by MK Meredith
She made her way down the hall. Where was Six when she needed her? If anyone could slap the dumb out of her, it was her sister. As she rode the elevator down to the lobby, she sent a quick text. At the very least she needed some reassurance. If she couldn’t have Six, she’d take a text.
She stepped up to the bar. To hell with her schedule.
And a few blessed minutes later, Nathaniel handed her a glass of wine. “What’s going on? Tell me you were brave.”
She breathed through the pain in her chest. “I did something really stupid.”
“Haven’t we all?”
“Yeah, but mine is a New York Times best seller.”
“Well, yours always are.”
“I’m not sure love is real, that romance is real, not for the masses anyway. I’m thinking it’s saved for the one percenters.” She had to give at least that much, thinking of her parents. Now, they had something she’d never seen anywhere but in romance novels.
He shook his head. “You can’t be serious.”
Swallowing a mouthful of wine, she hoped for its sweet numbing pull sooner rather than later. “Completely. I’ve never been able to find it, no matter how hard I’ve tried.”
“Have you really? Tried, that is?”
Her eyes shot wide open. “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve said this weekend?”
“Exactly. Weekend—it’s not over. Since when have you gone after something you really wanted only halfway?”
After finishing her wine, she set the glass back on the bar. “First of all, you make a good point. The idea someone could fall in love with me in a weekend is ridiculous.” No matter that it took less than that for her to fall for him, which placed the onus of the whole situation squarely back on her shoulders. It was her.
“Love is real, Seven. Romance is real. What you write about, weave dreams about, it makes the world go ’round.”
“No, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I may be the biggest fraud out there.”
Shrugging, Nathaniel sipped from his glass. “All of this from a weekend with this guy?”
Seven laughed. “I picked him up in the elevator yesterday.” Even now she was incredulous she’d ever do something so crazy. “We made a bet. I told the sucker I’d make him fall in love with me by tomorrow afternoon.”
But the only sucker had been her.
She’d gambled in Vegas and lost.
Blake sucked back half a cup of coffee and then tossed the Styrofoam cup into the trash. The first part of the meeting was a blurry haze of post-come fatigue, and the beginning of the second half was lost in finishing Seven’s book. He’d found himself intrigued by the way she’d weaved the lives of two very different people together, how she played off their strengths and weakness, how against all odds she brought them together and made it seem believable. Even if it was nothing more than make-believe. She was a talented writer.
And it left him feeling stupidly hopeful.
He glared at the cup in the trash, his gut still tied in knots since they’d been together on the roof. No one had ever done anything like that for him before. Given herself so completely to him, no walls, no pretense, simply herself, almost as if she were a gift.
A gift.
Afraid of what she was going to say, he’d cut and run before she forced him to have the same conversation he’d had with every woman he’d dated. He didn’t do serious. But for some reason, he couldn’t stand the idea of seeing the same pain and delusion cross Seven’s eyes like he had the others, so he left as quickly as he could. But he’d never forget what she’d given him.
Shaking off the grip of tension on his shoulders, he heaved a sigh. She was a magician, smoke and mirrors. None of it was reality. Fiction was fiction, no matter how possible she made love seem. The feelings—he shuddered—the damn book brought out in him were not real. What did it matter? Real or not, he’d only hurt her like his father hurt the string of wives in his life. Turner men were not forever men.
But he found himself wanting to be. For her.
“Dude, comin’?”
Blake tensed and looked at his colleague.
“Meeting’s starting back up.”
With a curt nod, Blake made his way back to his seat. The CEO’s monotone continued on with yearly projections, company visions, and bottom-line scare tactics. But his words made Blake picture Seven a year from now—with another man.
He sat up in his chair.
He could see her clearly, dreaming of a family and building a life—with another man. His hand fisted at his side. Seven standing hand in hand, saying vows, making promises—with another man.
He slammed his fist on the table. “No.”
The sound jerked him out of his thoughts, and silence screamed back at him as he looked around, taking in the shocked, slack-jawed faces of his colleagues.
“Mr. Turner?” the CEO barked, and Blake turned toward the front of the room.
“Sir.” Fuck. Think quick, man. “I’m sorry, but I think we can do better.”
“Excuse me?”
Blake made a quick scan of the PowerPoint on the white screen. Think think think. “We need to do better. Stretch our goals, push our company. If we really want to set the example in this industry, we need to lead, not follow.”
The CEO studied him for a beat, then nodded his head. “I like your passion, Turner.” He turned to the group, his hand out toward Blake. “This is the kind of energy, the kind of determination, I want to be seeing, people.”
His boss’s voice droned on again, freeing him back to his immediate problem.
Seven turned his life upside down, and not just with the best sex he’d ever known. It was the way it was between them, because it was with her. She pushed him, challenged him; she showed him things he’d never seen before, not because he hadn’t been looking, but because he hadn’t thought to look at them differently. She made him feel. It was confusing, terrifying, and exhilarating.
