Teasing Trent
Page 20
He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “So, you canceled your latest shoot?”
“Yeah, I was in a car accident. I needed a break, anyway.” It was as good an explanation as any. Her shoulders slumped. She could hardly tell people she was in town hiding out. “People staring and taking pictures can get old, you know?”
“Really?”
When she raised her eyebrows he backed up a step. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine having that kind of opportunity and turning it down. I wish someone would just offer me money for being pretty. I wouldn’t have bothered with college!”
“So, I guess I shouldn’t have gone to college either, huh? I guess all that time learning was wasted.” She glared at him.
“No, of course not. I just meant—” He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “Wow, can we start over? I’ve done nothing but put my foot in it today. Let’s pretend we’re just meeting. Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jackson; my friends call me Jack or J. Or jackass, depending on who you ask.” He smiled slowly, the type of grin that probably had women throwing their panties at him usually.
Ridley just sighed. “Nice to meet you, Jackson.”
He gestured toward her. “And you are?”
“Seriously?”
“Come on, play along.”
Ridley crossed her arms. “Okay. Hi, I’m Raina. You can call me Raina.”
His lips twitched at the corners. “Okay, then. You know what? The locksmith is probably not going to call back for a while so we might as well just hang out. We’ve been neighbors for months now but we’ve never had a chance to just sit and talk like this. I don't have much to snack on but I'm sure we can find something suitably unhealthy to eat while you tell me your story. The real one, not the tabloid version.”
Ridley raised her chin. “Who says I have a story?”
“Everyone has a story. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he teased.
“I don’t think I need to know yours.”
“Okay, suit yourself. I’m going to go get some work done, then. But if you change your mind, I’m ordering takeout around six.” He turned and walked away.
Just before he turned the corner she called out. “Fine. I’ll eat your takeout. After all, that’s what vultures do, right?”
As he turned and stared at her wide-eyed, she grinned and walked back to the guestroom.
The laundry could wait.
Chapter Three
AN HOUR LATER, Jackson had made a sizable dent in his to-do list for the party the next day. The Alexander family had always held a party on Memorial Day weekend but it used to be held at his parent’s farm. It wasn’t until after his wife died that his mother made the request to have it at Jackson’s place.
It was her way of keeping him from withdrawing from the world, something he’d been all too happy to do after Cynthia died. However, it took an iron will to resist his mother when she wanted something so he’d been hosting for the past three years. This would be the first year in his new house.
It was also the first year he was actually looking forward to it.
An image of Raina sitting in her backyard, looking so lost and alone entered his mind. If he ever got locked out he’d have plenty of people to call. His parents, his brothers and a whole slew of cousins. He couldn’t imagine not having anyone to help him out. Having a big family wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to but after today… well, he was suddenly really aware of how much easier his life was because of his family.
He groaned thinking of all the ways he’d put his foot in his mouth around her. Not only had she heard Nick call her a vulture but then he’d implied that beautiful women didn’t need to be smart.
It was no wonder she’d walked off.
He was so distracted that the shrill ring of his cell phone on the desk next to him set his teeth on edge. He grabbed the phone, cursing as the pile of invoices it was sitting on scattered across the floor.
“Jackson Alexander”.
“You are gonna love me for this one. I’m a genius. Tell me I’m a genius!”
“You’re a genius, Mac. Now why the hell are you calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be finding a group for the song we’re working on?”
He stooped to pick up the papers off the floor, sure that his assistant was off task as usual. Some people thought he was crazy for keeping him around after the debacle with Alana. But Jackson believed in loyalty. They’d been friends for years and Mac claimed nothing had happened between him and Alana. Jackson believed him.
The fact that he’d witnessed his friend pushing her away before they knew he was there helped considerably.
“That’s why I’m calling. I found a group that’s perfect. They’re all gorgeous, well most of them and even better, they’re local.” Leave it to Mac to be more interested in the length of their legs than the quality of their voices.
“Can they at least sing? The last time I heard a group you found, only one member could even carry a tune.”
Jackson winced at the memory of the pitiful group trying to sing a capella. They had all looked like cover models, which was reason enough for Mac to be interested. Jackson couldn’t hold it against him, though. Except for his obsession with beautiful women, Michael MacCrane was the hardest working assistant Jackson had ever had and a good friend.
He’d just learned not to trust his instincts when it came to young female singers.
