“Would you mind?” came a mumble from the vampire behind me. His fake teeth made it hard to understand.
“Shut up or I’ll turn you to dust,” I snapped, stepping toward the table where the author still sat. I could swear there was amusement in his chocolate-brown eyes—which, I hated to admit, were even nicer than I remembered.
“Who will I be signing for?” he asked. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”
He held a hardcover of his bestseller in one large hand, Sharpie ready.
“Sooo,” I drawled, “this is awkward. I’m not actually here foryou.”?
Otis gasped. “Nora, you can’t say that.”
“Well, I just did.” I gave my head a quick shake.
“You certainly did,” John said flatly, but the corner of his mouth twitched—like he actually found this funny. Shouldn’t he be offended?
Then his gaze dropped to the manuscript in my arms. “You came here to pitch your book? At my signing? Gutsy.”
He leaned back, arms crossing. The sleeves of his sleek black shirt were rolled up, revealing a designer watch and the kind of forearms that made BookTok lose its mind.
“I’m not randomly pitching. I’m here for the contest. You probably don’t know, but Captain Caruso’s last book?—”
“I know about the contest,” he cut in, waving off a pair of security guards I hadn’t even noticed approaching.
“Well, I missed the deadline.”
“You did,” he said flatly, like he was confirming gravity.
“And it wasn’t my fault.”
“It really wasn’t,” Otis added, offering a sheepish smile.
“Look. I’ve worked hard for this. I just need a word with her.” I stepped closer, until my legs bumped the table. John Kater watched me watching him. No flicker of recognition. Probably for the best. Still, his stare was unnerving. He was taller than I remembered. His face nearly level with mine—and I was standing. In platform combat boots, no less.
The way he kept looking at me was starting to seriously tick me off.
“So, when will she be back?” I asked, mostly to break the weird tension.
“Not sure.” He inhaled, his shirt pulling taut across his chest, then folded his hands on the table and leaned in. I caught the faintest whiff of cologne.
“Shoot.”
The word landed so fast I thought I’d imagined it.
“What?”
I caught Otis’s wide eyes.
“Give me the pitch of your project. If I like it, I’ll make her read it.”
I could swear there was amusement behind his collected facade.?
“Likeyouhave a say.” I raised a brow.?
Otis gasped. Again.
John’s jaw twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You’re lucky you got me, not her. She’d send you off running.”
I placed the manuscript on the table in front of him. The edges were bent, the pages slightly wrinkled. My hands retreated into the deep comfort of my fluffy leopard coat. My heart was thudding like mad. This pompous ass. But what choice did I have?
