TENSE - Volume One (The TENSE Duet Book 1)

by Deborah Bladon

  "Ruined? How?"

  "You wrote that address in it."

  "I wouldn't call that ruined."

  "I don't want him to know that you were expecting to meet me at the restaurant. He would be pissed if he knew I set that up without either of you knowing what was going on. It would humiliate him and he's not the kind of man you humiliate."

  "You could have come with him." His gaze pins me in place. "Why didn't you?"

  My fingers flex over the books. I should be honest and tell him that I didn't want to fall prey to his charms like countless other women probably have. I could have gone to that restaurant and followed him wherever he wanted to go.

  I'm due for an earth shattering orgasm but I'd hate myself after it was over. I'd feel used and regret it. The only person who can protect my self-esteem is me and a man like Nicholas can smash it apart by taking me to bed and then pushing me out the door.

  I don't need a marriage proposal after sex, but I need a conversation or two. Experience has taught me that. It's also taught me to trust my instinct about whether a man seems the post fuck discussion type. I'd be surprised if Nicholas takes the time to engage in anything other than a quick goodbye once he's had his fill of a woman.

  I don’t want to feel used by a man ever again.

  "All I wanted today was that book. Once I decided to send Gabriel to meet you I didn't see a point in tagging along."

  "You only wanted the book?" His gaze narrows.

  "Yes," I admit. "That's all I wanted."

  He straightens. "I'll have my publicist send a new copy of Burden's Proof to your office tomorrow. Don't bother with Star's book, Sophia. It's shit."

  "I can buy your book." I fish in my purse for my wallet. "I don't expect any favors."

  "Consider it a thank you gift."

  I stop moving. "For what?"

  "For being brutally honest with me about my work."

  "Honesty is the best policy, right? If you knew anything about my work, I'd expect you to be honest with me. It's the right thing to do." It's also the rude thing but I'm past that. I insulted his work and I can't say I regret it.

  His mouth twitches. "Do you want my honest opinion on your work?"

  I force back a laugh but a smile escapes me. "You can't critique something you know nothing about. The only thing you know about me is the fact that I don't like your book."

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes, that's so." I widen my stance.

  "I know that you're too talented of a designer to be sitting behind a desk answering phones all day. You're an assistant at Foster Enterprises when you should be the head of their design department."

  "Who told you that?" I ask trying to hide the sudden surprise I feel.

  "Your work speaks for itself." He opens the browser on his phone and types in my website address.

  My eyes flutter over the screen and the images of my two most recent designs. They're maternity dresses, made specifically for Cadence. She's the model although no one would know that. I've always cropped out her face because I don't want her brand to become tangled with mine. My best friend is not only engaged to one of the most talented chefs in all of Manhattan, but she's also a rising culinary star in her own right. She's the host of a weekly food segment on a national morning show. If the world knew that she was the one and only model on my website, it would create a conflict of interest for her.

  One of the contractual requirements of her job is that she has to wear an outfit from Bluenix when she's on air. It's a new boutique on Fifth Avenue that's as aggressive with their marketing as they are with their designs. Most of the outfits Cadence has worn have been created by Evlin Dawn. She left Arilia two years ago to launch her own line and she's never looked back. She's only one year older than I am but she's living my dream.

  "Why are you an executive assistant?" Nicholas raises his chin and looks down his nose at me. "I'm not a fashion expert but everything on here is stellar. You're wasting your talent."

  "It's not that simple." I frown in frustration. "It takes work to be a designer. It can take years to hone your craft. That's what I'm doing now."

  "You're hiding behind a poorly designed website. What are you afraid of, Sophia?"

  My blood boils, as much for the anger I'm feeling as the embarrassment. He's right. He's hit the nail directly on the head. I'm scared. I'm terrified that my designs will fail. I'm petrified that no one, other than Cadence, will see any value in them.

  "I'm not afraid of anything," I lie. "I told you that you know nothing about me. This proves it."

