Acting Lessons (Off Guard) Page 13

  The words, combined with the pressure of his fingers on her ass and his cock grinding between her legs, stole her breath. She was barely able to wheeze out an “Okay.”

  Judging by his predatory grin, that was enough for Jamie. Holding her hips hard against his, he captured her mouth. It was their first real, non-peck kiss, Topher realized, and then her brain shut off completely, shorted out by the intensity of the contact. Her hands cupped his cheeks, one rough with the beginning of stubble and the other with scar tissue. She ran her fingers over his face and ears before latching them in his hair. The strands were just long enough for her to grip in her fists. Topher hung on for dear life as her heartbeat went wild.

  The kiss was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Instead of coaxing her lips apart, he demanded entrance. Once she gave him access, he took over her mouth, licking and nipping and sucking until her vision grayed around the edges and she realized that she needed to breathe.

  Tipping her head back, she sucked in oxygen. Jamie seemed to take her movement as an invitation to move down her neck. Once his lips landed on her throat, Topher forgot the whole breathing thing. When his teeth got involved, an odd squeaky gasp was torn from her, and she started to rock her hips back and forth, needing the friction of his hardness against her pussy, even if there were clothes in the way.

  “James?” The voice came concurrently with a knock and then the study door swung open. “Could you please talk to your sister for me? For some reason, she’s stuck me in the gold suite, which isn’t even on the right side of the house... Oh, am I interrupting?” Peyton’s tone flattened on the final question.

  With a grumbly sound, he reluctantly raised his head from Topher’s neck. She scooted back—or attempted to—but he held her in place with an iron grip. She didn’t know if he wanted to hold her in place to hide his obvious arousal from Peyton, or if he just wanted to keep a tight grip on Topher. She hoped it was the second reason.

  “Sorry.” It was the least-apologetic apology that Topher had ever heard. She had to tuck her face into Jamie’s neck to hide her giggles, hoping that Peyton would assume she was embarrassed by being caught making out by his ex. “You’ll talk to Julia, then?”

  “No.”

  Finally having regained her composure, Topher turned her head to look at Peyton and almost lost it again when she glimpsed the other woman’s expression. She couldn’t have looked more shocked if Jamie had whipped his dick out and peed on her.

  “What? But, James, the gold bedroom is not acceptable.”

  “Did you want the green one, instead?”

  “No. I want...the ivory suite.” The pause made Topher’s ears perk up. She was ninety-nine percent sure that Peyton had barely stopped herself from announcing that she wanted to stay in Jamie’s room.

  “That’s occupied. If we’d known you were coming this week, we could have reserved it for you. As it is, the gold and green rooms are the only ones left available.”

  Peyton appeared to be a few frustrated seconds away from throwing herself on the floor in a full-fledged temper tantrum. Needing a good view if that did happen, Topher wiggled around until she sat sideways on Jamie’s lap. When he realized she wasn’t trying to dive off of his lap, he grudgingly allowed her to turn.

  “Fine,” Peyton hissed, pivoting toward the entry. After she sailed out, she closed the study door with a solid thud that was one step down from a slam.

  “Huh. I’m a little disappointed.” Topher leaned against his chest.

  “Because...?”

  Turning her head, she kissed the spot right above his breastbone that was exposed by his unbuttoned collar. She felt his chest move in a quick inhale, a reaction that made her bite back a smug smile. “Because, for a second, it seemed likely that her head would explode, so it was kind of anticlimactic.”

  He laughed. “That would’ve been messy. Anticlimactic is kind of a big word, my little faker.”

  “I’m not a faker,” she huffed. “I’m an actress.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  This time, she kissed his chin. “Fakers don’t get paid.”

  Another knock on the door killed his laughter.

  “What is it?” he snapped.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Julia said through the door, unknowingly repeating Peyton’s words from earlier. Topher noted that Julia sounded a hundred times more sincere, though.

  “You can come in, Jules!” Topher called before Jamie could say anything. She slid off of his lap despite his quiet grumble of protest.

