“That’s not my job and you know it,” I said.
“Well, waiting around for grumpy literary agents isn’t mine,” he said. I frowned, and the corner of his mouth twitched. I took one more step up the staircase.
“I’mearly,” I said, looking down at him.
A gust of wind ruffled his brown hair, and he reached up to rake it back from his forehead with one hand. It fell back into place, even more disheveled than before the wind had caught it. Why did Charlie–why didmenlook so good like that? I couldn’t get away with bedhead.Sex hair. I grimaced. “What? Does it look really bad?” he asked, and did it again.
I looked away. “It looks fine,” I said, and he smiled. Something–I wasn’t sure what–had changed since our late-night text conversation. His invitation:I don’t kiss and tell.I swallowed. I couldn’t think about that, not right now. Not with him standing, tousle-haired, beside me on the steps of the library. “Let’s go.”
I’d made it halfway up the second flight of stairs before I heard his footfalls close in, feeling his presence beside me.
“Hey, Sam, I–”
“I can’t stay long,” I interrupted. “So let’s be efficient. The event planner said she’s done several events here, she sent an email with a few different layouts for catering, silent auction, dance floor, musicians…” I pushed open the heavy doors into the marble entrance hall where we’d have our event. Where Ryan and Flora had celebrated their marriage. Where Charlie had grinned at me, had leaned in close, smelling dark and spicy, and whispered in my ear, want to get out of here? I fought to keep the blush off of my cheeks and my mind on the present.
“You have a date after this?” he asked, a playful tone in his voice.
“I do,” I said. I was sure I didn’t imagine the flash of surprise on his face. “In fact, I have ten dates, with ten grumpy billionaires, each with a heart of gold.”
Charlie’s laugh echoed against the marble. A few heads turned our way; I could practically hear what they were thinking:Shh,this is a library.Charlie, in his tee-shirt and his handsomeness, didn’t seem conscious of their glares. He never seemed to care what people thought of him.
“Youjusttold me reading romances wasn’t your job,” he said. “So I have to assume that this is not some work-from-home reading, but some sort of strange billionaire group date you’re going on. In which case, I’m very disappointed that I wasn’t invited.” I ignored him and pulled out my phone, opening the email from the event planner to cross-reference her schematics against the space.
“What do you think,” I asked, “the silent auction tables against this wall?” I gestured with one hand, holding up my phone with the other so he could see the diagrams on the screen.
“I like the second option,” Charlie said. “We have the whole space, and we can put a bar on the far side to draw people past the auction items.” I nodded. “Who made the cut?”
“Hm?” I asked, making a note in the document.
“Who made the cut? I mean, ten billionaires, and I wasn’t asked to join? If James was still on the market, I would understand: inviting both Martin brothers could get awkward, but–”
I rolled my eyes. “Ha, ha. You know very well I’m talking about manuscripts. What do you think about the catering station? Or we could just do passed hors d’oeuvres, the planner mentioned–”
“Good,” Charlie said. He was whispering now, but even still, his next words sounded too loud. “Jealous isn’t a good look on me.”
I blinked, staring at my phone as my heart thumped in my chest. If I hadn’t been certain of his intentions before, I was now. Hismotivations…those I still didn’t understand. I knew what he thought of me: that I was mercenary. Selfish.
Maybe I was.
Because I didn’t really care all that much about his motivations, not today.
“Envious,” I said slowly.
“What?”
“Jealousy is when you have something and you want to keep it,” I told him. “Envy is when you want something you don’t have.”
“Ah,” he said softly. I looked up from my phone to find him standing much closer than I’d expected. His ever-present smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Envy,” he breathed. “That’s right.” Warmth rose slowly up my neck to my cheeks and down from my belly to settle between my legs. “An editor as well as an agent, are you?” I swallowed. “Remind me. What is it that they have and I don’t?”
We were in public. We were working. He was Charlie Martin.
I didn’t know what, exactly, he wanted from me.
But right now, I didn’t care what Charlie Martin wanted. I knew what I wanted. And I could have it.I don’t kiss and tell.
I made up my mind.
“Me,” I said. “In their bed. At the Sterling Hotel.”
