Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff #2)

  At the very least I had to hand it to Alec. He could have laughed. I probably would have. Olivia definitely would have, but Alec was a gentleman. He plucked me up out of the tub and carried me gently to the bed. The only magic he performed with his hands was to ice and wrap my ankle before shoving a stack of pillows under my leg to keep it elevated. I didn't get the night of passion I had anticipated, but we did spend the evening in bed with a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream binge-watching season four of Breaking Bad. Not exactly a total loss.

  Olivia looked at my ankle skeptically. "Can you carry out your grand plan without killing yourself?"

  "Bite me. I told you I did this walking down a flight of stairs."

  "So you say, and no thanks to your offer, but maybe you can get your boy toy to do that."

  "You're hilarious," I said, plucking one of the dead leaves off the table. "Can we actually talk about work for a minute? How close are you on the cover of Wicked Forever?

  She closed the magazine she'd been browsing through and tossed it on the table. "Close. I have a few more shots I want to get tomorrow and then I'll start to work my magic. This one will obviously require all my Photoshop skills since you insisted on wanting the models on the deck of a pirate ship. I should have shut you down before that thought could fully develop in your little head. I must have been drunk when I agreed."

  I tore a piece from the dead leaf and tossed it at Olivia, but it fluttered harmlessly to the floor. She mockingly shook her head at my failed attempt. "Not only were you sober, whore, but if I remember correctly, you agreed it was a splendid idea."

  "Yeah, but then I asked the obvious question of where the hell were we going to find a pirate ship. I've got a few shots from St. Augustine of a ship they use for dinner shows or even worse, the tacky-as-ass pirate ship from the miniature golf place. The only way to use that one is to try and Photoshop out the cheesy castle and a few pimply-faced teenagers who were running around using their golf clubs like penises."

  "Gross. TMI. Anyway, stop bitching. You know it'll be brilliant once you work your magic. I told you we could have found some sort of stock photo of a pirate ship, but you insisted on wanting your own shots. What did you say? Something about not compromising your professional integrity?"

  Olivia glared at me even though she couldn't deny my words. "Why is it you can't remember to go grocery shopping or order swag, but somehow you can recall everything I say to use my own words against me?" She stood up grumbling, adjusting the top of the full-length maxi dress she was wearing. I really should have hated her. I'd give a kidney to look the way she did in that dress. The key was to have long thin legs that practically reached your armpits. Of course, even if I had been blessed with Olivia's stems, I would have found a way to trip over myself thanks to my clumsy gene.

  "It's a gift. My brain is filled with useless knowledge."

  "Ain't that the truth."

  "Whatever, braless wonder," I said, tugging on her dress to yank it down.

  She grasped at the top before her boobs could pop out. "Stop being a perv. I know you're hard up, but you're not going to get me in the sack that easily. I actually need to get some work done. We can't all sit around eating Dove chocolates and watching Maury all day."

  She had me dead to rights there. I turned toward my TV and even with the volume muted we could tell what was happening on screen. Three guys sat in chairs on a stage waiting to see which one of them was the actual baby daddy. Each prospective father wrung his hands nervously while the poor mother wailed to the unsympathetic audience as Maury read the results of the paternity test. You could tell when Maury ended the drama-filled speculation because two of the possible fathers suddenly jumped from their chairs, high-fiving and bumping their chests in celebration.

  Olivia rolled her eyes, looking as disgusted as always. "Every episode is the same. I mean, who are these people?"

  "You jest until you're up there one day," I teased her as I reluctantly switched to the Food Channel.

  She snorted. "As if. Any guy I'm with has to bag his junk big time before he gets within ten feet of this. There'll be no baby cooking in this oven." She headed for the door, patting her stomach for emphasis. "I'll call you later."

  "I might be busy," I said, nodding toward my bedroom.

  "Ha, you wish. Good luck, gimpy. My money is on Alec."

