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“Not exactly,” I say. “I’m staying at his place while my apartment’s being fumigated.”
“Ew.” Jessica wrinkles her perfect little nose. “Your apartment has bugs? That’s disgusting.”
“Yup.” My new mental illustration is a whole conga line of bugs punting Jessica out the nearest window. “Huge, disgusting cockroaches.”
Jessica curls her upper lip. Most of her expressions involve only one feature because I think she has to focus really hard to move her facial muscles. “I can’t believe you live like that.”
The waiter brings my drink. I take a big, aggressive swallow.
“I love it.” I set my glass down hard. “In fact, I’m going to miss those little bastards when they’re gone.”
Sullivan snorts.
Angus laughs, too, when he realizes I’m joking.
“Theo’s not a diva like you,” he says to Jessica. “She likes getting her hands dirty.”
“I can tell,” she sneers back at me, with a disdainful glance at my short, unpolished fingernails and grill-singed knuckles.
I deserved that one. I did take a shot at Angus’ shirt, after all, and I do have the hands of a twelve-year-old boy.
Trying to make peace, I say, “Are you still modeling, Jessica?”.
Jessica’s various careers have included interior designer, TV host, music video director, and party planner, but I’m pretty sure the one she likes best is standing still so people can take pictures of her.
“No.” She tosses her long, glossy ponytail over her shoulder, not noticing that it hits Angus in the face. “I’m a musician now.”
“That’s amazing!” Unbelievable, almost. “I didn’t know you played an instrument.”
“I don’t,” she says coolly.
“But she’s a really good singer,” Angus jumps to her defense. “And anyway, they do it all with auto tune these days.”
“That’s lucky.” Sullivan somehow keeps a straight face. “Do you have an album coming out?”
“This week.” Jessica lifts her chin. “It’s calledGilded Soul.”
“I wouldloveto hear it.” Sullivan’s fingers dance across the back of my neck, conveying his amusement where no one else can see.
Jessica, who normally sniffs out sarcasm like a bloodhound, is blinded by a pretty face.
She leans forward so Angus’ arm slips off her shoulders, resting her elbows on the table instead, putting her breasts on display. She gives Sullivan a heavy-lidded look. “Come to my listening party next week.”
My face goes hot, and my stomach gives a sick, clenching twist.
It seems impossible that Sullivan’s eyes won’t drop to those luscious breasts. I mean, she’s practically serving them up on a platter. Even I took a look.
But Sullivan has superhuman powers of self-control. His gaze doesn’t drop a millimeter, fixed firmly on Jessica’s face.
“That sounds fun,” he says. Without actually committing to attend.
That little line appears between Jessica’s eyebrows once more. She slumps back in the booth, arms crossed over her chest.
I’m impressed.
Jessica is stunning, a ten out of ten in every way that I thought mattered to men. I know exactly how Trent would have behaved if he saw her walk by. I’d be afraid to leave them alone in a room together.
But Sullivan makes me feel like I’m the only woman in the world. Or at least, the only one who matters to him.
