“Have you tried?”
“No,” I tell him, my mind briefly flitting to thoughts of Luthwen and Phenelope. “And like I said, I have no interest in it.”
“So fake interest,” he says as the waitress brings our drinks. He gives her a quick wink and she smiles slyly at him and it does something vile inside me. Is he hitting on her in front of me?
And, jeez, when did I think that was a problem?
His eyes dart over to me and he frowns. “Something wrong?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, other than your proposition. You of all people should know how hard it is to write something you actually care about. I can’t imagine how painful it would be to write about something you don’t like.”
“Funny,” he muses to himself, looking away. “Thought you would have been up for a challenge.”
“Writing with you was a challenge,” I point out.
“Until it wasn’t.”
I inhale deeply, holding my breath in my lungs, trying to get some clarity. I don’t want to commit this idea that’s really nothing more than a harebrained scheme but at the same time…
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he says. He brings out his phone and taps something out. My phone immediately beeps.
I frown and bring it out of my purse. He just sent me an email. “What’s this?”
“I made you an official proposal. A business plan. About time I put those classes to use.”
Jeez. He really is serious. In fact, even with the hopeful gleam in his eyes, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so serious before, even when he was grappling with plot problems in The Heart Thief.
“I can’t believe you made a business plan about writing smut,” I tell him, putting my phone away and planning to look it over later.
He shrugs, squinting at the sun that has shifted again. “I’m serious about making money and potentially changing my life for good. What can I say?” Now he’s shielding his eyes with his hand.
“Here,” I tell him, bringing my cat eye glasses out of my purse. “It’s prescription but they’ll at least help with the sun.”
He grins his thanks and as he takes them from me, for a split second, our fingers brush together. But unlike the few times it’s happened before, I can swear it’s deliberate. His finger practically strokes mine and his eyes pin me down and fire travels up my arm, right into the thick of me.
I really should stop drinking around him. And, really, my reaction means I shouldn’t write with him either.
He slips my sunglasses on and his mouth drops open. “Bloody hell woman, are you blind as a bat?”
“No,” I say defensively, even though the sight of him in my glasses is pretty ridiculous. “I’m near-sighted and only by a little bit.” He doesn’t have to know how much. “That means—”
“I know what near-sighted means,” he says. He takes the glasses off, blinking hard as he slides them back on the table. “I think I might be cross-eyed now.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“You’re going to have to write most of the book then.”
I sigh. “Just…let me read over the proposal and I’ll let you know.”
“It would be better if you read it now.”
“Why?”
He wags his brows. “Because I’m a lot more persuasive in person.”
He’s right, which is exactly why I need to be away from him to make a sound decision. Writing self-published erotica with Blake can only lead to one thing and I’m too afraid to find out what it is.
Blake is still staring at me, waiting for an answer. The drinks are getting to my head, making it easier to just give in but I have to stay strong.
“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” I tell him firmly.
“You promise you’ll read the whole thing and keep an open mind?”
“I promise.”
“Okay…” he puts his hands behind his head, showing off his wide chest, the thickness of his bicep and of course I’m staring at him like I’ve never seen a man before. He knows what he’s doing. What an asshole.
“Get a good look?” he asks smugly, all damn dimples.
“Whatever,” I dismiss him, averting my eyes and keeping them locked to my beer. Seems like I do a lot of staring at my drink when I’m around him.
“What should our pen name be?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”
“I refuse to accept that you might turn me down.”
“And I refuse to accept that no woman has before.”
“Oh, I’ve been turned down before.”
“By who?”
His lips quirk. “You,” he says pointedly.
I stare at him for a moment, my mind racing. “When did you proposition me?”
“I don’t have to proposition you to know how you’d react.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, raising my brow haughtily. “And how would I react?”
“You’d kick me in the balls. You told me that once.”
He sounds so sincere I have to laugh. “I was just letting you know I could defend myself in case you wanted to take advantage of me.”
“Amanda,” he says, his eyes soft. “I doubt anyone could take advantage of you.”
“Too smart?”
“That and scary.”