Bryn wasn’t sure how to respond but thankfully Vivian did and saved her from herself.
“Let’s not count our glass paperweights until they’ve landed on the shelf,” Vivian said with effortless authority.
“I forget how superstitious you can be.” Harvey chuckled. “Fair enough. When Mel Scott sidles up to you, act surprised.”
The moment Harvey was gone, Bryn finally unlocked her screen.
“What is it?” Vivian leaned in like she wanted to see what the hell had Bryn spiraling.
“I don’t know,” she half-whispered. “Something that I posted this morning.” She swiped open the app and read 320 comments shouting variations of the same thing. “Apparently, only the first two minutes of my upload has any sound, I?—”
“Go take care of it.” Vivian straightened, hand on her lower back again as if it belonged there. Like it was the most common thing in the world for Vivian to touch her—to touch anyone—with such casual intimacy. The touch was instantly calming. Bryn took her first full inhale since she’d looked at her phone.
“Maybe I need to re-upload it. But lunch?—”
“Go.” Vivian was already ushering her toward the elevators. “I’ll bring you something.”
“You wanted to sit with?—”
“Bryn.” Vivian’s tone left no room for negotiation. “This is important.” She looked at the frantic comments flooding her post. “I don’t want you held liable if one of your fans has a coronary.”
“Okay.” She reached into her back pocket and handed Vivian her room key. “771 if I don’t come back before you’re finished with the?—”
“Don’t worry about me.” She took the key and slipped it into a pocket hidden in her navy sheath dress. “Go, please.”
The elevator dinged open and Bryn had to stop the impulse to peck Vivian on the lips. They hadn’t discussed Vivian’s feelings on PDA. They hadn’t discussed anything about anything and now wasn’t the time to ask when all she could worry about was disappointing her fans.
“Okay, thank you,” Bryn said and crossed into the elevator.
Vivian hesitated as if she were debating getting on with her, but wasn’t sure whether she should. The closing doors made the decision for her when Bryn was too scattered to formulate an invitation.
After nearly an hour, Bryn hadn’t solved her problem. Her frantic emails to tech support had gone unanswered and when she checked her banked emergency files, they had the same audio cutoff issue. She cursed herself for updating her laptop’s operating system before leaving for New York. Something in the update must have corrupted her audio files.
Resigned to recording new content because she never messed with her release schedule, she raced back downstairs to grab impromptu tools of her trade. She loaded up on all the extra blankets housekeeping could spare and hung them from the glass shower door, the shower head, towel rack, and the shampoo dispenser.
In loose sweatpants and a hoodie she’d brought because she packed her whole damn closet, Bryn layered the floor with extra blankets, sheets, and pillows until she’d created a comfy bed suited for a Great Dane or medium Bryn.
At home, she’d have her desk and a bowl of macaroni to stir, but she’d been lucky enough to find a ripe peach. iPad in hand, she pulled up a banked script. Mercifully, those files hadn’t been gobbled up by computer goblins. Headphones in, she got to work.
She was halfway through her boss/assistant story, treating the peach like it was her assistant splayed across her desk, when she felt the unsettling vibration of a heavy door closing. Bryn pulled out an earbud and confirmed there was movement in her room. Had she forgotten the do not disturb sign?
She opened the padded glass door. Bryn was going to climb out of the shower and ask housekeeping to come back later when Vivian appeared in the bathroom.
“What are you doing here?” Bryn started to stand, but Vivian moved toward her, hand up as if telling her to stay. “I was just recording,” she explained, realizing that she should have texted Vivian that she wouldn’t make it back for the first post-lunch panel.
“Just give me twenty minutes and I’ll be finished with this.” She paused her recording software.
Soundlessly, Vivian stepped out of her shoes and into Bryn’s makeshift nest. She watched Bryn with a gaze so intense it could melt titanium. Watched her while obviously formulating a plan.
The corner of Vivian’s mouth twitched into the suggestion of a smirk. A decision made. And then, while Bryn’s pulse raced like a supercollider hurtling toward impact, Vivian reached under her dress.
Body thumping with unrestrained heat, Bryn muttered her curse as Vivian slid her lacy underwear down her mouthwatering thighs. She clenched her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open when Vivian pulled off the flimsy fabric and tossed it onto the counter.
Rather than squeeze in next to her, Vivian pulled up her dress, nearly killing Bryn with her perfect expanse of inner thigh, and straddled her hips.
She took Bryn’s phone with her elegant fingers and hit record on her software. She plucked the earbud from Bryn’s loose grasp and put it back in Bryn’s ear.
Bryn watched, hypnotized, as Vivian took the peach Bryn forgot she was holding, took an absolutely profane bite of it, and flung it into the sink. When Vivian closed the door and leaned forward, Bryn couldn’t help but reach for her bare thighs.
