I shoved the book into my briefcase, grumbling as I did and tossed the remainder of the wretched coffee in her trashcan. Yes, he was hot. That much I would admit. The perfect protector. A true hero in my mind.
He was also way out of my league, likely a millionaire a few times over. Not that having money was a bad thing.
I closed my door, dropping my briefcase and immediately heading to my desk, curious to see what Jessica had sent.
“Huh.” I found the email easily enough. When I pulled up the details, I sat back in my seat, tapping my fingers on the fake mahogany.
A book signing at a local bookstore.
What were the odds aNew York Timesbestselling author would stop by a local brick and mortar store to sign a few copies of his latest bestseller? Well, he hadn’t moved away from Miami after becoming rich and famous.
I would love to meet the man. Maybe karma was trying to slide her grimy little mitts into my world, giving me a shove.
Or maybe karma was actually giving me an opportunity I couldn’t refuse. Especially after seeing the morning news.
While I was thinking about the opportunity, making mental note of the date, my personal cellphone rang. Grabbing it without thinking, I continued reading about the event even as I answered.
“Hello?”
“Do you dream in color?”
It took a full five seconds to realize the question that had rumbled off the man’s tongue. “What did you say?”
His chuckle was long and dark. “I asked if your dreams were in color.”
“Who the fuck is this?” On edge, I immediately rose from my chair, heading toward the window in my office. For some reason, I stood at the corner, peering out at the parking lot, my personal view.
Breathe. Just breathe.
The question was one several people had known about. It would be easy to find. Pain ripped through my eyes as a rush of memories almost brought me to my knees. Hell, no.
There was no one standing staring up at me from the street, but my skin continued to crawl. This was just some jerk hungering for a blip of fame. I’d seen it happen a half dozen times in my career.
“Oh, I think you know who it is. I’ve missed you. Very much.” His laugh was deep, jovial. No. Not the same.
“Look, buddy. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but I’m hanging up now.”
“There was nothing like the hunting of women. No gourmet food. No expensive liquor. No sensual perfume. And no raw, unbridled sexual experience that could hold a candle to the hunt, the capture, and the kill. You were the only woman who wasn’t afraid. That’s when I knew you were special. Very special indeed.”
All the convincing I was trying to do wasn’t working. My skin began to crawl. “What the hell are you insinuating?” I couldn’t stop shaking.
His chuckle kept me on the line. “We’ll meet again very soon. Very soon indeed. Maria.”
CHAPTER 2
Maverick
A cautionary tale of diplomacy.
In other words, faking a goddamn smile for hours on end.
If I had another cup of coffee, there would be no way of stopping the reality of my personality from escaping the debonair façade. Oh, who was I kidding? Today I bore the look of an author who’d been stuck inside his house facing one deadline after another. Not exactly disheveled considering my blazer came directly from Italy, but close enough to keep my female fans enamored.
“Are we finished yet?” I asked while managing to preserve the jovial expression even as three women took turns taking pictures with my cardboard self on the other side of the thick velvet rope.
“Look at that line, Mav. Come on. Meeting your fans isn’t the worst thing in the world. I remember your first signing when two people showed up, including my mother. The question I have is do you remember those lean and mean days?”
“Short lived, I seem to recall.”
