Calling His Bluff. Amy Jo Cousins
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card that rode her hip, invisible unless she was wearing a skimpy swimsuit.
Or saggy shorts.
But a tattoo was so not what people expected from her. It was just one little secret thing she’d done for herself, a reminder of a side of her personality that she kept hidden from almost everyone. But making a big deal about it would only intensify J.D.’s curiosity. And right now it was her curiosity that needed to be satisfied.
“Duh. A million people have them, Damico.” She tugged the hem of his T-shirt back down and hoped her casual dismissal would put him off. “The lost wife?”
He tore his gaze away from her waist.
“I thought the director told me it would be the chance of my life. Turns out I should have heard, ‘I want a chance at your wife.’ Lana’s part was a small one, but I was happy that we’d be working together for the first time.”
“And the director cast your wife just to get her to come to the Amazon with you and then hit on her?” Her mouth dropped open. “I mean, I know the movie business is supposed to be sleazy, but come on. Yuck.”
“To be fair, I don’t think the director even knew we were married. Lana and I didn’t exactly bring anyone to Vegas with us for the wedding. It was pretty spontaneous.”
“Okay, but surely everyone on set knew the two of you were together.”
“Not exactly.” He sat up abruptly and grabbed the thigh of his uninjured leg with one hand, kneading it. “Sorry. I get muscle cramps now that I’m using this leg so much.” He set down his wine glass and bent forward to massage his leg with both hands. “It was only Lana’s second role, and she didn’t want people to think she expected any special treatment just because she was married to a hotshot Hollywood photographer. She’s pretty cool like that. So she asked me not to let anyone know we were married.”
He winced again, and before she gave any thought to what she was doing, she waved at him to sit back and rest and started to knead the hard knot out of his thigh.
Talk about whoops.
His flesh was warm beneath her hands, almost hot, even through the thick cloth of his sweatpants. She could feel the long ridge of his quadriceps muscle flexing beneath her fingers as she applied pressure to the knot.
Right. Keep talking.
What had they been talking about?
The super cool ex-wife. Right.
“So, you, ah, fell for that one, huh?”
“Thanks. Yeah,” he sighed and leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Well, she was spending all of her free time in the director’s trailer between takes, but I figured what was the harm?”
“What was the harm?” she repeated in disbelief. She quit the massage and smacked him on the kneecap. “Is there something in the water down there that made you stupid?”
“The director’s name is Jane.”
“Ah.” She stared at him, struggling to keep her face expressionless. “I see.”
“Live and learn.”
A heartbeat more and she couldn’t help it. The giggles just spilled up and out of her throat until she had to cover her face, because each time she glanced at J.D. he just looked more offended.
“I’m sorry,” she said and snorted as she tried to stop laughing. “It’s not funny.”
“Funny? No.” But his eyes were crinkling up at the corners and he shook his head as he started to smile too. “Ridiculous? Just a little bit.”
“Poor J.D.” She smiled and hugged his knees sympathetically. “That must have been pretty painful, your wife sleeping with the director.”
“It was.” He toasted her with his wine glass. “Not quite as painful as when I walked in on them in our trailer, and then tripped as I was storming out. That’s how I got this.” He rapped his knuckles against the cast.
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. And even that didn’t hurt as much as finding out my leg hadn’t been set properly, so it needed to be rebroken and reset unless I wanted a permanent limp.”
“Ouch. Again.”
“Yeah, it’s frigging raining bad luck over here.”
She swigged back a healthy gulp of wine as empathetic shudders made her neck crawl. “I would’ve kept the limp.”
“Thought about it. And even though the cast comes off in a couple days, it’ll be weeks of physical therapy before I’m sure I won’t have one. But it did have one good side effect.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“By the time I was done cursing all doctors, both north and south of the border, I wasn’t that pissed off at Lana anymore. Maybe she broke my heart, but at least she only did it once.”
“Cheers to that,” she said and leaned forward to clink glasses with him, although she would have been happier to hear that he despised his ex and never wanted to hear her name spoken aloud again.
J.D. snagged her hand when she went to sit back. Braceleting her wrist with his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed the rest of his fingers against the skin of her arm.
“Enough about my drama. What about you? How’s your love life these days?”
She tugged against his grip, but he didn’t let go.
“Me? Oh, no. I’m off men completely.”
“You too?” He pulled her toward him, and since she was tired of leaning forward, she slid off the pillow and eased closer to him. “And here I was just thinking of asking you to climb on top of me.”
“Shut up,” she scoffed and reminded herself that he’d always teased her like this.
Okay, maybe there’d been a little less sexual tension when she was twelve.
Maybe a lot less.
“I am not climbing on top of anyone these days. Male or female,” she added in response to the speculative glint in his eyes. “I am officially a no-climbing zone.”
“Come on, Sarah Bearah—” he winked at her “—Haven’t you ever wondered what it would be like?” He flipped her palm over and pressed his lips to the crease at the base of her thumb. She felt the warmth of his breath float over her skin and wondered if teasing shouldn’t be outlawed even if both people were old enough for consensual sex.
Ever wondered? It felt like she’d spent far too many years of her life wondering.
The breath she’d inhaled what felt like an hour ago burst out of her in a huff. She shook herself awake from what was essentially a sexual daydream. Time to put a halt to this little game.
Before she could open her mouth to say a word, a piercing ring blasted from a phone across the room, followed almost immediately by a click and a recorded message. A voice like maple syrup poured into the room after a loud beep.
“Sugar, I got your message. Now, get off your high horse and call me so I can say I’m sorry about Jane, okay? I didn’t fly to Chicago for my health. And are you seriously planning on staying here? It’s like two polar bears crapped a giant frozen poo and they built a city on it. I’m so cold my teeth are chattering. Right. So, that judge you saw in the Dominican Republic? He’s not, in fact, a member of the legal profession. So, you know, teensy problemo. And since we gotta deal with that, I wanted to talk to you about Ben’s new project, too. There’s a role that’s perfect for me, and you know he’ll do anything for you.” The slow sugar drawl dropped to a new level of husky. “Just like me, baby. Call me, husband.”
The last drawled word seemed to echo through the open warehouse space.
Holy.