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Leaning against the large oak desk, I take a quick peek at his fancy badge.
“Hi Con, I was just wondering what all the fuss is about over there?” I say, cocking my head over towards the corner of the loud, giddy squeals.
Con perks up and says, “Oh, it’s Abigail Rosens. She’s here for the exclusive North Queensland Writer’s Festival. One of the guest speakers and signing authors about her latest novel.” The smile on his face is blinding. It’s clear he is star-struck.
“No way! I had no idea. That is so cool.” I gasp, hoping he won’t see my bullshit meter rising.
His eyebrows lift, and he happily hands over a pamphlet. “Here, it’s a flyer about the program overthe next few days. If you’re interested in her book, and the event, it’ll tell you when she’s presenting.”
I act intrigued, despite me being here for the same reason. Accepting the pamphlet I say, “Thanks dude. Enjoy the rest of your day,” and tap the counter before spinning around to head back to my comfy seat, except the first thing I notice is a woman on a white couch near the tucked away café.
Well, looks like someone might want some company.
I get a rush of excitement because I can’t wait for another exchange with this fine-looking woman. With a mischievous grin, I fold the pamphlet and tuck it into my jacket pocket before making my way over. The temptation is too high. She’s like a fucking beacon.
And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Only one way to find out.
Chapter Three
ABIGAIL
The morning has been going smoothly despite that hiccup at breakfast. The hotel has the best amenities and the shower… Oh wow, that rain shower was awesome. I hopped in straight after that ‘interesting’ breakfast and got ready shortly after I finished. I couldn’t help skipping down the steps like a fearless child, two steps at a time, until a couple of fans stopped me.
The annual Writers’ Festival always pulled big names and being among them is absolutely gratifying as an author.
Today is day one of the three-day programs, where I’m going to give a greet and meet. It’s not my first author’s event and book signing, which is tomorrow, but the nerves still run through me. Guess it never stops.
“Abigail?”
A voice takes me away from my thoughts on the hotel room and I turn to where it’s traveling from, to see a tall, blond man walking in my direction with a takeaway cup.
Ah, my mocha! I forgot I ordered that.
As he gets closer, I can see his smile is wide and appreciative, and I can’t help but blush as he nears.
I clear my throat and make a little wave. “Yes, that’d be me, thanks,” then cross my legs as I accept the cup. I contemplate saying something else to him, but I’m busy blissfully holding the cup, sniffing the scent of hot coffee. By the time my brain registers, there is a hot guy I can flirt with. I look up to see the man’s back as he walks over to another customer.
Damn, missed the opportunity!Oh, well. Probably best I stay away. The irony would be hilarious if I get entangled with a man here.
I take a little sip of the chocolate-flavored caffeine goodness, still ogling the man as he asks fororders until he is out of sight. Oh, and what a sight he is.
I’ve got to stop ogling guys here. My eyes are having a great time, though.
Sinking into the comfortable couch, I close my eyelids and enjoy the warmth of the drink, loving the way it wakes up my taste buds.
“Did I just see you check out the server?”
My eyes pop open at the sound of the familiar American accent. Lifting an eyebrow, I look up to see the man leaning against the couch opposite me, wearing a smug smile.
The fact he has reappeared irks me suddenly again, too. I smirk and give a little tease.
“Are you following me around? I’m sensing some sort of attachment here.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “No attachment, I can assure you. I don’t do that kind of thing. It’s just that the brightness of your hair is like a fucking beacon.”
My lips purse in disappointment that his attractiveness isn’t matching his mocking personality. What a shame, and I’m not one to dislike someone so quickly, but I’m already exasperated with him.
“Well, since you continue to insult my hair and pop up whenever I am trying to relax, I wouldappreciate if you mocked someone else.” Then I quirk my lips to the side as I offer him a pointed look. “Or are you going to go through some separation anxiety?”