Visions of her teased him, her smile, soft caresses, and the way she leaned in when he told a story. He could smell her, feel her, and taste her even when she wasn’t around. She supported him with his promotion, guided him without trying. He closed his eyes against the truth. His chest tightened down on his lungs and breathing became a chore.
Son of a bitch. He grinned.
He loved her.
Rubbing his chest, he tried to focus on what his boss was saying, but he could only think about one thing.
It was the most terrifying, vulnerable, unpredictable thing he’d ever felt. It consumed him with the need to give—and with the tiniest, most undeniable hope that she’d want to give something back.
What the hell was he going to do now?
After the meeting, Blake strode through the connecting tunnel of his convention hotel to the Masquerade Casino, passing people on the left side and squeezing between groups in deep discussion over which drag queen pulled off Princess Kate the best. Every fiber in his being wanted to smash through each person who stepped in his way like the Hulk, but he pulled in a deep breath and kept skirting the masses. He needed to see Seven, needed to talk to her. The idea that he was even contemplating feelings was the craziest thing he’d ever done in his life, but if his feelings weren’t returned, no way in hell he’d open up that Pandora’s box. He needed to find out. But how the hell could he do that without painting a big fat target on his heart?
His father’s words pierced through his brain. Don’t ever settle, Blake. As soon as you think you’ve found what you’ve always wanted, something better comes along.
He winced. His father’s ignorant advice had guided all of his relationships for as long as he could remember. How many women had hoped for more from him, only to have to be reminded at the end he’d never made any promises? Too many to count. He frowned. Hurting them had never been his intent, and for a while at first, each time he met a new woman he’d thought she might be the one, but every time, as her feelings grew for him, his couldn’t even be found.
What the hell had been wrong with him?
Sevannah Michaels.
He hadn’t met her yet.
But now things had changed. He’d changed, and she changed him.
His work satisfied his competitive side, his burning need to win, but Seven, she satisfied a different kind of passion. Fuck, who was he kidding? Before meeting Seven, the word “passion” hadn’t been in his vocabulary.
His stomach turned over.
Fighting his way through the crowds of beautiful women, Blake spotted Seven standing at the bar with another man. He slowed. She smiled up at the guy, not the kind of smile she usually shone on him, but one more friendly than dazzling. She was beautiful. And she was his.
Sliding his hands in his pockets, he stopped a few feet behind her, a group of ladies discussing their outfits for the ball later that evening providing the perfect cover.
He sized up the man she spoke with. Tall, light hair, fair build. If he had to judge, he’d say the guy was okay-looking. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he watched as Seven slid her hand down the guy’s arm and grasped his hand.
Their voices carried over the din of the bar, and he leaned in closer.
“All of this from a weekend with this guy?”
Seven laughed. “I picked him up in the elevator yesterday.”
The incredulity in her voice twisted his gut.
“We made a bet. I told the sucker I’d make him fall in love with me by tomorrow afternoon.”
Blake’s hands dropped to his side, and he went numb. What the fuck had he been thinking?
He loved Seven?
Happily ever after?
Fucking shit. Reading her damned novel and letting himself fall under the manipulation of those damned rules had made him buy the flimsiest product on the market, and it had cost him everything.
Chapter Nine
She’d never been so happy to see someone before in her life. “Never fear, Six is here.” Her sister swung up to the bar and threw her arms around Seven’s neck.
Seven’s eyes burned, and she tucked her head into her sister’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Six? What are you doing here? What about your meeting?”
Looking at her sister was like looking in the mirror, but on its head. Six had huge boobs and a tiny ass. She worked her curves as Seven worked hers—like a boss. Seven squeezed her again, and then rested her head upon said bosom. “I screwed up, Six.”
Her editor laughed. “I’m confused.”
Both women looked up at Seven’s editor and asked in unison. “Why?”
He looked from Seven’s head to Six’s chest and then back to both women. “I’m gay, but I’m kind of jealous of you right now.”
Seven laughed and straightened, throwing her arm around her sister’s neck. “They’re so comforting.”
Six looked down at Seven’s perky but less accommodating chest, then back. “I can only imagine.”
“Six, this is my editor, Nathaniel Hennings.”
“The Nathaniel Hennings? But Seven, he’s—”
Seven threw up her hand. “I know.”
Nathaniel tilted his head and saluted the two women with his drink.
“Don’t mind her. Six, how are you here? What about your meeting?”
Six stomped her feet in quick succession and squealed. “I couldn’t leave you here alone. I knew you were in trouble. Our meeting went off without a hitch this morning, and I hopped on a plane.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Seven squealed back, and grabbed her hands. “So? The meeting, what happened?”
“They love the concept and see real potential. I should hear from them by Monday close of business.”
Seven squeezed her sister’s hands. “I’m so proud of you.”
Six squeezed back. “Enough about me, what have you done?”
Seven looked from Nathaniel to her sister and blew out a breath. “I’ve pretty much proven I’m a huge fraud.”
“She fell in love.”
“Damn it, Nathaniel.”
Her sister gasped. “What are you talking about? With the bet?”
