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I shook my head. “I don’t even know his name.”
“You sort of do,” she says, taking another sip of her wine. “In fact, you know him. Which is one of the reasons why this project is such agreatfit for you.”
There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. I don’t know any high-profile corporate types. No one except...
“Oh, he’s here,” Sarah says, her voice low as she looks over my shoulder. She shoves her wine at me. “Drink this. Be nice. And remember you need the money.”
I hear the confident tread of a man’s dress shoes approaching on the tiled floor.
I close my eyes briefly.Please. Don’t let it be him.
“Sarah Lopez?” he inquires from behind me.
My stomach isn’t sinking anymore. It’s plummeting. Like a rock dropped out of an airplane.
Sarah beams up at him and stands up to shake his hand. “That’s me! So wonderful to meet you in person. And of course, you’ve already met your future writer, Hazel Dawson.”
The sound he makes is somewhere between a choke and a grunt. It tells me he wasn’t expecting this anymore than I was.
I can’t put this off anymore.
I twist in my chair, forcing myself to smile up at him. And up. And up.
Christ, he’s tall.
“Hi Luke,” I say weakly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
His ice blue eyes flicker down to my chest. “Nice scarf,” he says dryly.
My stomach flips. I can’t tell if it’s nerves, or hormones, or professional desperation, but I know it’s Luke’s fault.
Luke stares me down, his gaze brooding and unreadable. For a second I wonder if he’s going to turn on his heel and storm out, after the way I insulted him on the sidewalk.
The moment stretches.
“She’s a really amazing writer,” Sarah says. “Plus, Cooper will be so happy to find out you’re working with her.”
She leans hard on Cooper’s name, reminding Luke that his best friend won’t like it if he dismisses me out of hand.
Luke gives a long-suffering sigh and settles his broad body in the seat to the right of mine. When he turns and looks into my eyes, his gaze is near hypnotic. “Ok, Hazel Dawson. Tell me why you’re the best writer to convince the world I have a heart.”
2
LUKE
Iwatch Hazel nervously shred a piece of bread into a million pieces while she talks, taking me through her resume. All the important people she interviewed for the lifestyle magazine she used to work at. Her familiarity with my family’s company. The fact that this won’t be the first book she’s written.
They’re good points, and I don’t care about any of them. I never wanted to do this damn autobiography. But my dad insisted.
Apparently, I have a “likeability” problem. Also, a “respectability” problem. Also, a “damnit, you’ve insulted half the board” problem.
I’ve been head of Strategic Planning and Performance at Helius Airlines for the past seven years. I’ve been working for Helius Airlines in one form or another since I was sixteen. Longer, if you count all the commercials and interviews I did back when I was a cute kid. The plan has always been for me to take over the company when my dad retires.
But now that it’s finally time, my dad keeps dragging his feet.
The waiter stops by our table. “Are we ready to order?”
Hazel’s agent Sarah orders a hearty lasagna. I order chicken lasagna. Hazel blinks, then panic-orders the soup of the day, which is French onion.
