"Are you any good?"
"I think I would have been accepted to Juilliard if I would have applied."
"And you say I'm the cocky one?" He mutters. "I have a piano at my place that I can't play. You should come over and tickle my ivories."
"You didn't just say that." I scrunch my nose. "That sounded like something…well, it didn't sound like you were talking about a piano."
"I wasn't." He finally closes the Uber app. "Look, if you ever want to come over to my place and play my piano, you're more than welcome. I'll keep my hands to myself. Scouts honor."
I watch as he raises his hand in the air. "You were a boy scout?"
"No." He sighs heavily. "Does that matter?"
I shield my smile with my gloved hand. "It doesn't matter. I can get home on my own. Thanks again for the dinner and the website contact."
"My pleasure." He steps toward me. "I'm going to kiss your cheek, Sophia, so don't knee me in the groin."
"I won't," I whisper as his soft lips brush against my skin.
Chapter 9
Nicholas
I wake with a start, the sheets around me a rumpled, twisted mess. I'm covered in sweat. The cold air that's enveloped the room from the slightly ajar window does nothing to cool me. I sit up, my mind still racing with the thoughts of the dream. It's the same fucking dream I have at least once a month.
I swing my legs over the side of my bed, taking in the lights of the city that usually offers me comfort. I can disappear in New York. When I stand and stare at the massive skyscrapers that punctuate the skyline, I feel invisible. During those brief moments, the haunting memories of my past dissipate. They don't consume me. They don't flood my mind with the thoughts that fuel my creative drive.
I couldn't write what I do if I hadn't lived through my past, yet it steals virtually every moment of my future from me.
That wasn't the case tonight when I had dinner with Sophia. She's right to be wary of me but not for the reasons she thinks.
I do want to fuck her. I don't know a man alive who wouldn't. She's beautiful and sensual, even if she doesn't realize it. When I leaned in to kiss her cheek, she sighed and her breath rushed over my chin. She smelled like spring, which feels eons away right now. She also smelled of the promise of a future that could be different.
I shake my head and pick up the water bottle I keep next to my bed. I swallow a large gulp, but it does nothing to calm me. I should get up and go for a run or take another shower. I had two since I left the restaurant.
The first was so I could jerk off and cleanse away the memory of Sophia. The second, an hour later, was cold as ice. It did little to quiet the hunger I still feel for her.
I scoop my phone into my palm and scroll through my contact list. I stop at her name, my thumb hanging over the screen above her number. It's past midnight. She'll be asleep by now in a bed I can't picture in an apartment on some nameless street on this island.
Unable to help myself, I reach out. I send her a quick text knowing she'll see it in the morning.
It's Nicholas. I'm texting to see if this is really you or if you gave me a fake number.
Her response comes almost instantaneously.
I knew you'd try and contact me in the middle of the night. Why are you awake? It's late.
I lean back on the bed and type out the first thing that comes to mind. It also happens to be the truth.
Bad dream.
At least a minute passes before I see the three dots jump that signal a reply.
I have a recurring dream about a duck. Don’t ask but suffice to say I avoid the ponds at Central Park at all costs.
I laugh aloud as she types another message.
I'm going to sleep, Nicholas. I hope you were telling the truth about Joe.
I text back immediately.
I was. He'll be in touch soon, Sophia. Night.
I wait for a response, but there's nothing. I don't need it. I got her number and she didn't tell me to fuck off in her super sweet way. I'd call tonight a win.
***
"Once the book is released, your life will cease to be your own," Cheyenne, my publicist, points out as she scoops two spoons of sugar into her coffee. "You know the drill, Nick. Tour, television, podcasts, the works. I'm organizing your schedule now."
"You tell me where to be and I'm there." I sip my coffee.
"Is your brother tagging along this time?" She bats her eyelashes. "You know I have nothing against hanging out with Sebastian while you're hard at work."
I eye her over the rim of the mug before I place it back on the table. "Zeb has to work. He's staying here."
The last time I released a book my brother was due for a two week vacation from his position as a detective with the NYPD. He needed a break, so I dragged him with me to Europe for that leg of my tour. He had a blast although none of that happened with Cheyenne. She was married then. Now she's not and I don't have the heart to tell her that she's not Zeb's type.
"You could do a girl a favor and set us up, Nick."
"I'm doing you a favor by not setting you up with him." I tap my finger on the handle of the white ceramic mug that is a staple of this particular coffee chain. They serve Cheyenne's favorite blend so whenever she calls a meeting, this is our place. "You don't want to get involved with him. His life is his job."
"That's because he hasn’t met the right woman yet." She tosses her long red hair over her shoulder. "I'm not easy to resist, Nick."
I've never had a problem resisting her. Cheyenne is a year older than me. She's attractive but our relationship mirrors the one I have with my sister. We fight like siblings, tease each other the same way best friends do. Hell, if I'm feeling sentimental I might consider jumping in front of a bus for her, but there's never been an ounce of sexual tension between us.
"I resist you just fine, Enne." I raise my mug in the air. "You're preaching to the wrong choir."
"I saw the way Sebastian looked at me. He was checking me out."
