One Night: A BWWM Interracial Romance (3 page)

“Is this your first?” she asked, gently probing for more information.

He smiled as if he knew exactly what she was doing. He shook his head.
 

“This would be book number seven,” he said.
 

Her eyes shot up over her glass mid-sip. Seven books! She usually didn’t pay much attention to author’s pictures in the back covers of books, but this handsome face she would have remembered. Seven books wasn’t a huge catalog, but it was a pretty good run. He obviously knew what he was doing.
 

“Anything I would have heard of?” she asked keeping a casual tone to her voice.
 

He scrutinized her with a small smirk. “I seriously doubt you would fall into my target audience.”
 

“Try me,” she said, challenging him to reveal himself. “After all, I think I should know the name of the man who ‘wasted’ fifty dollars on me,” she added for good measure.
 

“Jake Cavanaugh,” he said.
 

JAKE
 

For some reason, Jake gave his real name rather than his far more well known pseudonym, Jake Steele. He wanted this woman across from him to see him as himself, not the best selling author.
 

Thus, he probably should have left off the part about the book.
 
Still, there was no way she’d be putting a face to the Nick Zane novels. It was his one stipulation with his publishers. It wasn’t just his concern about his past catching up with him, and it wasn’t that he wasn’t proud of his work either.
 

He just liked his privacy.
 

Wright Publishing hadn’t been happy about it. Apparently Jake Steele had a “marketable face.”
 
Rugged enough to appeal to men, handsome enough to appeal to women, or so he had been told.
 
The answer had still been a flat no. He hadn’t rejoined civilization only to be thrown back in the trenches again.
 
He had a feeling it might just be worse than anything he’d experienced in the Middle East.
 

So he watched with a bit of enjoyment as the gorgeous thing sitting across from him—sipping on $50 of his very fine whiskey—struggled to place the name.
 

“Hmm,” she finally shook her head, “sorry, I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”
 

She gave a piercing look at him as she worked her way down the half empty glass in her hand. “What kind of books do you write?”

“Mostly special ops, CIA, your average international intrigue sort of stuff,” he admitted. He saw no harm in revealing that part.
 
That type of book lined entire shelves in bookstores and libraries. By the way she had been gasping and squirming in her seat while reading her e-reader, she was into a different sort of reading material. It was probably sexist of him to presume, but even his own publisher had told him that his audience was something like 80% male.
 

Her very appealing lips twisted to the side and she shook her head. “No, I probably wouldn’t know you.
 
My dad might, he loves that stuff. I’ll have to be sure and ask him. Sorry,” she shrugged with a smile.
 

She was probably thinking he’d be hurt by her ignorance, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. Still, he was happy to let her simmer in it. Any bit of sympathy he could get from this creature would be worth it.
 

“Well, even if you don’t know my books, you know my name and I’m still quite ignorant of yours,” he raised an eye.

“Natalie Damond,” she answered in response to the implied question. She bowed her head, “librarian of no great renown, at your service.”
 

It was Jake’s turn to be a little more interested. Librarian. It was sexy, even if she didn’t really look like much of a stereotypical librarian. No glasses, hair finally out of that silly bun. The shoes were still an issue, but with that face and legs of hers, he could forgive them. Almost.
 

She lifted her glass to him. “Still, we should toast to your accomplishment.”
 

He used the opportunity to tease her again. “No way are you toasting with that atrocity,” he chided. “You might bring me bad luck.”
 

He leaned in and stuck two fingers over the rim of the empty glass he had poured for her earlier and brought it closer to him.
 
He poured another shot of whiskey into it and smiled to himself as he saw her mouth shoot open in protest.

“Are you just trying to get me drunk?” she asked. “I’m already starting to feel the stuff I poured into this glass,” she held up the almost empty drink she had in her hand.
 

“It’s bad luck to toast with a drink the honoree doesn’t approve of,” he replied.

“That’s not true,” she said rolling her eyes. “If you’re just trying to get me into bed, you’re wasting your time. I’m anti-men this weekend.”
 

She immediately frowned after saying that, actually bringing a hand up to her mouth as if to push the words back in.
 

It was an interesting development. Jake had no interest in listening to drunken ex-boyfriend rants and was beginning to regret pouring her another glass. He didn’t mind her well lubricated if it meant she would be more amenable to certain activities.
 
However, he didn’t want her to start moaning about whatever man troubles she might be having.
 

“Sorry. I promised myself I’d stop thinking that way.” she said shaking her head vigorously as if to eliminate the thoughts from her mind.
 

“I should warn you,” she said with a sly grin, “I’m in rebound mode.”
 

That was perfectly fine with Jake.
 

NATALIE

Natalie couldn’t believe it. Why in the world had she said that?

First, she had basically admitted she recently had a bad break-up. The next moment she had confessed that she was ripe for the picking.
 

She looked at Jake across the table. The small twitch on the side of his mouth at her last words was not lost on her. Ugh, she really wanted to escape back into her book. What had happened to the agreement not to talk to one another? Now all of a sudden it was a spill-the-beans fest.
 

He seemed to take some pity on her, and decided to shift the subject back to toasting his book.
 

He lifted his glass to her and made a point of shifting his eyes down to the untouched second round of absurdly expensive whiskey he had just poured for her.
 

“To my seventh novel,” he said, waiting for her to pick it up.

It was the least she could do.
 
She picked it up and joined him. “To your seventh novel. May it be a thousand times more successful than your previous six.”
 