  Despite the invitation, Julia opened the door slowly and stuck just her head inside.

  “It’s okay, Jules.” Topher crossed the room to pull open the door the rest of the way. “We’re not naked or doing it on the desk or anything.”

  “That’s...nice,” Julia said. “I just wanted to tell you, Topher, that your parents are here.”

  She couldn’t stop the grimace that took over her face. “Here, here? Or just close to here? Or maybe they couldn’t make it all the way here, so they’re staying at a hotel and could possibly get snowed in until after Christmas?”

  “No, they’re actually here...here.”

  Jamie’s laugh made both women glance at him. “She’s got you sounding like her, Jules.”

  “You should talk,” Julia shot back, although she smiled. “Since when have you called me Jules?”

  He looked a little surprised, as if he hadn’t noticed that he’d picked up the nickname. “If I start calling that mobster’s daughter ‘Barbie Doll,’ you have permission to shoot me.”

  “Well,” Topher defended herself, “if I don’t call her ‘Barbie Doll,’ then I might slip and call her ‘the ginger bitch,’ so ‘Barbie Doll’ doesn’t seem so bad, does it?”

  By the way Julia giggled and Jamie shrugged and smiled, it was obvious that they would enjoy hearing her call Barb “the ginger bitch.” She rolled her eyes.

  “The entire Golfini security force showed up while you were shopping,” Jamie said. “They’d been delayed by the snow.”

  “I know.” Julia turned the words into a groan. “I just had to plead with Leigh to feed their army on top of all the extra guests. More of your security people arrived from the New York and Spokane offices, too, and you know how they eat.”

  “Speaking of extra guests, I’d better go say ‘hi’ to the parents.” Topher did a quick spin. “Do I look okay? My underwear isn’t hanging out or anything, is it?”

  “Why would your—” Julia started, only to be interrupted by her brother.

  “No. You’re fine.”

  Blowing him a kiss, Topher said, “Aww, thank you, sweetie-puss. And you’re super-fine, yourself.” With that, she slipped by a laughing Julia and hurried down the hall to greet the self-invited guests.

  Chapter Nine

  She followed the sound of faint voices to a living room. After taking a bracing breath, she stepped through the archway. The Golfinis were all present, as well as Danny and Peyton. A few shady-looking guys in suits lurked in the corners, with one mountain of a man hovering behind Tiny Mike’s chair, and Topher assumed that they were part of the newly arrived “Golfini security force” that Jamie and Julia had mentioned. The Hulk-sized guard strongly resembled a bulldog. Topher looked away from him, feeling guilty for her mean thought.

  “Coco, darling!” her mother called, hurrying across the room. “It’s so wonderful to see you!” When she reached Topher, Cecelia patted her cheek. Her mom had never been into hugs.

  Topher smiled. “It’s good to see you, too. You’re looking beautiful.” She lowered her voice so that her mother was the only one who could hear her next words. “Have you lost weight?” It was her usual question, and it never failed to put her mom in a great mood.

  “Oh! I have! Almost five pounds. You’re such a lovely ch
ild to notice!” Placing her fingertips on Topher’s shoulders, she eyed her up and down. “And you’re looking very...healthy.”

  Topher had learned long ago to let her mother’s comments about her weight roll off of her. After a bout with pneumonia when she was eighteen had brought Topher’s five-foot, one-inch frame down to a scary eighty-seven pounds, Cecelia had told her she’d looked “amazing.” Mentally, she’d translated that to “looked amazingly like Skeletor” and promptly gained fifteen pounds, to her mom’s obvious disappointment.

  “So what’s new? How’s the new cardio-barre instructor?” It had been months since she’d seen her parents, and it was good to see her mom. As bossy and critical and shallow as Cecelia Topher was sometimes—well, most of the time—she could also be sweet and funny, and Topher knew her mom loved her.

  “Hans is wonderful. My calves have never been this toned.”

  “I noticed.” It was a lie. Topher had never noticed the state of her mother’s calves. “You’re looking quite fit.”

