Somewhere in a faraway place, a phone rang.
“Fuck,” Stone said, causing her to startle.
Realizing the phone wasn’t far away but instead was in her bedroom, she stilled. It rang again, and she realized it was Stone’s. That’s why he was cursing. “Don’t answer,” she pleaded.
He briefly dropped his forehead to hers and then reached for the noisemaker, keeping her firmly under him. “What?” he snapped.
There was a moment of silence, and then he swore. “Fucking hell.” He disconnected from the call, and sat up, his breathing still heavy.
Sophie waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she asked, “Is everything okay?”
He glanced at her as if he’d forgotten she was even there and shook his head. “It was my brother, Ryder. They know who threatened you. I must go.”
“Why not just let the police handle it?” Sophie asked, immediately worried. “You’re injured. I thought you were benched from heavy security duty.”
Her concern caused his already dark expression to grow darker. “This.” He made an open-palmed gesture toward her. “This is why I’ll never get married. You and I aren’t even a couple, and you’re stressed to the point of having red splotches all over your neck at the idea of my leaving to go and do my job.”
She was amazed at the level of ugliness in his tone. One would have thought she’d just admitted to adultery or something. “Don’t,” she exclaimed, and then paused, noticing the weariness in his eyes. “Don’t do that to me,” she finished quietly.
“Do what to you?” he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
“Shut me down for showing concern. I have news for you—you could be going across the street to pick up our hairless cat at the pet beauty parlor, and I’d be a little concerned that a piano might fall on you between here and there. It doesn’t mean I want to shuck the whole idea of our exploring us…especially nowthat I’m assuming you’ll no longer be shadowing me twenty-four hours a day.”
He reached out and gently cupped her jaw. “Sophie, I’ll never be book boyfriend material. Don’t fantasize about a forever with us. Any exploration we might engage in will always have an expiration date.”
She bit her lip and nodded. He wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already said a thousand times. It wasn’t his fault if her heart hadn’t been listening. “We’ll talk later. I’m sure you need to go.” Maybe, just maybe, his heart hadn’t been listening either.
What kind of professional daydreamer would she be if she didn’t hope?
He grunted and glanced at his watch. “The guy’s in another state. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Please promise me you’ll cancel all your interviews for today.”
Much to Sophie’s relief, he didn’t wait for her to make the promise.
Chapter 26
Sophie had prepared meticulously for today’s interviews. Opting for a touch of nostalgia, she’d donned a retro ensemble: a T-shirt emblazoned withDreamer at Work, paired with flared bell-bottom pants and chunky platform shoes. She figured the standout outfit would make her a memorable sight—enough so that any would-be kidnapper might think twice.
Despite Stone’s explicit wishes that she refrain from conducting interviews during his absence, Sophie had ultimately discarded his request. Mainly because of his offhand remark, as he’d left her apartment, about possibly not returning soon. Who knew how long securing a replacement for him might take? Moreover, the excitement of uncovering new book-boyfriend possibilities was too enticing to postpone. Plus, she was on a deadline. Yes. That’s the one she would lead with should he demand an explanation upon his return. Which he would because he was the broody sort who wouldn’t appreciate his wishes being ignored.
Besides, it wasn’t like any of today’s interviews posed potential threats. They’d all been nominated by people who either workedatNaked Runwayor were known by someone who worked there.
Now she sat in the reception area of a funky start-up company, waiting to meet a guy who mirrored the hero from Claire Kingsley’s novel,Falling for My Enemy.
“Mr. Drool will see you now,” the receptionist announced with a straight face.
Sophie couldn’t suppress a snicker. The surname was just too perfect for a prospective living, breathing book boyfriend. As she stood to approach the office, the door swung open.
“Hi,” greeted a man with a crooked grin that instantly charmed her. “I’m Howie Drool, and you must be Sophie E. Clark, the woman who got my name by accident.”
Sophie shook his hand. “Not by accident. You were nominated, and trust me, the nominator was vetted.”
He gestured for her to take a seat in a chair across from his sleek, minimalist desk, then circled around to sit himself. “May I ask who put my name in the hat for this—farce?”
“I’m afraid that is confidential,” Sophie replied, deciding not to be insulted, “If we told certain candidates who nominated them, it might not go over so well for the person.”
“I see. Well, I understand someone thinks that I’mbook boyfriendmaterial,” Howie remarked, his tone mixed with amusement and disbelief. “Beyond that, my receptionist seemed to be in the dark.”
Sophie leaned forward. “You see, here’s the deal—I’m featuring men who embody the essence of literary romantic heroes for my upcoming columns inNaked Runway. You’ve been flagged as a hot nerd archetype.” Her voice was tinged with an eagerness she couldn’t quite conceal.
