I was a disaster. A horny, confused, emotionally compromised disaster who apparently couldn’t eat Cheerios without having sexual fantasies.
And I may have dressed for tonight’s book club with a specific audience in mind.
The blouse was tighter than my usual choices, hugging my curves, the neckline dipping low enough to show a lot of cleavage, the kind that said “please look at my breasts” while maintaining plausible deniability. I’d tried on four different bras before settling on the one that created maximum lift. My shorts made my ass look amazing. I’d checked approximately seven times in the mirror, twisting around to verify from every angle. I’d even put on perfume, the one I saved for special occasions.
I was absolutely, definitely trying to get Caelan’s attention. God, I was pathetic. I was a grown woman who wrote romance novels for a living, and here I was, a teenager trying to get noticed by her crush at the school dance. Next I’d be “accidentally” dropping my pen so he could pick it up.
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea. I made a mental note.
The wine bar filled up with the usual crowd. Thessa arrived with Jade, the two of them practically glued together, Jade’s hand in Thessa’s back pocket in a way that made me simultaneously happy for my friend and jealous of their easy intimacy. Thessa caught my eye and grinned.
“He’s running late,” she said, because apparently my face was an open book. “Some errand. He’ll be here.”
“I wasn’t...”
“Sure.” Thessa’s grin widened. “Nice shirt, by the way.”
My cheeks heated. Was it that obvious?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay. And I’m not sleeping with your best friend.”
Jade choked on her wine.
We were all starting to settle down when the door opened and a new face walked in. Mid-thirties, brown hair, dimples. Boy-next-door cute in a very conventional way. The kind of guy who’d look good on a dating app profile but forgettable in real life. He scanned the room, spotted me organizing the charcuterie across the table, and headed over.
“Hi. Is this the romance book club?” His smile was friendly. “I’m Sam. I saw the flyer.”
“That’s us.” I gestured at an empty chair, a brief flashback of the timeanotherman showed up unannounced to book club. “You’re welcome to join. We’re discussing...”
“His Darkest Desire. I know.” Sam’s eyes traveled down my body, slowly, taking in the cleavage I’d specifically put on display, the legs my shorts were showing off, every inch of skin I’d strategically revealed. When his gaze came back to my face, he smiled wider. “I’ve already read it. Twice. I have a feeling I’m going to love this book club.”
He sat in the chair beside me, the one that was usually empty until Caelan arrived.
The one Caelan always took. I had a bad feeling about this.
The discussion began and we soon learned Sam asked good questions, had clearly read the book, and had thoughts about character motivation, narrative structure and the author’s use of tension.
He was also sitting way too close to me and kept finding excuses to lean in.
“What do you think about the hero’s possessive behavior?” he asked, angling toward me as if I was the only person in the room. His knee brushed mine under the table. “Do you find that attractive?”
“It depends on execution,” I said, shifting away. “There’s a difference between protective and controlling.”
“Absolutely.” He shifted closer, his hand landed on the table near my elbow, fingers drumming casually. “I think the key is consent. The heroine wants to be possessed. She asks for it.”
“That’s true.”
“So it’s romantic.” His hand moved closer to my arm. “To be wanted that much. To be someone’s everything.”
I shifted away again, but he shifted closer again. A slow-motion chase around the table. We were ten minutes into a debate about the hero’s possessive behavior when the door opened and finally, Caelan walked in.
He was wearing a dark blue button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms in a way that should be illegal. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his fingers through it. He looked good, like always. It was genuinely offensive.
Some people noticed his entrance. Sloane’s head turned. Margo looked up from her wine. Sam didn’t notice at all. He was too busy making a point about consent in dark romance, his hand creeping toward my arm again.
Caelan’s eyes found me immediately. His face lit up with the smile that made my stomach flip, the one that made me feel I was the best part of his day. He started toward me, his whole body oriented in my direction.
