Radiant by Judy Sapphire

Author:Judy Sapphire [Sapphire, Judy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2022-02-17T22:02:23+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Jenny felt like she’d been teleported to Darren Rosenfeld’s studio. She couldn’t really figure out how she’d gotten there. Her lips felt raw. She hadn’t made out with someone in a long time, not like that, not simply enjoying kissing and tasting. They hadn’t even sat down. They had stood with their arms around each other, enveloped in Blake’s light.

Now she was in the studio, leaning against a pillar near the soundstage, watching Blake get a final layer of face powder before going on camera. Jenny didn’t want to look anywhere but at Blake. She would be gone in a week, and she didn’t want to waste any time not savoring the sight of her.

Jenny had texted Lydia I won’t be back and Lydia responded with a crude tongue emoji, a peach, and a smiley face. Jenny wrote back to tell her, no, she’s taping Darren Rosenfeld’s show. OMG Lydia predictably wrote back, and Jenny silenced her phone. She didn’t care, suddenly, what was happening with the case or if Michael was about to fire her. All of that would be there later. Right now, it was just Blake, sitting in the makeup chair, grinning over at her.

Jenny had taken her hand. She had kissed her in the La Tour room. She had run her fingers up her strong, toned, smooth stomach. She had run her fingers through her short hair and had felt the sparks she had imagined. Her kiss had apparently made Blake moan. What had happened to her? Her shirt was unbuttoned lower than she ever had it buttoned. There was a run in her stocking. She didn’t care. She felt alive.

A tall, skinny man with glasses and a cream-colored linen shirt greeted Blake and walked over and leaned on the pillar around the corner from Jenny. “I’m Steve,” he said, nodding his head once but not offering a hand to shake. Jenny nodded. “Blake’s manager,” he said. Again, when Jenny didn’t answer, “And you are?”

“Jenny O’Toole,” she said, trying to remember to unleash her competent, commanding presence. Did he know Blake’s tongue had laid claim on her mouth, on her cleavage, on her earlobe? And that instead of introducing herself she was replaying that memory with a fire between her legs?

“Blake’s had a busy week,” he said. Jenny looked at his face, but it was hard to figure out what he meant.

She nodded. “Great show.” Unthinking, she ran a finger along her swollen lip, remembering Blake’s touch. Steve seemed to look at her more closely.

“Yes,” he said. He stretched out his arms and cracked his knuckles. Somehow, it didn’t bother Jenny as much as it did when Michael did it.

He smiled a little more warmly. “So, do people watch this show?”

“It’s local cable, but yeah. I mean, sure. My parents do.”

“Are your parents likely to pay a visit to the Albus Booker Museum to see Blake Harrison’s Boston debut?”

Jenny considered this for a moment. They were more likely to drive in to see a traveling Monet show at the MFA or the flower displays at the Gardner, but maybe.

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