"He'd check out that empty chair if he walked in here right now." I point at a single wooden chair at the unoccupied table next to us. "He's a detective. He's always checking out everything."
"Way to rain on my parade, Nicholas." She narrows her eyes. "You must have friends you can set me up with. What about your other brother?"
"Liam is off limits." I shake my head, raising my hand in warning. "He's the baby of the family. You're too old for him."
"I'm perfect for him." She chuckles as she looks at two women taking a seat at a table a few feet from us. "I bet I could teach him a thing or two."
"Keep your panties on. My brothers are on your never-going-to-do list. Got it?"
"In that case, my sister is on your never-going-to-do-list."
I shrug. "You have a sister?"
"You're such a shit actor." She rolls her eyes. "You've been asking for my sister's number for the past year. Don't act like she doesn't exist."
I look at my watch. "A year? Why can't I remember her name or face at the moment?"
"God, you're such a bastard." She cups her hands over her mouth. "I don't care if you remember her or not, you are never putting one finger on my sister."
"Suits me fine," I reply with a smile. Unless her sister's name happens to be Sophia Reese I don't want my hands anywhere near her.
Chapter 10
Sophia
"How did that lunch go with the subway guy?" Cadence tugs on the hem of the white dress she's wearing. "This is too big for me. I think you made a mistake with the measurements."
"It's for the spring." I stand back and survey the way the fabric falls over her small stomach. "Once you're as big as a house, it's going to fit perfectly."
"I'm too tall to become as big as a house." She circles her arms in front of her as if she's imagines what her soon-to-be protruding belly will look like. "I've heard that tall women tend to show less and short women show more."
"That's wrong. My cousin, Marcie, is taller than you and boy, oh boy, she was enormous
right before her son was born; enormous but beautiful."
"You're kidding." Cadence laughs as if her merriment is enough to prove my words wrong. "I'm already five months along. Look how tiny my belly is."
I purse my lips, tilting my head to the left. "You can't see it from this angle. I think tiny is the wrong word."
"Stop it." She cradles her stomach, her fingers splaying over the thin fabric of the dress. "We shouldn't be talking about this. We should be talking about you and Nick."
"I didn't go to lunch," I say knowing that it's deflecting from everything that's happened between Nicholas and me since. "I sent Mr. Foster in my place."
Her mouth quirks. "You sent your boss to have lunch with a man you met on the subway? Explain to me how that makes any sense at all."
There's no possible way I can continue this conversation without divulging exactly who I was supposed to meet for lunch. "I'll explain it if you promise you won't freak out over who the man on the subway is."
"What does that mean?" Cadence sits on the edge of my bed; her long legs stretched out in front of her. "Is he a criminal? Who the hell is this guy?"
"Promise, Den." I hold out my right pinky finger. "Pinky swear that you're not going to overreact to what I'm about to tell you."
"What are we eight years old now?" She wraps her finger around mine and gives it a firm tug. "I, Cadence Sutton, do pinky swear that I won't lose it when Sophia Reese tells me what the fuck is going on."
"I told you that I met that guy Nicholas on the way to a book signing," I remind her.
She nods her head enthusiastically. "We've established that. Move on."
"Fine," I snap back with a wide grin. "I was on my way to get a book signed for Mr. Foster. His wife asked me to do it as a favor for his birthday."
Her long finger taps the face of the watch on her wrist. "Time is wasting, Sophia. Why are you telling me where you were going? I don't care about the why, the where or even the when. I just want to know who the hell this Nick guy is."
I laugh and plop myself on the bed next to her. "I was on my way to get a book written by Nicholas Wolf signed."
I wait, hoping she's putting those two pieces together in her mind.
"What a weird coincidence." She shifts restlessly on the bed. "You were on your way to see a Nicholas when you met one."
I sigh in exasperation. I know she's tired. I get that she's been working her ass off, but Den is smarter than that. I spell it out in simple form for her. "I met Nicholas Wolf on the train on the way to his book signing."
She shoots me a look. "What? Sophia, what?"
"You heard me." I exhale wearily. "The man I met on the train is Nicholas Wolf. He was the guy I was supposed to meet for lunch, but I sent Mr. Foster in my place because Nicholas just wanted to sleep with me."
"So?"
"So?" I repeat back with a scowl. "You know I don't just sleep with any random guy. I won't and that's all he was after."
"Again, I'll ask, so?"
I can't help but laugh as I take to my feet to face her. "He's so sure of himself, Den. Like way too sure of himself. It drives me crazy. It's too much and since I keep saying no to him, he won't leave me alone."
"He's asked you to sleep with him?" Her brows rise. "Did he seriously ask if you wanted to fuck?"
I cover my face with my hands when I feel a rush of color invade my cheeks. "Not in so many words. When we were on the subway, he wrote down an address in the book I gave him to sign. It was a bistro in the West Village. He said if I showed he'd give me a copy of his next book. I planned on going until I went online and realized it's his signature pick-up move. He's done the same thing with other women before."
"It's original." Her gaze narrows. "I can't believe you stood Nicholas Wolf up and sent your boss in your place."
