“These are amazing. There must be loads of people who’d pay for book art like this?” Sam studied a piece she’d done for the website. “If you don’t have a social media profile of your own, you should set one up. What do they say? ‘If you never try, you’ll never know.’ What do you have to lose?”
Over his shoulder, she tried to view her work with fresh eyes and was surprised to find that it looked pretty good. “I always wanted to find a way to make money from drawing but my ex said it was unrealistic, so I got a job as a receptionist.”
“What did he do?” Sam asked.
“He was a musician. He wanted to be a rock star.”
Sam raised both eyebrows with a smirk. “Ah, yes. The far more achievable dream.”
He stayed for another five minutes, then had to leave for an appointment. Buoyant on a sudden wave of self-belief, Leah set up a new social media profile, chose one of her favorite character designs and posted it, alongside a review of the same book.
Then, grabbing Esther’s diary, she just had time to read another intriguing entry before she forced herself back to work.
Dinner and dancing with Atherton and the gang. I wore the cutest little bell-sleeved minidress, along with my tall white boots, and I felt fabulous! Hazel bribed the doormen somehow and we got in without waiting in line. That girl is a superstar. The live music was awesome.
Yet another row with Mother. She invited The Creep and his parents for dinner on Thursday. I refuse to join them and she’s fuming. But, honestly, what does she expect? I’ve made my feelings clear.
Lunch sorted, thanks to some helpful advice from Jackie in Springfield, Missouri, on one of the migraine forums, Leah climbed the stairs and slowly cracked open Jackson’s bedroom door.
“Are we decent in here?”Please don’t let him be decent—
“You’re safe.” His gravelly answer was dry.
Dammit.
“Lunch is served, Mr. Hale.” He quirked an eyebrow as she laid the tray on his lap. “Fish stick sandwiches. A first for me but I’m willing to give anything a try, and I’m a sucker for chili mayo.” Leah took a plate and closed her hand around one half of the thick doorstep wedge.
Jackson did the same, poking at a stray piece of lettuce which threatened to fall onto the quilt. She watched him take a bite, getting a buzz of pleasure from his nod of approval as he chewed. “Hmm. Better than expected.”
He’d pulled on a navy tee. Dark, ruffled, and shower-gel scented, he was an assault on her senses. Leah was torn between wanting to stare at him and wanting to sniff him.
“Much like yourself. You look a bit brighter.” Leah waved her sandwich; she needed to keep the conversation light so she switched gears. “What’s your favorite food?”
He took a few moments to think. “Chicago tamales. The ones at my local place are so good they sell out by lunchtime. You have to plan ahead if you want to put in an order.”
“Seriously?” Leah shifted on the bed and felt Jackson’s phone in the pocket of her jeans. “Oh, your dad called a little while ago, by the way.” She handed him his cell.
Jackson stilled. “What did he want?”
“Not sure. I told him to call Oliver or Natalia.”
“What did he say to that?”
“Not much, to be honest.” The corners of Leah’s lips curved against her will. “I think he was a little surprised.”
“You are nothing if not surprising.” Jackson’s words were little more than a murmur, his eyes on hers.
In the quiet togetherness of the moment, Leah was suddenly conscious of the intimacy of their positions on the bed.
Chapter 22
Jackson
She sat back on her heels and he nearly reached out to stop her, had to force himself to keep his hands where they were, fisted in the bedcovers. Her light and energy drew him with a gravitational force. Jackson craved more of both all the time and he was unused to craving. He’d grown so used to wanting less of everyone else.
She’d thrown on a checked shirt over a black tank top today, with a pair of cargo pants in khaki corduroy. The swell of her breasts distracted him every time her shirt gaped open and he had to fight to keep his eyes off her chest like a horny frat boy but, God, she was so tempting. Those curves of hers were made for touching. He’d never been so aware of someone else.
Jackson scrabbled for a distraction but Leah beat him to it.
