by Sara Hantz
“I loved hearing you talk. I missed the book signing earlier. Please, would you autograph your latest for me?”
Disappointment flooded him. How the hell would he reach Sheridan before she disappeared? He had to stop and talk. He was there to work, to make sure the money he so desperately needed kept coming. And more importantly, people had paid to see him, so he couldn’t let them down. “Of course.” He smiled at the middle-aged woman looking up at him with a coy expression on her flushed cheeks, and quickly signed the book.
But before he could move away, a line had formed. And fifteen minutes later, he was still signing.
“Who shall I sign it for?” he said as another of his books was thrust under his nose. He forced his voice to sound friendly, though he didn’t bother to look up. Surely he’d get to the end of the line soon.
“Sheridan.”
His gaze shot up, and his breath hitched in his throat as he locked eyes with her.
“I thought you’d gone.” His heart pumped, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a huge smile. He guessed he wasn’t coming across as cool.
“I popped to the bathroom, and when I returned, you were being mobbed. So, I bought a book from the bookseller by the door, and here I am.” She laughed. A deep throaty laugh that kicked him in the stomach.
“I’m glad. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He rested his hand in the small of her back, inhaling the scent of honeysuckle, which drifted from her, and led her out of the door and to the elevator. As he pressed the button, he noticed Sheridan staring across the concourse, her eyes wide.
“What’s that all about? And who is he?” She nodded toward one of the escalators where there stood a group of thirty-something women surrounding and stroking one of the young cover models, whose fitted T-shirt was too tight to not be damn ridiculous.
“Those abs are a work of art,” Sheridan commented, and Mac felt a pinprick of jealousy.
“You’re such a noob,” he said, grinning.
Sheridan frowned, her bottom lip twitching slightly. “What did you call me?”
Mac sensed he’d touched a nerve, though he had no idea why. He certainly didn’t wanted to upset her. “I meant nothing by it. Just that it’s obvious you haven’t attended the convention before. This is the place where everything gets crazy. Normally sane women go totally insane whenever they come across one of the cover models, throwing themselves at them in the process.”
“And do they do the same to you?” Sheridan arched an eyebrow.
“I’m not a cover model, as you can see.” He glanced down at his body and briefly wished that he worked out more. Or at all, even. He grinned and a slow, sexy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. His fingers ached to trace the contours of her flawless porcelain face.
The moment was interrupted by the sound of the elevator arriving. Several people got out, and then he and Sheridan stepped inside and rode down to the casino floor. As the elevator doors opened, a cacophony of sound almost knocked him backward.
“Let’s go to Barakoa, the coffee bar, and try to escape some of this racket,” Mac suggested, turning left as they walked out of the elevator.
“Sure.”
She put her arm through his, and they weaved in and out of the milling crowd until they reached the café. Which, by an amazing stroke of luck, wasn’t too busy.
“Grab a booth,” Mac said, nodding toward the back. “And I’ll order. What would you like?”
“Cappuccino, please.”
She removed her hand, her fingers lingering for a few seconds on his arm. A tremor of anticipation shot down his spine, and he just about managed to suppress a groan.
…
Sheridan rested her arms on the table and stared at Mac standing in line at the counter. Shivers raced across the back of her neck. So much for her theory that all romance writers were frustrated housewives. Clearly, Mac was one very masculine, very sexy exception to the rule.
After listening to him in the Q and A, she’d got to wondering whether he was too good to be true. She’d imagined a successful author like him, well, successful in the romance world, would be more arrogant and self-centered. But he was far from it. He seemed genuinely interested in the questions he was being asked and stood patiently while the women lined up for autographs.
Then again, he would hardly want to antagonize the readers. Well, he needn’t think she’d be falling under his spell without first checking him out. She could sniff out a phoney at fifty paces, so by the time their coffee date was over, she’d know all there was to know.
Did I say date?
“Here.” Mac’s voice cut across her thoughts.
He placed a mug of coffee in front of her and slid into the opposite seat.
“Thanks,” she said.
The deep, rich coffee aroma invaded her senses, and her body instantly relaxed. She’d been on the go since early that morning, and her mind had been on overdrive with no let up.
“So, now that I’ve got you alone, tell me what you’re doing here.” Mac smiled, and her heart did an uncharacteristic flip
“What do you mean?” She arched an eyebrow, desperately trying to come across as she usually did. Calm and in control.
“Well, you’re clearly not here as a romance reader,” Mac replied, arching his eyebrow right back at her.
“You can tell that from the few words we’ve shared?” She glanced up toward the ceiling.
“I earn my living from knowing about people.” He leaned forward slightly, and a shiver shot down her spine as the warmth of his breath caressed her cheeks.
Get a grip. This is ridiculous.
“Touché. Okay. I’m a newspaper journalist, and my editor sent me to cover the convention.” She pulled out her lanyard and waved it. “Lucky me.” She released it, and it swung from side to side.
“Not your assignment of choice?”
“I was meant to be covering the president’s visit to Minneapolis but got pulled off it at the last minute. So, what do you think?” She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice.
