Drew:And the night after.
I notice his message is a statement, not a question, and my brow creases in annoyance. The man is giving me creases in my forehead I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with for at least a few more years.
Me:I’ll have to check my calendar.
Drew:You need to be there after the interview too. I want you to meet my family.
He really needs to learn how to ask, not just demand. Although that probably makes me a hypocrite because I liked his demands in the bedroom. Not that it’s appropriate for me to be thinking along these lines while I’m sitting at my desk in my office. I cross my knees, clenching my thighs together and tamping down memories of Drew demanding I strip for him. Focusing back on the text message thread, I reply.
Me:I’ll see what I can do.
Drew:Katie …
Me:Drew …
This is how our business-related text conversations usually go. Each of us trying to stand our ground as the other attempts to pull in a different direction or, in this case, toward a different arrangement. I thought this was all settled, and I can already feel myself giving into the idea of dinner with Drew and his family.
Drew texts me regularly. Almost daily. The first text was about an hour after he left the gala, asking if I was okay. I appreciated him reaching out, and it avoided future awkwardness when more texts followed. There was one wishing me a happy new year one minute after midnight, and another the day he was having the promotional photos taken. He hated doing that. Then there were others telling me about his day and asking about mine. Sometimes he just asks, “How’s it going?” or shares a funny meme or joke. I can see he’s making an effort, an olive branch of friendship. The problem I have is that I want more than friendship, which makes just being friends feel impossible.
I’m reminded that there was something I needed to ask him.
Me: How would you feel about doing a few signings and promotional events in the States?
I don’t have long to wait to see his response.
Drew:Maybe, but no more television interviews. I’ll be in London the night before the book tour begins. Are you free for dinner to discuss?
It’s the first time since the gala that he’s suggested we meet. The book tour begins next week, and my trepidation is already mounting when I think about seeing him again at the first book signing. We’ve never been on a date, not that a business discussion over dinner would be a date. Regardless, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. I’ve made some bad decisions when it’s come to Drew, and it’s time I started making good ones.
Me:Sorry, I have a lot on my plate because I’ll be out of the office for the week. We can talk when I see you at the signing.
Drew:Okay, fine.
I frown at his short response.
An entire week with Drew on his book tour is going to be difficult. Part of me can’t wait to see him again, but another bigger part feels like he’s the last person I want to spend time with because of the danger he poses to my heart.
After our encounter in New York, I tried to block out the emotional turmoil those moments in his arms cost me. It was easy initially, with all the comings and goings of Christmas with my family, then Blake and Bec getting engaged. But after returning to London, and even more lately, he has been popping into my thoughts way too often.
What’s worse are the late nights lying alone in my bed when the memories of his touch come flooding back. Those times are becoming more frequent as the book tour dates loom closer.
In a week, I’ll be packing my overnight bag and heading north to Liverpool for the first day of signings. I go back to looking at the schedule on my laptop. The first stop on the first morning will be an hour-long book signing at the flagship store of the national bookstore chainStones.Then in the afternoon, there is another signing at one of the larger independent bookstores, followed by an interview with a journalist from the local newspaper. I have an early morning meeting in London that day. It finishes at ten, which will give me enough time to drive north for the afternoon signing. I tell myself thatit’s only five days of the full ten-day schedule that I have to get through. Five days of protecting my heart and avoiding alone time with Drew.I close the document, deciding I have other work to do that does not revolve around Mr. A. V. Campbell.
This whole thing cannot be over soon enough.
Chapter nineteen
Drew
One Week Later
Dayoneofthebook tour, and the line of readers waiting for their books to be signed snakes between the many tables of stacked books holding all the latest releases categorized into the most popular genres of crime, thriller, biographies, and romance. More books line the walls on shoulder-high bookshelves, row upon row of them, some only showing bindings, while others display eye-catching covers. And there, in the center of this booklover’s nirvana, is my book. The angry blood-red slash across the otherwise black-and-white cover is dramatic and hard to ignore. Especially when the high towers of books appear to be surrounding the table I’m sitting at. Well, they were high towers, but slowly, they’ve been eaten away by the avid readers who are snatching up one or more copies before joining the back of the queue, waiting for their book to be signed.
I look up from the open copy in front of me and smile before handing it over to its new owner. Who’d have thought sitting and signing books would be so exhausting? I surreptitiously look at my watch, then do a quick scan of my surroundings. It’s been more than an hour, yet still I can’t see the back of the line. I lean toward Jackie, who is acting as my minder today, and ask in a low voice only she can hear, “How much longer?”
“I think we’ll do the additional half hour, then call it quits. I just hate to disappoint people when they’ve been waiting in line,” she confirms. I glance back up at the line of people chatting excitedly. She’s right; I don’t want to disappoint all these people.
“I’m fine to keep going till everyone in the line has their signed copy, but let’s get them to stop anymore joining.”
