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I take a long swig from the bottle of Cristal and hand it to Reed.
“Tell me about Isabel.”
“I already did. Tell her she’s a trailblazer. She’ll eat that shit up.”
“No, no. I mean, tell me what happened between the two of you. Tell me about your relationship. Why did you break up?”
Reed takes a long sip from the champagne bottle. “Because our relationship ran its course, as these things always do. We realized we’d be better as friends. So, we called it quits. The End.”
“‘We’ called it quits? Or you called it quits?”
“If you put Isabel into the article about me, I’m taking her out.”
“I’m not asking you about her for the article. If I’m going to meet her and try to convince her to let me interview her in-depth, I should know about potential landmines. I should know what happened between the two of you.”
“Bullshit. You want to know because you’re jealous.”
I bat his shoulder. “That’s so absolutely... not... false!”
Reed laughs uproariously, and so do I.
But when his laughter dissipates, and it’s clear he has no intention of answering my question, I slide into his lap and flash him my most charming, drunken smile.
“Aw, come on, Mr. Rivers. I told you about my ex, Shawn Gordon. Tell me about your ex, Isabel Randolph.”
He shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. We had fun for a while, but it eventually ran its course, so I ended it. And we’ve remained friends ever since.” He takes another swig from the champagne bottle and hands it to me. “And, obviously, that turned out to be for the best, for both of us, seeing as how she’s now marrying the man of her dreams, and I’m here with you.”
My heart stops. Holy crap. “Where did you and Isabel first meet?”
“At that black-tie birthday party for CeeCee. The one I told you about already. The one I crashed, so I could meet CeeCee and convince her to write about RCR.”
I giggle. “Just think. Ten years later, I crashed a music school event to meet CeeCee and convince her to read my writing samples. We’re equally diabolical.”
“Yes, we are.” He kisses me. “Okay, it’s my turn to ask a question. And I want your brutally honest answer this time, okay?”
My stomach clenches in anticipation. “Okay.”
“This is important, Georgina. No fibbing.” He puts his fingertip underneath my chin and looks at me sternly. “Georgina Ricci, did you truly have a poster of C-Bomb on your teenage wall—or did you tell me that to fuck with me?”
I burst out laughing, both in amusement and relief, and shake my head. “I was totally fucking with you.”
“I knew it!” Reed says, joining me in laughter. “You’re evil!”
“I really did love RCR as a teenager, though. That part wasn’t a lie.”
“You’ll say or do anything to get what you want, won’t you? You’re shameless. Shameless and evil.”
“You can’t blame me for lying about that. I had to make sure you wouldn’t let me walk out that door and go to C-Bomb. I didn’t want to be Caleb Baumgarten’s Penny Lane for a week.” I nuzzle my nose against Reed’s. “I wanted to be yours.”
Reed runs his palm down my arm, before it disappears into the warm water of the hot tub and rests on my tailbone. “I was never going to let you go to Caleb, baby. Over my dead body.” He kisses me passionately, sending my spirit swirling through the night sky. “What the hell are you doing to me, Georgina?” he mutters.
I’m drunk. On all the alcohol I’ve ingested tonight, and on Reed himself. “I don’t know,” I whisper back, my smile hurting my cheeks. “All I can hope and pray is it’s half of what you’re doing to me.”
Chapter 21
Reed
I lay Georgina’s sleeping, drunken frame onto the bed in her guestroom. Oh, how I wish I were laying her naked body down onto the four-poster in my room. But, of course, that’s not an option. When she was perfectly sober last night, she asked for a room of her own, much to my extreme disappointment. And she didn’t retract that request before passing out in my arms in a lounger by the pool.
I get her situated comfortably in bed underneath a sheet, and then move to the foot of the bed to grab a folded blanket... when my foot bumps into something hard on the floor by the bed. The room is too dark for me to make out what I’ve bumped into, but it’s definitely not Georgina’s suitcase, the outline of which I can see across the room by the door.
Curious, I head to the nightstand and flip on a small lamp. Momentarily, when the lamp illuminates, I worry the light will awaken Georgina. But a quick glance at Drunken Sleeping Beauty tells me, no, this girl is out for the night.
