Colin’s alarm woke him before dawn as usual, but instead of sitting up immediately as he normally did, he lay on his back for a few long moments, staring at the ceiling. Downstairs, he could hear his coffeemaker spring into life, burrs whirring to automatically grind beans. A fresh pot would be ready and waiting for him by the time he made his way into the kitchen.
Ticking over his schedule in his head, he sat up, putting his feet on the cool hardwood and stretching his arms overhead, his back arching. Standing, he flicked the bedcovers back. It was the day for his cleaning service, so no need to smooth the duvet and tug the sheet straight. Padding into the bathroom, he turned on the shower and considered his reflection while he waited for the water to heat.
He didn’t look like he had spent half the night thinking about a woman instead of sleeping. So at least there was that. His eyes were remarkably clear; he didn’t look a fraction as fatigued as he felt.
Maybe it was the fact that the thought of her: her toughness, her intelligence, the way she kissed—all of it created an tingling in his nerves that overcame whatever fatigue he should feel from the sleep he lost.
Stepping into the shower, Colin lifted his face to the spray and then dipped his head down, letting the hot water flow through his hair and run down his chin. The memory of kissing her, of the way her hips had swayed toward him when he gently caressed the small of her back with his hands. He groaned as arousal stiffened his cock, heat suffusing him as he gripped and stroked himself to climax. He tried to tell himself that a quick wank would get her out of his head, but images of her elusive smile, the curve of her breasts, and that coy drift of fringe across her eyes lingered after he finished.
Enough. He reached for the shampoo and scrubbed his fingers across his scalp. There’s a time and a place for this, he told himself as he toweled off. Focus, he thought ferociously at his own reflection as he shaved.
Fetching the Post from his doorstep in his bathrobe while the sun began to make its appearance for the day, he admitted the truth to himself: the woman had gotten under his skin. He took the paper to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, perching on a stool at the high counter to drink it and peruse the headlines. Nothing of particular note for him. The usual partisan political grandstanding, a few local pieces of moderate interest. Turning to the Style section, he saw an article about Romeo and Juliet. He was incensed to see no mention of her performance. What sort of idiot was this so-called journalist, anyway?
He sighed. Yeah. He was in deep.
Sunlight in her face made Alicia screw her eyes shut and throw a forearm across her face to shield herself from the brightness. She couldn’t decide if she was glad of the light waking her or disappointed. Her dream had been one of those vivid, hyper-real ones that sometimes played through her mind just before waking.
It had started with Colin opening her door for her and walking away, same as last night. But when she locked up and turned into her apartment, he had been inside. For some dream-logic reason, this had neither surprised nor alarmed her. Nor had she been thrown off when the scene shifted them to her bedroom, touching, kissing, undressing each other…
And then the sun had sent the whole thing dissolving into fragments of light and hard-edged reality.
Hard-edged reality that included a relentless, restless throb between her thighs. Removing the forearm from her eyes, she slid her hand down her naked body under the light sheet, fingers seeking to release the ache.
Her phone shrilled on the nightstand. Groaning, Alicia rolled to her belly, blowing up the hair that flopped into her eyes with an irritated puff of breath. She grabbed the ringing phone and unplugged it from the charging cable, looking at the screen to see who was calling. Swiping her thumb to answer, she flopped over and lay back against the pillow.
“Morning, Melissa.”
“Almost afternoon, Alicia.” Her agent’s voice crackled.
Alicia brought the phone back in front of her face to squint at the time and said, “Even for you, ten in the morning is not afternoon.”
“Fine, whatever.”
Alicia’s jaw clenched at the smoker’s rasp in Melissa’s voice. “Regardless of the time, what’s up?”
“Well, if you can get your sleepy ass in gear, I may have something big for you.”
Alicia sat up, the sheet spilling into her lap, fingers spearing back through her hair. “What is it?”
“Well, before I give you the details, how would you feel about staying down in D.C. for a while?”
Alicia, remembering her idle thoughts about how she enjoyed the city, smiled to herself. “Totally fine. I like it down here. What’s the gig?”
“Well, if you’re good with being that far from civilization…”
Alicia gritted her teeth. “I know. Everything west of Riverside Drive is wilderness to you. The gig?”
