held his gaze a second past what he would consider normal, friendly interaction, shifting them into the maybe I’m interested category. Or was that just wishful thinking on his part? He really had to get this whole man/woman thing figured out. At sixteen, being socially awkward could be considered a little charming. At his age, it was pathetic.
“Monopoly is less fun with just two players,” he said. “Could I buy you a drink instead?”
RENEE TOLD HERSELF there was absolutely no pressure. Jasper had invited her for a drink and she had said yes. Big whoop. Men and women met for drinks hundreds of times a day and it was all completely normal. Boring even. Only sitting across from Jasper wasn’t anything she would describe as normal, and it could never be boring.
For one thing, the guy was hot. He was tall, with broad shoulders, but more than that, there was an air of casual strength about him. As if he could handle himself in any situation. Should scary-looking bad guys burst into the place, Renee knew Jasper would handle the situation. She, on the other hand, would run screaming into the night. Or hide. Or faint.
He also had that hint of slightly wounded male about him. He’d been damaged in his past and it showed. It took a stronger woman than her to resist that kind of yumminess. Although this was just a drink, she reminded herself as Jasper walked over to small corner table they’d moved to. He set a cosmo in front of her before taking a seat across from her and picking up his gin and tonic.
He took a sip, studying her over the glass. She had no idea what he was thinking, nor did she know what to say. Nerves gripped her tightly, making her feel awkward. She hadn’t been on a date since moving to Happily Inc, and before that she’d been getting over a shattered heart, and before that she’d been in a nearly three-year relationship, and before that...
“So, how was your book tour?” she asked brightly, hoping the question and his answer would distract her brain. “You were gone a long time.”
“I was. My publisher tried something new, sending me out in an RV.”
“I’d heard something about that but I thought maybe people were kidding. You really traveled the country in an RV for a month?”
“Three,” he said with another one of his sexy smiles. “Before that I spent a few weeks in Europe. Traveling more conventionally.”
“You must have a lot of fans. I knew you were a successful author, but you’re internationally famous.”
She meant the words to be teasing, but didn’t think they came out that way. Probably because she hadn’t actually put together who Jasper was. In her mind, he was the slightly mysterious, former military guy who kept to himself and provided plenty of take me now, big guy fantasies. Apparently he was a little too close to, say, Chris Pine territory for her purposes.
Not that she was going to smile brightly and offer a night of hot sex. Because while everything went fine in her head, in real life, there were serious pitfalls. Hysterical laughter followed by a look of extreme pity. Not that Jasper seemed like the hysterical laughter type. But the pity was a real possibility. Or revulsion. That would be depressing and she wasn’t looking for another boy-girl setback.
The smart decision would be to enjoy the drink, pretend she’d never once undressed him with her eyes and retreat to her charming apartment where she would tell herself she didn’t care that she was never going to have sex with a man again.
“I’ve been lucky,” he said easily. “The books have to work for people, of course, but there are a lot of authors who struggle in obscurity. I had breaks early on.”
“Like I said—internationally famous. What’s touring like? Is the Europe part different from the US part?”
“Very, especially with the RV. Here I was able to drive from place to place. I’d park near a big city, then head in for the events. Sometimes I’d do a morning show, or drive-time radio. I might have media interviews during the day or drop in to a few bookstores and sign stock. In the evenings I would have organized book signings where I’d talk for a few minutes, take questions, then sign books. Then back to the hotel or RV and start it over in the morning.”
“That’s less glamorous than I thought. What about in Europe?”
“That’s a different schedule. I would arrive in a city, usually in the morning, have lunch with whomever the publisher wanted me to meet, do media, then have a signing, followed by a late dinner. Get up in the morning and drive, fly or take the train to the next city and do it all again.” He flashed her another smile. “All while not speaking the language. It’s an endurance sport.”
“It sounds like it. What’s the best part?”
“Meeting the readers. It’s hard not to like people willing to line up to tell you how much they love what you do.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. I get the occasional thank-you note, but there’s never been a line.” She picked up her drink. “Anyone creepy? Didn’t Stephen King write a book about a crazed fan?”
“Yes, and we’re not going to talk about that.” He chuckled. “There are fans who know way more about my books than I do and want to talk themes and what I could do instead. Sometimes readers want to give me story lines, which I have to sidestep because of potential legal problems.”
“Your life is really interesting.”
“No, it’s not. Ninety percent of the time I’m sitting at a computer, trying to figure out what to say next. It’s a lot of hours by myself, sometimes with swearing.”
She liked him, she thought with some surprise. She hadn’t really spent time with him before, so had filled in the blanks with her own fantasies, which were more about his body than his personality. It was nice to know there was an actual person behind the gorgeous eyes.
Funny how she’d been thinking about him on and off for the past couple of days and tonight he’d walked into The Boardroom and sat down at her table, as if fate were stepping in.
“Tell me about the apple wedding,” he said, leaning toward her. “No one dresses up in an apple costume, do they?”
She laughed. “No. I promise, nothing like that. An apple wedding is more like a Christmas wedding. The theme inspires the decorations and the colors, not the clothing. Let’s see. The bridesmaid dresses are apple green, there are crab apples in the bouquet and the floral arrangements on the tables. The signature drink is an apple martini. That sort of thing.”
He stared at her, his expression blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“What’s confusing?”
“All of it. I get the bridesmaid dresses. I’ve seen women in those before. But the rest of it? You’re speaking a foreign language.”
“What about all the weddings you’ve been to?”
He took another sip of his drink. “I haven’t. I joined the army when I was eighteen. None of my friends were even thinking about getting married then. I got back for a few visits, but no weddings. After my dad died—it was always just the two of us—I never went back. My military friends went home to get married and I usually couldn’t