  I threw the magazine she had discarded at her retreating back. "You know we're supposed to be best friends, right? Shouldn't you be on my side? You know, that whole 'chicks before dicks' thing."

  She pivoted around to look at me, cackling with laughter. "You're right. I'm definitely pulling for you because obviously you need some dick bad. You dirty girl you."

  I stuck my tongue out. "Don't be a dick."

  "Oh, there it is again. Good luck."

  I grinned at her backside as she left my apartment laughing. Once she was gone, I picked up the remote and changed the station back to Maury, turning up the volume this time. I even stuck out my tongue at the door before grabbing a couple of chocolates from the crystal dish my grandma gave me last Christmas. So I had my guilty pleasures. Everyone did, including Olivia. Besides, it wasn't like I watched the Maury show every day. Okay, maybe it had become my version of crack during the past few weeks, but that was between me and my cat, Severus. And there was no way he would give up my secret. I could quit anytime I wanted to. Really, I could.

  Alec was supposed to come home early that evening, but as it turned out, Operation Seduction was put on hold. He called, deciding to log more hours at the lab at school because he would be working a shift at the Red Moon the following evening. I couldn't help being disappointed, but I also didn't want to make him feel bad. I knew going into this relationship that he was a medical student. Between that and his job, our free time together was starting to become few and far between. Normally during my writing time I didn't notice his absence as much, but my brain was being a total douche at the moment.

  Since my writing concentration was shot, I decided to veg the rest of the afternoon away by being a complete couch potato with my leg propped up on the arm of the couch. Severus settled himself on my lap, refusing to move. The only time he would leave was when he wanted a bite or two of food from his dish in the kitchen. That would be my chance to go to the bathroom, but when I returned, there was Severus, waiting patiently for me to settle myself once again on the couch. I stroked him behind the ears the way he liked while I bounced from one social media site to the next on my phone, scrolling aimlessly through my timelines. It was counterproductive, especially since I didn't comment or post anything, but it helped whittle the hours away.

  ***

  The sound of the front door opening woke me sometime in the middle of the night. I sat up abruptly, grimacing in pain from a kink in my neck I had gotten from using the arm of the couch as a pillow.

  Alec walked in looking thoroughly exhausted. "Hey," he said, trying for a smile that morphed into a yawn.

  I stood up from the couch, dislodging Severus from my lap. He meowed his displeasure before trotting off to the kitchen. "Hey yourself. You look whipped, hon."

  He yawned again, sinking down on the edge of the coffee table. "Long day. I didn't even get a chance to eat dinner."

  "I can whip you something up," I offered halfheartedly while rubbing his shoulders. Looking apprehensively at the kitchen, I had to admit I was hoping he wouldn't take me up on the offer. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually cooked anything. For that matter, with the exception of my Diet Coke, which I bought by the case, I wasn't sure I could tell you, even with a gun to my head, anything else that could be in the refrigerator.

  Alec chuckled at my offer. "No, thanks, babe. No offense, but I can't afford to be laid up with food poisoning," he teased.

  I tugged lightly on a lock of his hair. "Don't be mean. I'm perfectly capable of making you a sandwich. Oh wait. Isn't there still leftover pizza from the other night?" I bounced toward the kitchen with as much enthusiasm as my
crippled ankle would allow. Heating up pizza was definitely in my realm of capabilities. "It looks like there's three slices left," I called out after finding the pizza box in the fridge. "You want all of them?"

  Alec trailed me into the kitchen. He leaned his hip against the counter and stood watching me with an odd look.

  "What?" I flushed self-consciously, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind my ear that had escaped my ponytail as I slide a couple slices of pizza onto a paper plate. "You want these or what?"

  He pushed himself away from the counter and slowly glided toward me. "You're pretty adorable when you're acting all domestic-like, but you really shouldn't be on your ankle." His eyes moved to my sore foot that I had slightly elevated off the ground to avoid putting weight on it. He stepped closer to me, resting his hands on my hips.

