I rested my head against his shoulder so I didn’t have to look at him. “It could be. I don’t know what my plans are going to be but I’m serious about having a base in Puffin Bay. I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Ever.”
He dropped a kiss on my hair. “You look fucking amazing in that, and all I can imagine right now is ripping it off you and fucking you into oblivion on this sofa, but I’m still not sure it’s a good idea.”
“What about just for while we’re in London?”
I saw him almost waiver. Standing up, stretching just because of the effect I knew it would have on him, I then started to back away into the bathroom, instinct and desire casting some ancient knowledge, and I felt more sure than I should.
“I don’t think so, Zo. We’re going to need to keep this pretence up for a few more months. I don’t know how we can go back to just being friends and nothing else when we get back to Puffin Bay if we cross that line now.” He stood up, his erection obvious through the sweats he’d slept in. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t want you.”
“I don’t think you could.” I couldn’t stop staring at his dick. He was big, something I hadn’t realised until I’d had a couple more experiences with other men, and I knew he’d been talented with it more than a decade ago. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’m going to shower.”
I made sure I used my noisiest vibrator while I was in there just in case he heard me.
We headed to a restaurant in Mayfair to meet with Josh Bills, the singer/songwriter who we’d danced to last night. He’d contacted me through Carissa, who he knew anyway given he was one of the biggest players in terms of singer/songwriter at the moment. We’d then arranged this meet up, taking the opportunity when we were both in the same city.
I knew what Josh was interested in – he wanted to co-write an album, a concept one, which charted a relationship break up and the fall out if the couple tried to remain friends. We’d had a quick chat about it last night before he’d gone on set.
This was the formal meeting to work out whether we were compatible, whether we had enough chemistry to give the project depth, and that was a big thing for him.
My career had been different; while we were both commercial, he’d had a lot more say early on as to what music he produced, whereas I was a commercial doll, certainly at the start.
Hence I was where I was right now.
“Are you sure you want me with you?” Caleb frowned at me, hands in his jean pockets. “There are two comic shops over there and I think one of them has the Batman graphic novel I’ve been after.”
He was ridiculously cute when he was being unashamedly geeky. Today he had his glasses on that made him look like a really hot nerd.
“I need you with me.” I slipped my hand through his arm. “If I get papped sat with Josh, the rumours will start that he and I are having a romantic meal or something, and that’s not a good idea.”
“Cash,” he said, nodding. “But Josh is married, isn’t he?”
“He is. Happily. His wife’s pregnant with baby number two, and I think he has every intention of at least baby number three coming along too. I don’t want the rumours, neither does he, so your presence is needed. I’ll treat you to a batman comic afterwards.” I grinned evilly at him.
“Graphic novel.”
“Comic.”
“I’m not arguing any more. Are you telling Josh the truth about us?”
I nodded. “I will do. He’s a good bloke. You’ll like him. He has a boat too.”
“What sort?”
“You’re assuming I’d be interested in details like that; ask him yourself.”
It ended up being the second thing Caleb said to Josh, meaning that the first half an hour of the meeting was spent on the fascinating topic of fishing boats in the Nantucket Sound, followed by a conversation I could’ve lived without on the species of sea life that were there.
Maybe I should’ve let Caleb go to the comic store instead.
“Sorry, Zoey, this is your time we’re wasting,” Josh said, scrolling through his photos. “That’s the one I think I might get. What do you reckon?”
It was another boat that Caleb’s opinion was needed on.
Another five minutes went by. I responded to a message from Carissa, who was now happily supportive of my decision, filtering requests from artists looking for songs. While I’d started with manufactured pop, my own tracks interspersing through them, I’d won two Emmys and several other awards for songs I’d written, including a movie theme for a big blockbuster. I wanted more of that and less of my face in the spotlight.
“Would you consider writing any songs as a duet?” He put his phone away.
I nodded. “Absolutely, and I think that’d work great for this album.”
