Considering my books are about murder, maybe I’d better send her over to you if romance is what she is looking for.
I smile.
Rachel
It’s not too hard to write some romance in.
Evan
Well, she’s not exactly the kind of character I’m looking for.
Leo clears his throat.
“Oh, sorry!” I say, putting my phone down.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I think it’s hotter than my wood-fired grill.”
“Oh, no! We’re…It’s not like that.” I trip over my words.
He smiles. “So, what’s he really like?”
“Evan?” I ask.
Leo nods.
“He means well even if he comes off a little rough around the edges. Which I know is ironic since he looks so polished,” I answer, revealing more than I probably should.
“Well, his life hasn’t exactly been all bestselling novels and awarding-winning actresses,” he answers, and the way he’s looking at me makes me know he knows something I don’t.
“Do you know Evan?” I ask.
“Just don’t judge a book by its cover and all that,” he says. “The story that’s his, well, it’s not mine to tell.”
“You know Evan?” I repeat.
He grins. “We met several years back, when his books were just getting popular. We’re not friends, but we’re friends. If that makes sense. Evan doesn’t really let anyone in.”
I nod my head, understanding his explanation. “Well, what about you? We should get back to your interview.”
“Our date?” He winks at me.
I laugh. “It’s not a date.”
“But it could be,” he teases, leaning across the table.
“I thought Evan was your friend,” I say.
“I wasn’t aware you were Evan’s,” he replies.
“I’m not,” I say quickly.
He leans back into his chair again, crossing his arms. “How about this? Question for question. You’ll get your interview, and I’ll get to know you a little more. You can decide later if you want it to be a date.”
“Fine.” I agree. “But I’m not going to decide that it’s a date.”
“Do you like what you do forThe New York Standard?” he asks.
I bite the inside of my cheek, figuring out how to word my feelings. “It’s not that I hate it.”
