Hey, I was dark skinned. I could have a bald head and still look good.
“You mean your ego is so big there isn’t any room for hair follicles?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, some of that, too.”
She considered me for a moment, mulling something around in her head before laying it on me. “You always do this, you know.”
“Well, yeah, writing is kind of my career choice.”
She ignored my quip and continued as though I hadn’t said anything. “You get all juiced up for a project, hyper as a damn rabbit, then you get 30 or 40 percent through and hit a roadblock. You come to me and whine about how you’ve lost your inspiration and that you’ll never finish.”
I slung one arm over the couch and glanced at her out of the corner of my eyes. One of the things that sucked about having a best friend was that they already knew all of your bullshit.
“But then you find it again, get your ass into gear, and have a coffee-binging-slash-writing marathon to get the damn thing finished on time. Which you always manage to do.”
I scratched at the bottom of my chin, jutting it out slightly in front of me as I raised an eyebrow at her skeptically. “Yeah, well, maybe this time is different.”
“You say that every time, too.”
I paused. Then I said, “You’re just not going to let me off the hook for this one, are you?”
She shook her head. “Nope.” She patted my thigh affectionately. “Suck it up. Like you said, this is your career.”
I scowled at her as she grinned and stood up, looking pleased with herself. I kept up the scowl until she left the room for her office, which was a second door off the main hallway. When she was out of sight, I sat back with a heavy sigh. There was a rational part of my mind that knew she was right. I did this to myself. Excited about a new project, burn myself out, hit a writer’s block, and finally pick up my steam all over again for the win.
But there was another, less optimistic side of me, and that one said I was screwed.
Letting my head fall back, I considered just lying there like the sack of shit I was imitating today. But before I could do that, I heard Sarah’s voice echo down the hall.
“Get off your ass, Harvey.”
I rolled my eyes. Damnit, she knew me well. But I heaved myself off the couch anyway and headed up the stairs toward my workshop. I sat down at my desk, facing my dreaded blank screen. Putting my fingers on the keyboard, I braced myself for the crap that was going to flow from my mind, none of it worth keeping.
Before I could add pressure to even a single key, my phone went off. I mentally chided myself for not turning the damn thing off. Rule one: Never leave electronic distractions in the room.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and was about to silence it when I saw that it was Callum.
My eyebrows rose, but I answered it. “I would have thought you were busy sexting Marnie with unsolicited dick pics,” I said by way of greeting.
I heard him grunt on the other side. My words were meant to irk him, and that grunt told me I’d been successful. But Callum was almost as close to me as Sarah; he was used to my shit.
“Who says they’re unsolicited?”
I laughed. “Hey, I don’t want to know what kinds of kinky shit the two of you do to entertain yourselves.” I paused, then added, “But if you want to send me a pic of your lady in some sexy lingerie, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“Trent,” Callum warned.
I grinned but didn’t push it. Marnie was attractive, but not really my type. In other words, she was a pain in the ass. Besides, Callum was over the moon for her, despite his lack of belief in love as he put it.
Ignoring me, Callum cleared his throat, and a note of apology formed in his voice. “I called because I’m going to have to cancel our plans this afternoon.”
“Are you breaking up with me?” I whined, placing an exaggerated hand over my chest, though he couldn’t see it.
I could almost hear the eye roll through the phone. Impressive. “Don’t be an ass. I have something to take care of, so you’re on your own.”
“No linner together?”
“Please stop calling it that,” he groaned.
Linner. Lunch and dinner. It sounded horrible, which was why I enjoyed using it so much.
“Fine, fine,” I chuckled. “What’s this thing you have to take care of anyway?”
There was a beat. A pause too long to be natural. It was unlike Callum to withhold something, but that pause told me that was exactly what he was intending on doing. “It’s nothing.”
My eyebrows rose and I sat up straight in my chair. “Nothing is why you’re canceling on me?” I pushed.
He huffed. “No, of course not. I just have something else to do.”
“Something else.”
“Yes, Trent, something else. Believe it or not, you are not the only thing in my life.”
“If you’re just doing kinky shit with Marnie, you can just tell me. I won’t hold it against you.”
His voice dropped slightly in warning. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what the fuck is it?”
“Jesus, Trent, it’s fucking nothing. Why do you have to make a big deal out of everything?”
He didn’t necessarily sound heated, but he sounded annoyed—or nervous. How very unlike my dear friend…
“All right,” I told him finally. “You let Marnie tie you up. I won’t say anything.”
He huffed, but sounded relieved more than annoyed. “Whatever. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
We hung up then, and I wondered what he was so wound up about. What was this thing he didn’t want to tell me about? He didn’t do a lot of secret keeping with me. Mostly I just didn’t think he had enough of a life outside of business to bother with personal secrets, and business secrets were boring.
Maybe it really is something dirty with Marnie, I thought.
An image of Callum and Marnie bumping uglies ran through my head before I could stop it. I shuddered. I liked my friend and Marnie was sexy, but I didn’t need to see them in the throes of passion.
“Christ, how am I supposed to write with that image?” I said out loud.
