Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,4
willpower I possessed not to curl into him, fist the lapels of his jacket, and bury my face in his chest for a good, long whiff of him.
If my nose didn’t come approximately to his nipples, I would have smelled his hair, too.
“Do you have your phone?” he asked, but the rumble of the words through his chest vibrated through me to the point of absolute distraction.
“Ah…um…”
“Here, we’ll take one with mine.” With a slight shift, he retrieved his phone, holding it out for a selfie. “Say irredeemable asshole!”
A laugh burst out of me. And then his hand lowered.
I stiffened. “Wait, did you take it?”
He nodded, smiling down at his phone. “I’ll tag your blog on Instagram.”
“But…I mean…is it okay? I’m not…”
He looked down at me, and for a second, I lost myself in the vision of him this close, from this angle. I could see the fine lines in his lips, the thick clusters of his lashes, the depth of his eyes. The brown was finally visible, so deep, there were almost hints of a deep, dark crimson.
“You’re gorgeous. See?”
Gorgeous? Me? The words sounded like Greek, a mush of sound that made no sense.
I tore my eyes away from his to glance at his phone and almost didn’t recognize myself. My eyes were closed, my nose scrunched, my smile big and wide and happy as I’d unwittingly leaned into him.
A hot flutter brushed my ribs. “Oh…that’s…”
He laughed, a short sound through his nose as he pulled away. “I’m glad you came today. Tell Janessa to email my brother if she wants any more books signed, and we’ll send them to the office.”
“O-okay.”
“Thanks, Amelia. For everything. I’m looking forward to seeing you soon.”
Hysterical laughter crackled in my throat, but I swallowed it down in a feat of self-control.
The girl behind me cleared her throat, and I glanced back at her apologetically. She looked furious.
“Sorry,” I said quietly.
“Ugh, life is just not fair.” She brushed past me and plunked a stack of books on the table.
Thomas Bane’s smiling eyes were on me as he took his seat, and I waved lamely before turning to walk away.
I swore, I felt those eyes singeing a hole in my back the whole way out the door.
Pocket-Sized
Tommy
“You did what?”
Theo’s arms were folded, his frown the mirror of my smirk. It wasn’t the only thing that was mirrored. My twin was an exact copy of me but with a practical haircut to match his practical suit. We were almost indistinguishable from each other beyond the hair, which had really put a damper on our ability to fuck with girls.
I pulled off my jacket. “I asked Amelia Hall to read for me. Be a critique partner.”
“The girl who hates you?” he asked flatly.
“She doesn’t hate me, and she’s not wrong.” I tossed my jacket on his couch.
“She does hate you, which is exactly why Blackbird Books keeps sending her your releases. Her bad reviews sell your books.”
“She doesn’t hate me, and she’s gonna help. She’s smart, Theo. And articulate. And if you hadn’t told me not to, I would have asked her for help a long time ago.”
He snorted a laugh. “God knows you fucking need it if you’re ever gonna turn in a book again.”
“I told my editor I’d have the book to him soon.”
“Soon is not a measure of time, Tommy.”
I smiled. “They’ve waited six months. What’s a few more weeks?”
“A few more weeks would imply you were close to being finished.”
“Who says I’m not?”
One of his dark brows rose.
I sighed. “All right, fine. I’m not, but I will be. Soon, which is a measure of time. I have a good feeling about this.”
That climbing eyebrow jacked a few more millimeters. “Oh? And which one are you gonna send? The mpreg werewolf or the space opera that feels suspiciously like Firefly?”
I gave him a look. “I’ll have you know, male-pregnancy fantasy makes a shitload of money. Throw in a werewolf, and we can probably afford a jet.”
“You’re playing with fire. She’s working for the Times…for Janessa. What happens when she writes her tell-all?”
I rolled my eyes and walked past him toward the kitchen. “I don’t have to tell her anything, Teddy.”
He glared at me. “Nice try. You’re not goading me into a fight just because you know I’m right. This is a bad idea, man.”
“Or it’s a great idea.” I opened the fridge and reached for a beer. “She’s smart. She knows the market. I’ll have her sign an NDA. What’s the problem?”