She inclined her head as blood simmered in her veins. "Yes. Romance." The answer was defensive and clipped. It seemed she was always defending the choice to write love stories. She'd met people like him before. Judgmental. Quibbling about the content of romance novels. Everyone had an opinion. If the story was too sweet, it was judged as not realistic. Too erotic, and it was "mommy porn." She hadn't invented the chip on her shoulder; it was put there by the patronizing attitude of people who didn't even read the genre.
Really, what was the harm in escaping to love and passion within the pages of a book? She believed there was none at all and dismissed those with negative attitudes for something they knew nothing about.
Having been put in a position like this before, Sky stood her ground, trying hard not to be rude. It was more like digging deep, planting her feet in the statistics of how many romance books were sold each year. She prepared to state her position that, romance genre or otherwise, a writer was a writer regardless of content. "It seems I'm a hopeless romantic and write stories that, as a whole, generate over one billion dollars in sales per year." A disdainful smile was all she could muster for this asshole. She couldn't help but feel a little smug defending her career decision with facts. "So, you see? There's quite a market for love stories."
His eyes never left hers. She'd said her piece and readied herself for what would come next. Would he be an arrogant dickhead, or would he open his mind to something that was a little outside his wheelhouse?
She studied him, the moments ticking away as she readied herself to defend her position and that of the romance writing community. What she hadn’t expected was the warmth she found in his gaze, and the longer they sat there, the more she found herself trying to resist the magnetism of the sweet, chocolate-colored pools.
Chapter 2
Grinning, he cocked his head. "What's your name?"
His deep baritone slightly short-circuited Skylar's concentration. He was a mystery that she planned to unravel. She chastised herself for forgetting her discipline as a reporter. She was supposed to stay impartial and not lose focus when investigating a story. His voice was at fault. It caught her unaware. She hadn’t anticipated the effect that something so inherently masculine would wrap around her like a fur coat and pull her in. She hadn’t dated in a long time and, other than Vince, she didn’t have too many conversations with men. Like a dry sponge, she soaked in the sound. The melodic tone sank into her muscles and bones.
Unfortunately for her, she didn’t recover quickly enough for her liking, and her distraction cost her. The tight grip she'd had on her notebook relaxed. As her hand fell open, loose sheets of notes she'd tucked in between the pages tumbled to the floor, scattering everywhere on their way down.
"Shit." Immediately flustered, she cursed herself for the faux pas. She tried to snatch the falling jumble of creased loose-leaf paper and Post-it notes, attempting damage control. It was too late. While she grabbed at some of the fallen items, she experienced the domino effect. Her arm bumped into her laptop bag. That, too, tumbled, spilling even more of her things to the floor.
If there had been a hole nearby, Skylar would have crawled into it. She looked anything but ladylike as she tried to catch the contents. Half the bag emptied, and she wasn’t quick enough to save the other half. She was embarrassed. Her laptop, flash drives, pencils, and various other contents went everywhere. But fate wasn’t done with her yet. To add insult to injury, she knocked her fresh cup of coffee, sending the venti to the floor, the plastic lid popping off when it hit. It splashed everywhere, wetting the papers that had preceded it. She was mortified. Now, not only was the research and working copy of her manuscript on the floor but they were drenched. All this time Vince watched as the disaster unfolded. His eyes went wide. All she needed were some clowns and elephants to go with the circus.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Fumbling through her pockets, she grabbed the small pack of Kleenex that was hidden within. With only a slight handful to help her, she grabbed the laptop, dabbing at any liquid that could seep through to the keyboard.
It took a moment for her editor to regroup and, when he did, he popped out of his chair. "I'll grab some napkins." The urgency in his voice meant he sensed her distress. He ran off, but Skylar didn’t see him. She was too busy expending her efforts to save the electronics before they fell victim to the coffee. All she could picture in her head was destruction. One soaked keyboard meant the laptop was shot.
"Here. Let me help."
Skylar responded to the outstretched hands, though she wasn’t sure who possessed them. She shoved a handful of dripping paper into open palms. The hands were much larger than her petite ones, the fingertips thick and calloused. She grabbed her Kindle and an extended battery pack, as well as four or five flash drives, and handed them to the good Samaritan as well. Through her peripheral vision, she saw they were being placed on the seat next to where she’d been sitting before she looked like a failed juggling act.
She reached for the leather bag, quickly shoving in the items that had fallen, but hadn’t been hit by the coffee. She was flustered when she quickly stood. It was definitely the wrong move. The sudden motion triggered off a flash of vertigo and she lost her balance.
"Whoa!" She wobbled as she tried to catch herself, reaching out for anything that would stop the spinning, when someone caught her arm before she fell to the floor. The jerky motion nearly sent her spiraling again when she crashed into a hard body before she had a chance to go all the way down. The collision ignited sparks that jolted her so unexpectedly her eyes grew wider than silver dollar size. What the hell was that?
Slowly, Sky regained her footing, her balance normalizing enough to stand. She looked up to thank the person who’d stopped the world from spinning when they had so quickly run to her aid. Brown met blue. As she looked into his eyes, the buzzing continued, the hum of electricity growing stronger as she was drawn into their warmth. Fireflies illuminated the strange connection and fluttered low in her belly. She struggled to breathe, her chest tightening as she stood captured by his gaze. The feeling was exciting, but it frightened her.
Sky moved back to identify the intercessor who’d placed himself between her and the floor. Oh, God! Mister Anti-romance. He seemed to be in as much shock as she. As much as she wanted to turn away from him so she could shut down the power grid connecting them, she couldn't. A lock clicked between his eyes and hers. His pupils dilated, the gold flecks within like sparklers on the Fourth of July, in response to their contact. Though Skylar couldn't see her reflection, she was confident her own had responded in much the same way.
"Thank you," was all the response she could summon. Through reason scratched her thoughts with the idea of turning and walking away, a strange, invisible tether lassoed them. Two people knotted at the moment of contact. Sky could tell by looking into his eyes he’d felt the link and, suddenly, he didn't feel like a stranger at all.
She was more confused now than ever in her life. He smiled, studying her. His lips were full, and she couldn't shake the feeling she wanted to kiss them. The thought appeared out of nowhere, wholly unbidden and unwanted. Instantly, her gaze faltered. From one second to the next, her line of sight had dropped from his mouth to the floor. She found herself staring at the faded, grey carpet, unable to describe what was happening. Drained, she tried to think of anything other than what had just occurred.