It turned out I wouldn’t have to worry about it. Before I’d even put my phone down, it chimed in my hand. I unlocked it to see a new message.
Are we going to meet?
I groaned loudly and tossed my phone across the room to land on the couch in the corner with a flop. My hands scrubbed at my face as I realized just how much I was screwed.
The message was from Courtney Hughes and it was to Malcom Resner, my agent. Except I didn’t have an agent, and there wasn’t anyone named Malcom Resner.
Malcom was my middle name. Resner I’d taken from my bookcase in a panic when I realized that Courtney wanted a name from me.
And therein lay the rub.
Courtney hated my guts. She thought I was a conceited, womanizing asshole. Which wasn’t wholly inaccurate. I never promised a woman anything, and if she thought she was getting it, it was her fault, not mine. But I definitely wasn’t what one would call chivalrous. I liked to fuck ’em and leave ’em. I was good in the sack, so I figured they got something for their trouble regardless. But I had a thing for Courtney and wanted to pursue it if she’d just give me a damn chance.
The trouble was that she was giving me a chance—she just didn’t know it was me. She thought it was my agent, and I was playing that up. We were texting, talking on the phone, emailing. And it wasn’t necessarily kinky, but it was kind of personal, intimate. Now, she wanted to take it to the next level. Which I did, too. Images of her puckered ruby lips parting to let the head of my cock pop into her mouth flooded most of my brain, and the rest involved me balls-deep in her pussy.
But I couldn’t figure out how to get her to be okay with going out to meet Malcom Resner only to figure out he was Trent Harvey.
Somehow, I didn’t think she’d take it well.
I debated how I was supposed to
answer her until it was too late to respond. Which may have been my subconscious’s way of not dealing with things. That seemed pretty legitimate.
Ultimately, I left the message unanswered. I undressed, brushed my teeth, threw a paper airplane at my computer, then gave up and went to bed. I told myself I’d figure out what to do in the morning. Until then, I would hope for pleasant dreams involving a certain little ruby-lipped spitfire.
Chapter Three
Courtney
My drink was sweating on the table in front of me. I’d taken all of two sips of it, and it was my first. Across from me, Elizabeth was on her third and about halfway through it to boot. She was probably also giving me the evil eye considering how rude I was being. But even knowing that I was being rude, I couldn’t stop myself.
I reached for my phone, which I’d put in my purse in an effort to stop myself from checking every five seconds. Digging it out, I checked the notifications. Nothing. I’d sent Malcom that text nearly two hours ago.
“Bastard,” I muttered to myself.
Used to be he would answer me within seconds. Even when he was in meetings and doing agent things. He always made time for me. Hell, even when it looked like Harvey—Malcom’s client, unfortunately—was going to sign with another publisher, Malcom still said he wanted to remain “friends.” Well, we were passing the last few mile markers for friendship and passing into that fast lane of romance.
That was, assuming we ever got around to meeting in person.
“Are you seriously going to spend the whole night with your phone?”
I glanced up to see Elizabeth sitting across from me. Her glass was empty on the table and her arms were crossed. She didn’t look pissed. Yet. But I knew it was only a matter of time if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass and give her some attention.
After all, I hadn’t seen her in years.
I winced apologetically. “Sorry, Liz. I’m just—”
“Waiting on some asshole to text you back?” she supplied nonchalantly as she waved down the waiter again. When he appeared she asked for a refill and a second one for me, even though I hadn’t finished my first. After he left, she fixed her dark eyes on me again. “Seriously. I haven’t seen you this worked up over anyone since… Well, actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over the other half of the species.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I always thought you were secretly playing for the other team.”
She winked and I laughed.
“Shut up,” I told her. “First, I am decidedly straight. Girls just aren’t my thing. Second, this isn’t about a guy.”
Liz laughed. “Please. Do you honestly think that’s going to work on me, honey? I know you too well.”
I quickly debated trying to lie convincingly to Liz, but dismissed the idea before I could do something stupid. Truth was, she did know me too well. The only other person who knew me so well was Marnie—and she was a little preoccupied with her own love life to worry over mine.
I sighed and took my drink in my hand. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me,” I finally admitted.
Elizabeth shook her head a little. “You and Marnie. I swear, I haven’t seen the two of you in years, and first Marnie flakes on me, then you have a love affair with your phone. What gives?”
“Sorry,” I said again. I really did feel badly about it.
She waved off my apology. “Never mind that. Make it up to me with the deets. Who’s the guy?”
“It’s complicated.”
“All the best stories are,” she said with a grin.
I smiled a little, then caved. “His name’s Malcom. He’s an agent.”
“Ooh, an agent. Trouble from the get-go, eh?”
“You don’t know the half of it. He’s not just any agent—he’s Trent Harvey’s agent.”
That got Liz’s attention. “The Trent Harvey? The dude who sleeps with three girls at a time, has crazy hotel sexapades, and is loaded?”
“I was going to say best-selling author, but sure, that, too,” I responded dryly.
“Oh, whatever. Who cares about the books? He’s sexy, he’s rich, and he’s a total manwhore.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m not going to argue with you on any of those points. But that’s not the point. I’m not texting him. Just his agent.”