“At least you got a trip to Vegas out of it.”
She gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m beginning to think I’m the only person on this planet who doesn’t see visiting Vegas as a plus.” She thumped the table, harder than she’d intended, and her mug shook.
“Ouch. It’s not as bad as you think. You have to accept it for what it is, and then you can have fun.” Mac took a sip of coffee.
“And I suppose you’re the one to help me with that,” she retorted.
“If that’s what you want, then I’m happy to oblige.” Mac gave such a disarming grin that Sheridan burst out laughing.
It alarmed her how much he was getting under her skin, and they’d only just met.
It’s this crazy place.
Of course. She shook her head to rid herself of the ridiculous thoughts. It was all down to being at the blasted convention.
“How about an interview sometime?” she asked, forcing her mind on to something she had control over.
“Sure,” Mac replied. He leaned forward and locked eyes with her. She shifted awkwardly in her seat. “I’ll check my diary later, and we can arrange a time.”
“Cool. But, off the record, a man writing romance. What’s that all about?”
She had to ask because she still couldn’t get her head around it. And even though she’d yet to read any of his books, they had to have some appeal or he wouldn’t be so much in demand here.
“I’m not the only successful male writing in this genre.” His tone had changed slightly.
“You’re evading my question,” she persisted.
“Because you’re not asking the right question.” He smiled, though she sensed some frustration behind it.
Normally, when someone questioned her ability, she would go for the jugular. For some reason she didn’t have the urge to do that, and instead, she was mesmerized by his perfect white teeth and the curve of his lips.
“And what
is the right question?” Without thinking, she leaned forward and stared intently at him. Then wished she hadn’t because her heart did a triple-somersault. “Actually, save the answer for our interview. I’ve got to go call my editor,” she lied, anxious to leave before she totally let her guard down and said something she’d regret.
“Already? We’ve only just—” Mac’s cell rang and he glanced down. “Perfect timing. Sorry, it’s my agent returning my call. I’ll be quick.”
Sheridan slugged the rest of her coffee and then mouthed, “Good-bye.”
Mac put his caller on hold. “Meet me tonight in the lounge.”
Was that a request or a demand? She wasn’t quite sure. Even so, she hitched in a breath, trying to contain the excitement that bubbled in the pit of her stomach.
“Sure. I’ll be there around eight.” She stood and then walked away, forcing herself not to look back to check whether he was watching.
She hoped he was.
Chapter Four
Mac could have kicked himself for arriving at the lounge early, because he’d no sooner sat down to wait for Sheridan when he was joined by two of the convention attendees and then five minutes after that three more. All women, of course. His readers. And they hadn’t stopped laughing and giggling. Which normally he wouldn’t have minded, in fact he enjoyed it, except tonight he’d psyched himself up for something different.
He glanced down at his watch. It was already fifteen after eight. Had she changed her mind about meeting him? He hoped not. For the first time in ages, he’d found someone who he really wanted to get to know. From their brief encounters, he could already tell that beneath her brash and snarky exterior there was someone with hidden depths.
“Sorry, I’m late.” The warmth of Sheridan’s breath against his ear shot arrows of desire racing through him.
So she hadn’t bailed on him after all. And how sexy did she look in that short, black and red striped dress that hugged her curves. He noticed that she’d let her hair down, and he longed to run his fingers through the dark curls framing her striking face.
“No problem.” He was about to stand when he felt a hand on his arm.
“You can’t go yet,” said Deidre, the woman sitting on the stool next to him. “Melanie has ordered drinks.”
He looked up at Sheridan to see what she thought. She smiled and grabbed an empty stool from a table close by and squeezed in beside him.
“This is Sheridan,” he said to the women who were all staring at her, some of them with stony expressions on their faces. He hoped Sheridan didn’t take it personally. They were very protective of him. “She’s a journalist.”
They collectively relaxed, and he stifled a grin, since he didn’t think they’d appreciate him laughing out loud. It was like they believed Sheridan was no longer a threat, so she was okay to include in the conversation. Not that he’d ever encouraged any of the women at the conventions. They just seemed to view him as their property. Some of them had been attending as long as he had, so he’d gotten to know many of them by name.
“So you’re interviewing our Mac, are you?” Deidre asked, patting Mac on the knee.
“Yes. And I’d also like to ask you all some questions, if that’s okay?”
He watched Sheridan as she glanced around the group, stopping for a couple of seconds at each one of them. He was impressed by the way she tried to include them all. Then again, that was her job. And he’d bet she was damn good at it.
“Ask away,” Deidre said, placing her hands in her lap and sitting upright.
Sheridan reached into her purse and pulled out a notebook and pen. The women were happy to give information about themselves, and it gave Mac time to watch Sheridan in work mode. She had a knack of not sounding like a probing journalist and ended up eliciting from the women far more information than they might have given otherwise.
I better be on my guard.
The thought took him by surprise. Then he dismissed it. He wasn’t a pushover. And she certainly wasn’t out to get him. It was a convention for goodness sake, not some big celebrity bash where everything was reported in graphic terms for the most shock value.
