He lifted a brow, aiming to tease her. “Or… Maybe business picked up when you added a buff hunk of man at the front door.”
She laughed. Thank God. “Shit. You’re right. That’s far more likely.”
He didn’t want to tell her how to dress. Really, he didn’t. He wasn’t that kind of guy. But Lord it rankled him when he saw men staring at her chest for hours on end.
She eased back, removing herself from his grip. He felt her absence immediately. Hated not being able to touch her how he wanted. To tell her how he felt. To hold her in his arms. Hell, he wanted to strip her naked and see what the rest of her breasts looked like. Not just the sliver of creamy skin he got from her cleavage.
He didn’t want this time with her to end. He wanted to drag it out any way he could. “Is it true? Has business been a little better lately?”
She sighed as she dropped down onto the loveseat. “Yeah. Not a lot, but some. We’ve been on a steady decline for several years. Ten years ago, this bar was the only one in the area. All the locals came here. Now there is a lot of competition, and Bridgman’s doesn’t have all the same amenities. It’s still the same small corner bar it always was.”
“Have you ever considered adding a kitchen and offering at least a short menu of food?” He perched on the sofa next to her.
“Of course, I have. The problem is we don’t have the space. I nearly salivate every time I walk by what used to be a barber shop next door. It’s been for sale for months. If I had the collateral, I could buy it and add a kitchen, but I don’t.”
Tuck understood money problems. He had more bills than he had cash himself. He reached out and fingered a lock of her hair, wishing he could do more. This was all he could offer her right now. An ear and an occasional hug. “Sorry. That sucks. I get it. I’ve been so desperate for cash myself that I’m acting like a jackass on a reality TV show.” He forced a chuckle to lighten the mood.
She tipped her face toward his fingers and brushed her cheek against them. “You’re not a jackass.”
“Feels like it most days. I wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and think, what the absolute fuck are you doing, Tuck? I’m questioning whether or not it’s worth it more and more every day.”
Jodi met his gaze. “It is. You have to remember the prize. The light at the end of the tunnel is coming.” She glanced past him toward the carpet. “Your papers are all over the floor.” She eased away from him, bent down, and busied herself picking up the mess. They were going to be out of order. He didn’t care. They were printed before today’s latest madness. Most likely someone had already made new plans for tomorrow. In fact, he needed to check his voicemail and see what messages had been left from the producer.
Later. First, he wanted to spend a few more minutes with Jodi. Even on her knees, bent over the pile of papers, she was sexy. She had no idea how much he wanted her. So many words were stuck in his throat.
Fucking contract.
Chapter 9
Tuck was still staring at Jodi’s fantastic ass encased in perfect-fitting jeans when she started giggling. Seconds later, the giggling switched to laughter as she jumped to her feet and spun around with a handful of haphazard papers. She held them out. “Oh my God. This is hilarious.” She stepped over the rest of the papers and plopped back down on the sofa. After dropping the messy stack on her lap, she picked up the top one and cleared her throat. She was grinning ear to ear, unable to stop laughing.
Suddenly, Tuck realized what was so funny. The script. The script she wasn’t supposed to see. The one the producers gave him earlier in the day to guide his conversations with Katia when he got home from work and tomorrow morning. The stupid script would be obsolete by now after the bedlam of the day.
Tuck groaned as he reached over to snatch the pages from Jodi’s hands.
She leaned back and jerked them out of his reach. In a goofy, high-pitched, sing-songy voice, she began to read. “Please please please, Tucky, can you take tonight off so we can go to dinner?”
He lifted a brow, fighting his own laughter now. For one thing, he knew Jodi was embellishing the lines. For another thing, she was cute as hell. So he righted himself and crossed his arms to glare at her while she continued. He was certain his glare was more of a half-assed smirk that would do nothing to dissuade her from continuing.
She spoke in a lower, fake, male voice this time. “Shnookums, you know I can’t take off. I just got this job. I don’t have vacation days. And I need the money.” She laughed and then continued. “Someone has to pay for all those shoes you buy while I’m working. Do you shop every day?”
Tuck couldn’t help but chuckle when Jodi switched voices again and pasted on an exaggerated pout. “Tucky, you’re no fun. Don’t you want me to look my best?” Jodi lifted her leg and shook her foot, pretending to be Katia showing off her shoe.
The irony wasn’t lost on Tuck who watched Jodi’s worn old Converse jiggle in front of him. Chances were Katia had never owned a pair of Chucks.
He needed to check his messages and assess the day’s damage. He needed to find out what his next instructions were. He needed to get back to the apartment. Instead, he sat right where he was, lips pursed, holding back full-blown laughter—feeling light and happy and free for the first time in months.
Back to the lower voice. “Kat, you always look your best. No matter what you wear. Even when you wear nothing.” Jodi gave an exaggerated wink and shook the paper, using her normal voice to say. “Seriously. That’s what it says here. That you should wink.”
Tuck laughed out loud.
Jodi continued. “You could wear a gunny sack and people would still swoon.” Jodi giggled so hard she bent at the waist.
Tuck was certain most of that was made up, but God he loved watching Jodi’s performance. It was totally worth every second.
After a fit of giggles, she wiped her eyes and then straightened the papers on her lap. “No wonder you took that gig. Your lines are so creative and riveting,” she teased.
He was still grinning as he said, “You done?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’ll never be done. In fifty years, I’m still going to tease you about this.”
He held her gaze for long moments as he absorbed her words. God, he sure hoped so.
She flattened the page to her chest. “Can I keep these?”
“Not a chance.” He bent grabbed the rest of the loose pages off her lap, shuffling them into a pile and then reaching out a hand for her to give him the ones in her hands.
“Why not? It’s not like you’re going to use these. I’m sure your production company has spent the last few hours rewriting your script.”
He was equally certain she was correct, but no way was he going to leave her with that pile of ammunition. He lurched forward to snatch the pile from her hands.
She fell to the side and rolled over the papers, trapping them under her chest.
He grabbed her by the waist.
She wiggled forward, trying to escape him, laughing harder.
He slid his hands up her sides and reached under her, between her breast and the cushion to get a grip on the pile.
Jodi squirmed, causing her breast to rub against his hand.