  He tugs both books from my hand. "All this proves is that you're an awful liar. You need to learn how to take a leap of faith."

  "I know how to do that." I gaze down at the books. "Writing fiction is nothing like designing clothing. You have no right to tell me what I should or shouldn't be doing with my career."

  "I have an obligation to speak up when I feel that another artist is doing a disservice to themselves."

  "I'm not doing myself a disservice," I hiss. "Maybe you should focus on what you do best and let me focus on what I do best."

  "What I do best?" he mimics me, his voice rising to a shrill pitch. "What exactly is that since you don't think I can write a book worth shit?"

  "You're a genius at being an asshole." The sight of several women entering the store catches my eye. One is holding a large poster board with pictures of Nicholas attached. A hand-drawn heart surrounds one image of his face. "Your fan club is here, Mark Twain. I'll leave you to it."

  "Mark Twain?" He smirks. "Cute, Sophia. They're not my fan club. I asked them to meet me here because the store closed last night before I could sign their books."

  I thought I was safe coming to this bookstore since he spent hours here yesterday. This is the last place I expected to see him. "They're obviously eager. You should give them the attention they deserve."

  "I'll have that book sent to your office tomorrow." He places both of the books in his hand back on the table. "I hope I'll run into you again, Sophia Reese."

  I hate that he knows my name. I hate that he spent time researching me and that he found my website. I mostly hate that knowing that he's that interested in me makes me that much more interested in him.

  Chapter 5

  Nicholas

  It took me less than five minutes to find out almost everything I need to know about Sophia Reese. After I had left the bistro with the full name of her boss, a quick online search revealed details about the fashion conglomerate he runs. A click through to the online profiles of the senior staff at Foster Enterprises steered me to a standard headshot of Sophia and a brief bio about her current position as assistant to Gabriel Foster and the business degree she earned at a community college in Florida.

  Once I had her full name, I ran across the poorly designed website she uses to showcase her fashion designs. I wasn't lying to her when I said she has talent. She does.

  "That's a new style for you, Nick. If I were you, I'd order it in light blue. It'll complement your eyes."

  I flinch when I hear my younger brother's voice behind me. I'm sitting in his office, waiting for him so it shouldn’t surprise me that he walked up behind me without me noticing. He's been doing that since we were kids. Years ago it would have ended with me in an inescapable headlock. Today, the result is that he caught a glimpse of my phone's screen and an image of the dress that I was looking at on Sophia's website.

  "It's one-of-a-kind." I rub the bridge of my nose as my brother, Liam, passes in front of me. "It comes in yellow, take it or leave it."

  "Yellow doesn't suit you." Liam tugs on the thigh of his jeans before he sits on the edge of his large wooden desk. "Who are you buying a dress for? Are you seeing someone?"

  I glance up to see him smile. He's intimidating as fuck until you know him. He's burly, his hair a long textured mess of light brown and sun-kissed blonde. When I look at him, I still see the little kid who ran at my heel trying to gain my attention. I ignored him. Our ol
der brother, Sebastian, did too. We didn't give Liam the time he deserved, but he turned out all right. He guides people through their grief now, helping them chart their future when a loss has taken away someone they loved.

  "I'm not seeing anyone." I pocket my phone. "I met a woman on the subway. She's a fashion designer. I was checking out her stuff."

  "Her stuff?" He crosses his arms over his chest. "Or her stuff?"

  Considering I've only ever seen Sophia wrapped in a large white wool coat, her body is still a figment of my imagination. She's petite but curvy. Other than what the lines of her coat have given away, I have no idea what she's got hidden under it. I don't care. That face can stop traffic for miles.

  "Grow up, Liam."

  "I take it you struck out with her." He edges the toe of his boot against mine. "When's the last time that happened to you? It's got to sting."

  I fucking hate when he's right. Since Liam became a therapist, it seems like he can read my mind. I try to keep a level mood when I'm around him, but he sees right through my bullshit. I hate it as much as I appreciate it. "I didn't strike out. We just met."