…
Sheridan stared at Mac heading toward the bathroom, admiring his cute firm ass as he went. She dragged her eyes away, hoping she wasn’t drooling too obviously.
She drew in a calming breath and turned to Deidre and the other women.
“Tell me all about Mac,” she asked, giving a conspiratorial wink.
All for the purpose of my article, she reassured herself. Because work had to come first. As it always did. No matter how thoughts of him sent sparks of electricity racing around her body.
“We love him,” one of the women said and then giggled. “Not like that,” she added.
“You speak for yourself,” another one said, joining in with the giggling.
“And me,” piped up another.
A smile stretched across Sheridan’s face, and she held up her hands in mock shock. They were cracking her up. Who knew romance readers could be so funny? She really liked them.
“That’s enough, girls,” Deidre said. “We don’t want Sheridan to think we’re all a bunch of middle-aged tarts.” She touched Sheridan on the knee. “Mac is great. And even though we all might harbour a few sexy thoughts about him, that’s as far as it goes. I mean, the way he writes love scenes— It’s like he’s hot wired into a woman’s brain. Don’t you agree?”
Sheridan bowed her head slightly. “I haven’t actually read anything of his. Yet.”
She’d already put the book he’d signed for her beside her bed to read later. The jury was out over whether she was looking forward to reading her first straight romance.
“Start with The Billionaire’s Fake Fiancée. I dreamed about Owen for weeks after finishing it.” Deidre flushed a deep red and everyone laughed. “I didn’t mean like that,” she said.
“It’s okay. I know what you mean,” Sheridan said. “So, why do you think he’s so good at portraying women? Does he have a wife who reads everything he writes?”
Just for research, of course. I’m not interested.
“No wife. He’s divorced.”
No wife. A frisson of excitement shot through her at the thought, which she quickly dismissed. But it did mean that he was in touch with his feminine side. Which was a good thing, right? If you believed in all that stuff. Did she? She didn’t know. She’d never given it much thought. He could be gay if she wanted to go down the stereotypical route. Though she doubted he was. She could tell by the way he’d looked at her, especially when she’d been talking to the women and he thought she couldn’t see. Her peripheral vision was red hot.
“You know him well?” she asked Deidre.
“Mostly from what’s on his website.” Deidre shrugged, but Sheridan could tell that her feelings for Mac went far deeper than reading about him online. A definite crush. And who could blame her? Well, as long as her feelings weren’t reciprocated, then that was fine by Sheridan. Fan adoration came with the territory of being a celebrity, even if his celebrity only stretched as far as readers of romance.
“I’ll have to check it out. Change the subject. He’s coming back. We’ll finish this conversation later,” she said as she noticed Mac heading toward them. “How does this convention compare with previous ones, Deidre?” she asked as Mac reached them.
“So far, so good. Ask me again Sunday morning,” Deidre replied, grinning.
“Will do. Hey,” she said, turning to Mac and acknowledging his presence.
“Are you ready?” Mac asked.
Is it that obvious?
“For what?”
“Dinner. I’ve made reservations.”
Only dinner?
She inwardly shook. He was hardly going to whisk her back to his room for some mind-numbing sex. She dragged in a long breath and released it slowly, hoping that he hadn’t been able to read her mind.
“Sure.” She picked up her purse from the table and flashe
d a smile in his direction. “Looking forward to it.”
Chapter Five
Mac glanced to the side as they strode out of the lounge, taking in the fixed, unreadable expression on Sheridan’s face. She’d agreed to dinner but didn’t seem too excited by the prospect. The easiest way to get her to himself was to pretend he’d made reservations. It didn’t hurt anyone, although judging by some of the comments Deidre had made earlier, she’d expected him to be spending the whole evening with them. The previous few years, a group of them had always hung out together on the Friday night. That didn’t mean it was written in stone, though.
“Where are we going?” Sheridan cut into his thoughts.
He turned and smiled. “There’s an Italian restaurant not far from here, Juliana’s at the Saxon. We could try there if you like. Hopefully, they’ll have a table.”
“You said you’d already booked?” She stopped in her tracks and wagged her finger, her eyes twinkling.
“Not exactly. I just said that to get away from the others. No harm done.” He grinned.
“Were they annoying you?” she asked.
“No, nothing like that. They’re good company. But I wanted it to be just the two of us.”
“For the interview?”
“The what?”
“The interview you promised. Remember?” she asked with a bemused smile.
“Oh yes. Well, that wasn’t my only reason. I wanted to spend some time with you.”
“Why?”
She had to be kidding. A woman like her would hardly be short of men asking for a date. He took a second look at her and saw the teasing expression in her eyes. “Do I need a reason?”
“Yes.”
He hitched in a breath. “Because I want to get to know you better. To find out what goes on behind that cross-me-if-you-dare exterior.”
“As you paint such a delightful picture of me, how could I possibly resist?” She shook her head.
He scanned her face. Had he offended her?
