Two women passing by us stop briefly to stare at him. The tall, blonder one, whispers something to her friend before they both shake their heads and move on.
"I'm not interested in you, Nicholas." I point after the women as they stroll toward the corner. "I bet either of those women would love to have a drink or dinner or maybe even both with you. If you hurry you can catch them before the light turns."
His gaze stays trained on my face. "I don't want to have drink or dinner with anyone but you."
"Why me?" I ask in exasperation. "I've said no already. Can't you just move on?"
"You need me, Sophia."
I laugh at the absurdity of that statement. "Your ego is the size of Texas. I don't need you."
"Your business needs me." He takes a step forward. "I was exactly like you once. I was posting chapters of my novels online hoping to find readers. I worked day and night to gain any ground I could. I was making mistakes that cost me time and money."
I eye him suspiciously. "You want me to have dinner with you so we can talk business?"
"Exactly," he says with a sharp nod. "That's it. It'll be shop talk, nothing else."
"You do realize that you write books and I design clothing?" I ask with a smirk. "You have no idea what it takes to make it in the fashion world."
He steps even closer as a group of people pass behind him. "I know how to create a personal brand that demands attention. That's what you need. It doesn't matter if it's books or dresses.Until you create a name for yourself, no one is going to notice your designs."
I finally slide my other glove on. "I'm not typically a five o'clock diner but I'll make an exception tonight. I'll give you an hour, Nicholas if you promise we'll talk business."
"Deal." He slides his finger along my chin. "You had a snowflake there."
I smile because the sudden snowstorm stopped the very minute we started talking.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nicholas
I don't knowhow the fuck I ended up here. I'm not talking about this burger place less than two blocks from Sophia's office. I'm talking about how I wound up practically begging a woman I don't even know to have dinner with me. Technically, this isn't dinner in my book. I eat at eight or nine o'clock. The reason behind that is evident in this restaurant. The majority of the clientele is either under the age of ten-years-old or over the age of eighty.
"How did you become famous?" Sophia asks before she sucks on the end of the straw that leads to the iced coffee she ordered.
I stare at her mouth and those bright crimson lips. My cock isn't going to behave through this dinner and that's a problem. It's not because I mind rocking a hard-on in front of a beautiful woman. I don't. If that doesn't physically say,I want you, I don't know what does. The issue is the group of children sitting with their parents at the table next to us.
"I wrote a good book," I answer without thinking. I get that I often sound like an egomaniac. I haven't always. There was atime when I was thrilled with the idea of anyone reading my work, but reality gets blurred when people start handing you checks with a lot of zeroes and women throw themselves at your feet.
I've tried to stay grounded but it's fucking hard when you're recognized almost everywhere you go and your bank account is a constant reminder of how many people crave your work.
"I design cute clothes," she counters with a smirk. "I'm asking how you got noticed, Nicholas? What did you do to get your work in front of the right people?"
The answer is simple, so I go with that. "I went back to the starting line."
"How so?" She sucks on the straw again, this time closing her eyes.
I cross my legs, willing my cock to calm the hell down. "I was sending out queries to agents for years. That started when I was in high school."
"I take it you had no success with that."
It's a fair assumption considering I only hit it big two years ago when I was twenty-six. "It was a waste of time. Years lost."
She nods like she gets it. I know she does. I checked out the time stamps on some of her older posts on her website. She's been designing clothing and uploading pictures of those items to her site for years. "When you stopped sending out queries, what did you do next?"
"Focused on college," I say quickly in response. "I went to school, studied writing and improved my craft."
"I've thought about taking a year off to go to design school, but I think I'm past that." She looks over at the kids next to us. "I see what the designers at Foster come up with on a daily basis."
