Zora sensed a serious undertone in Leanne’s remarks. She pressed a hand to knocking heart. “Wait. What are you not telling me?”
“Well, this is where I need you to be on your A game. They want to put it out in early November.”
Zora went silent. She blinked, and her heart was still pounding, but now it sounded like slow motion thuds coursing through sludge. “How? What? That’s nine months away! I thought you said it would be like a year or so?”
“Normally, but with the demand for blended exotic food, they’re rushing it to publishing.” She hesitated and Zora could feel the other shoe was about to drop. “We actually don’t have until November. They technically need it by the end of May in order to meet the six-month printing deadlines.”
Now Zora dropped to the steps and let it all sink in.
Two months. No, less than two months. It was almost April. She had sixty days to work out her niche, think of a catchy title, and decide which recipes to include. Then she needed to figure out the nutritional information for each ingredient. She also needed professional photos, which Oli could do, but, still… This was crazy. Insane.
“I…I don’t even…”
Was it going to be impossible? Had she set herself up for the impossible?
“Zora, breathe.”
“I’m here, but I think I am dead. How… Just, how?”
Leanne’s voice was measured with a calming quality to it, which was uncharacteristic for her. “I want you to breathe. Then, when your heart decides it doesn’t want to come out of your chest, sit up, get up off the floor, and get to it. Take the weekend. Gather all the photos and recipes you sent me and decide on the best ones. Then cook. Do this over and again, and don’t forget to have fun while you’re doing it.”
Zora was nodding, but the words were not computing.
“When I talk to you on Tuesday, you’ll tell me all of your ideas, and we’ll work on the magic for your awesome Creole-Mexican fusion cookbook. Got it?” For all of her usual crazy, bubbly antics, today, Leanne sounded like a badass business woman.
If Leanne believed in Zora, she figured it must be possible.
She wasn’t sure how to go about it just yet, but she could cook. Somehow, the cooking would have to get her there.
“Yeah. Got it,” Zora said, doing her best to come off as confident.
They disconnected, but Zora was still staring off into the distance. It was the best worst news ever.
In a daze, she stood and dragged her feet toward Mike and the car.
“What’s up?”
“A really great publisher bought my book,” she droned.
Mike tilted his head to the side. “I thought selling your book was a good thing.”
“It is. It’s just I only have about forty-five days to put it all together and make it amazing or risk never getting another deal.” She was still shaking her head as she spoke, trying to make sense of it all.
This was definitely a “be careful what you ask for” moment.
Mike shuffled toward the car, but then he looked back at Zora with those damn sexy green eyes, and…it was a very good thing he kept walking away.
“Don’t worry. You can do this,” he said supportively. Then he bit his bottom lip. “You of all people know how to lean in. When you didn't find a seat at the table, you built your own. I’m not worried at all.”
That makes one of us.
He was adorably sweet, and she almost lost it. Zora bit back the overwhelming urge to hug him. Jump his bones. Joy warmed her from within and it buoyed her spirits. “Thanks. It means a lot that you have faith in me.”
Stay strong. He’s just being a good friend. Nothing else is happening here.
Except her heart was knocking around in her chest and a tidal wave of emotions washed over her—endearment, irritation, happiness, fear, and worse of all, desire.
“Let’s take your car. I’ve just got to get my wallet out of the driver’s seat.” Mike patted at his pants pockets. “I’m pretty sure it fell when I moved the car out front earlier.”
Zora sneezed and gave herself a mental “attagirl.” She hadn’t completely imploded yet. Given the shit storm that was her life at the moment, it was a wonder she hadn’t broken any of her rules and lunged for his totally kissable, sweet-talking mouth.
They were friends. Plain and simple. Why couldn’t she get that through her thick head? They were two people who supported each other with pep talks when the impossible became reality. There was no Netflix and chilling or cozying up in the living room. If anything, she found a rather creative and hot way to accept the sexual tension without acting on her feelings for him.
A smug smile spread on her face.
She crossed into the street to round the car toward the driver’s seat. At the same time, a bright yellow sports car sped by, nearly hitting her. Mike, the sexy-ass hero of her supposedly repressed dreams, jumped into action. He pulled her into him and they fell against the hood of the car.
“Are you okay?” he asked scrutinizing every inch of her body.
They were so close.
Too close.
Mike’s hazy green eyes bore into her, riddled with worry and…heat.
Physically, she was okay, but her mind was scrambled. With all the excitement over the book and the way her skin blazed wherever Mike’s hands touched, she couldn’t focus. Her hips were pulled tight against his. Her breasts were pressed into the hard wall of his chest. They were both breathing erratically.
“I think so,” she finally said.
He was hard and muscly all over. Zora felt his hand curl into a fist around the thin fabric of her shirt, and a shiver coursed through her. She felt like she might come apart if they were touching much longer. He smelled of a woodsy spice and sweet vanilla. It was so intoxicating, she couldn’t help closing her eyes and inhaling.
When she opened them again, his cheeks were flushed, and desire darkened his irises.
Have mercy.
Zora wished he weren’t so good-looking. Maybe then she could turn away, and her heart wouldn’t flip.
Mike was both familiar and foreign all at once.
“Zora.” His voice was a whisper, but its deep timbre burrowed down and settled in the pit of her belly.
The crease between his brow deepened and she was about to pull away but before she could, his mouth was on hers. His strong arms tightened around her waist and she opened her mouth in response, letting him in. His tongue searched her mouth, and she tasted him. It was a kissed steeped with lust, and a little too much time passed.
Zora’s stomach was tied up in knots.
A wave of nostalgia washed over her as her mind flickered between the past and present. She was boneless and whimpering for everything she couldn’t say—everything she’d waited too long to say.
Mike deepened the kiss, and her moan sounded strained to her own ears as he gently ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. As she leaned into his touch, the juncture between her thighs tightened.
What are we doing?
This was wrong. They were supposed to be just friends. Mike was her brother’s best friend. Mike was also the only guy who made Zora risk losing herself.
This broke so many rules.
“What are we doing?” she asked between breaths, desperate to understand how they’d gotten here.