Dating by the Book

by Mary Ann Marlowe

  I wasn’t a botanist, but even I could tell the leaves on the branch weren’t the same as the little fans on the trees on the street. Not to mention the tree outside my shop was flowering. “I don’t know.”

  Was it possible one of those little hooligans had broken my window?

  As we crouched over the branch, puzzling over the long thin shape of the leaves, my phone rang out You’ve got mail! and I excused myself to check on whether I had something new from Silver Fox.

  A jolt of terror froze me when I saw my editor’s name. I still hadn’t fixed the ending of my novel.

  Maddie,

  Just checking in. How are things coming along? I don’t want to pressure you, but as you know, I’m expecting to see your manuscript by Friday. I wish I could extend the deadline, but we’ve already set the production schedule. Do you think you’ll be able to finish on time?

  Best,

  Liz

  Max carried the branch outside, and I sat in the café and composed a quick response.

  Liz,

  I’m nearly finished.

  Lies.

  Based on feedback I’ve gotten on the first book, I’m trying to take a stab at punching up the steam when I do a second pass. Let me know if you concur.

  Hey—do you happen to know how an ARC of The Shadow’s Apprentice ended up at a blog called the Book Brigade?

  Maddie

  I closed the email app and noticed my text message icon had a number above it. I clicked through to find unread messages from Gentry and Peter.

  I checked Gentry’s first. Tornado warning. Take cover. I deleted it.

  There were three messages from Peter, over a week old.

  Sorry. I got called away.

  Do you want me to come to your book club?

  Maddie?

  I stared at the messages, confounded. What would it have looked like for him to show up at the last book club? What did it mean that he was even asking?

  I responded, We’re reading Little Women now. I would love for you to join in, if it’s what you want.

  If he was willing to try, to come here and integrate, there might be hope for him. For us. It could be a step on the path to redemption.

  Max came back in and went to the storeroom. He returned with some duct tape and plastic wrap and proceeded to create a fake window.

  I said, “I’m going to call Jack and see if he knows of someone who can fix the window.”

  Once I’d talked to Jack, my phone told me I had another mail from Liz, so I plopped down.

  Maddie,

  That sounds intriguing. I can’t wait to see what you do with it. I’ve noticed that readers seem to want to see more romance between your characters, which is a good thing. I’m all for punching that up in the second book.

  As for the reviews, we sent over a hundred copies to various bloggers. I’m not sure about that specific blog you mentioned, but congratulations. It’s a good sign if your book cut through and caught a reviewer’s attention.

  Just get the second book to me by Friday morning.

  Best,

  Liz

  Yeah, no pressure at all.

  When Jack finally showed, he said, “There’s a hole in your window, Maddie.”

  Ignoring his statement of the obvious, I walked with him over to look at the damage, explaining, “The wind blew this branch in.”

  Jack looked outside. “What wind?”

  “From the tornado watch earlier?” I threw a quizzical look at Max.

  Max held up his phone. “I got a text alert.”

  Jack shook his head. “There were some scattered showers on my way here, but nothing serious.” He peeled back the makeshift patch and appraised the hole once more. “Call your insurance company and start a claim, and I can send someone over to fix this. Won’t be till tomorrow, though.”

  We did as Jack advised, but the busted front window gave me a pretext to avoid dealing with Max. “I’m gonna close up and go home.”

  The foot traffic in town appeared to be minimal, and the bookstore was empty. Running the air conditioning with a barely covered hole didn’t appeal to me at all.

  Max rubbed his neck where a small hickey was developing like a mortifying Polaroid picture. The memory of what we’d just done was too fresh. I’d be lying if I denied wanting to drag Max back to the cellar, but that was pure lust, and I’d recovered enough to resist physical impulses. On the other hand, if he took the lead, I might have been persuadable. But it had taken extraordinary circumstances for him to cross that line once, and I knew he respected me enough to keep his hands to himself. After all, he wasn’t Dylan.

