Dropping my overnight bag onto the back seat, I place my tote, phone, and Drew’s bag of muffins on the passenger seat and drive one last time to Drew’s place.
My mind turns to the man I’m going to see in a few minutes, perhaps for the last time in a long while. The thought makes me sad. I feel like I’ve learned so much more about Drew. He’s no longer the one-night stand who was great in bed, although he’s certainly the best sexual partner I’ve ever had. It turns out Drew is totally different from what I imagined when I first met him months ago on the dance floor. In fact, that first impression of him being a pretty boy player couldn’t have been further from the truth. There is so much more to him. A depth and sensitivity that I guess he really only reveals in his writing, and it scares me a little that the more I learn, the more I want to know. I guess I could pretend that I want to understand what makes him tick purely from a business point of view, but that would be lying to both him and me.
Ten minutes later, I’m pulling into the gravel lay-by beside Drew’s cottage. Things were a little awkward between us when I left yesterday, but I’m determined to brush that aside and pretend everything is fine.
I grab my things from the passenger seat and wander to his door. I knock lightly, then turn the knob because Drew is adamant that I walk straight in. He is sitting at the desk in the corner of the room, his laptop open in front of him, and with my interruption, he spins in the chair to face me.
He removes a pair of glasses and smiles tentatively at me. “Good morning,” he says.
Damn, the man and his ability to look hot even when he’s reading. “Hey. I seem to always be catching you in the middle of something. Yesterday, you were half naked on a table, being massaged by a large muscled man, and today you’re working and wearing a sexy pair of glasses.”
He chokes out a laugh and looks down at the glasses in his hand. “What a crack, you think my glasses are sexy?” He then puts them back on and holds his hands wide in front of him. “Come here and have at it, then.”
He seems to be taking the same approach as me and ignoring my speedy, uncomfortable departure yesterday.
“Oh, please. I said the glasses are sexy …”
He holds a hand to his heart. “You wound me now.” I roll my eyes but still can’t keep the smile from my face.
“I’m not here to stroke your ego, Mr. Campbell.” His eyebrows shoot up, and I realize that what I’ve said could be taken in a completely different way, and, of course, it is.
“You can stroke all you want, baby. Especially when you call me Mr. Campbell.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and a blush suffuses my cheeks, much to my dismay.
I’m very tempted to take him up on the offer. His hair is tousled and damp, no doubt from a recent shower. His white T-shirt is stretched tightly over the lean body I got to run my hands over yesterday. Thankfully, he has jeans on and not sweats, though the way the faded denim stretches over his thighs is almost as good. I notice everything about Drew as he sits at his desk, looking at me.
When he’s in this lighthearted mood, I want to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I can’t. Not today. I’m here to get the contract signed. No distractions. Especially not the kind we engaged in yesterday.
“Mr. Campbell,” I say in my most professional manner, “I’m here to talk business today, so can you keep your mind out of the bedroom?”
“Aye, the boss lady is in the house.” He holds up a bundle of papers in his hand. “One signed contract right here. And thank you for including the section around maintaining my privacy.”
My head tilts to the side. This is something I’ve wondered about from the moment I started dealing with A. V. Campbell. I couldn’t understand why there were no pictures of Drew anywhere. He explained yesterday that no one outside his circle of friends and family knows that he’s the world-famous author. But he never elaborated on why.
“Why the need for the privacy? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I don’t mind you asking. It’s no big mystery. I’m just a private person, and I want to live my life quietly, out of the public spotlight. I’ll do the book signings mentioned in the contract. I’m not stupid. I realize the importance of promotion. I’d just like it to be kept to a minimum.” He looks down at the floor for a moment, then continues. “It’s also a bit of a protective mechanism because, like most authors, I worry that my next book will be a flop.”
“Really? I never would have thought you’d suffer insecurities. You’re a brilliant writer.” His first book was well deserving of the accolades it won.
“I’m human, Katie.”
I nod. The arrogance I saw in him that first night is all a façade, and you don’t have to dig too deep to see the authentic man beneath. When he’s willing to let you get close enough to dig.
Grinning broadly, I walk over to take the papers from him. “Thank you. And I’ll swap you two of Mary’s blueberry muffins.” Taking the bag of muffins with one hand, he snags my wrist with the other and pulls me toward him.
It catches me by surprise, and before I escape his hold, he has me on his lap, one arm around me, and the other reaching up to touch my lips. “I’ll never be able to see pink lipstick again without thinking of how good it looked smeared on my cock yesterday.”
“Rose,” I mumble as his thumb traces along my bottom lip.
“What?”
“It’s rose, not pink,” I murmur, not even sure why I’m talking lipstick when all I want is his lips on mine, not his thumb.
A deep, throaty laugh bursts from him. “Don’t care what color it is, baby. I just want it marking me.” My eyes pop open wide. How did we get here? My teeth worry my bottom lip. This wasn’t my plan today.
His face grows serious. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I’m not used to sharing about my personal life.”
“I get it. You’re a private person,” I reply with a smile.