  I held my breath as he dipped his head toward my neck. We'd been together almost half a year and I still wasn't immune to his close proximity. The holding-out-on-sex bet we started, which in hindsight was the dumbest idea ever, made it even worse. His warm breath gently blowing across the sensitive skin on my neck made the rest of my body shiver in anticipation. I could feel it from my toes and up my spine.

  Alec's lips hovered over my shoulder without touching, turning my legs to jelly. I gripped the counter, trying to restrain myself from whipping around and tearing his clothes off. He was using his own Operation Seduction plan to turn the tables against me. I wanted to be the strong one, but I could feel my resolve blowing away like sand in the wind.

  "About that bet..." he whispered huskily into my ear, the deep vibration of his voice making certain areas of my body practically spring to life.

  "Yeah," I whispered, gripping the counter tighter. If I reached for him, I would be conceding. I could not lose this time. He pressed every lean hard inch of himself against my backside. Holy hell. The edge of the counter felt like a life raft. I couldn't, shouldn't, and most definitely wouldn't let go of it.

  The palms of his hands skated along my ribs. His thumbs tickled the undersides of my breasts. That bastard. He knew that was one of my sweet spots. The softness of his lips trailed from my ear and across my cheek, barely nipping the corner of my mouth.

  Any determination I had left was almost gone as my body sagged against his. I slammed my eyes closed, trying to think of anything else, but I couldn't help it. I wanted Alec bad. So I'd have to let him read my work in progress. It was better than walking around with the female equivalent of blue balls.

  One of his hands left my side and began gently stroking my face. If his dirty tactics didn't feel so good, I would have called him out on it. "Open your eyes," he breathed against my lips.

  I shook my head, burning all the willpower I had left. If I allowed myself to look into his deep dark brown eyes, the bet would be over. The husky smell of his trademark scent enticed me to lean in and inhale deeply from the hollow of his neck.

  "Nicole." His voice was low and insistent. "Look at me. I need you to look at me."

  The pleading tone in his voice was my undoing. I could not deny him. I was going to lose the bet and I no longer cared. My eyes fluttered open just as he brushed a thumb across my bottom lip. I sucked it into my mouth, making him groan in approval as I swirled my tongue around the tip. He slowly extracted his thumb from my mouth and began grinding against the lower part of my body. No longer able to take the sweet torture, I took a deep breath, ready to concede.

  "Uncle," Alec whispered seconds before I could get the words out. He engulfed me with his arms as his lips crashed onto mine. Releasing the counter from my viselike death grip, I threw my arms around his neck, devouring his kiss.

  "Uncle? You sure?" I asked, coming up momentarily for air.

  The room tipped as he swept my feet out from under me and carried me from the kitchen. "Yep. You win. Your damsel-in-distress act worked."

  My betting luck had finally changed. Who would have thought my clumsiness would work in my favor for once?

  Chapter 3

  "Have you talked to Jillian yet?"

  "If you mean today, no. Why?" I usually spoke to my agent every week or two, but Olivia seemed to know something I didn't.

  "Okay. Are you sitting down?" Olivia's excited voice leapt from the phone I had cradled between my shoulder and ear.

  "Is that a trick question?"

  I could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. "I'm serious. You might want to be sitting down for this."

  I grinned. Olivia was known for her dramatic flair. "Fine, drama queen. I'm sitting down. What's up?"

  She ignored my teasing. "Remi forwarded me your book event schedule. They've decided to do a big launch party and a twenty-city tour for the print release."