  He let out a long shaky breath, like he’d been through the exact same mental gymnastics and came to his own conclusions. “Why don’t we just—”

  I cut him off. “I don’t want to talk.”

  All I could think to do was reset our relationship before I said something in the heat of the moment that I couldn’t take back later.

  He winced. “I was going to say, Why don’t we just finish cleaning up first?”

  It was a temporary reprieve. I couldn’t put him off forever, but for the moment, I had more pressing business. I ushered him out and headed home to stare down my blinking cursor.

  I wanted to forget what had happened in the cellar, but as I climbed the stairs to my apartment, my mind bombarded me with visions I wasn’t equipped to handle.

  The memory of his lips on mine came rushing back and physically hurt. My stomach lurched, and my heart squeezed tight with guilt I’d buried since the last time we’d kissed and complicated what had been a simple, easy friendship. Even if the window hadn’t broken, I would have needed to flee the store to avoid a messy confrontation. Of course, if the window hadn’t broken . . .

  What if we hadn’t been interrupted? Would we have ended up with our clothes pooled at our feet? I blew out a sharp burst of air to get a handle on my runaway fantasies. What did he look like now under that shirt? My libido was an erupting volcano, and nobody was safe in the flowing lava of my out-of-control need for physical contact. Dylan had started this, but I couldn’t ignore that Silver Fox had given me permission to act.

  For a wonder, when at last I sat down to write, the words flowed easily, and I finished the new steamy version of the scene that had eluded me. I didn’t have time to read the chapter over to fix the ordering, to excise repetitive or weak words, or to correct grammar errors if I wanted Silver Fox’s feedback before my deadline. I jotted a quick email.

  Foxy,

  This is outside my experience in so many ways. First, I can’t believe I wrote a sex scene. Second, I can’t believe I wrote it for you. (You reveal that anywhere, you will die an excruciatingly slow and agonizing death by feral spider monkeys. You’ve been warned.) Third, I can’t believe I’m sending this to you. (Seriously, this can’t be reproduced anywhere or the spider monkeys will be accompanied by actual spiders.) So here goes. Please be kind.

  Oh, God, I can’t believe I’m sharing this. Spoilers ahead.

  I attached the file and, before I lost my courage, hit send.

  May he burn with an unquenchable lust.

  I suddenly realized what I’d done. I’d sent a reviewer, a guy who’d ripped apart my last novel, a first draft of a new scene. He was going to skewer me.

  Rane’s body lay limp, despite Lira’s efforts to revive him. Crossing through the portal might have killed either or both of them, but it was a risk she’d needed to make. If she’d abandoned him, his death would have been guaranteed. He would never have left her behind. She was furious he’d nearly sacrificed himself trying to save her.

  They lived together or they died together.

  She wrapped her hands around his solid bicep and heaved him onto one side, a trial even if she’d had all of her strength. Exhausted, she dropped on her knees and buried her face in his side, breathing him in. She had no time to process the familiar scent, to fall into the only home she’d ever known. She ran her fingers along the fabric
of his shirt until she found a small tear. She slipped her thumbs in and ripped until she could free him from the tatters. His torso was chiseled marble. How often had she longed to run her hands along his skin?

  Pushing regrets out of her mind, she began the ministrations that would cost her the last of her magic and possibly her life. It was a life she didn’t want if it meant an eternity alone. If Rane lived, the cost would be worth it. A single day more would be worth it.

  Although she needed to hurry, she took great care to trace the right shapes across his chest, curving an arc with her finger, leaving behind a burnished crescent. She reached deep down to the bottom of her well where the source had run like liquid for her once. Now it was dry. She sought for a drop here or there, pulling them to the surface and pushing them into Rane’s body. So close, so close now. The rune took shape.

  As she traced the last line, the symbol glowed golden for a moment, and she could do nothing more but wait. Her magic was gone, but she didn’t even care. She wouldn’t need it as long as she had Rane.

