Stuck On You (15 page)

“Meditation? A quick jog? Yoga?” She leaned against him and sighed as his hand slipped up under her sweater to rub her stomach.

He growled. “God. You’re one of those people, aren’t you? Ready to face the day as soon as your eyes pop open.”

She laughed and rested her hand on top of his. “Guilty. I thought you would be too.”

“Yeah, but on Pacific time. Catch me in two hours. I’ll be ready to take on the day.”

She hadn’t even considered the time difference. It was a small reminder of the actual distance between his life and hers. “And not long after, I’ll be dressed as a showgirl, taking orders for peanut butter and banana sandwiches.”

He squeezed her tightly. “I forgot about the day job. Maybe you should have knocked over that water bottle sooner. I wanted to spend my time getting to know you so much better this morning. And this afternoon. And then, after a break to crown the best faux celebrity, again tonight.”

She patted his hand. “Come sit next to me, enjoy some breakfast, and I’ll tell you my likes and dislikes. I’ll start now. I like cauliflower and really dislike broccoli.”

His eyes were huge as he blinked back fake tears. “That’s not really what I had in mind.”

She pointed at the table. “But your breakfast is getting cold.”

He sighed and plopped down on the ottoman she’d pulled over. “Okay. Breakfast it is.” He rubbed his hands together. “It looks like you ordered one of everything.” He smiled up at her. “What are you going to eat?”

She pointed at the stack of pancakes. “Hands off my ’cakes.”

He saluted, picked up his fork and shoveled fluffy scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“While your mouth’s full, look at this beauty.” She twirled the laptop around to show him the brightly colored pie chart she’d built. “The spreadsheet is updated. And now, with bells and whistles.”

He clapped his hands as he chewed and then drank half the soda next to his plate. “Great! A graph.” He smiled and shook his head. “This has got to be the strangest morning-after I’ve ever had.”

Embarrassed, Laura put the laptop back on the desk and sat down. He was absolutely right. What she should have done, what any woman in her right mind would have done, was wake him up. Properly. With a kiss and lusty plans. Instead, she’d crunched numbers and cleaned. God. That was weird.

He reached over to take her hand in his. “Who wants to be average, right?”

Laura slid her hand out from under his to hook a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe I need some practice.”

She cleared her throat and did her best to flash a sure, light-hearted, let’s-all-laugh-about-this kind of smile. “I ought to go home, take advantage of all this new energy.”

“Hey, I don’t want you to go. And I like the graph, even if I have no idea how to update it, and I enjoyed last night and today and tonight and whatever else we accomplish. Okay? I like you, strange spreadsheet addiction and all.”

Laura laughed. “Okay, fine. I’ll do better tomorrow morning. I promise.” And she cringed on the inside. She’d had every intention of making this one night. After one amazing night, she’d move on. KT would go home. She’d have the memories and the incentive to open herself up to dating again. But Holly wouldn’t be home until Sunday and he’d said he was here until Tuesday. She had a second night. She’d be stupid to waste it.

He waggled his eyebrows. “I have plans to completely wear you out. You’ll need more rest.”

She waggled her eyebrows back. “Well, about that . . . I do need to go home. As one of the underprivileged cell-phoneless of the world, I need to check the old-timey answering machine to make sure Holly’s okay before I hit the lunch crowd. I’ll have a break after three.”

KT sighed. “And I have to meet Bob at four. So, maybe it’ll be tonight?”

“That will leave you plenty of time to do your homework.”

KT groaned. “God, I hate homework. I didn’t do homework when I was a kid. I didn’t sign up for it now.”

“Really? No homework?”

KT shook his head. “Nah, I was a star. Had a tutor instead of regular school and we didn’t do homework.”

Laura pursed her lips. “Must be hard living in the real world.”

“You have no idea.”

They both laughed. “Can you come to my place tonight? I should have stayed close to home last night too, just in case Holly had an emergency. But, the other side of that is, if she called the hotel, I don’t think it would be too hard to find someone who knew where I was last night.”

KT wiped his mouth. “Does the gossip bother you?”

Laura shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t thrill me but it’s not like they’ve had much to work with. Maybe it’s just my turn. And I’ve taken it spectacularly.”

KT looked over at the desk. “All nice and neat. Systemized.”

