by MK Meredith
“The theme, even the genre, is simply the conduit by which we weave our stories. This world is made of much more than you and me at this table, the current state of our government, or who won the latest sports championship. Romance writers tap into broader, deeper experiences—things tying cultures, eras, whole landscapes together. The story is only effective if our readers disappear into them.”
He gazed at her, then looked around the restaurant. “That sounds like a lot of work beyond writing.”
“It is. Long hours. In a day I’ll do everything from work on my current manuscript to plotting my next, to analyzing the market, social media, promotion, and looking at where I need to be a year from now, five years from now. I’m only successful in this business if I know the right place to go with my career. My days tend to be more sixteen hours than eight.”
“Oh, I get it. My day begins before I’m awake and ends after I’ve already gone to sleep. That takes an amazing level of work ethic.”
“One you recognize with your own work. You and I simply sell different things.”
Leaning back in his chair, he stared at her.
The intense look in his eye made her want to squirm. That was her cue. It was time to go. Rule number seven: always leave him wanting more. “Good luck today. I have a presentation in thirty minutes, and I need to run back to my room first.”
He nodded and stood with her. “What’s the presentation?”
“It’s on alpha heroes.”
He smoothed down the front of his suit jacket. “Want to take my picture? I’m the perfect visual aid. It could reduce your hour-long presentation to less than sixty seconds.”
Seven rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Sure, you may have a few alpha qualities with your broad shoulders and your bedroom eyes.”
He puffed out his chest even more.
“But this presentation is more than being an alpha man; it’s about being an alpha hero. You have a long way to go, my friend.”
His smug smile disappeared, and she almost felt bad. Almost.
Stepping forward, she placed a smooth kiss against the corner of his mouth where the chocolate had been. Lingering for a second, she breathed him in, then stepped back. He still frowned, and it was everything she could do not to outright laugh at the look. “Remember, I get lunch.”
“But we agreed to dinner.” He looked at his watch. “It’ll be tight, but I’ll be there.”
Seven gave him a once-over, then turned and walked out the front door, making sure to put an extra swing in her hips with every step. As any woman did, she had an insecurity here and there, but not where her ass was concerned. She’d learned to leverage that particular asset long ago.
With a quick look over her shoulder, she gave Blake a little wave of her fingers. Just as she’d thought. He was watching her go, and that was a good sign.
Time to shift the power back to her side of the scale. She had a bet to win, a bet she was having the time of her life playing through, and one she had no intention of losing, her heart be damned.
But secretly, she feared there’d be no winner.
“Hey, Seven?”
Yes. Mental fist bump.
She turned back.
“There’s a big difference in what we sell. I sell luxury for those who can afford it; you sell fantasy, fiction, some unattainable, ungraspable thing that no amount of money can buy. I’m surprised you feel good about that.”
Power shift annihilated.
She whirled through the door and right into the arms of her editor, Nathaniel, with a loud oomph.
His strong hands cupped her shoulders, helping her gain her balance. She could feel the warmth radiating off his chest, and his cologne wafted about her head in a masculine cloud, but instead of her stomach fluttering with interest, it remained curiously calm. “Hey, Seven, are you okay?”
Stepping back, she flashed him a smile, or tried to, certainly not with the same intensity she’d been showering on Blake.
“Are you ready for your presentation this morning?”
“I am. Heading there as soon as I change.”
He looked her over. “You look amazing just as you are. You just need to put that smile back on your face.”
She closed her eyes for a beat. He’d complimented her, and she’d felt nothing. Damn Blake. Would she never see another man as desirable again? She was in for years of loneliness if that was the case. Damn alpha males.
But Blake was certainly no alpha hero—especially after his last barb.
She studied the appreciation in her editor’s eyes and saw something different than before. She really was going crazy. “Thank you, but I’m running back to put on a dress. You know I like to keep a specific author style.”
He nodded. “Which dress, the red one? Oh, wait, the white one.”
Seven’s eyes widened a beat. What in the hell? “You have a very good memory. The white.”
“You’ll look amazing.” He pulled open the door, but looked back with a smile. “I’ll sneak in and sit in the back.”
“See you there.” She made quick work of getting back to her room and slipping into her dress, doing her best to push Blake’s words from her mind. She’d have to save the color for later, opting for matching nude panties and a strapless bra. The intricate detail of the lace on the bra made the neutral color simply breathtaking. It was one of her favorite sets. She shimmied the dress up and over her hips, then tied the straps behind her neck. The halter neckline was all Marilyn Monroe, but dark and sultry.
Seven bit her lip, thinking about what she had planned for lunch, and how to get over the stupid things he always said. He had a way of getting under her skin, which made her question her sanity. Because she wanted him under her skin, all right. But in the horizontal mambo kind of way.
The whole plan for lunch was crazy and left a nervous buzz in her stomach. Could she really go through with it? Six would think she was nuts.