  "You didn't try and lure her to that restaurant in the West Village by writing an invitation in one of your books, did you?" He squints at me. "Tell me you've stopped with that shit, Nick. It makes you look like a selfish fuck."

  Generally, I don't care what I look like to the women I take to bed. I'll use my celebrity if I know it's going to result in a good time. The approach has never failed me, until now.

  "Women like it, Wolf." I use his nickname to distract him. It always catches him off guard when he hears me say it. "I thought she'd show at the restaurant yesterday but she sent her boss instead."

  He hesitates briefly, his eyes cast down as he absorbs what I just said. "You're trying to deflect. Don't."

  "I'm not," I argue through a grin. "You're my Wolfie. You know it."

  He ignores the comment in favor of focusing on my embarrassing lunch date yesterday. "Was the boss a he or a she?"

  "A guy." I roll my eyes. "Gabriel Foster. He's a serious fan, so she sent him to meet me."

  He chuckles. "Impressive. I like her already. What's her name?"

  "Sophia," I say slowly, savoring the way it sounds. "Sophia Reese."

  "Did you come here to talk about Sophia Reese? If you did, I'm all about that. I like a woman who knows what she wants. I guess in your case, it's what she doesn't want."

  I shrug. "I'm not here because of her. I'm here to check in on you."

  He scratches his elbow through the blue dress shirt he's wearing. "As you can see, I'm still in one piece."

  "Are you?" I question with a tilt of my chin. "I know you deal with a lot of heavy shit all day, Liam. I'm around if you need an ear. You know that, right?"

  "I can't talk about my clients with you, Nick." He arches his neck back. "Besides, I'm good. I'm helping folks who need me. What more could a guy want?"

  "A life outside of this." I wave a hand at his desk and the stack of files sitting on it. "You're allowed to go out and enjoy yourself sometimes."

  "I do." He flashes a quick grin. "I use your name to pick up women. It works like a charm every time."

  I can't tell if he's kidding. "You do?"

  "Shit no." He huffs out a deep laugh. "If a woman asks if I'm related to you, I tell her no. I can't compete with what you've got to offer."

  I stand and extend my hand. "You're full of bullshit, Wolf."

  He slaps my hand out of the way to pull me into a firm embrace. "If that's true I have you to thank for it. You and Sebastian taught me everything I know."

  ***

  "Why are you here?" Sophia asks tersely as she rounds her desk.

  I stare at her for a minute, taking in my first glimpse of her minus the oversized coat that's now hung on the coatrack behind her desk. Her long hair is styled in loose waves. She's wearing a red dress that's simple but elegant. The shoulders are cut bare to reveal her skin. "Did you design that dress?"

  Her eyes brush over her body. "What? You didn't answer my question."

  "Answer mine." I run my fingers over the spine of the book I'm holding in my hands. "Is that a dress that you designed?"

  She takes a step back, her hip bumping into the corner of her desk. "Yes. Almost all of the clothes I wear, I've made. I design them and sew them."

  "You sew them?" I glance down at the perfect hem of the dress. "You sewed this yourself?"

  "Yes." Her eyes follow the same path as mine. "I've been sewing most of my clothes since I was in high school. I know what works for me. I'm an expert at creating things that fit me to a tee."

  She sure as hell is. This dress clings to her like a glove. Her body is even more than I imagined it to be. Small tits, wide hips. She's ideal from head-to-toe.

  "I answered your question, now answer mine. Why are you here?"

  I push the book in my hands at her. "This is the new copy of Burden's Proof that I promised you last night."

  She takes it from me, flipping open the cover to skim through the first few pages. A small smile ghosts her lips. "This one is good as new. I'll give it to Gabriel to replace the one you wrote in."

  "I can sign it for him if you want," I offer without thinking. I know my signature is valuable currency. When I first saw signed copies of my books for sale online, I bought them.

