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Anyways, I’m getting sidetracked. What I wanted to say was I don’t wanna work with Aidan Stone. I’ve never actually seen him in person but I don’t need to see him to make that decision. Besides, Cheryl doesn’t want him to just pose for the cover; no, she wants him to co-write. I mean, really? I’m not that desperate; I don’t even know if he has the chops for it. And let’s not even get into the kind of reputation this guy seems to have; a complete asshole that goes through women as fast as I go through reruns of Grey’s Anatomy.
"Do we really have to do this? I don’t want to be working with a guy that can’t even keep it in his pants."
"Oh, shut up. Don’t act like you’re a saint, Abby. And you need to face reality: without a publisher, you’re on your own. Which means you’ll have to self-publish, and without the backing of a publisher it’s going to be a true challenge to get you off the ground. You could use the name recognition."
"Oh, God," I sigh, pressing my forehead against the window of the door, watching the LA traffic. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"Del Posto’s. His PA booked a table for us there."
"Well, at least there’s that. I always liked Del Frisco’s."
To be honest, I’m just taking this meeting because of Cheryl. She’s been my PA since I started my writing career so many years ago, and if it weren’t for her I doubt I’d even have a career. In fact, I once almost lost everything. Hit rock bottom. But Cheryl was there, helping me get up.
So, yeah, I feel that I owe her this.
Thankfully, the ride from JFK into Midtown into Times Square to the restaurant is a short one, and we get there just in time for the meeting. Of course, the ride wasn’t short enough for Cheryl; I figure that she was already tired of my voice after five minutes of me complaining about the meeting.
I stroll inside the restaurant with Cheryl by my side, holding my head up high. If this model thinks that just because he has a pretty face he can co-write a novel with me, he’s in for a rude awakening. Whatever Cheryl says, I still want to see if he has what it takes.
"I don’t want to be here for more time than is necessary, Cheryl," I tell her, scanning the room as I look for Aidan and his PA. "I don’t want to spend more than an hour hearing this guy bragging about how cool he is and --"
Holy shit. Is that him? In a table at the back of the restaurant is sitting none other than the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
"That’s him," Cheryl whispers, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me across the dining room floor. My heart starts pounding harder with each step I take, and I can’t take my eyes off of Aidan.
I guess I shouldn’t have complained that much after all.
Aidan
Jesus fucking Christ. It’s like someone came down from the fucking heavens and hit me with a fucking meat hammer.
"Aidan, I’d like you to meet Abby Cleveland and her PA, Cheryl Maddox," CJ says, a wide smile on her face. "Cheryl was the one who taught me everything I know in this business—when I first got started."
Cheryl laughs but I gotta be fucking honest. I’m barely listening to her.
"That’s got to be what, three years ago, Christine?" Cheryl asks. She’s referring to CJ’s real name. "When we were both running our operations on Facebook? Doing Facebook parties and takeovers?"
You’re going to hate me, especially if you know CJ or Cheryl, but I fucking tune them out at this point.
I’m much more interested in the woman who’s just sat down in front of me. I sit down. She’s staring at me. Intensely. Her eyes are the color of perfect weather. But her gaze doesn't compare to mine—to what I’m doing to her ... if she only knew. My eyes are fucking undressing that body. Unzipping her dress, unclasping her bra, dragging my fingers over her secret curves. In my head, I’m grabbing those luscious tits in my fists. I’m squeezing, biting, and pinching those nipples. I’m nibbling and kissing that delicate neck, right where it meets her shoulders.
In my head, we’re fucking naked. I’ve thrown her on the table. I’m fucking the living daylights out of her. No fucking mercy.
My cock is twitching like mad just thinking about this woman. It’s got a fucking heartbeat and it's pulsing like a caged animal.
"That seems like ages ago, Boss," CJ replies back. The two of them are in their own little PA-world. That’s fucking good. It leaves me alone with this gorgeous fucking angel sitting across from me.
To be fair, she’s looking at me kinda hesitatingly as well. She doesn’t know what the fuck to make of me.
"Have you been with Cheryl long?" I ask her, leaning close to her over the table. Abby shrugs and smiles seductively at me. "I knew her back when I started. She’s been with me through a lot. Back when I was just starting out," she says to me, her eyes transfixed on mine.
I nod. "I bet you write dirty," I say, grinning at her.
She grins back. Wow. No shame there.
"And what makes you think that?" she asks me. "Have you read any of my stuff?"
Fuck. This is where you’re going to look at me all weird and judgmental because I should be more prepared for this. But instead, I hedge the question.
