Where You Are by Tammara Webber Read Free Book Online Page B

before, and I couldn’t stand my costar. It took everything in me not to stuff a sock into her mouth any time she started talking. We managed to keep up the pretense until the initial release was over. You and I won’t have the same problem… unless you find yourself wanting to stuff a sock in my mouth.”
    One corner of her mouth turns up and she smirks, and I know we’re good. “I don’t feel the need so far,” she retorts. “But I’ll let you know.”
    The interview goes well. When questioned, we issue polite denials of any romantic ties between us, stating that the whole cast was cozy last fall, what with the close quarters and our similar respective ages. Ryan quirks an eyebrow when I bump Emma softly with my shoulder and smile down at her like we have a secret. We’ve definitely fulfilled what the studio wants from us—ambiguity in our answers about a possible relationship, coupled with seemingly minor physical displays of affection.
    What the public believes or doesn’t about Emma and me is irrelevant to me personally, and I know she won’t be swayed into (or out of) a relationship because of fan reaction, especially considering her upcoming exit from Hollywood this fall. Whatever’s going on between her and Graham Douglas can’t possibly be all that significant yet. They live too far apart and have hardly seen each other in months. He’s a wild card, though. I never did figure him out. Brooke seems to think she can manipulate this with my help, and both of us will end up with what we want.
    I’m less sure of that, but perfectly willing to play my part. Losing Emma was a massive disappointment. One I’d like to reverse.

 
Chapter 6
    GRAHAM
    It’s been four days since I’ve seen her. In person, anyway. I’m currently staring at a jerky graphic of her on my laptop screen—the best Emma-substitute technology has to offer. It’s not enough. Not even close.
    “Don’t you have class tomorrow?” she asks, blinking into her webcam, staring at a correspondingly spasmodic image of me.
    “I do.” The time difference between us doesn’t play into my favor. She’s the one who can afford to sleep in; I’m the one with eight o’clock classes. 10:03 p.m. in Sacramento is 1:03 a.m. in New York. “But if you were here, I wouldn’t be sleeping, either. So what’s the difference?” Aside from the fact that sitting in my bed, laptop tilted to watch your face as you speak, is so inferior to the feel of you in my hands, the taste of you on my tongue.
    The fuzzy Emma image smiles, one hand nervously pushing her hair behind her ear. She glances away, towards her bedroom door, I imagine, and back to me. Leaning closer, her face fills my screen. “Oh?” Her voice lowers. “And what would we be doing, instead of sleeping, if I was there?”
    I give her a somewhat tame version. Not exactly censored, but not enough to scare her, either. The light on her end is too dark to see if she blushes, but her lips part and her eyes widen slightly and she bites her lip adorably and listens like I’m telling her the best story ever.
    I don’t know how far she went with Reid. Or with anyone before him, for that matter, though I surmised that there was no one before him, from how frustrated he often seemed. I know far too much about Reid Alexander and his seduction capabilities. Not wanting a full accounting of just how critically I screwed up by not taking her from him last fall, I have no plans to ask her about their involvement. It has no bearing on what I think of her. It has no bearing on us.
    “I wish you were here,” she says finally, her lower lip jutting out so slightly I might be imagining it. I run my finger across it on the screen, which she can’t see me do.
    “I will be, in a week.”
    She groans. “Too long .”
    I laugh softly. “I agree.”
    A faint scratching comes from my closed bedroom door. “Go away, Noodles,” I call. Cara’s cat is usually asleep at the foot of her bed at 1:00 a.m., not