She threw the glass back and swallowed it whole. The liquid fire that raged down her throat nearly put her body temperature on par with the crackling fire in front of them. She scrunched her eyes shut as she felt the flaming fingers tickle their way from her intestines out to her limbs. She gave a hearty shiver and loud gasp as the heat subsided. Oh boy, she was going to feel this in the morning.
 

She opened her eyes to see Jake staring at her with amused awe.
 
“That’s not exactly how you’re supposed to take it, but I suppose it’s better than the alternative,” he said, his eyes shifting to the milk on the table.
 

He lifted his glass again, nodded in appreciation and took a long sip of his own drink.
 

In an attempt to stray away from her earlier pronouncements, she brought the conversation back around to his book.
 

“So what is this book about?” she asked with overt interest.

“Hmm,” he pondered, “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.
 
Publishers like us to be very hush, hush about these things.”
 

Natalie laughed delightedly at this. Perhaps a little too delightedly.
 
The alcohol was already starting to affect her. Still, it was fun to hear about publishing from an actual published author.
 

“Fair enough,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for the book to come out, Mr. Jake Cavanaugh.”
 

Jakes eyes squinted thoughtfully as she said this.
 

“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make sure to send you a free, early release copy, signed by yours truly. On my honor.” He placed a hand on his chest and bowed in her direction as he spoke.
 

Natalie giggled. “Deal,” she said. “But what do I have to give in return?”

“I can think of at least a few things,” he said, eyeing her body up and down.
 

Wait a second.
 
Had she actually flirted with him? And was he responding?
 

She looked him over again. In the light of the fire it was still hard to pinpoint his exact features.
 
Were his eyes green or hazel?
 
Was his hair dark blonde or light brown? The fire did work wonders on all the angles and hard edges of his face and body. Strong jaw, complete with a dimple. Broad shoulders, curving down to biceps that were apparent even in a relaxed state.
 
Was that a slight ripple of a six-pack underneath the front of his shirt?
 

Natalie turned to face the fire, crinkling her face in confusion. She should probably make her way back to her room, but there was no way she could fall asleep now.
 
Besides, she liked being in the presence of this Jake Cavanaugh. He was handsome, and flirty, and obviously literate.
 

And after all, he had just wasted $100 dollars on her.
 

She ignored the implications of that thought and turned her attention back to her companion. It was time to pull in the reins on whatever direction this conversation was taking.
 

JAKE

Jake could see the debate going on behind her eyes. She liked him, but she didn’t want to make it easy for him.
 

Why did women have to make things so complicated?
 

He had no intention of pressuring her, but he also wasn’t going to let a good thing go to waste without at least trying.
 

“So, rebound-mode?” he inquired, re-opening the subject.
 

She immediately cringed in embarrassment.

Perhaps not such a good idea.
 

The cringe turned into a bitter smile as she stared into the fireplace.
 

“If you want the whole sordid story?” she offered, still looking at the flames.
 

He shrugged. “Sure, why not?” he said, wanting nothing of the sort, but if his sympathetic ear lead to other things….

“The whole sordid story is, I caught my bastard ex-boyfriend cheating on me with some blonde tart,” she said simply.
 

“How do you know he was cheating?” he asked.

“What would you call it if you found weeks worth of naked pics sent to the person you had just wasted 2 years of your life on?” she tossed back, turning to look at him with eyes far more heated than the fire before them.
 

His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips in acknowledgement. “I guess that would count.

“Seems to me like you owe him a little payback,” he offered, teasing around the subject. He threw in a smile and said, “or maybe you owe yourself a little fun.”
 

Her resentful frown stayed a moment longer before she took the bait and broke out in smile.
 
A quick laugh escaped her lips and she tossed back the rest of her “milk.”

“Why not?” she said, eyeing him over the empty glass she kept next to her lips.
 

He watched as her eyes crawled down from his face to his torso. He leaned back obligingly to give
 
her the full view. Jake made it a point to keep in shape, running every morning and hitting the gym in the afternoons. Apart from his ritualistic bottle of whiskey, he wasn’t much of a drinker and he usually stayed on the healthy side when it came to diet.
 

He smiled when the roaming eyes paused between his legs. He had no illusions that he was so well-endowed that he filled out the front of the loose pajama bottoms enough to impress her. Without pants, he had had no complaints. If all went well, perhaps she’d be the judge of that.
 

God, he was beginning to sound desperate even to himself. It wasn’t a problem for him to woo women into bed, so why was he so focused on getting this one between the sheets? She was cute—gorgeous actually. Even beneath that baggy sweatshirt and awful footwear, he could tell she had a nice little figure.
 
It would be a fun romp, then they’d both go their separate ways.
 
She had pretty much inferred that she was in no mood for a relationship.
 
It should have been a no-brainer.
 

But the entire reason for coming here was to be alone.
 
It was his process.
 
At this point it was practically superstition. He’d taken a cabin in the woods of upstate New York to complete the final draft of his first manuscript. He had headed out to the nearest bar to celebrate the accomplishment, not knowing if it would be picked up or not. The most expensive drink at that bar had come from the same brand he had before him. He had drunk in silent contemplation then, reflecting on his past and figuring out his future.
 

Tonight was the first time such solitary reflection after completing a manuscript had been interrupted. He wasn’t sure how to take that. Did it bode well for the book or not? He put the thought aside as her gaze lingered over him.
 

“I’m going to need a bit more liquid courage,” she said, pushing the glass in front of her toward him and nodding at the bottle in front of him.