Page 56 of Professional Consult

“I’ll be back in a bit—”

“Do you think you can stay for a little while? To make sure I don’t run into any issues.”

I exhale an annoyed breath. “Just a few minutes.”

“Great.”

I sit as she familiarizes her fingers with the home keys and starts pecking away at the letters. She’s slow, but familiarity will come in time, and I hope like hell she actually follows her heart.

She’s so different from her Hollywood persona, her face natural and almost devoid of makeup, her hair forever haunted by wispy flyaways I long to tuck behind her dainty ears.

Too bad she wasn’t raised here in Pond Spring, where I’d have a chance with her. She’d be a beautiful mother, and I’d dedicate my life to keeping her happy and safe. The thought of protecting a family seems…fulfilling.

She gives an annoyed huff, and that sharp tongue of hers pops out of her mouth, wetting her lips.

Lips that are so talented, they’d spend me in minutes.

Shit—I need to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now.”

“Wait just a damn minute!” she snaps.

I grind my molars, trying very hard to redirect my attention to anything other than that skillful mouth of hers.

“Done!” she enthuses.

“Done? Do you think a manuscript is only a page?”

She rips the sheet out of the typewriter. “I’m working on a particular scene.” She hands it to me. “What do you think?”

I rush out a breath as I grab the paper.

The Chief’s Hollywood Hankering

“What the hell is this?”

“Just read!”

Unable to control himself around his new tenant, Police Chief Lucky Gastwick pulled Hollywood starlet Alexi Cash into a passionate embrace, pressing his lips against hers and igniting a maelstrom of fireworks between them.

What the hell is this?

“Um, I hate to say this, Lexi, but your writing is shit.”

She socks me in the arm.

I sit back in my chair and stretch, wondering how the hell I’m going to break it to Lexi that she’s going to have to wait until she’s back in Hollywood to have her itch scratched.

Fuck my life.

“Lexi, whatever this is, whatever you’re thinking—” I shake the paper, “it needs to stop.”

“So I should no longer pursue my dream of becoming an author?”

“No. You should no longer pursue all attempts at seducing me.”

“Because you don’t want me?”