Page 26 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Hand what over?” he asked, still confused.
“Your phone, so I can put my number in it and you can do the same,” I said, holding out my phone.
“So you’re not a tease?”
“Why would you think that?” I asked, actually surprised he would consider me a tease.
He shrugged while he typed into my phone. “You have this whole pinup girl vibe going on. I thought you might be playing with me.”
Pinup girl?It took everything in me not to snort in laughter. Yes, I had a retro style, but I wasn’t a pinup girl. At least I didn’t think I was.
“You’ve got that wrong.” I handed him his phone back. “I’m the furthest thing from a pinup girl.”
“You sure as hell don’t look like it. You’re sexy, Rosie. You have some amazing curves, and your eyes . . . I can’t stop looking at them.”
Okay, so I knew a clam from a mile away—I wasn’t that dense when it came to men—but right now, looking into Lance’s eyes, he spoke sincerely and it actually blew me away. I wasn’t an ugly, rabid beast by any means, but I wasn’t supermodel perfect, which I suspected was the kind of woman Lance dated.
But I wasn’t going to overthink it. If he thought I was pretty, I was going to accept the compliment because hell, I was. Just because I didn’t get much male attention—since I was always the friend, never the lover—I was going to soak up this moment. It was time I started appreciating my curvy body, my muted brown hair, and my unorthodox style. If I wanted to get some love, then I needed to love myself first.
“Thank you.” I accepted his compliment, feeling good about myself. “I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”
He nodded while giving me a devilish look. “Do you like bowling, Rosie?”
“Sure, but I’m not very good at it.”
“You don’t need to be. A group of my friends go cosmic bowling on Saturday nights. I know what you’re thinking—total teenage hangout, right? But I promise, you’ll have a good time.”
A good time and opportunity to spend more time with the opposite sex, sounded like a keen idea. \
“I’m in. Should I wear white?”
“Ah, a girl after my own heart. Yes, wear white. I’ll text you the details.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then, Lance.”
“Bye, Rosie.” He smiled as I walked away. Even though I thought I might possibly break something from not really knowing what I was doing when it came to flirting, I put an extra sway in my hips, hoping I didn’t trip and fall over all the cables in the room.
I rushed back to the office, making sure to ignore Jenny’s text messages that were begging for details. I wanted nothing more than to talk to her face to face, because she would never believe what I had to tell her.
When I got to my office, Sir Licks-a-Lot was sitting in my chair, cleaning his paw and looking less-than thrilled that I showed up.Pesky ingrate.
“Get out of here,” I said, waving my purse in front of him. Instead of moving from the oh-so scary purse wave, he sighed and licked his other paw.
“Pssssst,” I hissed, trying to get him to move.Thatmade him to stretch and then scratch my white leather chair.
“Stop,” I cried as I pounced at him. Like a ninja, he jumped up, launched off my head, and flew to the top of my filing cabinet where he perched himself and sneered at me, as if I was a mere peasant, disturbinghis excellence’sprivate time.
“Don’t you have better things to do then hide out in my office? Maybe go torment someone else,” I said while I dropped my things and sat in my chair. I shook my mouse and woke up my computer, and when I went to type in my password, I noticed the B on my keyboard was missing.This cat. He is such rancid rodent.
And then it clued it on me . . .
Holy crap, he really was trying to spell, “Die, bitch, die.”
Growing angry, I turned toward him and right there, sitting on my filing cabinet was Sir Licks-a-Lot with the B in his mouth and a look of satisfaction in his beady eyes.
“You son of a bitch.” I got up, but I was too slow. He jumped off the filing cabinet, bounced off my chest, and ran out the door. The force of his weight against me had me flying backward into my chair that careened into the bookcase behind me. From the sheer feline force propelling off me, a couple of books tumbled from the shelf onto my lap as well as . . .
“What the hell is that?” I screeched as I lifted up a dry, grey ball.
