Page 74 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
I shook my mouse to wake up my computer and pulled open a new email. I started typing a message to myself, reminding myself to take my vitamins when I got home. For some reason, I wanted to look important to Phillip, so in my head, sending out an email before lunch made it seem like I was at the same business level as him, rather than me working at a cat magazine where cats literally dictated my job.
Happy with my email, I sent it then stood up.
“You ready?”
“Of course.”
With his hand on my back, he led me to the elevator and out of our building, the whole time staying silent, which was a little problematic since I didn’t like awkward silences at all.
Once we were outside, Phillip turned to me and nodded in the direction he wanted to go. “This way.”
Hand still on my lower back, he led me through the busy New York City streets. Cars honked constantly, people on the streets tried to peddle fake handbags, and the smell of rotting something floated in and out of the air. I loved it. I loved my city.
We turned the corner and the sign for a little café, which I’d walked by during my daily routine, came into view.
“I see this place almost every single day but have never been here.”
“Really? Well, you’re in for a surprise. They have the best cheddar broccoli soup you’ll ever have.”
“Better than Panera?” I asked.
He gave me a funny look and nodded his head. “Did you really ask me that?”
“If I said no, would you believe me?”
Laughing, he shook his head and opened the door for me.
The café was quite small, like every other place in New York, since realty was hard to come by and expensive. It was a typical small café with floors checkered black and white and the walls a burnt orange. A case of pastries lined one wall, and a case of deli meats on the other.
The one thing that did seem out of place was Philip. He seemed like a man who dined at the Loeb Boathouse in Central Park every day, not someone who looked forward to a cheddar broccoli soup from a local café.
“So, do you think you’re going to go with the soup?” Phillip asked, close to my ear.
“Since you think it’s the best, I have to try it.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” He smiled.
I watched as he ordered for both of us, adding in some waters and a cookie to share, all the while maintaining the strong, confidence that screamed high society. He was a stark contrast to look at, to be around—it was rather fascinating—and it only made me more curious to know what he was like in bed. Not that I was ready to jump into bed with him, but I was intrigued.
He guided me to a table in the corner of the café and set our tray down while handing out our food. It was sweet to see him take care of everything.
Once we were settled and eating our soup, Phillip lifted his eyes to mine and asked, “Tell me, Rosie, where did you go to school?”
Swallowing some soup, which actually was quite delicious, I said, “NYU with my two best friends who I live with now.”
“You have roommates?” he asked a bit surprised.
“Yes, unfortunately. As you know, it’s expensive here and living off wages fromFriendly Felinesisn’t going to be putting me in a penthouse in Manhattan.”
Laughing, he responded, “I can understand that. Do you have aspirations to work somewhere else?”God. Yes.
“I do. I’m actually working on a book right now. I would love to be able to write my own things and not have to listen to a person dictate to me about what cat article I have to write for the day. Or, how I need more meow in my stories.”
“Meow? Seriously? Does your boss say that?”
“All the time.” I laughed. “We have meetings every Monday morning and you should hear some of the things she says. Meow is her favorite, but she will also say things like purr-fect.”
“She does not.” He chuckled.
