“Let’s not go there,” I muttered.
“No, let’s!”
I pinned my eyes onto her. “Your idea of research is akin to hooking me up with guys to try out different sex positions.”
She shrugged and pursed her lips. “Research,” she said, as if it were the obvious response. “How the hell is Simone Storm, the New York Times bestselling erotic romance author, single and sex-deprived? You need a man, Storm. You need a fine-ass hunk-of-man on your arm at these damn events. That’s what the readers wanna’ see! They wanna’ see a fine motherfucker up in this bitch. Hell, they wanna’ see Evan Hanson in the flesh!”
Dinah always got ghetto when she talked about men.
“Now, Dinah, you know I’m not opposed to fine asses or hunks-of-men, no day of the week,” I informed her, just in case she didn’t know. “And if I’m honest, the whole sex position research was intriguing; but I’m over that. The only thing I’m interested in is finding a good man. I have no idea what I was dealing with before the accident,” I continued, addressing the elephant that was always in my room, “but one thing I know for damn sure, if I had a man, he was nowhere to be found when I came out of that damn coma.”
Her eyes sheened.
“I’m not down for one-night things, Dinah,” I reminded her. “I have standards and they simply must be met, point blank and period.”
“I get you,” she assured me. “You’ve been through a lot of crap and you’re right – we have no idea what you were dealing with before the accident. Hell, we’re still trying to find out; but your standards are pretty high, Storm,” she noted, raising a wary brow. “Not even Adam could meet the standards you’re setting.”
“My standards are reasonable.”
“They’re intimidating!”
I rolled my eyes and sipped at my latte, unable to find a suitable comeback.
Dinah leaned closer to my face, eyes narrowed. “Your standards are so intimidating, the only man fit enough to even rise to the occasion is Evan Hanson; and we both know he ain’t coming to sweep you off your feet.”
I almost spit out my latte, thanks to the laugh that rose in my throat. “I won’t deny that my sexy hero is the epitome of my kinda’ guy,” I said wiggling my eyebrows. “Ask any romance author. Every hero she or he writes exemplifies their ideal in some way.”
Now it was Dinah’s turn to roll her eyes.
“Evan is everything,” I said in an airy breath. “He’s the trifecta of utter perfection: the proverbial tall, dark and handsome…” I closed my eyes and drifted off into my head, the place I frequented when I needed to make contact with my muse, with him. I could see him standing there with mussed hair, like he’d just awakened; a five o’clock shadow framing a set of full lips and glinting, green eyes. His tanned skin looked like it had been personally kissed by the sun.
Damn, I could only imagine what would happen if Evan Hanson showed up at one of my events. I’d heard of other authors doing it, hiring actors to represent their alluring characters; but if Evan showed up? Readers would go wild. Hell, I’d go wild!
I opened my eyes and anchored myself in reality. “At the end of the day, the onus is on me to write this book and pair Evan up with the woman of his dreams. Whoever the hell she is…” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m still trying to figure it all out, Dinah. I see bits and pieces of scenes, but I can’t get anything else.”
“Have you tried to talk to him?” she asked, fully aware of my unique writing process.
“I’ve tried, but he’s not answering. It’s almost like he’s disappeared.”
Dinah frowned. “Don’t stress about it,” she finally advised. “He’ll show up when it’s time and it’ll all come together before the deadline. You just have to relax and let it come naturally; let him come naturally. Your only concern for the next few days should be letting your hair down.” She raised her cup in a mock toast and tugged the hem of her slim-fit suit jacket for no good reason. “To success,” she said. “It’s been two years, and I don’t know anybody who could’ve gone through half of what you have and still push out two bestsellers. You’re an amazing woman, Storm.” Her mouth quivered and I clamped the inside of my lip to stop mine from doing the same.
She raised the paper cup higher. “To everything you’ve ever dreamed of; to new memories. To the man of your dreams; and of course, to Evan Hanson.”
I pressed the cooling cup against my mouth as the and meaning of her words settled on my heart.
To everything I’ve ever dreamed of.
To new memories.
To Evan…
Dinah had prescribed rest and relaxation, and she was right – it was definitely overdue; but I still didn’t have a storyline for the next release and my muse was dead. Toasting to Evan was entirely appropriate, because if he didn’t show up soon, the rest and relaxation would give way to staring at a blinking cursor on a computer screen for months on end – the perfect recipe for stress and anxiety.
It wasn’t long before the clean-up crew had finished putting the library conference room back in order, but Dinah was preparing to host a quick meeting with the team.
Right…
She always suggested that her meetings would be quick, but a few months into this business, I had learned that Sis wouldn’t know the meaning of quick if it walked up to her in a three-piece suit. Thank God, I’d been excused from this event. It meant I could slip out the back without an interrogation.
I took up my briefcase and marched for the exit. I was looking forward to a long, hot soak in the monster jacuzzi in my hotel room, followed by a bottle of wine and some jazz music. Then tomorrow, I’d be heading to a jazz club called Blue Note to indulge in the smooth and sultry sounds of a live band and popular local talent. Hell, maybe I’d even find a man who met my standards, the way Dinah was demanding I should. The next few days in the city were carefully planned out, especially because the minute I returned home, I’d be locked away in my cave, writing until I had arthritis in both of my hands.
“I’m heading off,” I called over my shoulder. “The car is already outside and I don’t want to keep the driver waiting. He’s been out there for a while.”
Dinah took a break from barking out orders and pinned a set of stern eyes on me. “You sure you’re gonna’ be good to go alone, Storm?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, even though I knew where the conversation was headed.
“It’s a damn circus out there,” she answered. “People are moving around like there’s a fifty per cent off sale going on at Saks.”
“I can handle it,” I replied, trying to cut the conversation short. “I’ll get in the car and head straight to the hotel. It’s not Jumanji. Besides, we’ve got an entire weekend planned. Ain’t no time for pessimism and superstition.”
“Fine,” she relented, but I could tell she wanted to argue the point. Dinah was bossy and overprotective. After the accident, I’d experienced a few symptoms, like confusion and panic, especially in large crowds and lots of activity, but I refused to let her mother me. I was trying to move on with my life and be the master of my destiny. There was no way I could be bound by fear.