“Prestige cable series. Political. Those are all the rage nowadays, it seems. The role is an up and coming Congresswoman. ‘Buttoned up in the House Chamber, a tigress in the bedchamber.’ I’m reading from the casting sheet, in case you think I could possibly come up with anything that ridiculous.”
Scooting off the bed, Alicia raced to the closet, leafing through her clothes to find a conservative suit. “When’s the audition?”
“Today. Someone in the cast dropped out and they had to hold an emergency audition. You have a slot at 12:15. Can you do it?”
Alicia threw her clothes on the bed and raced to the bathroom to turn on the shower. “Just e-mail me the sides and the address. I’ll be there.”
A tap on his open office door arrested Colin’s attention from his computer screen. “Am I interrupting?” Brandon Oberst, one of his partners in the firm, stood in the doorway.
“Not at all.” Colin gestured to the pair of guest chairs in front of his desk. “How are the wedding arrangements progressing?”
Brandon sat and scrubbed a hand across his face. “To be honest, it’s a nightmare.”
“Mari’s mother?” Colin schooled his expression away from his natural inclination of “horrified” toward something more closely resembling “sympathetic.” Brandon’s fiancée Mari was sweet and geeky, but it had only taken Colin one instance of meeting her mother to decide the woman was a veritable harpy.
Brandon leaned back, the leather guest chair squeaking. “That’s about the size of it. And I can usually handle Nancy just fine. But this…it’s a whole other level of meddling. She’s involved in everything. We should have just eloped like her sister Ellie did. I think we’re getting the backlash because they sidestepped Nancy completely.”
Colin waved an airy hand. “So, just let her plan everything. Show up. Be the groom. Get married and go home and be happy with Mari.”
“You make it sound so easy. But Mari’s got opinions.” His expression grew pensive and he ran his fingers through his sandy brown hair. “Yet, with a limited application…the strategy could have merit.” Brandon’s eyes creased with humor. “But I didn’t come over to discuss my impending marital drama or my mother-in-law to be. How are things with the table for the USA Science Fair Gala? The assistant to Austen Software’s CEO called to ask. I think they’re worried about their sponsorship.”
“Full.” Jeanette had given him the good news earlier in the day that the firm’s table for the annual black-tie event celebrating extraordinary high school students’ achievements in science was sold out.
“If only we get such a response with the RSVPs for our wedding.” He paused, his face cautious. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, what with…everything that’s happened in the last few months, but…you have a date, right?”
Colin blinked. “A date?” He hadn’t even considered trying to get a date for his colleague’s wedding. He floundered, trying to remember when Brandon was getting married. Surely it wasn’t so soon? He couldn’t remember getting an invitation yet.
“For the gala.” Brandon looked at him with wry amusement. “A date. You know. A woman you bring with you. Or a man, but I didn’t think you swung that way.”
“Ah.” Colin smirked at nothing at all.
“Indeed.” Brandon rose to his feet. “Make sure your tux still fits. Looks like you’ve been hitting the gym.”
“Like you’re a stranger to the weight room.” Colin nodded at Brandon, who was thick with muscle.
“I’ve abandoned it for my real loves. Table placement and floral arrangements,” Brandon said with a wink as he walked out of Colin’s office. But for all of his joking, Brandon seemed relaxed and happy.
Colin couldn’t decide if he felt jealous or relieved that he wasn’t in Brandon’s shoes.
Alicia looked around the small, bleak waiting room and took stock of the competition. It looked to her like there was little consensus on what sort of look the production was going for. In addition to Alicia, the room held two brunettes and a redhead, all in their mid-thirties, all of whom were pretending to peruse their printed sides and ignore everyone else. The only thing they seemed to have in common other than their age was that they were all slim and attractive.
Alicia sat in a chair and looked at the sides she had stopped at a copy shop to print off. She had already read the script pages three times on the Metro, but this time she focused on the character description.
Well, I’ll be damned. Melissa hadn’t been kidding when she said it contained, “Buttoned up in the House Chamber, a tigress in the bedchamber.” Alicia bit her lip and let her eyes lose focus, imagining this woman, her inner life. She didn’t know much more than that and what the scene’s lines gave her, which was a bantering, flirtatious exchange with a lobbyist.
