“I’m just curious. It's fascinating to me. That's all. And I want to be supportive.”
“I have three good ones, but that doesn't mean I only have to write seven more songs. I write and write and then we pick the best songs to record. Ten is the minimum. Ideally we'd go into the studio with at least twelve solid options.”
I thought about asking how many of the three were solid, but I didn't want to push him or make him upset. He was supposed to be my respite. “I’m sure you'll write something amazing and mind blowing and the world just won't even believe how brilliant you are.”
“Right now, I'm just going for the world thinking I haven't lost my touch.”
There was that uncertain edge in his voice again. Was this just the bad side of living a creative life? Constant doubt? It was hard to believe that with all his commercial and critical success that he would ever feel that way about himself or his work. “As someone who's seen you perform recently, I can absolutely say that you haven't lost your touch. At all.”
“Performing songs that people already love is easy. Creating new stuff and enduring that moment when you find out whether or not they like it is the hard part. But it could be worse. At least I don't have to wear a tie and go into an office every day. No offense.”
“None taken. Women haven't really worn ties to work since the '80s, you know.”
“I meant the office. I never had to do that.”
“My office isn't as bad as some. I could never do what my sister does. Go into a law office every day? Forget it. She works with a bunch of assholes. I know. She set me up with a few of them.”
“Now why would your sister set you up with an asshole? You two clearly love each other very much.”
“Don't be fooled by her cute exterior. She can be mean and spiteful when she wants to be.” I scratched my leg and looked out the window, the phone cradled between my cheek and shoulder. It was late and I was dying to get out of my work clothes. I climbed out of the chair and padded into my bedroom. “I have to put you on speaker for a minute, okay? I need to change clothes.”
“Really?”
I pressed the button and placed the phone on my dresser. “Yes, really. Do you hate speaker phone that much?” I took off my skirt and shook it out, then put it back on its hanger.
“Not what I'm talking about.”
“Oh.” I froze with my arm still in the closet.
“I’m talking about you taking off your clothes while we're on the phone.”
I had to wonder if this was a regular thing for Eamon. He seemed to be awfully drawn to it. “Is this a tour thing? Like you're bored so you want to have phone sex?”
“No. This is a Katherine thing. I've actually never done it before.”
The way the heat rose in my body was entirely unfair. How was I supposed to even stand up under these circumstances? I sank down onto the bed. “I’m supposed to believe you're a phone sex virgin?”
“I’m not in charge of making you believe anything. And how difficult could it possibly be?”
“I wouldn't even know where to start.”
“I was thinking I'll just say every dirty thing that was going through my mind the other morning when we had coffee.”
I flopped back on the mattress, dying to hear more. “Were there a lot? Of dirty things going through your mind?” I gnawed on my thumbnail.
“Too many.”
My breath hitched in my chest. I'd had myriad filthy things racing through my head that morning. Had he had more? He'd seemed so focused on everything but anything sexual, except maybe at the end when he'd said he wanted me in that bed, but didn't think it was a good idea. And of course, we'd had that kiss. “So tell me.” I could hardly believe I was being so daring.
“Well, I certainly didn't want to go into the bathroom and put on pants.”
“I didn't want you to do that either.” My face flushed with heat—such an innocent string of words with such naughty implications.
“What did you want me to do instead?”
“Take off my clothes and throw me down on the bed.”
“Hold on. You're going too fast.” It sounded like he dropped the phone. “Okay. Sorry. I'm back.”
