The Write Stuff (Write Stuff 1)

My body hummed with anticipation as we watched the numbers above each of the elevator doors slowly descend toward the lobby. Groaning when the numbers paused at various floors along the way, I glanced around, happy to see we were still the only people waiting to ride up. I licked my lips, imagining the fun we would have once the doors closed.

The center elevator dinged just as it arrived at the lobby. Alec and I nearly burst through the doors when they opened before we had to pause to allow a couple of giggling kids to exit. Alec guided me inside, placing his warm hand on the small of my back. I was already twisting around to face him when he pinned me against the mirrored wall of the elevator.

He dipped his head toward mine just as a hand snaked in and stopped the doors before they could slide closed. We both took an immediate step away from each other as two elderly women stepped inside to join us.

I wanted to pull out my phone to take a picture of the frustrated look on Alec's face that said more than any words I could write. The two women covertly stole glances our direction. I was used to Alec catching the attention of women wherever we went, but never from someone these ladies' ages. I had to hand it to them. They may have been a couple of dirty old cougars, but they still knew what they liked, even though he could have been their grandson.

Alec seemed oblivious as usual as he steadfastly watched the numbers moving from one floor to the next. I'd been in some slow elevators before, but this one took the cake. It was even less tolerable riding awkwardly with a couple of strangers.

The two women became more animated as their whispering turned to excited chatter. "Excuse me," one of them asked as they turned toward me. I had already prepared myself for the inevitable question. They wanted me to take their picture with Alec. The way they were practically stumbling over their tongues to ask was a dead giveaway.

"Yes," I answered, already holding my hand out to accept their camera or phone.

"You're N.S. Blake, right?" She blushed slightly, holding open the Wicked Fantasies event program to the page with my bio and author photo.

Luckily, the elevator had mirrored walls. Otherwise I wouldn't have noticed my jaw hanging to the floor in the reflection. I was used to people coming to my table at book signings and knowing who I was, but that was because of my eight-foot-tall vertical banner with my name on it. This was the first time I'd been recognized away from that environment. I couldn't even get the words out to answer. I merely nodded.

"I told you," she squealed, grinning triumphantly at her friend. "Can we get a picture with you?"

"Sure," Alec happily boomed as the elevator stopped on the ninth floor. Once the doors opened, he positioned himself to block them from closing again. Just moments ago he'd been antsy that the elevator was taking too long and now he was more than happy to be an amateur photographer.

"Thank you so much," the elderly lady crowed, pulling an iPad out of her bag. "Take it with this so I can use it for my screensaver." She practically bounced with excitement as I stood sandwiched between her and her friend with my arms wrapped around their waists.

Alec smiled at her indulgently as he waited for us to be ready. "Say Grant," he coaxed, holding up the iPad to snap the picture.

"Oh my god, I love Grant," the friend piped in. "I nearly went through an entire box of tissues when his daddy died. You made me feel his pain so completely."

I felt dumb, mumbling my thanks for their kind comments, but I was flustered and more than a little in awe at the surreal moment. The fact that she'd immersed herself so wholly in the words I had written that she actually cried was the best compliment I'd ever been given.

Alec continued to hold the elevator while we took several more pictures and I signed their tote bags. Acting like I'd made their entire day, the two women thanked Alec profusely, calling him a "nice young man" for taking our pictures. They waved while they blew kisses of thanks at me as the elevator doors closed.

A giddy feeling of warmth filled my heart as we continued the ascension to our floor. Moments ago, I wouldn't have thought anything could distract Alec and me from our back-and-forth game of foreplay, but those two women had gotten to me. The way they showered me with praise and admiration had nearly brought me to happy tears. They not only understood my stories, but had invested themselves in the characters as well. Submersion into a story was an incredible experience for someone who truly loved reading. It's that point when you can actually see the landscape, taste the food, or sympathize with a character's pain. The result of which is book-topia. For those two ladies, I had written a novel that had helped them reach that magical place. I had never felt more like a writer than I had then.

I was floating in the clouds when the elevator doors opened on our floor. My mind continued to process the significance of the moment when my feet were suddenly lifted off the ground and I was being twirled around. "That was awesome! You were a total rock star to those two women," Alec said, beaming at me.