But if she wanted to ensure her success and save her reputation, she needed to go all out. It wasn’t so much about the sex as it was a partner putting themself out there, being generous and giving. Traits that would often be reciprocated and easily translated into the rest of the relationship.
But work came first.
Her presentation covered alpha heroes in romance novels, and Blake thought he was the perfect example. She frowned. He was in many ways, but not where it counted for a happily ever after.
And there was no romance novel if there was no happily ever after.
Something she’d do well to remember.
Blake ended his call and slipped his phone into his inner suit coat pocket. With a quick check of the time, he pushed the meeting room door open just a bit to gauge the space in the room. There were at least a hundred women, making it easy for him to go unnoticed in the back. Seven slowly paced the front of the room as she spoke, all eyes on her. Once she turned away from him again, he slipped in the door of her alpha hero presentation with a group of conference attendees who’d shown up late and found a chair against the far back wall by the door. He settled in and slid low in the seat.
He was impressed by the size of the room, and the fact that all the chairs were not only filled, but more people continued to join them, leaving standing room only. He’d expected something smaller and more intimate, but this was more than twice the size of the room he’d imagined.
Seven made a comment that made the attendees laugh, and the noise quickly crescendoed to a cacophony. For the fairer sex, women were fucking loud.
At breakfast he’d found himself relating a bit too much with his feisty seductress. Her work ethic, her passion, were the twins of his own, and he felt himself wanting to extend breakfast into lunch. Which was his red flag to get the hell out. His parting comment was just as much to ease his discomfort as to tip the scales back into his favor. She’d been a bit too self-satisfied as she’d said good-bye.
Now he planned on doing some intel. He was a businessman after all, and knowing his opponen
t was key. Of course it was nothing more than wanting to figure her out, get the upper hand—but he couldn’t complain about the view he’d had as she’d walked out of the restaurant. Shoving down his slight fascination, he scoped her out at the front of the room.
Now he watched her again, commanding the room, calling everyone to attention. She exuded confidence and passion—two things that intrigued him about her since the beginning. Her comment at breakfast stung more than he liked to admit. Alpha hero versus alpha man. Fuck. Nothing but fantasy. He’d just lean back and enjoy the show and see just how she differentiated the two. This was bound to be entertaining and informative.
If he could just avoid her, he would, but part of the agreement was to spend time together. And the best way to handle being around her was by knowing how she operated.
Watching her move across the front of the room, he couldn’t help but respect the way she held the attendees’ attention. She commanded the space, but in a way that was approachable, an atmosphere to learn in. She exuded sophistication and sensuality in her white dress and shining black hair. Her look alone gave her an unarguable level of credibility. Did she realize it?
Hell yes, she did. She didn’t do anything on accident.
An attendee spoke up during the question-and-answer section. “Why are people so drawn to alpha heroes?”
Oh, this would be good. It was simple. Women wanted to be taken care of, even though they fought the perception to exhaustion.
Seven repeated the question, projecting her voice to the back of the room even without the microphone. So much vigor in a tiny package. Blake leaned forward in his seat, keeping his head ducked behind a woman in front of him with a large bun.
Placing her hands on her hips, Seven smiled at the audience. “I’m one of those people, not just as an author but as a reader. In my opinion, there’s nothing better than sinking my teeth into a meaty, juicy alpha hero. They are the ones who can take a woman up against a wall, but make her feel as if she’s the most intelligent and beautiful woman on the planet. Alpha heroes speak to everyone’s desire to be wanted, to be desired, to have someone willing to move heaven and earth to be with you. They’re about indulgence, too, wanting something a little bit dangerous, wanting a thrill. But alpha heroes are mostly about us being willing to feel vulnerable with someone else and trust them enough to care for us, even when they don’t have to, which comes down to respect.” She turned to the audience, looking everyone in the front row in the eye before she continued. “There are alpha men out there who possess one or two, maybe even three of those alpha attributes, but respect and sensitivity are usually the difference between them and alpha heroes. Do they care enough to put you first, or is it all about them? Is there trust and respect?”
His stomach turned. He respected her. He could be sensitive when he wanted to. Was the antithesis of the man she described really how she saw him?
She took a few more questions, answering each with the same authoritative but kind enthusiasm. Her readers and writers in the room all connected with her, wanted to hear what she had to say, trusted her. He understood why. She was brilliant. Goddammit.
His stomach rolled again, and he breathed out against the sour sensation.
He’d meant what he said about the fantasy she sold, but if both parties in a relationship treated the other with the same ideals she talked about, could he see it another way? A scene in her book came to mind. What had the hero said? I choose you, not because of who I am when I’m with you, but who I become with each passing day. The statement was one of respect, but also one of awe. And he wanted to prove to her he was capable of those things.
He was in awe of Seven.
Motherfucker. He felt things, things he didn’t know what to do with. Goddammit. He needed to get the hell out of there without being seen before this whole stupid idea blew up in his face.
One more glance confirmed the worst. He wanted to take her up against a wall, not because of what it meant if he didn’t, but because of what it meant if he did.