  Her mom beamed. “You need to come to New York for a long visit. We’ll shop and go to this wonderful new spa that’s just opened and we can both work with Hans. He’ll get you into such good shape that the casting directors will be beating down your door. Hans will strip away that last bit of baby fat you’re still holding on to.”

  An irritated male rumble made Topher turn around to see Jamie behind her, his expression glacial as he glared at her mother.

  “Did you just growl at my mom?” she whispered, but he was too busy scowling to reply. “Mom.” She took a step back so she was next to Jamie. His arm immediately looped behind her, his hand settling on her hip. The automatic embrace felt nice, and she smiled up at him. “This is James Hawkins.”

  When she glanced back at her mother, Topher wished she’d continued ogling Jamie. Cecelia’s expression as she stared at his half-scarred face was a mix of disgust and horror. A wave of indignation on Jamie’s behalf flooded through her, and Topher was tempted to jump on him and have wild monkey sex right there in front of everyone, just to show her mom and the awful Barb and her sneering mother and the non-lip-touching Peyton that Jamie was gorgeous and perfect and incredible.

  “Hawkins.” Ben’s voice broke Cecelia out of her trance, and he extended his hand toward Jamie. “Good to see you again.”

  As the two men shook hands, Topher smiled at Ben, grateful that he’d broken that frozen, worse-than-awkward silence. “Hi, Ben.”

  “Coco.” He gave her a nod of greeting.

  “Darling.” Her mother’s voice was higher-pitched than normal. She reached out and locked her fingers around Topher’s wrist. “Let’s go to your room to get ready for dinner.”

  “But...” After a brief resistance, Topher gave in and allowed her mom to pull her away from Jamie. Cecelia had eight inches on her and was freakishly strong from all her Pilates classes, and Topher knew that fighting her would cause a huge, embarrassing scene that would delight the Golfinis and Peyton to no end. “Fine.”

  She did manage to go up on tiptoe and kiss Jamie on the chin. “See you at dinner.”

  His gaze warmed slightly as he switched his attention from Cecelia to her. “Sure?”

  Of course I’m not sure, but my mom is going to drag me out of here by my hair if I don’t, so going with her is the less humiliating and less painful option. Topher tried to pack the entire mental explanation into an eye roll. She must have been partially successful, because Jamie gave her a slight smile. Either that, or she just looked cute when she rolled her eyes.

  His encircling arm slid away, but he caught her hand before she was out of reach and gave it a squeeze that made Topher yearn for wild monkey sex again. She had to satisfy herself with a huge smile and the mental reminder that they’d be alone in his suite that night. From what Jamie had said about the scarcity of empty bedrooms, Topher guessed that her parents would be in the green suite all the way across the huge house from her. The thought made her smile even wider.

  A jerk on her arm threw her off balance, and Topher stumbled a little as they started up the stairs.

  “Mom! I’m already coming with you. You don’t need to tear my arm off and beat me with it.”

  Keeping her grip on Topher’s wrist, Cecelia sniffed. “Sometimes you can be so crude, Coco.”

  “Crudeness is better than physical violence,” Topher muttered, keeping her voice low.

  Her mom gave her a sharp backward glance. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” What was it about being around her mother that reduced her to a sullen teenager within five minutes? Trying to gather a smidgen of maturity, Topher took a deep breath and prayed for patience. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t actually know.” Despite the admission, her mom kept charging up the next flight of stairs. “We just need to find a place to talk.” She gave Topher another reprimanding look. “Privately.”

  When Topher came to a halt, Cecelia jerked to a stop as well, thanks to her continuing death grip on her daughter’s arm.

  “There’s nowhere up here that will work,” Topher said, inwardly shuddering at the thought of hanging out with her mother in Jamie’s suite, especially after what had happened in there that morning. “I bet Jamie would let us use his study.”

