Page 6 of Totally Wrecked
I feel two small, and not particularly muscular, arms come around my waist, and Brooke hugs me hard. Her head leans against my chest. “You were planning a future that was ripped away from you—that’s a huge loss. You’d loved that baby for nine months. That must be so painful, and you should mourn as long as you need to.”
At first I’m stiff, but then her warm, soft curves melt the reserve I’ve been holding for weeks. “My poor ma was devastated,” I tell her, breathing in the smell of her strawberry shampoo. “She'd been knitting up a storm—booties and whatnot.”
Brooke's arms tighten further. “Your poor Mom! And that girl—Stevie? She’s utterly selfish and doesn’t deserve you…”
My body responds to her contact and her caring, and I can’t stop my fingers moving up and into her hair, wrapping my fist around the long, blonde lengths. She sighs, her breath hot against my throat, and I have to restrain myself from kissing her—and cupping that ass through the tight fabric of her dress.
“What’s happened to you, Brooke?” I murmur.
She doesn’t get a chance to reply, because a loud cough from Frances pulls us apart.
“Hey, guys! Harvey will be down in a minute,” she says. “And I’ve some news to share.” Brooke steps out of my arms and starts biting her lip again. “Apparently one of the Australian flights had to turn around mid-air! Some kind of engine problem.” She runs a harried hand through her short gray hair. “Now most of production team B is going to be two days late!”
That sucks for Frances—organizing these kinds of shoots is like herding cats.
“So are we not sailing tomorrow?” I ask. Truthfully, I wouldn’t mind a couple of days' delay to hang out in Samoa and investigate this new, soft side of Brooke ‘Action’ Jackson. Her sympathy is so sweet, and actually a real turn-on—maybe we could have a repeat of last October, but this time I’ll try and make it more memorable.
But Frances is shaking her head. “I called the bigwigs; the consensus is we’ll ship you, Brooke, and Harvey out tomorrow. The rest of us will travel on Friday. What a mess,” she sighs. “This will be the smallest meet and greet ever! I’ll tell Harvey where to find you—make sure you put your food and drink on the Really Wild Films tab.”
As she rushes out, I look at Brooke. She now seems almost on the verge of a panic attack.
“These shoots never run smooth,” I say, not really concentrating on what I’m saying, because what I’m really concentrating on is her.This girl who seems like a completely different creature to the one I met ten months ago.
DAISY
Well, this is just awesome.
I thought things were bad when Killian almost busted me (he and Brooke had worked together?? and had apparently been friends???) But now I have to have dinner with my ‘lover’ Harvey, then tomorrow, travel all day with him.
Argh! What the flip am I going to do? Seriously.
I don’t have time to think of a plan, as I see the man himself walking towards me now. He’s flashing his signature blinding white smile. All the ladiesloveHarvey Bannister. He’s probably a couple of inches under six feet, with chocolate brown hair, cut short on the sides and longer on top. The length up top is gelled and sprayed into perfect, rigid, waves. The scruff on his chin is also groomed to an immaculate eighth inch of dark stubble. His hazel eyes are framed by lashes—the envy of any girl—and the cheekbones and smooth skin?
BasicallyGQmodel-worthy. In fact, I think he had aGQspread a couple of weeks ago.
Harvey is impeccably dressed in a pair of white jeans and a powder blue polo—the kind of simple clothes that cost me a month's paycheck. He walks confidently, smiling graciously to people who call out his name, even managing a modest ‘who me’ expression every now and then.
Game-face time.
Harvey Bannister, TV host,GQmodel, and lover of my sister, stops, then scans me up and down with his sleepy-lidded eyes. “Surprise! Hello, Jackson. Did you miss me?” Taking two steps towards me, he skims my cheek with his lips.
“Haha, like a dog misses his bone,” I reply, “like a squirrel misses his nuts!” Good grief, I’ve really got to work on more Brooke-like responses. Three years of working with little kids has made my verbal quip bank…unsophisticated.
Harvey narrows his eyes as he smiles at me. Killian clears his throat and puts out his hand. “Hi, I’m Killian. I did the sound on the Alaska challenges.”
“Killian, of course! Good to see you again,” Harvey says, flashing the white-toothed smile, before turning back to me. He leans in closer. “I’ve missed you, took a little work to get us traveling together, but it’s been forever,” he murmurs. His cologne is musky and a little too strong in my nose as he slides a warm hand behind me and traces circles over my bottom.
Uh-oh. I squirm a little, which I think reads as a positive reaction to his hand, because he gives my butt a couple of light slaps.
Think, Daisy.
Killian is watching us, eyes narrowed. Good grief, this is all terrible.
I school my features to give Harvey my sternest look and murmur in his ear. “Let’s keep it professional in front of crew.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Of course, of course, so rude of me.” Turning to Killian, he smiles. “So what have you been working on recently?”
That seemed to have worked. If Brooke and Harvey are normally never together on shoots, then I can definitely play the ‘professional’ card.