  She laid a kiss on his brow. “Don’t leave me, Rane.”

  Her mortality weighed on her and left her on the verge of unconsciousness. She slumped forward, but a hand caught her shoulder and held her tight. Arms wrapped around her and pressed her against a chest that rose and fell with every breath. Lira dragged her hands over the rune, down the ridges of Rane’s muscles.

  She lifted her head and her gaze was met by his steely eyes.

  “Lira. What have you done?”

  “I have become like you.”

  “Like me?” Understanding dawned, and his hard expression softened. “Your magic?”

  “It’s gone, Rane.” She was certain it was gone, and with it the taboo that had kept them forever linked but forever forbidden from joining together.

  Selfishly, she was pleased. If she were no longer Creed, she could give herself fully.

  Rane looked deep into Lira’s eyes. “Are you well?”

  “I am well. And you?”

  In response, he drew her to him. For a heartbeat, she held back. What would happen if any magic remained in reserve? But his lips were irresistible, and she’d longed to taste them, never believed she’d ever know the feel of his skin against hers. Her heart raced as she leaned in closer, as his fingers wound into her hair, as their lips met for the first time. They paused, savoring the press of flesh on flesh, their pulses pounding in the same rhythm. Rane groaned and coaxed her mouth open, his tongue brushing hers.

  Her energy renewed as he whispered, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

  Lira dropped her head back and let him unfasten her cloak. He loosened her tunic and slipped it off. He paused to drag his eyes down her torso, then clawed at her leggings. He tore off his own ruined pants and fell upon her. “You are well, Lira?”

  This time when he asked that question, it was a request.

  She’d used up a life’s worth of magic to carry them through the failing portal, and Dane had leached the very last traces. She should be weak, but Rane’s body lay across hers, held up on his elbows, and he wanted her. And she wanted him.

  “I am very well.” I slipped my hands around his neck and forced him close enough to kiss.

  He sucked on my lips, and I wrapped my ankle around his thigh. When he entered me, my back arched, and we crashed together. He lost control and rode me until he cried out. My screaming rose to meet his, pleasure building until every last atom of my being concentrated on that one all-encompassing need.

  Every last atom but one.

  At the height of Rane’s passion, Lira’s mind was pulled deep down into her essence where the smallest particle of magic had survived and pulsed. She wanted to call out, “Stop, Rane!” but her body bucked against him, as unable to break away as he was. Her nails dug into his arms, and he let go, pouring his seed into her.

  He slowed, smiling, panting, laughing, overjoyed, sated, covered in sweat. Lira lay with her eyes wide open, searching for the words to tell him she was still Creed, and they’d just broken every law.

  Chapter 19

  My head throbbed like I’d gone to bed drunk, but I hadn’t even had one beer. I’d written deep into the night, churning out a totally revised version of the last third of my novel. The scene between Rane and Lira had opened the floodgates.

  I sat straight up. Had I really sent that to Silver Fox?

  Oh, shiiiiiiit.

  My phone sat on my nightstand, and the light flashed green. Green like the color of my stomach contents coming up. Green like the envy I had for the dead.

  Green like the traffic light telling me to go. Urging me to write a sex scene. Inviting me to send it to a professional reviewer. Coaxing me to push the boundaries.

  Would he know to treat me gently in return?

  I couldn’t ask Layla to read this email for me, so I forced myself to wake my phone screen up and look at the notifications.

  But the email was just a Google alert for an eBay listing of my advance reviewer copy. I grumbled. What part of Not for resale did they fail to understand?

  As disgusted as the auction left me, I was more horrified by Silver Fox’s silence, rationalizing every scenario that might explain why he hadn’t answered.

  The most obvious reason was that he hadn’t had the time to respond yet. Maybe he read it on a commute home from work and would write back this morning. Or maybe he’d finally hooked up with the girl he liked, and he was otherwise occupied.