  With a nod, her mom reversed her course, blowing past Topher so she could take the lead again. Topher shrugged and allowed it, even though she was the only one of the pair who actually knew how to get to the study. She figured she’d amuse herself by seeing how long her mother dragged her aimlessly around Jamie’s house.

  To Topher’s disappointment, her mom stopped at the base of the stairs and raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows in a silent demand for directions.

  “Left.”

  Although she was dreading their “little talk,” Topher figured she might as well get it over with so they could get back in time for dinner. At the thought of getting to eat more of Leigh’s food, her mouth watered. When she’d mentioned finding a place for lunch after the first hour of the shopping expedition, everyone except Julia had stared at her like Topher had suggested they all smoke some crack. The cinnamon roll seemed so long ago.

  “‘Stomach years’ should be a thing,” she mused, forgetting for a moment that her mother was the one listening. “You know, like ‘dog years,’ only shorter. That way, I could say, ‘It’s been fourteen stomach years since breakfast.’ It’s so much more specific than, ‘I’m hungry.’”

  “What on earth are you rambling about?” Cecelia asked with a huff. “And it won’t hurt you to skip a few meals.”

  Topher considered that for a few seconds. “Yes. Yes, it would hurt. I’d be starving for, like, forty-five stomach years if I did that. I’m only at fourteen stomach years since breakfast, and I’m about ready to gnaw on my own arm. The study is the second room on the right.”

  With a frustrated sound, Cecelia shoved open the door. “I don’t understand how your brain works sometimes.”

  Most of the time, Topher mentally corrected, but she kept her mouth shut for once as she closed the door behind her. She reminded herself that her mother had her best intentions in mind, but she had a skewed perspective of what exactly “best intentions” entailed.

  “What are you doing?” Her mom launched straight into lecture-mode as soon as the latch clicked.

  “Um...” It must be a trick question. “Standing in Jamie-Bear’s study with you.” The pet name slipped out before she could catch herself, and she mentally winced. From the way her mother’s nose wrinkled, she was disgusted by the Tophie-ism.

  “Don’t be sarcastic with me, young lady.”

  Great, Topher thought as she leaned back against the door. She wanted to stay close to the exit in case there was an opportunity for escape. She’s already whipping out the “young lady.”

  “What are you doing w
ith him? I know your self-esteem suffers because of your weight issues, but surely you could do better. Maybe that nice young man, what’s his name?”

  “Tiny Mike?” Topher widened her eyes and attempted to look innocent. “Really? He’s married, and I wouldn’t call him a young man.”

  “No.” She waved off Topher’s pretend-sincere suggestion impatiently. “Not that one. The other one.”

  “The security guard who looks like a bulldog?”

  Cecelia must have caught on to Topher’s game, because she gave her a flat look. “Of course not. You know which one I mean.”

  “If you’re referring to Danny, Jamie’s nephew, then you can just wipe that idea off your brain. He’s lazy, spoiled, immature and a complete drama-whore.”

  “Language!”

  Topher ignored her mother’s correction. “What’s wrong with Jamie-Be—uh, I mean, James?”

  “Do you even have to ask that?” Waving her hand to indicate her own face, Cecelia grimaced. “He’s hideous.”

  A flash of rage made her clench her fists and lean her upper body forward. “He is not hideous! He’s wonderful. I don’t even see the scars anymore. He’s just my Jamie-Bear, and he’s perfect.”

  “Coco. That is kind of you to say, but it can’t be true.” Her mother’s words were filled with syrupy condescension. “It’s not just his appearance—which is bad enough—but he’s—” she lowered her voice to an echoing whisper “—disabled. If you get into a relationship with him, you’ll end up as his caretaker. I don’t want that life for you.”

  There were so many things wrong with that statement, so many responses that Topher wanted to make, that she tried to inhale and talk at the same time, causing her to choke. Cecelia patted her back with motherly care that just fueled Topher’s rage-y sputtering.

  “Disabled?” she finally managed to wheeze. “What? How? Jamie is not disabled! He’s one of the most...able people I’ve ever met. What are you talking about?”