“Yeah, I was in a car accident. I needed a break, anyway.” It was as good an explanation as any. Her shoulders slumped. She could hardly tell people she was in town hiding out. “People staring and taking pictures can get old, you know?”
“Really?”
When she raised her eyebrows he backed up a step. “Sorry, I just can’t imagine having that kind of opportunity and turning it down. I wish someone would just offer me money for being pretty. I wouldn’t have bothered with college!”
“So, I guess I shouldn’t have gone to college either, huh? I guess all that time learning was wasted.” She glared at him.
“No, of course not. I just meant—” He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. “Wow, can we start over? I’ve done nothing but put my foot in it today. Let’s pretend we’re just meeting. Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jackson; my friends call me Jack or J. Or jackass, depending on who you ask.” He smiled slowly, the type of grin that probably had women throwing their panties at him usually.
Ridley just sighed. “Nice to meet you, Jackson.”
He gestured toward her. “And you are?”
“Seriously?”
“Come on, play along.”
Ridley crossed her arms. “Okay. Hi, I’m Raina. You can call me Raina.”
His lips twitched at the corners. “Okay, then. You know what? The locksmith is probably not going to call back for a while so we might as well just hang out. We’ve been neighbors for months now but we’ve never had a chance to just sit and talk like this. I don't have much to snack on but I'm sure we can find something suitably unhealthy to eat while you tell me your story. The real one, not the tabloid version.”
Ridley raised her chin. “Who says I have a story?”
“Everyone has a story. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he teased.
“I don’t think I need to know yours.”
“Okay, suit yourself. I’m going to go get some work done, then. But if you change your mind, I’m ordering takeout around six.” He turned and walked away.
Just before he turned the corner she called out. “Fine. I’ll eat your takeout. After all, that’s what vultures do, right?”
As he turned and stared at her wide-eyed, she grinned and walked back to the guestroom.
The laundry could wait.
Chapter Three
AN HOUR LATER, Jackson had made a sizable dent in his to-do list for the party the next day. The Alexander family had always held a party on Memorial Day weekend but it used to be held at his parent’s farm. It wasn’t until after his wife died that his mother made the request to have it at Jackson’s place.
It was her way of keeping him from withdrawing from the world, something he’d been all too happy to do after Cynthia died. However, it took an iron will to resist his mother when she wanted something so he’d been hosting for the past three years. This would be the first year in his new house.
It was also the first year he was actually looking forward to it.
An image of Raina sitting in her backyard, looking so lost and alone entered his mind. If he ever got locked out he’d have plenty of people to call. His parents, his brothers and a whole slew of cousins. He couldn’t imagine not having anyone to help him out. Having a big family wasn’t something he’d ever given much thought to but after today… well, he was suddenly really aware of how much easier his life was because of his family.
He groaned thinking of all the ways he’d put his foot in his mouth around her. Not only had she heard Nick call her a vulture but then he’d implied that beautiful women didn’t need to be smart.
It was no wonder she’d walked off.
He was so distracted that the shrill ring of his cell phone on the desk next to him set his teeth on edge. He grabbed the phone, cursing as the pile of invoices it was sitting on scattered across the floor.
“Jackson Alexander”.
“You are gonna love me for this one. I’m a genius. Tell me I’m a genius!”
“You’re a genius, Mac. Now why the hell are you calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be finding a group for the song we’re working on?”
He stooped to pick up the papers off the floor, sure that his assistant was off task as usual. Some people thought he was crazy for keeping him around after the debacle with Alana. But Jackson believed in loyalty. They’d been friends for years and Mac claimed nothing had happened between him and Alana. Jackson believed him.
The fact that he’d witnessed his friend pushing her away before they knew he was there helped considerably.
“That’s why I’m calling. I found a group that’s perfect. They’re all gorgeous, well most of them and even better, they’re local.” Leave it to Mac to be more interested in the length of their legs than the quality of their voices.
“Can they at least sing? The last time I heard a group you found, only one member could even carry a tune.”
Jackson winced at the memory of the pitiful group trying to sing a capella. They had all looked like cover models, which was reason enough for Mac to be interested. Jackson couldn’t hold it against him, though. Except for his obsession with beautiful women, Michael MacCrane was the hardest working assistant Jackson had ever had and a good friend.
He’d just learned not to trust his instincts when it came to young female singers.