Laura nodded. “That’s right and so very high-tech. One envelope is for new receipts. You move them to the other after you enter them in the spreadsheet. I used my label maker to make nice, neat labels for you so you can’t forget which is which. And the graph will automatically update as you enter information into the spreadsheet, no need to worry about it.”

KT whistled. “Impressive. You really ought to be running an empire somewhere. The idea of a owning a label maker gives me a slightly queasy feeling in my stomach.”

Laura smiled. “I do, however, also look passably good in a showgirl’s uniform so I will stick with that until the empire comes along.” She tilted her head. “You’ll be surprised. Willodean’s got new uniforms for us, just in time for the show.”

KT pouted. “But . . . but I like the showgirl.”

“Oh, this one’s good too, more modest Playboy bunny than showgirl, but the feathers are gone so that’s a relief. No jerk can step on one and rip it off.”

“Really? What are the odds of that happening again?”

She shrugged. “Not very high. But it’s kind of sad. It’s an excellent way to meet eligible men. They find you hard to resist after that.”

KT laughed. “Just try to wait on picking up new men until I’m gone, all right? You start tonight and who knows what this jerk will do.”

“I wouldn’t have believed it possible that KT Masters, loved and beloved of the world, would be jealous. I thought you were going to work on that.”

He didn’t smile as his eyes met hers. “Me either. But I am. And I already don’t know how I’m going to walk away on Tuesday without plans to see you or talk to you or kiss you. I miss you already and you’re sitting across the table from me.”

Laura’s mouth was dry, dry, dry. She never imagined the incomparable KT Masters would say anything like that to her, the very normal, totally average waitress. “I know what you mean.”

He captured both her hands in his. “Call in sick. What’s the worst that could happen? I’ll skip memorizing my homework and memorize you instead, the way you smell and taste and moan. Then, I’ll hurry to do my job while you rest and think dirty thoughts about me. That’s way better than waiting tables, right?”

She nodded. “You bet. It just doesn’t pay as well.”

“Money? I have money. I’ll give you money . . .”

Laura did her best to control her temper. He was a Hollywood hot shot who had no idea how hard she’d worked and the sacrifices she’d made to get to this point. Maybe she’d be in real trouble without Willodean, but she worked hard in return. KT lived a golden life. It was easy to see how he might not understand how insulting and out of touch an offer of money might seem. That didn’t make her any happier to hear it but she didn’t want to waste any of their limited time educating him either.

He must have been able to see the annoyance building in her face. “I mean, no, I won’t because you don’t want that even if I wouldn’t miss it and you need it and I want to give it to you because I want you here with me and I am occasionally a spoiled-rotten diva as expected.” He sighed. “Fine.”

Laura leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, I think. I might be Willodean’s charity case but I haven’t reached kept woman status yet. The thing about calling in sick is that absolutely no one would be fooled and even if Willodean would probably applaud, I find I’m not quite as comfortable with that sort of gossip.”

“Kept woman? Really? I mean, it’s like no matter how hard I try, I can’t get it right with you. I meant it as a friendly loan. Something to make life easier. That’s all.” KT shoved his fingers through his hair. “I guess I get it but it doesn’t seem right that Willodean’s a charitable giver and I’m some sleazy opportunist when we both only want to help.”

“I’m not having sex with Willodean.” When their eyes locked, she raised her eyebrows and wrinkled her nose. “And I’m so having sex with you.”

He heaved a sigh and nodded.

Laura glanced at the Elvis alarm clock. “I should probably go. Are we okay?”

He nodded. “Sure. I’ll just be here, studying like the miserable good boy that I want to be. Then maybe I’ll take a break and count all my money.”

She leaned forward to press her lips to his. When he wrapped his arms around her and yanked her closer, she smiled.

“Mm, maple syrup,” he muttered.

She laughed. “Gross.” His lips conquered hers, and his tongue teased and tangled with hers until her smile disappeared along with all the oxygen in the world. Just like that she was ready for him, ready to forget everything just so she could stay right here. But KT pulled back and they gasped for air.

“Tonight?” The look on his face said he was ready to give her another chance to reconsider her dedication and resolve.

Laura nodded. “Tonight. Just head around the pool area. There’s another building with apartments. Mine’s number four. Same time. Wear the tux.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

He saluted. “I’m going to miss you today.”

