Page 128 of Smoke and Fire
“None of that.”
The skin around the edge of her eyes crinkled in confusion. “Then what do you write and what does it have to do with me?”
My body tightened as I braced myself for the judgment. The shock. The disbelief. The inevitable disappointment or exclamation ofare you weird or something?Why would a guy write romance?
Because I’m damn good at it,I always wanted to say. I never had to, because I’d never had this conversation before. Only Priyanka knew.
“Ah . . .” I cleared my throat again. I really needed to stop doing that when I was nervous. “Romance.”
Her brows shot up. A grin spread across her face, and then she giggled. Her girlish delight lit her face up like a chandelier, all sparkling facets, movement, and light. She appeared to be a totally different person.
Captivating.
I had to suppress the urge to reach over and touch her cheek. Could that sort of brightness be shared? Could she illuminate the dark places in me? I folded my fingers into my palm and tried to ignore the perfect teeth in that brilliant smile.
“Romance?” Her laugh grew as she tilted her head back and laughed. “You’re kidding! That’s a pretty good one.”
I dropped my gaze from the attractive column of her throat. Several long moments passed in silence before her hilarity calmed. Her lips dropped. My teeth worried my bottom lip so hard I thought I’d break skin.
What to say now?
“No?” she whispered. “You . . . you write romance novels?”
“No, I’m not kidding. I write romance novels.”
“The sexy kind?”
“There is sex in it, yes.” I shrugged. “But it’s not erotica.”
She blinked. Astonishment filled her gaze in a slow, easy wash. “You’re serious about all of this?”
Fantastic,I thought with growing despair. She didn’t even know the half of it yet, and already I’d floored her. Before I could answer, she shook her head.
“No, of course you’re serious. You don’t seem like the kind of guy that uses one more word than he’d have to.”
Oddly spot on.
Her gaze tapered. “You’re a guy. Writing romance. That’s . . .”
“That’s what?” I asked.
Her teeth clacked together as she fell deeper in thought, then gestured to me with a sweep of one hand, clearly dismissing that topic.
“Never mind. Let’s just . . . I . . . back to the main point. What does writing romance and launching a new book while you’re on a fire assignment have to do with me?”
I straightened.
“Let’s not ignore anything because thisisthe main point. I don’t want to continue if my being a male author in the romance genre is a problem for you.”
Her eyes widened, and I realized a defensive edge had come to my tone. My chest expanded in a deep breath. I let it back out.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” She held out a hand. “I should be the one apologizing. As far as responses go, that wasn’t my best. It was . . . presumptive and wrong. I’m sorry. I’m more curious than anything and I’m sorry if I came across as sexist. Please.” She nodded. “I’d love to hear more.”
The sincerity in her tone spoke to me. If nothing else, she clearly had a professional side, which only raised more questions about her. I sent the questions away.
“The novels I write are under a female pen name. I’ve never used an image, a detail, or anything in my pen name that would lead back to me in real life. No one knows the truth except my agent, which makes it easier to maintain my privacy. Before this year, it wasn’t a big deal. Recently, my popularity has grown. The launch of my latest novel could explode that even further. But . . . I need to be available to respond to emails, social media questions, and interviews. That sort of thing. If I go radio silent during this launch, it will stir up more questions. It will stunt the launch.”