  Back then, I viewed it as a way to control my brand but I've learned that many people stand in line at my signings just for my signature. Once they've left the event, the book is sold with an inflated price tag. I've given up trying to curb that. It's the main reason I'll sign any book offered to me. If a fan of my work wants a personal piece of me in the form of a scribbled signature, I'll give it, freely and without question.

  "You don't need to." She snaps the book shut. "You signed one book for him. I don't think he expects more than that."

  "Who doesn’t expect more?" Gabriel Foster steps out of his office and approaches us. "If you're talking about me, I'll take another signed book. If that is what you're offering, Mr. Wolf."

  "Nicholas," I correct him. "Actually, I was offering to sign Burden's Proof for you."

  He reaches past Sophia to pick up a blue ball point pen that's on her desk. "You can make this one out to me."

  I take the pen and write a short inscription to him in the book before I finish it with my signature. "I should have signed this for Sophia on the day we met."

  He takes the book from my hands. "I appreciate this but I've got to say that I'm surprised you came all the way down here to sign a book."

  "I didn't." I turn to face Sophia. "I came down here to ask if you'd have dinner with me."

  She looks at her boss before she trains her eyes squarely on my face. "When?"

  "Tonight," I say without hesitation.

  "I have plans." She pauses. "Unbreakable plans."

  I drag my hand through my hair. "What about tomorrow night?"

  "More plans," she says quickly. "I'm booked up for most of this year."

  Gabriel clears his throat. "I'll leave you two alone to discuss this. Thanks again, Nicholas."

  As he steps away I focus back on Sophia. "Are you seeing someone?"

  "How is that your business?"

  "Do you have a boyfriend?" I counter with a question of my own, trying hard to ignore the amused look on her face.

  "I don't." She shakes her head. "I have a new maternity collection to work on and I can't spare any time to go out for dinner."

  "I'll bring dinner to you," I hear myself say. Why do I sound so fucking desperate?

  Her arms cross her chest. "I'm not telling you my address. You're a stranger."

  "I'm not a stranger." I chuckle. "I'm not going to do anything other than bring you dinner, Sophia."

  "I can make my own dinner." She moves back behind her desk. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm not interested, Mr. Wolf."

  "Nicholas," I stress each syllable. "You are interested. We both know you are. Why pretend you're not?"


  "I'm not pretending." She lowers into her chair. "I'm grateful you signed the books for Gabriel and Isla. Thank you again for that. You can go now."

  "I can go now?" I repeat back. "Are you telling me to fuck off?"

  Her brows pop up. "I didn't say that. If that's how you took it, I apologize but I have work to get to."

  Jesus Christ. This woman isn't giving me an inch. I should turn around, walk out and forget she even exists.

  I do the first, then the second and as I wait for the elevator to take me back to the lobby, I know that there's no way in hell I'm going to forget about Sophia Reese.

  Chapter 6

  Sophia

  I try to avoid being rude at all costs. There's that old saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar. It's something my mom used to repeat to me and my brother on an almost daily basis; that and the timeless jewel about not saying anything if you can't say something nice.

  Nicholas was right. I was essentially telling him to fuck off but in a semi-polite way.

  The man is dangerous. His smile says it all. It screams that he's a devil in bed and a monster in the afterglow. I don't need that. If I fall prey to his charms, my design schedule will suffer and I can't let that happen.

  Men come and go in life, but my career is going to take me to the places I long to be.

  It's as simple as that.

  "Did you agree to have dinner with Nicholas?"

  I've never once spoken to Mr. Foster about what I do when I leave my desk at the end of the day. He doesn't ask. I don't offer. It's an unspoken agreement between the two of us.

  "What?" I look up and into his face. "Did you ask me about Nicholas, sir?"

  "He invited you to dinner tonight and you turned him down. Did you find a night that works for both of you?"

  Yes. It's the first Tuesday after the world ends.

  "We didn't." I don't offer more; instead I bury my attention in a document that I should have filed a week ago.