Page 10 of Roses for Rosie

I roll my eyes at him. What a child! “No. Rosie.”

He licks his lips and studies me. “If I had known you were part of the deal, I would have gotten out here faster.” He reaches out for me, but I deftly sidestep his touch. I can’t believe he is still hitting on me after I told him who I am.

“I have some promotional materials for the reading event for you to review, Mr. Smythe. If you’ll just step this way.” I indicate the table where I have set out the flyers and print outs of the social media campaign I have planned.

I turn and walk toward the table, glancing over my shoulder to make sure he is following me. He looks briefly toward the table, but then shifts his gaze to my ass. I am starting to regret looking my best today. If I had known he was an opportunistic, womanizing pig, I might have just worn my yoga pants. The baggy ones.

“Mr. Smythe?”

He walks reluctantly to the table while I pour each of us a cup of steaming hot coffee from the carafe on the table. I set his cup in front of him and slide around to the other side of the table as he sits, putting as much space between us as I reasonably can. I wouldn’t put it past him to grab my thigh under the table if I sat next to him.

“First, I designed this flyer.” I pass a piece of paper to him. It’s professionally done, featuring an image of the cover of his book and the time, date and location of the event.

He rolls his eyes. “A flyer? You’ve got to be kidding me. Are you advertising a book reading or a high school fundraiser?”

“I’ve found that flyers hung prominently around town appeal to our target market and are effective in generating strong turnout at events.”

He looks at me, smirking. I take the high road and continue.

“These are mock-ups of the Facebook, Instagram, and X campaigns I have designed. Nooks and Books has a sizable local following on each platform. I would be happy to send links to your publisher so they can cross promote with their audiences as well to maximize the reach of the campaign.”

“This is a reach all right.”

“I get the feeling that you don’t want to be here, Mr. Smythe. If you would rather leave, feel free to do so now.”

“I can’t leave quite yet. My work here isn’t done.”

“We can cancel the reading. Here,” I reach over and grab the flyer from his hand, ripping it neatly in two. “Done. Over.”

“Not that work.” The lascivious look returns to his face as he stares into my eyes. “The work of getting you to keep your promises.”

“What promises….oh.” I pause, simmering with rage. I waffle between attempting to salvage this highly profitable event for Nooks and Books and saving my own pride. “I’ll make you a new promise,” I say, fluttering my eye lashes and swaying my hips as I move around to his side of the table. I sit on the arm of his chair and lean over so my lips are a fraction of an inch from his ear, placing my hand on his chest for balance. I feel the thud of his heart under my hand.

“I promise, that if you ever mention that phone call again, this cup of coffee will be the least of your man part problems,” I whisper as I pour a cup of coffee into his lap.

He leaps from his chair, howling in pain and rage. “How dare you?” he yells as he wipes ineffectually at his now stained pants. It looks like he wet himself. Good. I hope he parked really far away and has to walk through half the town looking like that.

“I think we are done here, Mr. Smythe. See you next Friday?”

He storms out of the shop, kicking poor Sammy on his way. The door slams with finality as I sink into the chair he just vacated. It is still warm from his body heat.

What an asshole, I think. But the tension in my belly is only half anger. As infuriating as Adam Smythe is, I can’t help but be completely turned on by him. His presence is powerful, his charisma is magnetic, his confidence is irresistible.

Get it together, Rosie, I tell myself. You deserve better than him. You deserve a guy who is just as hot as him, but who is as sweet and tender as the characters he writes. I wonder how he does that when his own soul is such a wasteland.

Chapter 6

Adam

It’s just a small-town book reading, I remind myself as I check my reflection and straighten my tie for the third time. I chose an ice blue tie for tonight. Most men would go for the power red tie for an event like this, but too many women have told me how striking the blue one is with my eyes for me to even think about replacing it.

I know where power comes from, and it isn’t from a red tie. It’s from the attraction women feel to me. They think it’s a physical attraction. Granted, I am objectively a good-looking guy, but I know better than to give my handsome face all the credit.

The attraction women feel to Adam Smythe goes so much deeper than my appearance. They are in love with the idea of Adam Smythe – the creator of romance and sex scenes hotter than anything they will ever see in their real lives.

If he can write one, he must be one. Sorry ladies, Don Juan and all of his friends are characters in books. I’m a real man. They would know that if they took the time to talk to me, to ask me what I am interested in, what I think about when I first wake up, what I like to eat for breakfast.

They won’t though. None of them want to know the man behind the myth. They are perfectly happy to allow me to be the embodiment of their hot male main character archetype.

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