Page 2 of Wicked Heat

“You did amazing,” Leah says.

“Fantastic,” Bea adds.

A small part of me fears they are just being nice—Did I stumble over my words during my talk? Did I give away too much of the plot?

But mostly, I believe them. Today felt good. Like it’s the second half of my job. The first part’s where I sweat out the book in blood. The second part’s where I feel the love and know it was worth it.

I spend another fifteen minutes chatting with the store staff, but I know they probably have things to do in this last hour before the shop closes. So I repeat my thanks, then gather up the ridiculously amazing goodie basket from the store. A few fans also brought gifts, and those are piled in the basket, too. A mix of candy and wrapped packages and homemade bookmarks and other trinkets that I treasure.

The summer sun is low in the sky when I reach the door, and it’s hitting the glass in a way that turns it into a mirror. I pause for a moment, just looking into my own brown eyes, my long, almost-black hair hanging loose around a face that is lit up with so much joy I barely recognize it as mine.

I turn back to my hosts. “Thank you both so much. Today was a keeper.”

Leah grins. “That’s what we like to hear.”

“Thank you again for coming,” Bea says at the same time. She glances at the clock. “Are you going to be late? I should have cut questions off a few minutes earlier, but it was going so well.”

“Oh. No. Not a problem.” I feel my cheeks go red. During the Q&A, someone asked how I was going to celebrate after the signing. Since head home and stream a romcom sounded lame, I concocted a party in Burbank. “They know I’m coming from over the hill, and my arrival time is a moveable target.” A total lie, but, hey, I write fiction.

Leah grins. “Have fun.”

“And pop in next week,” Bea adds. “We’ll have more stock for you to sign.”

“Will do,” I promise as I head out, giddy all over again at the idea. It doesn’t get much more author-y than that.

He shouldn’t have come.

As far as Ash was concerned, that was a given. Axiomatic. As true a truism as ever there was.

He should have left Los Angeles two days ago, right after his breakfast meeting. He should have canceled tomorrow’s interview, then hopped the first flight back to his Austin office. He could be kicked back at his desk, reviewing the most recent test results on the INX-20. Or prepping for his upcoming meeting in Vegas.

Or, hell, he could be chasing typos as he proofread next week’s shareholder report.

Anything—anything—other than sitting parallel parked in a red zone while he waited for a woman who hardly knew he existed to step out of a bookstore and into his line of sight.

No. That wasn’t true. She felt the tug of attraction as much as he did. He was certain of it.

She knew him.

She wanted him.

She’d pushed him away.

And wasn’t that a hell of a thing?

She wasn’t the first woman to reject him, of course. But he had ego enough to remind himself that it didn’t happen often. Still, she was different. With her, the rejection had stung.

When they’d met, that first glimpse had felt like a punch in the gut. Albeit a pleasant—hell, arousing—punch. But he hadn’t pursued anything. Wrong time. Wrong place. Wrong vibe.

Wrong man.

Back then, he’d been angry—drenched in hate for Damien Stark, the father he thought he understood, and on a mission to destroy a family he’d resented.

The nanny for his father’s kids, Bree had merely been part of the scenery, and yet she’d pulled his focus without even trying. But the last thing he’d needed was the distraction of a woman, no matter how much he’d craved that distraction.

Even later, after the dust had settled and he was back home, she’d pop into his mind. Hundreds of miles between them—and much fewer words exchanged—and yet there she was. The beautiful girl with the haunting eyes who’d made his cock go hard with nothing more than a sideways glance.

That soft skin. That adorable smile. That sharp mind and stunning body he was certain would fit perfectly against his own. A body he shouldn’t desire. But he did, and in his fantasies, they’d make love sweetly under the sun, her bare skin glistening with sweat as he thrust inside her. As she whispered that she knew him. That she believed in him.