened.
Tex wedged his stout body between him and his father. “It’ll be good to tie up this loose end, son,” he reasoned.
Tex held out a pen. This loose end was a lasso, signaling his father had won. But if signing this contract saved Brinton’s job, Jamie would put his own happiness on hold. There was no other option.
So, he signed his name with a flourish, next to that stupid X.
He’d tell Brinton what he’d done before long. Once he figured out a new plan.