Page 38 of A Billion Dollar Romance
“Is that my–”
He looked up, his eyes meeting mine, and heat rushed unbidden through my veins. Was that the way he had looked at me, every time? And I just hadn’t dared to see it?
“Yes,” he said. My mouth went dry. “Your manuscript. It’s not done, though, is it?” he asked, flipping through to the end.
“No,” I said. “I haven’t been able to finish it the way I envision. I have an idea of how I want the conflict to go, but when I try to put it on the page…”
I closed the door behind me, pressing my back flat against it and watching him as I continued.
God, I knew it was ridiculous.
But I had to know.
“I was hoping that you might be able to help me get to the climax,” I murmured, keeping my eyes on his. “Professor Martin.”
CHAPTER19
James
“She’s torturing me.”I took a deep drink of my whiskey.
It was Friday at the Bankworth Club, and I was miserable.
“She hardly seems the type,” Ryan scoffed. “Did you see how sweet she was with Maddie?” He adjusted his cue a fraction, then sank the five ball into the corner pocket.
“Nice,” Barrett said, chalking his own cue. “You’re getting better.”
“I’mcatching up. I missed a lot of games when Maddie was young. I should get a handicap.”
“She doesn’t, does she?” Ihadseen Edie talking seriously to Maddie, unfortunately. It had made me feel uncomfortably tender. Sweet. This was supposed to be a work thing, and barring that, it was supposed to only be a sex thing. Or–I thought of her unfinished manuscript, in a folder in my briefcase–an intellectual thing. Or whatever. I didn’t fucking know what this was supposed to be, at this point. “But you’d be surprised.” I downed the rest of my whiskey.
“I still don’t see what the big deal is, James,” Barrett said. “I thought that was the whole point of this little charade–you could rehab your image and indulge in a little fun with a girl who obviously wants you.”
“Shebought your books,” Ryan smirked, lining up his next shot. “Even I haven’t read those.”
“You wouldn’t understand them,” Charlie teased. “They’reliterature.” He sat in our usual spot, phone in hand. I hoped he wasn’t working. Although Charlie loved his work. I tried not to resent him for it–for not inheriting the family business and the weight of responsibility that went along with it. It wasn’t his fault he was the youngest. It wasn’t his fault he’d been more drawn to the computer lab than the books in our elementary school library, that I–the writer–had been seen as the natural choice to run the family’s publishing business.
“Sad, but true,” Ryan smirked. “The only literature I’ve been reading recently isThe Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. That’s enough allegory for me.”
“Look at you,allegory,” Barrett said, eyebrows raised. “Have you been helping Maddie with her homework?”
“Nah,” Ryan grinned as his ball bounced off the pocket. “It says it on the back of the book.”
“I asked her to dinner with me,” I cut in. “To talk about her writing.”
“A dinner date,” Ryan sighed. “I remember those. Have fun.”
“That sounds good,” Barrett added. “If you’re talking about her side projects, it’s not strictly work-related, so that’s not for work hours. Besides, you should probably be seen together, right? In public?”
It all sounded so logical when he said it. “Right,” I agreed. But… “But afterward?”
“Afterward, you take her home,” he grinned. “Do a little moreexchanging of ideas, if you know what I mean.”
I gave him a flat look. “I donotknow what you mean, no.”
“Then I don’t know why you’re asking about afterward. If you don’t want to sleep with her, then don’t. Talk about her book, drop her off at her apartment with a gold star sticker and a ‘great work, A plus, see you at the office.’ But if youdowant to sleep with her,” he raised an eyebrow, “and I know you do, or you wouldn’t be asking these questions… I don’t know why you’re so insistent on this professional distance thing. You know she’s into you.”
I did. That was the worst part.