Panic tightened his chest. He shook his head in denial. Temporary, desperate solutions.
He’d be damned if she was going to turn him into her fucking alpha hero.
He was nothing if not all alpha man. Relationships didn’t work, but he needed a night with Seven like he’d never needed anything else. He needed to get her out of his mind before he slid any further.
Chapter Six
Son of a bitch. Watching as the tail of his suit jacket followed him out the door, Seven dug her nails into her palms. Flying high on the end of a well-received presentation, she was once again grounded by a slap from Blake. What the hell was he doing there?
Nothing good, no doubt.
He’d give anything for some material for mocking her and her work, not to mention her fans. Well, she was just the girl to set him straight.
She stayed just long enough to answer a few last-minute questions, give a few more hugs, and sign some books. Loving this part of her connection with her fans, she hated to leave, but she was never one to shy away from her problems.
Marching through the lobby, the hem of her dress swirling around her calves, she mentally counted all the ways he was an ass for showing up while she was working. Don’t touch my work, he’d said. But there he’d been, not giving her the same respect. Finally, she rapped on his door.
The door opened, revealing a shirtless Blake already walking back toward his desk. “You have a key. Why’d you knock?”
“I saw you.” She fisted her hands to keep from touching him. It wasn’t fair for him to stand there without his shirt, the top button of his dress slacks undone. Her eyes drifted over the golden skin of his chiseled abdominal muscles, following a dark sprinkling of hair on his lower abs until it disappeared under the band of a pair of dark blue briefs. She gritted her teeth and yanked her eyes back to his only to find him staring at her with a smile. Crossing her arms at her chest, she tapped her foot. “Are you ready to mock my work again?”
“Does it have to be my next meeting?”
She opened her mouth to defend herself, trying to make sense of his question. “What?” Seeing so much of his skin was playing havoc with her senses.
“If I lose the bet, do I have to sell your book at the very next meeting?”
Distracted by his line of questioning and the fact that he was walking toward her, she shook her head, trying to clear it. She took an involuntary step back. “Any meeting where your bosses are attending.”
He grinned, and she swore a look of relief softened his usually intense features.
One more step back had her up against the wall, and he stepped close. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin, and she sucked in a breath. She was there on a mission to set him straight. “What are you doing?”
Holding her gaze with his light eyes, he trailed a finger across her brow, then down her cheek to the soft skin of her neck. An involuntary shiver raced through her. Following the neckline of her dress, his finger trailed lower toward the swell of her breast, making it difficult to swallow against the goose bumps racing up her neck.
“I can’t pitch your book at my interview, but you win.”
Her mouth dropped open, then she snapped it closed. She won? Something akin to terror and elation raced through her senses. “I win?”
His finger dipped under the edge of her dress, causing her heart to slam with insistence, then trailed to her arms. “You were right. I did go there to gather information, until everything you said made me realize you won. I want you.”
His hips shifted forward, pressing her back, then his fingers fluttered from her arms to her neck. It was an agonizing trek that left her more confused than ever.
Wrapping her hands around his wrists, she stilled his roaming fingers. “That wasn’t the whole bet.”
He’d said nothing about feelings, about wanting her as a person.
“I want you, Seven. You.”
A delicious feeling as if she were floating wa
shed through her.
He wanted her.
He desired her.
Blake had no clue what to expect, and when Seven wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his, kicking his heart into overdrive, he couldn’t wait to find out. The past hours of constantly resisting the woman’s easy teasing and pointed seductions had been slow torture.
Angling his head, he slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Kissing her was like biting into a pastry. At the feel of her tongue sliding against his, his dick bucked in his pants. He slid his hands down the sides of her arms—fuck, her skin was soft as silk—and then dropped to the swell of her hips and her full, round ass. Flesh overflowed his hands and he squeezed. Sweet mother of God, the woman had an ass that would make J-Lo jealous.
After seeing her all hot and bothered with that damn vibrator last night, he’d wanted nothing more than to finish the job for her, but there was something holding him back. He’d never questioned women’s decisions before; they were in charge of their own fun. So why the fuck he wanted to take charge now confused the hell out of him.
Pulling back, he asked through a gasping breath. “Are you sure about this? Because if you’re not, tell me to leave now.”
“It’s your room.” She bit her lip.
Fuck, please don’t tell me to leave. Goddammit, why the hell was his conscience coming into play when his dick was so very interested in the game? He never worried over one-night stands before.
He pressed a kiss to her mouth. “I’m serious.”
Seven looked him in the eye. Something passed over her face as she studied him. He waited, holding his breath.
She nodded, then whispered, “This is Vegas, baby. You say I won the bet, but you just won the jackpot.”
He lifted her up against his chest, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing her body against the ridge of his length. Son of a bitch, if she didn’t slow down, he’d go right now.
He pressed her up against the wall, grinding into her, hoping to relieve the pressure, his dick swelling thicker still, and he growled low in his throat.