Page 81 of Flirt
Cameron: Don’t you have a book to write?
Asher: I’m writing it.
Cameron: Liar.
Asher: Fine. I’ll come to you.
Cameron chuckled, his voice ringing through his empty office. The man was relentless when he wanted something. It was an intoxicating sensation to be on the receiving end of it. He should say no, but fuck, he wanted to see Asher.
Cameron: Okay.
Asher: Okay? Is that a yes?
Cameron carded his fingers through his hair, and used the tips to massage his scalp, as if he could rub some sense into himself. It didn’t work. He still wanted Asher just as much as he had thirty seconds ago.
Cameron: Yes.
A heartbeat after he hit send, his phone rang. “Yes, you can stay,” he said in lieu of a greeting, “on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“Bring your laptop.”
A long pause, then, “Kinky.”
Cameron rolled his eyes. “To write. Your agent is going to have my head if you don’t get this book finished.”
Asher grumbled. “Let me worry about Becca.”
“Asher.”
“Fine, fine,” he huffed. “I’ll bring my laptop. Happy?”
“Immensely.” Despite the assurance, Cameron frowned. “What’s going on, Ash? You’ve been dragging your feet on this a lot more lately. Is there a problem with the book? Writer’s block?”
“Something like that.”
Cameron’s scowl deepened, and his brow creased. “Talk to me.”
A long, suffering sigh drifted over the line. “It’s just not what I want to be writing.”
He sounded so damn miserable Cameron wanted to reach through the phone, wrap him in his arms, and never let him go. “You said you had an idea for something new. Something different.”
“I do.” Some of the vibrancy returned to his voice.
“Write that.”
After having a taste of the newest—and possibly last—Marshall Kane novel, it would be torture to wait another year or more for the rest of the book. He had no doubt he’d love anything Asher wrote, but it was hard to imagine him not writing the gun-wielding, whiskey drinking, bad-guy-chasing detective.
Asher chuckled humorlessly. “It’s not really that simple, sweetheart.”
Cameron went a little lightheaded from the endearment. After a few seconds too long, he cleared his throat to respond, but before he could speak, his doorburst open, and none other than Kyle Anders shouldered his way into the office.
“Sir!” Amelia called, trailing right behind him. “You can’t go in there!” The glare she leveled at Kyle held no small amount of venom, but she spoke calmly when she addressed Cameron. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone. I told him he wasn’t allowed back here, and that he’d need to make an appointment to speak with you. Do you want me to call security?”
“Go ahead.” Kyle took another step into the room, his eyes fixed on Cameron. “Call security. What I have to say won’t take long.”
“Cam, who is that?” Asher asked. “Is that Kyle? What the fuck is going on?”
