A Heart to Trust A.L. Brooks (romantic story to read .txt) 📖

out into the room. She looked first one way, then the other, a sultry pout on her lips and her gray eyes dark and…sexy.

Olivia’s gaze raked over Jenny, taking in the pouting lips that looked more inviting than Olivia wanted to admit. Jenny’s hair, under the glow of the lights above, looked soft and worth running her hands through. Olivia’s exploring gaze dropped lower to breasts that weren’t too big or too small, then to the slim waist, and to the legs that looked so good hugged by the denim. She swallowed.

Jenny was gorgeous. How had she not seen this before?

Things were happening to Olivia. Nice things that made her skin tingle and her nipples tighten at the thought of running her hands over the body beneath Jenny’s clothes. Things she hadn’t allowed to happen for, what was it now? Oh yes: two years, five months. Not since she and Ali had split so spectacularly—and painfully. Those things weren’t supposed to happen now, not since she and Broderick had made their deal. Not at all. Certainly not with a colleague. And definitely not with Jenny, of all people. She had pink hair, for God’s sake. Olivia had never looked twice at anyone like Jenny. She wasn’t her type. At all. And yet Olivia still couldn’t pull her gaze away, still found her mouth going dry as Jenny performed one more strut for her laughing audience, still found her gaze drawn inexorably to Jenny’s ass.

Stop! Look away!

She managed it, eventually. Then she stepped back, needing to get away and find somewhere to compose herself, because she knew without a doubt her unexpected desire was written all over her face.

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” Her voice was a croak, and she fled the room before anyone could respond.

What’s up with her? Jenny stared after the retreating Olivia.

“Hey, Jenny.” Maxwell appeared at her side, once again startling her with his stealth.

This time, she managed to only jump a little. “Hey.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You have that look on your face again.”

Jenny dragged her gaze away from the fleeing Olivia, knowing her face was pink but not knowing why. So she’d been staring after Olivia and those legs again. So what?

“She’s very organized, isn’t she?” Maxwell said. There was admiration in his tone.

“You astound me, man.”

“I do?”

“Yes! It’s clear you think Olivia’s pretty cool, and I think that’s amazing of you given what she did.” Jenny looked up at him.

“What did she do?”

“You know! That whole thing with the broadcast truck permits.”

Maxwell frowned so deeply his forehead looked like the Grand Canyon. “What thing? There wasn’t any problem with the permits. Was there?”

“Come on, don’t play games. Olivia set you up to take the fall when she booked the permits for the wrong day. I can’t believe you’re willing to forget all that.”

He held up a hand. “There was no issue with the permits. I booked them, not her. If there was a problem, Derek didn’t say anything about it to me.”

“He didn’t haul you into his office and tear you a new one over it?” Jenny’s mind spun. How had Chrissy got her info so wrong?

“No, he didn’t. And the only time Olivia and I spoke about it, she complimented me on handling it so quickly.”

“She did?” None of this added up. Unless Chrissy had lied to her about the whole thing. But that was ridiculous—why would she lie?

He nodded, then frowned again. “I don’t know what the problem is between you two, but I… Well, I don’t want to get dragged into it, okay?”

Jenny’s face burned. “Yeah, okay. Look, I’m sorry. I obviously misunderstood something I was told. It won’t happen again.”

“Okay, cool.” He took a step back. “So, I came over to ask you to take a look at the space where the broadcast trucks will park on the night.”

“Sure. Lead on.” Jenny followed him toward the back of the stage, her mind churning.

Chapter 13

September arrived with wet, humid weather that left everyone in a foul mood.

Olivia, used to the vagaries of the British weather, took it better than others.

“I feel like I swam to work,” Jenny complained one morning, staring at her wet feet. She’d worn Tevas to work with capri pants; water dripped off the sandals and the capri pants were soaked to the knees.

Those same pants did nothing to help Olivia forget how great Jenny’s legs—and ass—were. It was becoming annoying. More than annoying. Ever since that day at the Excelsior, Olivia had found her gaze wandering to observe Jenny far too many times each day. She’d actually been thankful she’d spent all of the previous week out of the office over at the Chelsea Television Studios, working with a team filming a new cookery show. It hadn’t been riveting work—Olivia’s main role was to run around picking up trash and discarded pieces of vegetables—but the free food on offer at the end of the day was good. And it had kept her away from Jenny and the baffling distraction she had become.

“Everything okay?” Jenny frowned at Olivia.

Oh great, I’m doing it again. Olivia wrenched her gaze away and focused on her screen. “Fine.” Her tone was brusque, her embarrassment at being caught staring at Jenny’s legs making her response ruder than she might have wished.

“Whatever,” Jenny muttered, just loud enough for Olivia to hear.

“Sorry.” Olivia felt Jenny’s gaze but forced herself not to look at her. Just stay focused on your screen.

She’d tried to rationalize it, of course. Two years—over two years—without sex hadn’t been easy. It was the one aspect of the fake marriage she hadn’t thought through. Knowing how much his new career meant to Broderick, and how much looking the part—straight, a “man’s man” with a beautiful wife on his arm—meant in the racing world, she’d sworn she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that for him. And that meant no risk of being seen out at, for example, one of the lesbian bars in the city.

Having had her heart broken