The Write Stuff (Write Stuff 1)

"Are you always so hard on yourself?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, reaching for the bill. He grabbed it before I could get my hands on it. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm not comfortable having you pay for everything."

I laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Alec. It's all part of the job. This is a business expense."

"Maybe so, but my ego takes a hit every time you pay for something."

"I'm sure you have plenty to spare," I joked, sliding my credit card into the holder for the waitress.

He rolled his eyes, but elaborated. "Look, my dad was old school. It was ingrained in my head at an early age that a gentleman always pays."

I smiled. The sentiment was cute, but old fashioned. "Well, unfortunately, you're working for me, and I cover the expenses when we travel. Including the astonishing pile of food you just devoured and our adjoining hotel rooms."

One thing I found curious was the way he referred to his dad in the past tense. I realized again I didn't know anything about Alec's life. Being naturally nosey by nature, I could people watch like nobody's business, so of course I wanted to ask him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It felt too personal.

"So are you?"

"Am I what?" I asked, not remembering his question.

"Always so hard on yourself. It's just that in the past twenty-four hours I've seen you put yourself down at least a dozen times. Is it just a ploy, or do you really feel you lack in all these areas?" His question was pointed and serious, making me uncomfortable. I wasn't sure I was ready to be analyzed.

"An attention-seeking ploy? Yeah, right. Obviously, you don't know who you're talking to. I don't like attention enough for that. Besides, aren't we supposed to acknowledge our faults and embrace them?"

"Only when it's healthy. Your fascination with putting yourself down borders on emotional mutilation."

I snorted as the waitress handed back my credit card. "Emotional mutilation? You sound like a doctor, not a bartender."

His eyes lit up in amusement. "That's good since I'm premed. Believe it or not, I don't have aspirations of flirting for tips tending bar and modeling forever. Not that I don't appreciate the gig," he said, raising his cup of coffee to toast me. "It's just a means to an end." He stood up, reaching out a hand to help me to my feet.

"No shit? Like a surgeon or something in that capacity?" My knowledge of the medical field was limited to watching Grey's Anatomy. I had binged watched the show so much I felt I could be a doctor.

"That's the end goal. I haven't decided on a specialty yet, but I have plenty of time for that. I was forced to take some time off and now I'll be starting medical school in the fall."

"Wow, I had no idea."

"Surprised that this face has a brain?" He looked pleased that he had shocked me. I smiled, pulling out my agenda for the day from my purse.

"You said it, not me," I laughed. "All kidding aside though, I think it's great."

He peered over my shoulder. "What's on the schedule first?" His breath skated across my cheek and his mouth was so close to the side of my face that if I turned my head slightly my lips would have touched his. It was such a tempting thought that I had to dig my fingernails into my hand to resist.

Trying to regain some of my self-control, I shifted slightly to avoid another of my embarrassing slips. "We have the Dream Model panel Olivia was able to get us on last minute. That's in thirty minutes, but nothing else until the Hunky Ball tonight, so the afternoon is yours. I'd rest up since they'll be auctioning you off." I tried unsuccessfully to hide my grin. I'm not sure how Olivia had talked him into participating, but it was bound to be entertaining.

"I think I'll just tag along with you. You don't mind, do you?"

"Are you sure? It's bound to be boring for you. I was going to catch a few panels and then have a late lunch with some of my blogger friends."

"Works for me. Since I'm your friend and all, I should fit right in."

I saw no viable argument with his reasoning. It was his funeral. He had already experienced how women at these events could be relentless when a hot guy was around. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth, gnawing on it lightly as I racked my brain for an out. His eyes moved to my mouth and he licked his lips. Interesting. He may not have wanted to sleep with me, but he was definitely still paying attention.

Alec, of course, charmed his way through the day with all my friends. I didn't know why I was surprised anymore. Maybe it was the bartender in him, but he was a born chatterbox and had no problem holding his own when the conversation repeatedly turned to books. I was surprised to learn that he enjoyed reading almost as much as me. Not that he read much romance, but we did share the same interests in several of the same authors.

True to his word, Alec followed me around the entire time. Where originally I thought his presence would be oppressing and uncomfortable, I found myself engaging in conversation with him anytime we weren't in a panel or surrounded by a group. He was charismatic, funny and easy to talk to. The secret voice in my head called him perfect. I tried to ignore that voice and instead, dredge up the hurt he had caused me, but my heart refused to go there anymore. Alec had won it over. The barrier of insecurity that his rejection had caused that night still remained, but I wanted to tear it down. I couldn't do it alone. Alec would have to give me a vivid sign that he was interested.

That didn't mean I couldn't throw a little bait on the hook to test the water, as my dad would say—just small things to gauge his reaction, if he gave any at all. Knowing I was stepping outside my comfort zone, I attempted to channel one of the strong female characters I was used to writing—characters that were the opposite of me and were not afraid to seduce a man. Someone who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to show it.