She tears her eyes away from the screen, looking me with annoyance and trepidation and something that—maybe, just maybe—might be respect. “Oh really?” she says, plucking one last kernel from the bowl and popping it into her lipsticked mouth. “What did you have in mind?”
I get us set up on the large, airy balcony off the master suite, which boasts a perfect view of the ocean and the faint sound of waves crashing in the background. The sun is warm but not oppressive. I make sure we’ve got plenty of snacks and sparkling water, and I make her take a pee break before we start.
Then I drop the truth bomb.
“The draft sucks,” I tell her flatly, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “And the reason it sucks—other than all the geology talk—is because it’s passionless.”
Very scowls. “I know that,” she says, sounding wounded. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve been doing this for longer than you’ve been alive, Eliza. Of course I know that.”
“Of course you know that!” I echo, reaching out and squeezing her smooth brown arm. “You’re too amazingly talented not to. You’re a legend, Verity. You’re the best there is.”
Verity sighs. “I was, maybe, once upon a time. But now…”
“You’ve misplaced your mojo, that’s all. You’ve forgotten that this is supposed to be fun.”
“Fun!” Verity says with a mirthless laugh. “God, I remember fun. I wrote His Wandering Lady in six days on a yacht of the coast of Monaco,” she says wistfully. “The only time I stopped writing was to eat, and frolic with Francisco. He was the heir to an Italian leather fortune,” she adds, and I fight to keep a straight face.
“I know you do,” I press on. “And we want your readers to remember it, too. So let’s forget the passionless parts for a minute—the plot, the act breaks, whatever. And let’s spice this baby up.”
Verity sits up a little bit straighter. I’ve got her attention now, I can tell. “What did you have in mind?”
I turn the laptop around so she can see the screen, where I’ve already typed a heading: Top Ten Sex Scenes I’ve Always Wanted to Write.
Verity smiles then—a real smile, wide and white and brilliant. “Oh,” she says, “you’re very good.”
“I am,” I acknowledge with a quick grin of my own. “Now: Let’s get started.”
“Well!” she says, sitting back in her chair and immediately starting to tick the list off on her fingers. “The midnight woman-on-top tryst in the sculpture garden, to start with. The threesome with the pool boy. Oh, and the foursome with the pool boy and the gardener!”
Two hours later we’ve covered every sex act I’ve ever heard of in all my years on this planet—and, frankly, some that I hadn’t. And, more importantly, we’ve been able to reverse engineer a new version of the book that Verity actually seems to be excited about writing. “I really feel like the Ferris wheel fellatio scene is going to be the key to unlocking this whole thing,” she muses quietly, her fingers flying over the keys of her laptop.
I sit back in my chair as she works, glancing out across the property. I catch sight of Liam pacing back and forth on the pool deck, taking a call. I’ve been hyperaware of him since he got here, but I’ve tried to keep my eyes to myself as much as possible. Now, though, I let myself stare. He’s dressed casually, in broken-in navy chinos and a soft-looking gray T-shirt, his dark hair tousled from the ocean breeze.
“All right, I’ve got Thad and Leona alone at the abandoned vault,” Verity muses. “Do you think it’s sexier if he takes her from behind? Or picks her up and holds her against a wall?”
I startle, tearing my eyes away from Liam. “Um. Against the wall, I think.” I say, remembering Liam pinning me against the wall at my apartment. I clear my throat, blushing. “Of the mining company office.”
“Oh, I like that,” Verity says, the keyboard clicking as she types furiously away. I glance back out at Liam, imagining the oak paneled walls of Harry’s old office. Imagining Liam boosting me up onto the massive antique desk, spreading my legs, and—
“Eliza?” Verity asks, in a voice that suggests it’s not the first time she’s tried to get my attention. I whip around to look at her, and find her watching me with a knowing smile on her face. “Quite a view down there,” is all she says.
I swallow hard. My whole body is suddenly hot, and it’s not just from the late August sunshine or the embarrassment of being caught ogling. “He’s my employer,” I remind her.
“Mm,” she says knowingly. “Forbidden fruit. Very sexy.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, shaking my head. “Liam has been clear about wanting to keep things professional.” I sigh, remembering the thrust of his fingers inside me, the orgasm nearly taking me out at the knees. “Well. Clear-ish, anyway.”
“Which makes him all the more appealing, no?” she fires back. “Haven’t you read Seduced by the Boss?”
“Three times,” I admit with a smile. “It’s one of my favorites of yours.” In fact, I’ve been thinking it’s time for a reread, but I don’t say that out loud.
Verity seems to get the idea anyway. “Well,” she says with a wicked smile. “As you know, I’m something of an expert on the subject, and if you ask me anyone can see he can barely keep his hands off you. The ball is entirely in your court, peaches. What you choose to do about that is up to you.” She waves a hand then, dismissing me. “Now, get. I’ve got writing to do.”
* * *
I spend the rest of the afternoon working under an umbrella on the beach—or trying to, anyway. In reality I can’t help but let my mind wander back to Liam.
Could Verity be right?
I feel like I need to sit down with a Sharpie and a stack of index cards to make sense of all the mixed signals he’s been putting out. One minute he’s lecturing me on the importance of professionalism, and the next I catch him staring at me like he wants to rip my clothes off and devour me whole. Not to mention the fact that every time anything has happened between us, he’s been incredibly into it in the moment—and then immediately fled like it was the end of the world. None of it exactly bodes well for the promise of lasting relationship bliss.
Then again: do I even need lasting relationship bliss if the sex is good enough to blast me off into the stratosphere?
Huh. Sex in the stratosphere, I type, making a mental note to run the idea by Verity later today.
Just then a tall, broad shadow falls over my computer screen. “There you are,” says Liam’s familiar voice.
Right away, I motion to my laptop. “I’m working,” I assure him, hoping my sunglasses are big and dark enough to successfully hide the fact that he was the one providing the inspiration.
Liam nods. “I’m sure you are,” he says. “How did it go with Verity this morning?”
“Not bad, actually,” I admit, deciding to spare him the details of our racy brainstorming session. “I think we may actually be getting somewhere.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.” He gives a wry smile. “I’m impressed you’re getting anywhere, honestly.”