I wrinkle my nose. "I was scared that Mr. Foster would realize I sent him there blindly but he didn't. Nicholas didn't say a word about the fact that he had invited me there and not Gabriel."
"You dodged a bullet, Soph." She sets her hand on my shoulder. "The entire thing could have exploded in your face."
"I know," I murmur. "I'm lucky I still have a job."
"You said that Nicholas won't leave you alone, so I take it you've heard from him since you stood him up that day?"
I pause before I reply. "I've run into him a few times since then. He came to my office and then we ended up having a burger together last night."
"You went on a date with him after all?" She squeezes my shoulder through the thick denim shirt I'm wearing. "You neglected to mention that you actually did said yes to him at least once."
I swat her hand away in jest. "We talked about my design business. He has a friend who is going to look over my website and tell me what I need to do to make improvements to it."
"So it was a business dinner, not a pleasure dinner?"
"Exactly," I say firmly. "We talked about websites, my designs and then we said goodnight."
"You like him, Soph." She jerks her thumb at me. "You smile when you talk about him."
"I don't." I wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. "I'm smiling because I'm talking to you."
"You're so full of it," she chides. "If you like him, give him a chance. What's the worst that can happen?"
"I'll feel like an idiot," I answer quickly. "Wait. No, I'll feel like a used idiot."
"Sex with a rock star in the literary world is not a bad thing. Besides, if he's still chasing you, maybe he's interested in more than that."
My gaze drifts to the stunning engagement ring on her left hand. Den was never a romantic before she met Tyler. That's all changed now that she's found her soul mate. She may want to believe that Nicholas sees me as more than a random fuck, but I know better. "I don't want to get hurt. I know how I am with men. If the sex is good, I'm going to be twirling in circles for weeks after when I stop hearing from him."
"You can't predict the future." She reaches for my hand. "If you like him, give him a chance, Soph. Maybe he'll surprise you."
Chapter 11
Nicholas
My cock is a bastard. Normally, I'd never think that. It's served me well. It's also served the women I've fucked well. Very well, in fact.
I love sex. I crave it. I'm aching to have it.
The last time I did was five days before I met Sophia. I went to a club in midtown and picked up a woman who had no idea who the fuck I am. She liked my face she said and an hour later in the cramped bedroom of her tiny walk-up in Hell's Kitchen, she screamed that she loved my cock as I was barrelling into her from behind. Natasha was the name she gave me. Apparently, it was part of the fantasy for her.
I saw her mail piled up on a small table next to the apartment door when I went to leave after she'd fallen asleep. Every envelope was addressed to the same person. Sherry Sinclair.
She'd dropped her clutch, phone, and keys on the table when we first walked in. Her hands were too busy trying to unbuckle my belt for her to notice the symphony of chimes that were signaling missed messages.
As I stood next to the table, I ordered an Uber to take me home and my eyes dropped to her phone as another chime filled the air.
The message that flashed across the screen was simple.
How was he, Sherry?
I smiled as I quietly exited the apartment I'd never set foot in again. If she answered whoever sent the message, truthfully she'd tell them the fuck was mind blowing. It was for her. It was at best average for me.
Average. It's always been average except for the first two times I made love. That was a lifetime ago and nothing's compared to that since.
I adjust my erection as I slide the zipper of the black trousers I'm wearing up. It's media day for me today. Cheyenne booked me a sit down with the host of one of the lifestyle shows that shoots in New York. She's taking a few weeks off which means she's pre-taping segments that will air during the month when Action's Cause is set to release.
After choosing a light blue sweater, I run
some product through my hair. I glance down at my glasses on the bathroom counter but push them aside. I'm wearing contact lenses today, my preference most of the time, but too much time spent staring at the screen of my laptop tends to dictate that decision for me.
Not today though. I know how I want to look during the segment and I've nailed it. My hair is a deliberately styled mess, I haven't shaved in two days and the sweater matches my eye color. The majority of my fans are female. I give them what they want and that's the person I see reflected back in the mirror.
I'll turn on the charm for the interview, compliment the female host and by the time the segment does air, my book should be sitting pretty at the top of the charts.
***
"You're an incredible writer, Nicholas." Pamela, the host of the lifestyle show, touches my forearm with a little too much force. "Do you ever offer private readings? I bet if you did, the demand would be high."
Judging by the look in her eye, private readings is a euphemism for private fuck.
"I don't." I tug my arm free of her death grip. I had to do the same with my knee in the middle of our interview. "Once the book is released I'll be hosting public readings at several bookstores in the city. My publicist is the go-to for that."
Cheyenne waves as I turn to look at her.
"I've always wanted to write a book." Pamela wags her finger at me. "You'd be an incredible teacher. Will you mentor me?"
There's no way in hell that's going to happen. I can handle myself with virtually every woman I've ever met, but this one looks ready to pounce. She reminds me of my older sister, so that makes her completely off-limits.
"I don't offer mentorship." I smile as I scan the sparsely furnished studio space. There are bleachers that I assume are for the audience that typically views the taping of the show. Today, those are empty. "You're killing it at this job, Pam. This is a much better fit for you than the morning show."
TENSE - Volume One (The TENSE Duet Book 1) Page 5