I returned his smile, completely taken in that he seemed as excited as I was. He was almost too perfect. How could one guy be freaking drop-dead handsome, easy to talk to and a damn magician in bed? And he liked to read. It was like he was created from my own perfect male bucket list. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop that would expose some dark skeleton, but I already knew his secret. Was it possible this relationship was getting the green light from all sides?

"Well, rock star is a bit much," I corrected modestly.

He lowered me to the ground, but kept his arms locked around me. "Rock star," he repeated, looking me dead in the eyes before capturing my lips with his. All else was forgotten as we moved against each other. The moment in the elevator had only paused the hunger we shared. Alec backed us toward our room right off the elevator.

Somehow he was able to retrieve the key card from his pocket and open the door to the room without our lips ever leaving one another, displaying yet another talent.

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning I woke before Alec. I kept still, watching him as he lay on his side facing me. Even while he slept he was sexy as hell with his rumpled hair and five o'clock shadow. The scruff on his face gave him an edgy look that would have intimidated me if I didn't already know the sweetness that lay beneath the light covering of hair. I wanted to reach out and caress his face, but I forced myself to climb from bed.

I tiptoed to the bathroom, taking care not to make any noise. Waking up next to a man was still very new to me, and I felt I needed to freshen up before he woke up. For the last three mornings, I had forced myself to get up first, so I could brush my teeth and fix my hair so I resembled something other than a scarecrow. I may have even added a little makeup too. Once I was presentable again, I'd climb back in bed all Catfish-like. I felt a bit like a fraud, but that didn't stop me from doing it.

I was gently lowering myself back into bed when Alec's arms shot out like a snake and yanked me toward him. "You know, you're giving me a complex. Waking up to a beauty with minty fresh breath—while I look and probably smell like something a dog wouldn't chew on—is a hard act to follow." He pulled me in close so my back was nestled against his chest. "See what you're missing when you rush out of bed?"

"You have a point," I yawned. I snuggled closer, enjoying the way it felt to be spooned by him.

"So, how are you doing?" His question was vague, but I knew what he was getting at. The real reason I had woken up early. I would be kidding myself if I thought I wouldn't stress about it all day—the release of Wicked Lovely. I had been manically anticipating this day while dreading it at the same time. I'd gone through four other release days and it never seemed to get any easier. If anything, it got harder each time. When I released my first book, I didn't know what to expect, but now that I was a little more seasoned, the pressure had increased tenfold. I'd confessed my fears and apprehensions to Alec the night before over a bottle of wine we had downed during dinner. The liquor had loosened my tongue, and I'm sure I had come across as a complete whiner.

"I'm fine," I lied. Truthfully, I was ready to pull my hair out. Olivia and I had gone to great lengths to arrange release day posts, including the e-book purchase links, with several bloggers who were gracious enough to help with the launch. They had been scheduled to post simultaneously at eight a.m. Eastern time. Planning ahead was one of the ways I had learned to cope with the stress of release day. Now it was a waiting game to see how the book would be received. Initial reviews had been coming from the advanced copies Olivia had sent out, and all of them had exceeded my expectations. The next few days would determine how my readers took to the story and reveal if they were ready to accept a new series from me. Normally, I spent release day holed up in my apartment in a junk food coma, obsessively checking sales numbers and social media sites to gauge public reaction. This time I vowed to not obsess as much. Actually, it was more Olivia's idea than mine. She felt it was the only thing that would maintain my sanity since I was away from home for this release. Her reasoning was sound. There was no way I could concentrate during the book signing if I was checking my phone every five seconds. I had only agreed when she promised to send me periodic texts regarding the book's progress. We devised a code that wouldn't make sense to anyone but the two of us. It was based on my obsession with the group A Great Big World, and the code words were the titles of some of their songs. If the book was doing well, Olivia would text "Rockstar." If it was doing fair, she would text "You'll Be Okay," and if it was totally tanking, she'd send "Cheer Up." Her message wouldn't come in until later this evening after the book had been live for the majority of the day. By then we would know. Now, staring at my phone in my hand, I was ready to throw the plan out the window and follow the book's progress myself.

"I can see the only way to help is to spend the day distracting you."