“Okay, and what’s the damage with his agent?”
Our drinks came then, prompting me to down the rest of my first one so that I could start on my second. I sipped at it as I dished.
“Marnie got that big account, remember?”
Liz nodded.
“Well, it was Harvey’s account. It was a whole big deal—I’m not going to get into the nitty-gritty of it, but there was some competition involved with another publisher. Tarvish Press. Anyway, I’m trying to help her get the account by dealing with Harvey and his agent.”
“So… this is a business thing?” Liz lifted a skeptical eyebrow.
I shrugged. “No, but it started out that way. The account was what Marnie needed to make partner. I pulled every string I could to get that damn account.” I hesitated before slowly adding, “Including making a deal with Malcom.”
Liz’s eyes lit up, and she leaned forward, her face splitting in a grin. “Oh, a deal, eh? And what kind of deal was it? What fancy-shmancy schmoozing did you have to do? Tell me it was something dirty, kinky, and or totally skanky.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be crude. I promised him a favor.”
She was still grinning as she asked, “Has he cashed it in yet?”
I spit my tongue out at her like we were back in college. Then I sat back in my chair. “No, that’s actually part of the problem.”
“Now I’m confused. What?”
I took a longer sip from my drink. “We’ve been talking since Marnie got the account. And texting. And emailing.”
“But?” Liz prompted.
“But that’s it. We haven’t met in person. I don’t even know what this guy looks like!”
Liz’s grin dropped as her eyebrows rose high up on her head. “What? Are you crazy?”
I blinked. Probably,I thought, but all I said was, “I hope not.”
Liz ignored my answer and pushed forward. “You’re getting worked up over some guy you haven’t even seen before?”
I winced. “Um, kind of?”
Liz muttered some things under her breath that I couldn’t catch, then downed her drink. She signaled the waiter for another, which likely meant he’d bring another for me. Not that I would mind. I was starting to think I’d need more than a few tonight.
“Jesus. Okay, before I list off the million reasons why you’re being dumb right now, I’ll ask you this: why not just meet him, then?”
“I’ve tried,” I blurted, not even caring that she was going to tell me what an idiot I was being. Hell, I probably needed someone to tell me. “We’ve made plans to go out for drinks, to have coffee, to grab brunch. Every time he cancels on me. Something comes up. His fucking dog dies, whatever, and I’m left with no plans and no idea what I’m doing wrong.”
There was a pause, then, “Did his dog actually die?”
I rolled my eyes. “No! I don’t think he even has a dog. It was just an example.”
“Oh, good. Because that is a 100 percent legitimate excuse. Like, I would forgive someone for blowing me off over that.”
I waited impatiently for her to get to her point.
“Sorry,” she apologized, then leaned back and considered me. “So you’re upset over some dude you’ve never even met in person?”
I nodded.
“And he’s blown off meeting you several times.”
I nodded again.
“And you’re still stalking your text messages waiting for him to respond?”
“Um.”
“‘Um’ is an admission of guilt,” she informed me, her tone and pose superior. “To which I have only this to say: what the hell happened to that ball-busting, take no pris
oners, hell-on-wheels girl I know and love?”
The corners of my mouth tugged down in a pout. “I am not a ballbuster.”
“Not anymore!”
“I never have been.” When she just stared at me, I added, “I’m just selective.”
“You mean sardonic. Pessimistic. Angry at men.”
“Realistic,” I countered. “Cautious.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. Sitting there in the soft lighting, her hair so pale it was almost white and her limbs so long and elegant, it was no wonder how she became a model. She had to be born for it. “Whatever. Point is, the old Court never would have let herself get all wound up over some guy.”
I frowned. There was a thread of truth there that tugged at me. I didn’t think of myself as a “man hater,” though obviously my friends leaned that way. I just didn’t like to bend over backward for some guy. And now, I was starting to think that was exactly what I was doing.
When did I get so damn pathetic?
“What are you suggesting?”
She smiled silkily at me. “Dump the prick.”
“What?”
“You heard me, dump him.”
“But we’ve really connected.”
She laughed at me. Loudly. Several people from other tables actually glanced over at us when they heard her. It made me wince, but I tried to convince myself it didn’t make me feel uncomfortable.
“What?” I demanded when her laughter was dwindling to chuckles.
She wiped dramatically at her eyes. “Nothing, it’s just… have you heard yourself? I mean, you sound like the kind of girl we always used to laugh at. Connected, seriously.” She shook her head. “Fact is, connection or not, if this thing with him was really meant to be, you would have already met. It wouldn’t be this difficult, you know? Relationships should be organic, not forced, and it really sounds like this guy is pulling back on the reins.”
I sat silently for several moments. My stomach churned and it wasn’t because of the fruity, sugary alcoholic beverages we were consuming. I had a bad feeling all of a sudden, because there was a big part of me that knew Liz was right. I shouldn’t have to fight to get him to so much as meet me. If he didn’t want to meet me, then I shouldn’t have to fight to convince him otherwise.
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