Laura sighed. “Me too, and I’m glad to hear you say it. And now I’m leaving so that I don’t do what I really want to do.” In case he wasn’t sure what she meant, she swept a glance over his bare chest to the gaping waistband of his jeans. And shook her head sadly before she forced herself to the door. She had the door open and was about to step out onto the beach when he slammed it shut and pressed her against it. The feel of his hot, hard chest pressed against her breasts and his hands on her hips stole her breath again. His lips were hard and hungry and the heat that raced up her neck and over her face matched the fire building between her thighs.

“Think about me today.” KT rested his forehead against hers for a moment before he straightened up and opened the door for her.

She had a feeling that she might never stop thinking about KT Masters.

Chapter Eight

KT
WANTED TO
sigh heavily as he looked down his list. He’d already heard “Born This Way” twice tonight but the final Lady Gaga was looming. Literally. If KT had to guess, the guy was about six feet tall in street clothes. Wearing genuine imitation meat strips, an egg hat, and six-inch heels, he’d have to maneuver very carefully around the glittery sign. Since KT had already survived one glitter shower after a particularly energetic Madonna had snagged it with her whip, he was going to stay closer to the podium for the rest of the show.

The Michael Jackson on the stage hit a final, painful “hee, hee” and threw his bedazzled, gloved hand up in the air and KT swept him off in a round of rousing applause. “Great job, great job, Jerry. You’ve made the King of Pop proud.” Sometime during the show, he’d been infected with Bob’s repeating problem. And he’d also become a really good liar.

“Our judges are going to have their hands full tonight.” They already had their hands full. The liquor was flowing freely and that was probably a kindness. “Paula, what did you think about Jerry’s Michael?”

The panel of three judges had been flown in from Los Angeles. The talent scout seemed really interested in everyone that hopped up on stage. The Joan Rivers lookalike had great, snarky comments for each one that would make the televised show a hit. And they’d somehow landed the real, live Paula Abdul. Maybe she was like Batman. Anytime a reality show needed a judge, they flashed a signal in the night sky and Paula showed up. All in all, she was encouraging. That was it.

“I have to say, I’ve never heard anything quite like that. That last note was just . . . skyrockets.”

KT nodded like he understood exactly what was going on. “And now, our next act is Tyrone Simmons. He’s a thirty-two-year-old bartender from Dallas, and he wants you to know that he was ‘Born This Way.’” Maybe it was his imagination, but KT would have sworn he heard a tired sigh from the crowd. They were on the twelfth performer. The final six included a Justin Bieber, one Reba McEntire, two Chelsea Handlers, one Elvis, and a Cher. He never thought he’d see the day when he was so desperate to see Cher hit the stage.

He shuffled through his notes and watched Laura swing through the crowd. The new uniforms were killer. He’d had to go compose himself the first time he saw her at the dinner service. They were brilliant turquoise satin and left a lot of skin bare. A white collar and the world’s skinniest black tie met a strapless . . . thing that ended at the top of her thighs, except in the back where long tuxedo tails trailed to point at her knees. There were very few sparkles and no feathers but something about the tiny turquoise top hat perched on her glossy dark hair got him. It so got him. He was itching to flip it off, let her hair fall in shiny ropes around her shoulders as . . . KT coughed.

Just as soon as he announced the winner, complete with confetti cannons and tearful crowning by last year’s winner, a lawyer from St. Louis who really did look an awful lot like Britney Spears, he was going to show her how much he appreciated her new look.

W
HEN
KT
FINALLY
knocked on the door, Laura had been perched on the edge of her couch cushion for ten minutes. She’d left Viva Las Vegas as quickly as she could. KT and the camera crew were taping a recap of the evening’s events in front of the stage setting so that they could tear down the set and return the bar to normal on Sunday. She’d used every single bit of that extra time to shower off the French fries and stale beer. No matter how hard the work might be and how many bruises she might have from bumping into the too-tight tables, she was happy to say that the Almost Famous competition brought in the best tippers she’d seen in her time at the hotel. The table of performers who hadn’t made the cut had been particularly nice. Willie Nelson had left her a twenty-dollar bill and his phone number on a napkin. She’d been happy to see both. Willie was no KT Masters but the boost to her self-esteem was welcome. She’d stuck the napkin on the refrigerator door. She had no intention of calling a Willie Nelson lookalike, but she thought the number might encourage her when she needed it.