by Elise Faber
“If you don’t get me the Conner file by five, don’t bother showing up tomorrow.”
His eyes found mine again, and I honestly wasn’t sure which way the tide would flow with that one. Ten-to-one he’d be gone in the morning.
—Get your copy at www.books2read.com/Bitch
Cougar
Book Two
www.books2read.com/Cougar
“You’re Artie.” Pierce Daniels, the aforementioned handsome, young director, answered his own question and sat in the chair opposite me.
It was late-afternoon in L.A., the restaurant we were in was one of my favorites, and I’d become fancy and important enough—ha—that they’d let me come in before they opened. Fancy and important had its perks, though this particular perk was mostly because I liked the chef—female, insanely good with all things carb-related (which was a feat sometimes in the land of Hollywood), and driven—and so I’d become a silent partner in the restaurant.
“I’m Artie,” I confirmed. “Nice to meet you, Pierce.”
He pulled out a laptop and I laughed internally. God, I loved energetic new blood, loved he was so excited about this project that he’d brought materials to go over. I’d been in the industry long enough to be jaded and cynical.
Pierce had exactly the kind of enthusiasm we needed in this town.
“Thanks for meeting with me,” he said, powering up the computer. “I loved In For a Penny”—the first film I’d produced that had made its way to the awards circuit and also had garnered me my first Oscar—“but I think my favorite is actually Into the Fire.”
I smiled. “Thanks for saying that.” I set my glass on the table. “I was able to screen your most recent film. It’s going to be a hit.”
Notice I didn’t subscribe to false flattery.
Objectively, I didn’t like his movies.
However, that didn’t mean I was immune to the knowledge that he was supremely talented.
He froze for a minute, studying me closely, and I was locked in place by a pair of the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen. Stormy gray with indigo bisecting their depths. Those irises darkened, understanding clouding his expression.
Click.
The laptop shut.
“It’s a no,” he announced, sitting back in his chair almost haphazardly.
I frowned.
“You’re a no on the film.”
My fingers circled the stem of my water glass. “It’s a no,” I agreed. “Probably the stupidest no I’ll ever give, considering how successful you’ll be in the next year or two.” I lifted the cup to my lips, took a sip. “But the script just isn’t something I’ll ever make.”
A lock of brown hair drifted over his forehead, giving the twenty-something-year-old director the appearance of someone even younger.
He brushed it back, almost annoyingly.
“Why not?” he asked. “The female lead is strong, more powerful than most of the men in the film, and that dynamic is something you specialize in.”
Cute.
“Yes, she is strong.” I waited a beat. “However, that strength is undermined by a theme of the male co-star saving the day every step of the way. I counted at least three fight scenes where she’s nearly beaten before the hero sweeps in to rescue her, not to mention his masterful ability to always get her naked and the snarky comments he makes about her driving skills.”
Pierce was quiet for a long time. Then he nodded. “You’re right.”
The waiter came over and set a plate in front of me then handed a menu to Pierce. He took it, ordering an iced tea.
“You don’t have to stay, if you don’t want,” I told him. “But if you do, I’ll still buy you lunch.”
His brows pulled down. “I thought I was buying you lunch.”
A shake of my head. “I usually pay if I’m delivering disappointing news.”
He laughed. “Ah. The stories of you are true.”
I’d been busily spearing a forkful of handmade pasta, readying to shove it in my mouth, when he spoke. “What the hell does that mean?” I asked, after chewing and swallowing.
“Just that everyone says you’re the most honest person in Hollywood.”
Shrugging, I stuck the fork in my mouth and moaned when the delicious brown butter sauce made every single one of my taste buds orgasm. “It’s true,” I agreed.
He tilted his head to the side, considering. “So, what did you think of Sunday Night?”
“Hated it.”
He burst into laughter and set the menu on the table, gesturing to the waiter. “I’ll have what she’s having.” The waiter nodded and Pierce turned back to face me. “How about Blue?
“Nope. Didn’t like it.”
One brown brow rose. “Well, it’s better than hate, so I’ll take it. Though, I’m almost afraid to ask what you think of Life and—”
“Worst one of the bunch.”
More laughter as he grabbed his laptop off the table and stuck it into his backpack. “I do love an honest woman.”
It was my turn to lift a brow. “What’s that right there?” I waved my hand at his chest. “What’s going on with all of that?”
“With what?” he asked innocently.
“This smolder nonsense you have going on.”
His lips twitched. “Smolder?”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who’s too good for Disney movies,” I said and shoved another bite into my mouth. “Tangled is the best of the bunch.”
“That’s the crazy talking,” he countered. “Clearly The Emperor’s New Groove is better.”
I gasped. “Them’s fighting words, Pierce Daniels.” But my lips twitched. “Pull the lever?” I asked innocently, quoting one of my favorite lines from the film.