  I groaned. I adored Remi, my editor extraordinaire from the publishing house I signed with, but traveling was near the top of my long list of phobias. "Twenty?" I'd done book events before, but twenty cities back to back seemed daunting. A cold knot of fear crept into my belly as another thought occurred to me. All the signings I'd done to this point were with other authors. Lots of authors. Authors who drew crowds. Now they wanted me to do a solo act? What if no one showed up? Or even worse, what if people who hated my book showed up and screamed at me and held up signs to tell the world I suck? The thought of it made me want to puke. "I'm not sure, Liv. I—"

  "It'll be you and three other authors," she interrupted like she hadn't heard me. "All of you are releasing around the same time and your publisher thinks it would be good to cross-promote you. They're calling it A Little Romance on the Road. They're even leasing a tour bus for the entire trip. Like a rock band or something. Can you believe that shit?"

  I weighed her words. A signing tour like that with other authors involved definitely had possibilities. Plus, the fact that I wouldn't have to fly for each leg of the journey made it seem more tolerable. I guess things weren't nearly as bad as I had initially thought. "That sounds doable."

  "I'm not even done yet," she harped.

  Nuts. Close, but no cigar. "Okay, what's the bad news?"

  "I also heard from your publicist, and she has several other things she'd like to add to your schedule. A few of the bigger events and a—" She had to clear her throat from talking too fast. "And a couple interviews."

  And there you had it.

  The boom had been lowered. The dreaded word being interview. My king of all phobias. I could practically hear the little minions chiming in with the dun dun dunnn.

  "Interviews? Why?" My voiced sounded squeaky, like a mouse.

  Olivia sighed. "Uh, I don't know. Could it be that you're a kick-ass number-one New York Times bestselling author, not once but twice, and you scored a seven-figure book deal for your series? You're barely twenty-two and you're living the American dream. People want to hear your story."

  "Lots of authors hit bestseller lists and never do interviews."

  "What are you so worried about? You've been interviewed on TV before."

  "They're TV interviews? You're kidding me, right? Why me?"

  "Because you're not like everyone else. When other people our age, people we know, cared more about parties, chasing ass, and trying to stay awake in classes, you were busy writing and publishing bestselling books."

  "You make it sound way cooler than it actually is. What it boils down to is I'm a total college recluse who got lucky."

  "Lucky? Don't be a douche-mouth. I'll drive over there and kick your ass. I think what you mean to say is you have an ass-ton of talent and you worked hard. Stop shortchanging yourself."

  I smiled ruefully. Olivia was loyal to the core. That's why we were best friends. She always had my back. She might have rose-colored glasses where I was concerned, but I still loved her guts. Liv was my person. "How many interviews are we talking?"

  "Two by yourself and then a live video chat with the other three authors."

  I gulped. That might work, I guess. Just the one interview with the other authors would have been fine b
y me. Better yet, none would be the best. "Who are the other authors?"

  She rattled off the names and I was pleased to know that two of them were actual friends of mine. That would make the tour bearable and more fun.

  "So what dates are we looking at?"

  "Right after the first of the year. To give you time to finish and turn in this next book."

  I nodded. At least it was after the holidays and after I met my deadline. "That works. How long are we talking?" I was guessing a month or so, which would definitely suck, but it would be manageable.

  Olivia remained silent. I pulled the phone away from my ear, thinking maybe I had lost my signal or something.

  "Liv?" She was still on the line, just not answering. Obviously she hadn't given me the really bad news yet.

  "Two and a half months," she finally answered.

  She had to be screwing with me. "What? I can't be gone for two and a half months. I have a deadline for my next series. Not to mention all the other projects I have on hold." I refrained from mentioning the real reason I couldn't leave for that long. That reason had left his sweatshirt draped over one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. There was no way I could leave Alec for two and a half months.

  "They understand it might cause a couple of wrinkles, but they'd really like you to get behind this."

  I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and ease the headache that was beginning to develop between my eyes. "Meaning I don't have a choice."

  "Of course you have a choice. They'd just like your decision to swing in their favor. I know it'll be tough, Nic, but I can join you for the first leg of the trip. The way they're talking, this isn't just a regular bus. We're talking rock star kind of shit, like with areas for all of you to write. And you'll still be at a hotel each night."