“Have the changes to me as soon as you can, Cindy. Okay, thanks so much.” She ended the call with the editor and slunk down into her office chair. It’d taken everything she had, but she’d secured her author a bump in advance and negotiated a book-signing tour on the publisher’s dime. She sent a text to her client Millie Long, cookbook author and altogether kick-ass mother of three, that read, We did it, babe. Have a cocktail.
Then she dropped her phone and smiled, her smile fading the moment her e-mail binged, begging for her attention. If she started answering them, she wouldn’t be able to stop.
She pushed away from the desk and rubbed her eyes, careful not to smudge her mascara, then stood to stretch. The door to her office opened and in walked the potential answer to her problems.
“Brice,” she said, and with no small measure of shock.
She’d thought about what he’d promised at brunch. Double the income, a shared office…They could hire additional assistants to go through the submissions. She would have help navigating her treacherous e-mail inbox…
“I thought you were only staying one night,” she said, caution outlining her tone.
From behind his back, Brice pulled out a bouquet of red gerbera daisies matching the shirt he was wearing. “I didn’t want to go back to Chicago and leave such a hot deal on the table.” He offered the bouquet. “I’m talking about you.”
“I assumed.” She accepted the flowers.
“Plus, one of my bands is in town for the Lakeside Dreaming party and I thought I’d be supportive and get completely wasted with them tonight.”
Brice was wearing a pair of fitted tan shorts and boat shoes with a red collared golf shirt, and Gloria had to give it to him, he did look more laid-back than when he was in his slacks and button-down. And the tattoo on his arm peeking out from below the sleeve did make him look like he could handle things if they got wild.
“Well, have a good time,” she told him.
“I plan on it. Because you’re coming with me.”
“I’m sorry to say I have about nineteen hours of work to do and only three hours before my eyeballs give out.”
“You can’t work all the time, Heels.”
“What?”
“Your new nickname. You’re always in heels.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“It sounded cute when I was on my way over here.” He smiled in an endearing way. “I’ll keep working on the nickname thing.”
But she already had a nickname. Sarge. Asher gave it to her back when she first signed him, and that nickname, said in Asher’s scratchy, sometimes tender voice, was the only nickname she wanted.
Even though she told Brice, “You do that.”
Because as things stood, she and Asher had separate lives. Well, as separate as they could have as a client with a house in town who shared cookouts with their many mutual friends.
Sigh.
“Look at you,” Brice said. “Dressed for a rock concert already.”
“A bonus of working for myself.” She propped a hand on her black leather mini. “I can wear whatever I want.” She’d paired the skirt with a sequin-studded hot-pink T-shirt sliced up the sides to reveal her toned tummy. Hey, she’d worked hard on her flat stomach. No sense in hiding it all the time.
“Trust me, Glo. If you worked with me, I wouldn’t have you change a thing.” His eyes cut down her body, and to her surprise, his appraisal didn’t feel the least bit gross. Instead, his attention was…genuine. And sort of flattering.
“I sincerely have so much to do…” So much she didn’t want to do.
“I know.” He took her hand and drew her out from behind the desk. “Shut it all down, sweetheart. Come party with me.”
Because his offer was tempting, if not a little charming, and she really did have a lot to celebrate considering her recent win for Millie, Gloria decided to give herself the treat and unplug early.
“Let me get my purse.”
*
The big bash was outside of Evergreen Cove, the massive designated lawn area packed thanks in part to ideal weather. The night was clear, with a light, warm breeze fluttering through the trees, and the setting sun made the water glitter like someone had thrown diamonds onto the lake’s surface.
Gloria changed her outfit in spite of Brice insisting she was already dressed for a concert. She’d asked him to wait outside her apartment while she’d run inside and traded her skirt and heels for a pair of short shorts and flip-flops.
“I take it back. Maybe you do belong here,” he’d joked when she came outside to join him.
The band was good, but the drinks were better. By the time she’d had three whiskey sours, she was relaxed and her work problems felt miles away. They’d be there in the morning, but she would deal with tomorrow when it came. Right now was about being in the moment.
She was swaying to the music—the band was covering an old Aerosmith song—when Brice palmed her hip and pulled her close. She smiled up at him. He was cute. In a professional/businessy sort of way. Then she frowned at the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve. That part wasn’t cute. It was hot.
She edged away, but he tightened his hold on her. “Dance with me, Gloria.”