Heat flickered in his eyes and head leaned forward. “Wrong lever?”
I laughed. “Okay, so maybe you do have some Disney street cred.”
“Actually,” he said, leaning back slightly to allow the waiter to set the plate in front of him. “I think those two things are actually mutually exclusive.” A beat. “But thanks for appreciating it. Even if that’s the only thing you appreciate about me.”
“That is true,” I teased, shoving a bite of pasta into my mouth and barely able to hold back my moan of pleasure.
Pierce gave me an affronted look, but then he picked up a forkful of food and stuck it in his mouth.
I waited.
His eyes widened in surprise.
I knew the feeling because I’d experienced it just over a year ago, when I’d first tasted the chef’s food. Hence, my being a silent partner in a risky investment. Still, good food was half the battle and I’d eaten here enough to know that the other important part—service—was also exceptional.
But Pierce didn’t know that.
“This is delicious,” he said around the bite, which meant it sounded a lot like “Shish sish shulishush.”
“Is this where I say chew with your mouth closed before surrendering to the smolder?”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin, set down the fork. “This is where I say I don’t give two shits about anything besides the amazing food on my plate.” He dropped the napkin back into his lap. “How did you find this place?”
I shrugged. “A lady doesn’t give away her secrets.”
Stormy gray-blue eyes went hot. “I bet I can convince you.”
My pussy clenched. Straight up, right then. With a single look. Uh-oh. “I don’t date children.”
He laughed. “I’m twenty-two. That’s hardly a child.”
“Pierce. I’m thirty-seven.”
“So?”
He meant it, too, I could tell.
“So, I don’t date people who work with me.”
His laughter burned a hole straight down to my middle. “I think we’ve quite established the fact that we’re not going to be working together.”
He had a point. And the stink knew it, given the way those hot eyes traced me up and down.
“Eat y
our pasta,” he ordered huskily. Normally orders from men pissed me off, especially men who were many years younger than me, who deigned to think they had a right to give me orders, but there was something about Pierce’s gaze, heavy with approval and desire, that made it less annoying and more . . . promising.
I lifted a brow. “And if I don’t?”
“I’ll just have to—” He broke off and waggled his brows, making like he was going to grab my plate.
I lifted my fork threateningly.
He laughed, went back to his own entrée. “Thanks for lunch.”
My carefully constructed bite of pasta fell onto my plate. “I thought we’d established you were paying,” I said and when he did nothing more but chuckle and then smolder at me again, before continuing to devour his lunch, I knew I was in trouble.
Then deep shit when he snagged the waiter and handed him his card.
And then falling down into a crevice of even deeper shit when he gently tugged my ponytail out from underneath the collar of my jacket when I slipped it on.
Between the table and front door, I considered my options.
At the front door, I made a decision.
I took his hand and pulled him over to my car.
—Get your copy at www.books2read.com/Cougar
End Scene
Book Four
www.books2read.com/EndScene
Coming August 24th, 2020
Also by Elise Faber
Billionaire’s Club (all stand alone)
Bad Night Stand
Bad Breakup
Bad Husband
Bad Hookup
Bad Divorce
Bad Fiancé
Bad Boyfriend
Bad Blind Date
Bad Wedding (July 19th, 2020)
Bad Engagement (October 12th, 2020)
* * *
Chauvinist Stories (all stand alone)
Bitch
Cougar
Whore
End Scene
* * *
Love After Midnight (all stand alone)
Rum and Notes
Virgin Daiquiri (June 29th, 2020)
* * *
Gold Hockey (all stand alone)
Blocked
Backhand
Boarding
Benched
Breakaway
Breakout
Checked
Coasting (June 15th, 2020)
* * *
Life Sucks Series (all stand alone)
Train Wreck
Hot Mess (coming soon)
* * *
Roosevelt Ranch Series (all stand alone, series complete)
Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch
Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch
Collision at Roosevelt Ranch
Regret at Roosevelt Ranch
Desire at Roosevelt Ranch
* * *
Phoenix Series (read in order)
Phoenix Rising
Dark Phoenix
Phoenix Freed
* * *
Phoenix: LexTal Chronicles (rereleasing soon, stand alone, Phoenix world)
From Ashes
In Flames
To Smoke
* * *
KTS Series
Fire and Ice (Hurt Anthology, stand alone)
* * *
Stand Alones
Someday, Maybe (YA)
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author, Elise Faber, loves chocolate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team -- the Sharks! -- are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise changes her hair color more often than some people change their socks, loves sparkly things, and is the mom to two exuberant boys. She lives in Northern California. Connect with her in her Facebook group, the Fabinators or find more information about her books at www.elisefaber.com.