Page 14 of Not on the Same Page

Once I have a coffee and pastry in hand, I stop by one of the bookstores just to check out what’s there. My eyes are immediately drawn to Becoming, Scarlett’s comeback book. I smile broadly as I take it off the shelf and turn it over, running my fingers over the soft matte cover, tracing the wheels of the bicycle on the bottom. It never gets old, seeing books I’ve had a hand in bringing to life in places like airport bookstores. I always feel like once your book is in the airport, you’ve made it. There’s no small amount of pride in knowing that Scarlett has made it several times over, and I have been with her from the start.

“Is that one any good?”

I freeze at the sound of the deep voice behind me. It’s low and sultry, full of sinful promises and bad ideas. I should know—it whispered those bad ideas to me often.

Slowly, I turn around to see Casey’s wide smile. His eyes sparkle as they glide over the planes of my face, making me feel as if I’ve been laid bare for him. From the way one corner of his grin tips up even further, it would seem he likes what he sees.

I can’t deny that I like what I see either. He’s dressed impeccably as always in a well-fitted green T-shirt and khaki-colored chinos that look as if they’ve been tailored to highlight his perfect ass. His biceps pop against the sleeves of his shirt, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s picked up working out over the past year. He’s also grown some facial hair since the last time I saw him, and it accentuates his jawline.

What the fuck is he doing here? I knew I should have been more careful asking what else the universe could throw at me today.

I clear my throat and wave the book stupidly in front of me, as if he were an image in smoke or a hologram I could clear away. “I think it’s her best work.”

Casey tilts his head, pinching his brows together. “Not her latest?”

Lifting a shoulder, I carefully put the book back on the shelf. I let my gaze linger on it to give myself a second to collect my thoughts before I have to look at Casey again. “Her latest is great,” I admit, “but this one is special.”

When I drag my attention back to him, his smile has fallen. He’s regarding me softly, thoughtfully. That look right there is the one that almost got me in too deep more times than I can count. Thank god I was always able to see that for what it was—my own yawning desire for someone, anyone, to be soft and thoughtful with me.

“How are you, Trina?” he asks with that quiet intensity he’s always possessed, as if he can see into the turmoil of my soul and he wants to cover it with his warm hand to soothe it all away. And after the past couple of weeks I’ve had, I almost want to let him.

At the very least, I want to cry out that I’m terrible. Maybe terrible is too dramatic a word, but I’m off balance. Even more so now that he’s standing in front of me, talking about books as if I haven’t spent an entire year avoiding him.

But I wet my lips and take a deep breath. “Good,” I say with more conviction than I feel. A boarding call comes over the speakers, and I’m suddenly jolted back into my surroundings. I glance around as if to verify that we are, in fact, still in an airport. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m headed to Denver for Writers and Agents.” He smirks. “Let me guess…”

I blink rapidly, my brain trying desperately to catch up. “Me too.”

“Scarlett didn’t tell you I’d be there?” He sounds surprised or…hurt? As if he thinks we talk about him regularly enough for her to have mentioned it.

“Why would she have? I’m not even sure she knew I was going.”

“Ah.” He nods like that explains something. “I took Ryan’s place as Anastasios’ rep so he could stay with her.”

Don’t do it, I tell myself. Hold it in. But my body has other ideas. I snort and shake my head. “So you enabled his overprotectiveness even further.”

He runs a hand over his low taper fade—what looks like a fresh haircut he probably got just for this trip—with a sheepish look on his face. “I guess I did. But I should be going anyway. This is…” He presses his lips together into a tight line. “I need to be there.”

I’m not sure what that was all about, but I decide not to ask. I’m already having trouble processing the fact we are likely going to be running into each other at this conference for the next three days. He doesn’t owe me anything. He’s entitled to his secrets.

“Well, I hope it’s a successful weekend for you, then.” It’s the verbal equivalent of that Midwestern thing where someone slaps their thighs and stands up to leave. I give myself a mental facepalm at how obvious I’m being, but after my two-thirty wake up call, I’m too tired to care.

“Flight 9382?”

“Hmm?”

“Only so many flights from Midway to Denver this early in the morning. I’m assuming we’re on the same one.”

“Oh.” I take a sip of the coffee in my hand, hoping the caffeine might jolt my brain into action. No such luck. With my other hand, I pull my phone out of my pocket and tap a few times. My heart jumps right back into my throat as I confirm, “9382.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” he teases. “I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to.”

Do I want him to? The last thing I want is for him to watch as I try not to hyperventilate for a less-than-three-hour flight. And yet, the soft edges of that soothing presence I felt when he asked how I was are still warming my insides. Besides, it’d be rude to pretend he wasn’t right there, wouldn't it?

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s okay. It’s just…been a while, is all.”

He smiles widely again, his gorgeous teeth and that dimple on his right cheek on full display. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he wanted me to say he could hang out with me. He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice into the register that always made my skin light up. “It’s been too long.”