Page 37 of Take 2
“And you do.” After a light kiss taps my lips, he turns away. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
“Okay.” I peek up from reassembling the screenplay to watch him take off the blue UCLA pullover he wears to work in their athletics department. “You did not wear a Wisconsin shirt under that.”
“Always Badgers at heart.” He takes off the red T-shirt and throws it at my face. “Don’t tell anyone at work.”
I dip my chin and try to look at his half-naked form through my eyelashes, which sounds good in writing but probably looks idiotic when I attempt it. I work my voice to a low, hopefully sexy, tone. “Now accepting bribes for my silence.”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“American Hustleto win original screenplay?”
“Obviously.”
The heat smolders in his voice even as we’re being idiots. “Anything I can actually provide you?”
“Orgasms to quell my disappointment whenNebraskawins.”
“If you ever meet Bob Nelson, don’t tell him I was rooting against him.” He winks and goes into the bathroom. Knowingwhowrote the screenplays up for nomination is an impressive level of interest in my obsession. The shower door opens, and water starts running. I collect my papers, then Ryan’s voice bellows from the other room. “Where is my shampoo?”
I put the stack of disastrous writing on my nightstand and slip into the bathroom. “It’s right there on the shelf.”
“That’s not the stuff I use.”
“The stuff you used was crap. I got you better stuff.”
“Bella, you are really turning us Hollywood. I’m a guy from Wisconsin. I can’t use fancy hair products.”
I lean back against the vanity and admire the view of water cascading down his body. “As the person whose hands are regularly in your hair, I think I should get some say in the matter.”
“Are you saying my hair has not been soft enough for you for the past four years?”
“I’m saying, when everything else isrough,I deserve something silky to hold on to.”
His gaze pierces me through the shower door. “Sounds like my wife is willing to wreck that dress by getting in the shower immediately.”
“Sounds like my husband is going to be good and wound up by the time the Oscars are over.”
“I’d love to know how you think that’s different from any other day.”
I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. There was never really a rule aboutwhenOscars-dress sex was supposed to happen, right? But my phone rings and the sensible part of me is grateful for the distraction. “Damn the luck.”
“I hate whoever that is.”
Back in the bedroom, I call back, “You can’t. It’s your sister.” I answer the call and walk out to the kitchen. “Hi, Anna.”
“Happy Academy Awards day!”
“Thank you! I wish I was watching it with you.” My chai latte tastes like autumn—a season I missed more than I expected here in the golden state.
“I wish I was watchingyouat the Oscars.”
“Give me a minute, okay? We can’t all spring into our scenes and take over like you.”
Anna laughs, and I can picture her supermodel smile. “Hardly taking over, but I’m working on it.”
“I wish we could be there for your premiere.”
