After.
I’d have all the time in the world to help her after.
In the meantime, if she was working on her own book, then maybe my guilt about ignoring her would fade and I could write even faster. It was a win for both of us.
“Have you ever not met a deadline?” Evie asked.
“Once. During the Candace debacle.”
The whole thing had been so ugly. I’d thought she understood that first and foremost, I was a writer. That I had to close my office doors and disappear to the world. When she’d blown up, she’d gone right for the jugular, telling me I was just like my dad. Two weeks later, I adopted Morgan and swore I’d never get involved with someone again.
And yet…
…here I was.
Involved.
Evie grimaced. “I promise not to be a repeat of that. In fact, my magic hooha offers its services as often as you need to make sure you meet this deadline without issue.”
I shoved the last several bites of dinner into my mouth, chewing as fast as I could, then held up my hand as our waiter passed. “Check, please!”
Her chest heaved. Her eyes flashed. Her nipples pebbled as I skated my lips along her skin. Soft. Delicate. Slow.
I would savor her. Sipping at pleasure the way I sipped whiskey. My dick strained against my pants as I lowered her to my bed, her hair fanning out across my pillows, her eyes on me, screaming that she was mine, mine, mine.
I traced a finger along her inner thigh, and she trembled, arching her back in anticipation, only to groan as I pressed a kiss to her belly, her ribs, her throat. The room throbbed with want, a pulsing energy pressing us together, but I refused to succumb. I wanted her dripping. Quivering. On the edge. I wanted her body to sing for mine. To watch her tremble and quake, her eyes hooded with want…for me. Tonight wasn’t about sex. This was about how she made me feel. How I wanted to make her feel. This was about the two of us, coming together, saying everything words couldn’t.
I want you, said the slow slip of my finger.
I need you, said the brush of my lips.
I think I’m falling in love with you, said my hand fisting in her hair.
I know, said the arch of her back, the whimper in her throat.
I know, said the clash of our bodies.
I know, said the quiver in her legs.
If she could hold on two more weeks, everything would go back to normal.
Just two more weeks.
Chapter Thirty-One
Evie
I woke before my alarm and rolled over to find myself alone in bed. A note rested on Alex’s pillow with his messy script dancing across the page.
My muse,
The hardest thing I’ve ever done was walk away from you this morning. Your hair begged to be caressed. Your lips begged to be kissed. Your breasts spilled from your shirt and…well, you get the drift. You’re freaking sexy, but words must happen. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m head over heels for you and falling farther every day.
Yours for as long as you’ll have me,
Lord and Master, Sir Alexander Prescott the Glorious
I pressed the note to my chest and flopped back on my pillow with a sigh before climbing out of bed to start my day. Another note waited for me in the bathroom, taped to the mirror, with a heart and smiley face drawn on the glass with dry erase markers. Giddy and grinning, I read the note.
Roses are red, violets are blue, the best thing about me is the day I met you.
He’d drawn a winky face at the bottom of the page and I could just imagine him giggling like a child as he wrote the ridiculous poem. I shoved the paper into the pocket of my PJ pants, brushed my teeth, then headed downstairs in search of coffee, only to pull up short when I found a note on each stair leading to the first floor. Each page contained only one word, and by the time I got to the landing, they formed a single sentence.
In case you couldn’t tell, I want you to know how much I care about you.
Another note dangled in the doorway leading from the dining room to the kitchen.
A lot. I care a lot.
And one last note waited for me by the coffee maker, with a single red rose sitting in a vase.
Evie-
I hope you don’t mind, but I made an appointment for you today. Normally, I wouldn’t presume to dictate your schedule, but this is an extraordinary circumstance and I hope you’ll forgive me. In exchange for promising my agent the book would be done on time, I had her reach out to Harlow West and ask if the two of you could sync up sometime. Mrs. West proved to be perfectly lovely and in need of a reason to visit New England, so she flew in from the Keys this morning and will be waiting for you at Brewhaha—the coffee shop on Main Street—at noon. It’s been all I could do not to spill the beans ever since she confirmed last week. I have my phone turned off so I can focus, but I’ll power it back on around 2 to check in on you. Please enjoy your day and know that you’re always on my mind.
XO
Alex
I read the note three times before I dropped it to the counter, screamed, and danced in place. Harlow West was here. In Wildrose Landing. To meet…me. Me! The woman who lost her job due to a case of terminal taupeness was now consulting on an upcoming release from a critically acclaimed bestselling author and had a meeting with Harlow freaking West in a couple hours.
I screamed again, flinging my arms overhead and spinning in a circle to scatter exclamation points