  For some reason, that gave me a twinge of jealousy.

  I resolved not to assume he’d found the writing so terrible he was avoiding telling me his honest opinion. I didn’t want to consider the possibility I’d grossed him out. What if I was even less convincing at sex than romance?

  I put a time limit on my forced sanity. If I hadn’t heard from him by this afternoon, I’d allow myself to casually DM him on Twitter.

  I’d say, “Hey, sent you an email.”

  No, too obvious.

  Maybe “Did you have a good Fourth?”

  Worse. He’d know I was fishing. Maybe I’d just be bold. “So . . . was it that bad?”

  I settled on this, memorized it even, then went to my laptop to try to get in another five hundred words on the final chapter, but a text from Jack cut my work short. Repairman coming by this morning.

  With a lingering glance at my blinking cursor, I picked out another career-wise outfit, gray slacks and a light pink knit top this time. I headed over, regretting that I’d have no good excuse to keep the store closed until I finished my last-minute revisions.

  Dan, the repairman, stood outside the front door. As soon as I let him in, he measured things while I flipped on lights. I’d spoken to the insurance company, and they’d assured me the repairs would be covered after a deductible I wasn’t even sure I could pay given how tight things were. I considered foregoing my morning coffee to save money, but that would be insanity. After all, I had to brew the coffee for customers anyway.

  Maybe I should ask Peter for help. Would he bail me out or watch me sink?

  The white van pulled up, and I braced for a confrontation, a bit disappointed when Mrs. Beckett stepped out of the cab. I hadn’t heard from Max since the previous morning. He hadn’t even left me a message. Maybe he was embarrassed after what had happened the day before. Or maybe he was mad at me for blowing it off like it was nothing. It was nothing.

  At least, it should have been nothing.

  Sure, it felt great to kiss him, but it felt great to kiss Dylan. And a kiss was not the turning point of an entire relationship, no matter what the novels wanted me to believe.

  But when I recalled that kiss, my face flamed, and I couldn’t dispel the phantom softness of his lips or the hardness of his jeans pressed against my hip. My poor loins were scorched.

  And all because of Max.

  What had he been thinking?

  If I could threaten my friendship with Charlie with nothing more than a handshake, how much damage had yet anoth
er kiss done to my already fraught friendship with Max? No matter how much he drove me insane, I never wanted to lose him that way. I never wanted to hurt him.

  I refused to let myself imagine Max undressed. Especially not with his mom explaining why there weren’t any apple crumb muffins today.

  Charlie arrived while I was dealing with the delivery. When everything was squared away, I made him his usual latte and set a muffin on a plate.

  Dan stood in the window, pulling out damaged panes and causing general disruptions. Charlie sat in the corner, his face illuminated with the glow from his laptop, and he held his fist over an obvious smile as he read something entertaining.

  I snuck up and set the coffee down. “Something fun?”

  He snapped the lid closed and blushed. “Not really.”

  I sighed. He’d never shut me out like that before, and it made me uncomfortable. He’d become a reliable part of my life, and I hoped I hadn’t irreparably harmed whatever we had. It was a bad idea to attempt to mix friendship with romance. Only one or the other could survive.

  I appraised him a moment to assess if he was mad at me. Maybe I’d caught him using my WiFi to watch porn. I wasn’t even sure if Charlie would like porn. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me that way. He’d never talked about any other women. “So just cat videos?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

  I took his response as proof things were okay between us.

  Once Dan finished patching the window, customers trickled in. I’d pushed off the temptation to look at my phone for the entire morning, but I had to know if I was going to be ghosted. Or worse, would Silver Fox heap on criticism I didn’t need?

  The light blinked green, but that didn’t mean anything. I held my breath and woke up the screen. There was no email icon awaiting me.

  Disappointed, I swiped the rest of the notifications, and then noticed I had a direct message on Twitter. With a little grin, I clicked through, nervous, but excited.