Page 15 of Smoke and Fire
Back away,common sense stated.This is doomed to fail.
My hastily-scrambled-together plan never had much chance of success, but it gave me a slim margin of hope. I’d lived on thinner chances before. My throat bobbed as I swallowed, my mouth so dry I could have spit cotton.
“I’m a very popular author and I have a book launch coming up in a little over a week. When it launches, I’ll be on a fire and out of reach. I need to be present—or at least appear to be—for the reader’s sake. There’s already been some complaints that I’m not visible enough.”
The edge of her brow lowered. Maybe she understood that whatever came next wouldn’t be normal. I plowed on. No way out but through.
“My agent says that we’re on track to break records for launch numbers and sales, which is . . . whatever. Great. Don’t really care about that as much as I do the income that comes from it. I’m glad for the success, but it’s brought a lot of work with it. Emails, social media posts, interview requests, that kind of thing.” I rushed to add. “I don’t do the interviews, but maybe . . . maybe someone should.”
She grazed right over my last, tentatively-stated line to ask, “Do you write thrillers?”
My stomach clenched. Here is where the downslope began.
“Ah, no.”
“Murder mysteries?”
“Nope.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Don’t tell me you write fantasy.”
“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.
