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JENN
Mac and Laniedon’t wait around. It’s not even a day since they extended their invitation-slash-insistence that Austin and me join them at VibeFest. One whirlwind packing adventure and an endless flight later, and here I am: in the land of palm trees, scorching sun, and even hotter chemistry.
Spending the weekend with Austin away from the office, alone? It’s a recipe for torture.
Pure, delicious, tempting torture.
“Cal-i-for-nia girls…” I sing along with the radio, foot down on the gas of my California rental car like I can outrun the thought of him, speeding up the I-10. After our plane landed, he headed to a meeting in LA to catch up with an old sports agent, so I took the chance to grab a head start to Palm Springs. The pool sounds nice but, more importantly, I need some air—away from him.
He’s driving me crazy.
On the flight to LA, I had to spend six hours beside him. The seats are more spacious in first class, but not spacious enough to keep me from noticing every sexy shift of his gorgeous body. He’s been nothing but a gentleman since I shut down our hot make out at the batting cages. Still, I could feel his awareness of me, too, and it was unbearable. I had no choice but to put my headphones in and pretended to sleep.
Except really, I screened several fantasy airplane scenarios in my mind.An unexpected landing. A hotel with just one room available…
Just one bed.
By the time we landed, I swear my dirty thoughts were written all over my face. Thank God for oversized sunglasses and cold Evian facial spray.
And an excuse to take some time alone.
I call Millie on the car’s hands-free system, but I just get voicemail. “Help!” I leave a message, as the freeway blurs past. “Austin is looking so sexy in summer clothes, it’s not fair. Call me back, I need you to remind me of all the reasons I can’t just jump his linen-wearing bones.”
I hang up with a sigh, and in the absence of my bestie, try to remind myself instead.
“You made your choice,” I chant, under the hum of the AC. The urban surroundings are giving way to the desert, stretching out in brown and red hues, with the mountains in the distance. “You were rational, and professional. You drew a line, and you’re sticking to it.
A time-zone and temperature change won’t undo it.”
And with the secret I’m still hiding from him… Itcan’t.
The drive flies by,and when I pull up to the hotel in Palm Springs, I’m feeling way more human and in control. So, we’re spending the weekend together? It’s not like it’s a romantic vacation. I’m here to work!
And to gasp in appreciation for the décor at the hotel. Lanie and Mac booked us rooms at the Parker, insisting it’s a local icon. And it looks like one, with a white façade and huge bright orange doors. Inside, the color continues, with funky art, primary tones, and even a suit of armor welcoming guests in.
I head for the reception desk, and I’m just checking in when Mac emerges from a hallway, wearing shades and a lurid neon shirt. “Jenn!” he calls, happily.
“Mac, hi.” I’m still adjusting to this reality TV star knowing me by name. “This place is amazing. How was your flight?”
“Oh, fine. I already dropped Lanie off at a photo shoot. I tell her she works too hard, but she loves this stuff.”
Behind us, a girl is not-so-discreetly pretending to take a selfie while taking a photo of him. Mac sends a glance to the desk, and immediately, a uniformed host goes to murmur a polite scolding.
“It must be annoying,” I remark, but Mac just shrugs.
“Comes with the territory. After all, I did always want to be famous.” He winks.
“What’s your afternoon like?” he asks.
“I’m free.” I reply. “I thought I might get some pool time in, before the madness gets underway. While I review some work,” I add, not wanting him to think that Austin’s employees are shirking on the job.
“Your secret lounging is safe with me.” he grins. “Come find me at the pool. I’ll save you a lounger!”
And that’s how I wind up spending the afternoon basking under a yellow-striped umbrella, sipping cocktails and gossiping with the star of one of my favorite shows. It’s surreal at first, but soon enough, we’re getting along amazing, especially when I tell him about my stitch-and-bitch group and all our exploits.
“I love it!” Mac declares, beckoning the pool attendant over to order another round of margaritas. “Hmmm, maybe we could do a knitting night on the show. Needles at dawn, that kind of thing.”
I laugh. “I don’t know, it’s not exactly glamorous.”
