Page 3 of The Final Draft

“I’m going to cut through the bullshit, Mr. Decker. I’ve already gone off script with our meeting today, but then, you aren’t a typical student. So let me lay it out for you.” She looks at me without breaking eye contact. Her face is blank, but maybe a little amused if the lines around her eyes tell me anything.Her voice is sharp, businesslike, the playful flirting completely absent.

“In this program, people are pushed out of their comfort zone to make them better. That’s why you signed up. But you’re different. We’ve never had someone like you in the program before, and I’ve decided to break the rules and do something unconventional. Before we proceed, I need to know if you’re up to the challenge, Mr. Decker?”

My mind is reeling. I’m still speechless. She stares at me, waiting for an answer.

“How? How do you know my name?” I used a pseudonym for all of my submissions. She shouldn’t know who I am.

“Mr. Decker, why are you here?” she challenges.

“Right now, I’m not sure.” Was this a mistake? If she found my name, can others? My anxiety goes up another notch.

“Because I know your name?” she asks. “Or because you aren’t up to the challenge?”

“Both.”

“Mr. Decker, your submission fascinated me. A son of a billionaire, a successful agent to some of the top athletes in professional sports, named one ofPeople Magazine’shottest bachelors in the country six times, and a closet romance author. Call me curious.”

“But you weren’t supposed to know all of that. How did you find out?” I’m still baffled that she found me. The real me.

“I always do a deep dive on the program’s finalists. I know people in high places. They tell me things. But don’t worry, Mr. Decker. Your secret is safe with me. I promise. Which is why I wanted to meet and discuss my proposal. I assume by your reaction you want to stay anonymous?”

“I’d prefer that, yes.”

“And you’d still like to take part in the program?”

Do I? I think back to the day I opened the acceptance email. I jumped up and punched the air. My new assistant, Violet, heard me through the door and assumed I signed a big client. If I had that level of enthusiasm, then there’s my answer.

“Yes. But I have to stay anonymous.” My heart is beating hard and fast. I can practically hear it and worry she can too.

She silently nods her head at me. “I think we can do that. It will be challenging, given your assignment, but I will leave it at your discretion when to reveal yourself.”

If word gets out that I’m JB Moore, a romance author, it could severely damage my reputation and my business. It’s vital I keep control of this secret. For the first time since the meeting started, I take a deep breath and attempt to calm my racing thoughts. It’s all been a mind-fuck. “Okay. As long as I have control, I’ll make this work. What’s the next step?”

“I’ve read your submission, and it’s good. I like your style and perspective. However, you struggle when finding the female motivation and her voice, which makes sense, given your gender.” For the first time since I sat down, her severe look eases, and we both become a little less guarded.

I nod in agreement. Ashleigh, my younger sister, and I have been reading romance novels together for years. I spend a good part of my life around women. But just when I think I have them figured out, I get thrown for a loop.

Take my sister-in-law, Dani. She claims that being assaulted was worth it because she met Alexander. She’s the most glass-half-full, sunshine person I’ve ever met, and she fell in love and married my grump of an older brother earlier this year. I’m happy for them, but I don’t claim to understand her perspective.

“I’d like you to cowrite with a new author. She has a lot of promise. The book will be a dual point of view, but I want you to write the female character. She’ll write the male. It will sharpenyour writing and spark interesting dialogue between the two of you.”

“But how can we do that without her knowing my identity?” Once again, my anxiety builds.

“Emails, conference calls, you choose. Use technology, Mr. Decker. Hell, wear a mask or a furry costume. You make the rules. If you want to reveal yourself, then that’s up to you.” She sits back, crosses her arms, and stares me down. Our relaxed truce is over. She’s challenging me. Again.

Write a book with someone? I’ve only shared my secret with my editor, Casey Samuels, and I had her sign an NDA. Now that we’ve grown to trust each other, it’s probably unnecessary, but it’s there as a precaution.

Am I up for the challenge? Do I want to do this? Yes. I want this more than anything right now. I’m bored with work, my siblings are happy and settled, and I need something that excites me. And this excites me.

I stand up and extend my hand. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m up for the challenge.”

A skeptical amusement plays across her face as we shake hands. “We’ll see about that. Professor Daniels will reach out later this week and reschedule your introduction with him, but he didn’t want to waste time.” Her almost-cackle makes my anxiety spike. I need to leave this office. Now.

As I open the door, she calls out, “Good Luck!” I doubt she really means that. She’s got my head spinning, that’s for sure.

As I step out of the office, I bump into a gorgeous woman who’s looking down at a notebook in her hands. She’s dressed in a white blouse, unbuttoned just enough to let me know where her cleavage starts. Her breasts are the perfect size. Her fitted pencil skirt hugs her hips and hints at the curves beneath. Stilettos adds several inches to her height, but also makes her unsteady on her feet. What they do for her legs is practicallysinful. Black-framed glasses highlight her caramel-colored eyes. A neat bun holds back her dark blonde hair. I imagine with a strategic tug of a pin, it would fall down around her shoulders in a hot-as-fuck way. I can't tear my eyes away from her deep red painted lips and imagine where I’d want them on my body. Fuck. She’s straight out of a librarian fantasy.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she says. Her hands rest on my chest as she balances herself. What is it about this door that makes me bump into people?

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