Well. She actually knew how that could go, didn’t she? She could and would use her time with Colin to her advantage, imagining it was his low voice and cultured accent saying the lobbyist’s lines, his handsome face focusing on her, heating her through. She wondered if the character’s interest was genuine or a means to some other end.
Flipping through the pages, she decided that this woman really did like the man in question. It was there in the text, though she was being coy, unsure if her interest was returned. Deniability. That’s what this woman needed. That was why she included a bit of misdirection with her flirtation.
One of the brunettes was called into the audition room by a production assistant with a clipboard as a blonde left. The blonde looked demoralized, her shoulders rounded as she walked out.
Sorry, Alicia thought without irony. Auditioning was a tough business. It could do a number on your ego, your confidence, and your career.
Casting another glance over the pages, Alicia focused again on the silly phrase her agent had derided. She felt it was like a shiny pebble in a stream, a promise of something special.
Aha. Her shoulders released tension she hadn’t realized she was holding. Standing, she walked to the bored young woman who was taking names at the door.
“Excuse me, where’s the bathroom?” she asked.
“Take a right, down the hall, on your left.” The young woman didn’t even look up as she gave her response by rote, her ball-point pen jabbing out the directions she described.
“Thank you.” The woman’s eyes fluttered up in surprise, and Alicia felt sympathy for her. Actors could be such shits sometimes. Common courtesy, people. How hard is it?
Almost running down the hall, she pushed the bathroom door open and darted into a stall. Hanging her bag on the hook, she hiked up her skirt and shucked off her panties, stuffing the wisp of lace and satin into the bottom of her bag. Smoothing her skirt back down over her hips, she let a small smile curve her lips as she shouldered her bag and walked back to the waiting room.
She barely had time to sit again, crossing her legs and almost giggling at the juxtaposition of conservative skirt and bare ass when her name was called.
Colin, we’re up.
Colin frowned at his computer screen. He had never had so much trouble composing an e-mail in his life.
Why didn’t I get her number when I had the chance? He read through what he had written again. It was too stiff, too formal. He just wanted her to put on a dress and come with him to celebrate incredibly smart, hard-working young people. Why was that so damned difficult?
“That scowl could peel the paint off the walls.” Brandon’s voice from the doorway pulled Colin’s attention from his screen. His friend looked amused.
“Well, you try to invite a woman to a formal affair by e-mail and see how that works out for you,” Colin said, pushing his chair back from his desk in frustration.
“Join the twenty-first century and text her,” Brandon said, his expression bland and tone reasonable.
“I would, but I don’t have her number.”
Brandon’s eyebrows flew up, and a faint, incredulous smile crossed his face. “Really? When did you meet this woman, anyway?”
Colin’s eyes rolled to the ceiling as he thought. “Um…two weeks ago? Approximately? The party for Folger donors.”
Settling his shoulder against the doorframe, Brandon considered Colin as if he were an interesting specimen in a glass case. “And have you seen her since?”
“Yes. Twice.” Colin was aware that his jaw was getting tight.
“…And you didn’t get her number.”
“No.”
“But you have her e-mail.”
“Yes.”
“Unusual.”
“She’s an unusual woman,” Colin said, his eyes returning to the e-mail.
“Does she like pop culture? If she does, it might reconcile Mari to attending this thing.”
Colin rubbed his chin. “Not sure. She’s a Shakespearean actress who also sings in a jazz club. We haven’t covered current cultural touchstones yet.”
“Sounds interesting.” Brandon folded his arms across his chest, his shoulder still digging into the doorframe.
“She’s bloody fascinating. Frankly, I wish she were a bit less interesting. It would make my life easier.”
Brandon grinned at this, hazel eyes twinkling. “Good luck. But if she’s willing to wear Chuck Taylors with an evening dress, Mari will love her forever.”
“Get out of here and let me compose an incredibly stilted, ineffective e-mail to an incredibly beautiful, maddening woman,” Colin said, waving Brandon away.
“I hope she says yes,” Brandon replied as he straightened to move down the hall. “I want to meet her.”