“I’m done doing interviews!” Jeremy ranted. “Done! I don’t care what Bill says or how many times he has Francis hound me.”
“What happened?” Reg asked, immediately more concerned about Jeremy’s agitated state than the impending security battle he was facing.
“They spent maybe two minutes asking about my album and the show and the rest of the time not so subtly trying to trip me up about who I’m dating or doing or whatever. It’s been three months. You’d think they’d get sick of this line of questioning, but no!” About halfway through Jeremy’s sentence, Reg could hear Francis in the background, talking at a fast clip. “I don’t care, Francis! I’m sick of it.”
“All right, superstar, calm down,” Reg soothed.
Speaking of calm, he wondered why he hadn’t yet been bodily removed from the building. A quick glance up answered his question. His good friend, the security guard, was now outside the glass doors holding his arm out to keep what looked like several camera crews out of the building while he yelled into his radio. Bigger fish to fry, apparently.
“Why do I always have to be the one to calm down?” Jeremy asked.
“Because you’re always the one getting worked up?” Reg suggested with a chuckle. “If it makes you feel any better, I think it’s really cute when you have your little tantrums. I just wish you could tone down the rudeness.”
“I’m not cute!”
In addition to Francis’s voice, Reg heard a dinging sound.
“Sure you are. In fact, there seems to be a gathering of camera people outside the building wanting to film your cuteness for the world to witness.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m in the lobby of the radio building. They wouldn’t let me up because I’m not on the list.”
“What list?”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re on your way down here anyway, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Brace yourself, though—there’s a crowd of people outside.”
“Dammit! Francis, why is there press outside? Who leaked my location again? Why can’t you ever take care of this so—”
“JJ, stop,” Reg said firmly.
Remarkably, he did.
“I know you’re pissed, and it was a bad morning, but calm down. I’m here waiting for you. We’ll deal with the press when you get downstairs. Until then, just breathe and try to relax. No more yelling.”
“Okay,” Jeremy mumbled. “Elevator’s here.”
“I’ll be waiting.” Reg pocketed his phone and walked over to the elevator bank, keeping his eyes on the growing crowd outside. “Man, JJ is not going to like this,” he muttered to himself.
When the elevator doors slid open moments later, he was proven right. Jeremy stepped out, his expression stormy, glanced toward the windows and glass doors, and then rounded on Francis, his arms flying into the air and his posture threatening.
“Hold on there, hotrod,” Reg said as he darted forward and circled his arm around Jeremy’s chest, tugging him backward.
Francis was typing on his phone, and then he glanced toward the glass doors and started scooting away. Reg followed his gaze and saw the people outside with their cameras raised and focused on them through the windowed wall. He tightened his hold on Jeremy, pressing his chest to Jeremy’s back, and dipped his face so his mouth was touching Jeremy’s ear.
“What are you doing?” Jeremy asked, his entire body tensing.
“Everyone can see us,” Reg explained.
“They can?”
“Uh-huh,” Reg whispered into his ear. “Cameras are flashing, and they’re hoping to get a picture of you acting like an ass.” He took in a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the man in his arms more than he should. “Don’t play into it.”
Jeremy gulped and said, “Okay.”
“I have an idea.”
“Wh—” Jeremy cleared his throat. “What idea?”
“You said they were giving you a hard time in the interview again, right?”
“Yeah.”
Reg kept one hand around Jeremy’s waist and slid the other around his chest. “They still think you’re lying about us so you can get press or attention or whatever?”
“Yeah.” He gulped. “Or else they’re just nosey pervs. Probably both.”
“How about we stand here for a minute”—Reg ghosted his lips over the perimeter of Jeremy’s ear—“and let them take some pictures of us like this.” He dragged his palm across Jeremy’s torso, caressing him through his shirt. “Maybe it’ll help answer any question and satisfy any curiosity once and for all.”
“Okay,” Jeremy rasped.
Relishing the opportunity to touch Jeremy freely, Reg lost himself in the moment and felt every inch of Jeremy’s chest, stomach, and sides. He inhaled his scent and was about to take a taste of his heated skin when Jeremy spoke again, reminding him where they were.
“How long?”
“Dunno.” Reg moved his mouth from Jeremy’s ear to his neck, almost but not quite touching. “You in a rush?”
“No.”
The way Jeremy trembled, panted, and pushed into his touch should have taken Reg by surprise, but he’d spent enough time with the man over the previous three months to realize that Jeremy’s assertion about nobody knowing what he really felt inside was true for more than the press—it applied to Jeremy as well.