Page 29 of Mark my Words

Laughing at the naughty glint in her eye, I slid down the mattress a little and flopped onto my back, the rest of my breakfast forgotten.

“Do with me what you will.”

KRISTINE

BOSTON

“Hey.” Isobel nodded as I walked into her office on Monday morning. “Don’t run off. We need to chat. Let’s go over something before the staff meeting this morning.”

Shit. I’d read the memo that there was a multi-genre-wide meeting before lunch today, but I’d been so distracted that I’d failed to figure out what it was regarding. It wasn’t in my nature to go into meetings unprepared, so I was sweating a little as I waited for Isobel to look up from her computer.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I glanced at the text message that’d come through while Isobel had requested a word with me.

Sam: You forgot something at my place.

Frowning, I tried to figure out what I’d possibly left there.

I’d left Sam’s apartment well after lunchtime the day before, after eating several slices of greasy pizza and learning that Sam was his apartment’s mature, responsible resident—not that I’d been surprised. I’d also taken him up on his offer to use him—a few times.

The outer jock exterior did not match the person he showed me, which was a hard pill to swallow. I hated Dickhead for his refusal to see my work past the flowery genre label of contemporary romance novels, yet I’d judged Sam on his. He knocked down all my defenses and could flip the switch from sexy to tender in a heartbeat.

Kristine: Is that your sneaky way of trying to get me to come over after work?

Sam: No. But that would be a good angle to try in the future.

Kristine: There is no future. One night, Sam.

Sam: And one morning.

Sam: And one afternoon.

Kristine: Details, details.

Sam: You know as well as I do that details make the story.

Kristine: You going to the meeting?

Sam: Yup. Do you know the deets?

Kristine: Deets? Really?

Sam: So, no?

Kristine: No clue. Waiting for Isobel to clue me in.

Sam: Adrian is clueless.

Kristine: Uh...duh.

Sam: More so than usual.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Isobel sighed loudly as she tapped her fingers on the top of her desk.

“Sorry,” I muttered, locking my phone screen and tucking it back into my messenger bag.

“You don’t know this—“ she started as she leaned back in her chair.

Batting my eyelashes at her, I tilted my head to the side, playing along. “Know what?”

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