She nodded, biting her lip. “It’s hopeless. He’s leaving tomorrow, and though I do think he’s had the time of his life, I don’t think for a second he’s any closer to having feelings for me, or much less falling in love with me, than he was when we met on the elevator. Nothing worked like I hoped it would. Romance, love?” She shook her head. “I’m a fool, Six.”
Her editor paid the tab, then turned back to the sisters.
“You didn’t have to pay for us,” Seven said, her voice even pitiful to her ears.
He hugged her. “Remember the trench coat? I owed you. I just couldn’t say anything then. By the way, it was a lovely thing to do.”
Seven let her head fall back in mortification, then looked back at her friend.
He tapped the end of her nose. “I’m going to give you ladies some privacy, but you listen to me. If you love him, tell him. I don’t care what happened before. Believe me, if you don’t, you’ll regret it.” His voice trailed off as he looked across the room, his eyes without their usual sparkle and his lips turned down in a frown.
Seven looked in the direction of Nathaniel’s sad gaze. Trent raised his glass in the air to a group of convention-goers, inciting a loud cheer. Looking from her editor to Trent and back, everything became so clear. She gripped Nathaniel’s arm, understanding.
He shook his head. “Okay, I’m off to dinner. I’ll see you at the ball.”
Seven nodded. “See you there.” Turning back to her sister, she studied eyes so much like her own. “He’s right, and you’re right.”
Six turned her head and looked at Seven from the corner of her eye. “I love hearing that, but how am I right, exactly?”
Seven pulled in a breath. “You go after what you want. All the way, every time. You don’t hide behind your fears; you don’t waver.”
Her sister smiled. “So do you, Ms. New York Times best seller.”
Seven led her sister through the bar to the lobby. “Let’s go up to my room. I have dinner with Blake in an hour if I can bring myself to face him, then you and I will have time to get ready for the ball.”
Six hopped and clapped her hands, and Seven laughed, a bit of tension releasing its hold on her heart. “You always loved to dress up.”
Nodding, Six slid her arm through Seven’s. “I’ll order room service and get your dress ready.”
Seven held her gaze. “Are you sure? I hate for you to have come all this way only to sit in my room.”
“Whatever. I’m going to a ball tonight. Besides, while you’re at dinner, I’m going shopping.”
Stepping into the elevator, Seven shook her head. “I don’t, you know.”
“Don’t what?”
“Go after things like you. Writing, yes. That’s the one thing I’ve been able to commit to, to go after and hold nothing back, but you. Six, you built a company from the ground up and found an investor—”
Six held up her hand. “Maybe.”
“You run fundraisers and community outreach events, you—”
“I hide.”
Seven stepped out of the elevator and spun around. “What are you talking about? Hide? You’re too busy to hide.”
Six fell in step beside her, and they made their way to Seven’s room. “Exactly. I’m too busy to do anything else.”
Six put her hands out, then let them fall to her sides. “Look at us. You’re twenty-eight, and I’m right behind you, and neither of us has ever had a relationship that lasted longer than a season of our favorite TV show. Why? Why do we do that?”
Seven stopped outside her door and stared at her sister. She must be wrong—surely they’d both had very serious relationships. Well, semiserious relationships. The few men she dated flashed in her mind, two months here, four months there, and any time they pushed for more, she pushed them away. Shit. She was really no better than what she thought of Blake. How many times did
she judge him for his inability to commit when she had never taken the plunge? She was scared, so how could she deny him a measure of fear, too? What was happening between them was fast, and anyone would be shaken. Maybe that’s where he was coming from.
She opened her door and led Six into her room. Dropping to her bed, she kicked her shoes off and flopped back onto the pillows. “What’s wrong with us?”
Her sister made her way to the other side of the bed and joined Seven. “Mom and Dad.”
Seven hitched up on her elbows. “What do you mean?”
Rolling to her side, Six propped up her head. “They have the love we’re looking for. How many times did we base our pretend weddings and relationships off Mom and Dad? Every single time.”
Seven sat up. “Yeah, but how can you say we’re afraid then? We have the perfect example.”
“Exactly. Perfect. And what’s more stressful than two perfectionists trying to emulate perfection?”
Studying her sister, Seven saw the fear in her eyes. For such a strong, independent woman of business, her sister was terrified to fail when it came to love. And she was no better. How in the hell did she call herself a romance writer if she was afraid of romance? If she refused to jump in, all in, and go after something real? For the past few years she and her sister had enabled each other in each and every justification for ending a relationship. Their values weren’t aligned, he wasn’t ambitious enough, or, as Seven kept falling back on, he didn’t respect her writing.
Well, hell, then make him.
“How have we let this happen?”
Six smiled. “Easy—no one really mattered until now. But I see the gears turning in your head, generating all the reasons you don’t want to tell this Blake guy how you feel, but after seeing you talk about him, I can’t let you do that. I know you better than anyone, and you’ve never felt this way before.”
Seven sighed. “I can’t explain it. The harder I tried to wrap him around my finger, the tighter he wound me around his.” She shook her head. “What’s worse, I don’t think he was trying to. I’m so scared he doesn’t feel the same.”
“But what if he does?”