The hot water beat down hard on Reeve’s body. But it did nothing to turn off his thoughts. Sutton was confusing the hell out of him. After the play, she was her usual sparkly, sassy, playful self. But not once did she say anything about what went down in the box seats. Not that he wanted a blue ribbon pinned on his chest, or a gold star in his homework book for being a good boy. But a soft whisper in his ear would have been nice. An acknowledgement that he’d turned her inside out. But she acted as if nothing had happened, and so he’d followed her lead, and they’d chatted about the play, then other plays, then books. She quizzed him endlessly on why he liked Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas so much and he soon ran out of answers. He just liked it, okay? It was the first time he’d felt flustered and put-on-the-spot. With Janelle, it was easy to make shit up. With Sutton, he felt as if he were being grilled, and he didn’t know why. Then she hailed a cab, opened the door, and sent him on his way with a quick kiss on the cheek. She leaned into the taxi driver’s window and gave the dude a twenty and waved a too-cheery goodbye.
What the hell was that?
She was treating him like a guy treats a girl he doesn’t want to see again. Thanks, here’s a cab, now get out of my face.
He didn’t like that. He didn’t want the brush-off. He wanted to be seen again, called again, texted again. He wanted a second date with her, dammit.
Except it wasn’t a real date.
But even with her hot-and-cold routine, he couldn’t stop thinking of the way she wriggled in that chair, how she’d spread her legs without a second thought, how she’d done everything to stifle the scream of his name when he brought her to release. God, he wanted to do that to her again. She was so receptive, so willing, so damn eager to be touched. He loved the way she responded to him, the way she became a different Sutton when he touched her. That’s what he thought of, as he pressed one palm against the tiles, leaning into the hot stream, his other hand bringing him all the way back to her, her legs, her smell, her taste, the way he imagined she’d moan and writhe and shout when they were all alone in a bedroom somewhere.
He wanted that wild abandon of Sutton Brenner underneath him in real life, but the mere image was enough for now to finish himself off.
Chapter Six
Sutton wrapped up her latest round of calls to agents, requesting callbacks for a part in a TV show. Given her reputation, she’d received a special offer from a premium cable network for one of its racier shows about a cadre of Los Angeles party girls who travel to New York City for a bachelorette weekend. Naturally, the girls go to an invite-only strip club for its “Parade of Firemen” night, and Sutton was tasked with finding the five best “firemen” in New York City. She’d known instantly who to bring in, but then she always liked to give new blood a chance too, so she’d spent one afternoon last week hunting through photos, watching reels, and calling the top agents for their input on a few rising stars to include in the mix. The result had been a visual fiesta at the audition, and though the whole crew had been top-notch, she’d picked the best of the bunch for a second look. The agents she called squeed and oohed and ahhed and this was one of Sutton’s favorite parts of the job. Delivering good news. She could either be Santa bringing coal, or Santa bringing gifts, and she’d much rather get to play the part of good Santa delivering a big, heavy bag of opportunity to hungry actors.
“Great. So the producers will be looking forward to seeing Joe tomorrow afternoon,” Sutton said brightly, then hung up the phone. She was about to call one more agent when her cell rang. She felt that tightness in her chest—the cocktail of nerves and hope—as she wished it were Reeve. Why did she want to hear from her fake fiancé ?
But the number was private.
“Sutton Brenner here.”
“Good afternoon, Sutton. This is Janelle.”
The hopes flew away. The nerves took deeper root. She sat up straight in her chair. “Good afternoon, Janelle. How are you?”
“Did you enjoy the play?”
“Yes. It was fabulous. The seats were amazing. Thank you so much. Was everything okay? I know you had to leave early.”
“Oh, I managed to see enough of what I liked,” she said, and there was was something oddly illicit in the way Janelle answered the question.
Sutton furrowed her brow. “Oh, well that’s good.” She wasn’t sure what Janelle was getting at. Had she seen Reeve get her off? Oh god. Was she that much of a conservative bird too? First, she wanted a family atmosphere at the company. Now, she probably wanted Sutton to be a virgin before her wedding.
“In any case, I was calling about something else. We are so close to making a decision on this film, and I know one of the things that’s been hard for us to determine is where exactly the best location would be in the library for—well, you know.”
Right. The library scene. Sutton knew the library scene well. Hell, the world knew the library scene. It was like the elevator scene in another famous book. In Escorted Lives, the woman who falls for her escort takes him to the New York City Public Library to show him a rare old book that she wishes she could have for her collection. While at the library, they find a quiet nook and he makes love to her in the stacks.
Normally, casting directors don’t play any part in scouting locations. They are the first line of defense in recruiting on-camera talent, but the job ends there, so it was odd for Janelle to bring up location work with Sutton.
“Oh. Has it?” Sutton asked to keep the conversation going.