Wet Ink (Plus Size Loving) BBW Erotic Romance (2 page)

Nancy shook her head. “You’re a bit dramatic, Val.
 
You’re gorgeous.” She grinned. “And most women, myself included, would kill for your rack not to mention those curves. You’ve got plenty of charms to entice a man with.”

Valerie sighed. “You don’t understand. The whole idea of being an author is that no one would ever have to see me face-to-face. I could project myself as being the same type of woman I write about.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “And instead I’m going to end up in a face-to-face meet with my editor that will bring it all crashing down.”

“Oh, honey.” Nancy pulled Valerie in for a quick hug. “God gave you this body, and you’ll have to work with what you’ve got. “ She stepped back and looked at Valerie’s brilliant green eyes, curling red hair and pale skin. “If you opened up, I’m pretty sure men would be falling over each other’s feet to try and get to you.”

Valerie grinned a little. “You’re so ridiculous, Nancy. But I guess it really doesn’t matter either way—I have to go through with this.” She would hold her head up high and act confident; whatever it took to impress Alex. “I want my books published, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

“Atta girl.” Nancy patted her on the back. “Now let’s get you dressed and out the door. We don’t want you to be late.”

~ * ~ * ~

Valerie paid the cab driver his fair and then stepped out onto the sidewalk, directly in front of The Mark—one of the most prestigious hotels on the Upper East Side. She’d never been before because on the rare trips to Manhattan she never visited the Upper East Side, but it seemed like a quaint, elegant building with its warm, brown bricks and inviting windows.

The outside was completely misleading though—on the inside everything was black and white. The floor was patterned in dizzying black and white stripes, and the furniture was either solid black or black and white as well. There was a funky chandelier in the middle of the room, and strange, artsy paintings on the walls.

“Proof never to judge a book by its cover,” Valerie murmured, trying to look past the overwhelming décor to try and find the concierge desk. She finally saw it, a big, black desk manned by an elderly man in a stiff black suit. Vanessa was standing right in front of it, looking impeccable in a white, high-waist skirt and a striped silk blouse to go with it. Valerie couldn’t help but grin—it looked as though her agent had been here before and had decided to try and dress to match the décor.

“Valerie!” Vanessa rushed over, having noticed her standing in the lobby. “You’re right on time. Let’s head on into the restaurant so we don’t keep Alex waiting.”

Valerie’s hands automatically went to her hair, which she had left to hang down around her face in an attempt to draw attention away from her pudgy cheeks, but she didn’t have time to fuss as her agent pulled her into the restaurant. She’d expected more of the same décor as in the lobby, but instead was confronted with yellow walls and red-and-brown striped carpeting. The maître de led them through the restaurant floor, which was scattered with mahogany tables and low-backed pale orange chairs. It should have all been very distasteful, but somehow the blending of colors came together to create a warm, homey atmosphere.

Waiting at a table by one of the large, multi-paned windows overlooking Central Park was Alex, who pushed back his chair and stood to greet them. He was dressed in a business suit clearly tailored to fit his tall, rangy body, and his sandy blond hair was swept back to reveal a tanned face with strong bones, sparkling blue eyes and a million-watt smile.

“Hello ladies.” He stepped forward to shake Vanessa’s hand. “It’s been a long time since we’ve last seen each other face-to-face. I think the last time was at that writer’s conference in Chicago?”

Vanessa smiled. “That was a blast.” She released his hand and turned slightly toward Valerie. “Alex, this is Valerie Grant, writing under the pen name Savannah Winters.”

“So
you’re
the face behind the keyboard, are you?” Alex grinned and shook her hand, looking Valerie up and down. He had to admit he’d been expecting some tall, leggy blonde, but he wasn’t at all disappointed with what he was seeing. She was of average height, her curvy figure dressed in black slacks and a blazer. Beneath the blazer she wore a bright blue corset with black lacy patterns that did the most amazing things to her cleavage and yet somehow didn’t manage to push her breasts straight into his face. She had porcelain skin, luxurious red curls, and vivid green eyes that shimmered with a touch of nerves. Her hand was dainty in his, but her grip was impressively firm despite said nerves—no dead mouse handshakes for this woman. She held her head up high and returned his smile with one of her own.

“It’s great to meet you, Mr. Stone,” she told him. “Vanessa’s told me great things about you.”

“Likewise,” he told her. “And feel free to call me Alex.”
They sat down, ordered drinks and appetizers, and slipped into easy conversation. Valerie sipped her Cherry Yuzu as she answered questions about herself and her writing, and asked some of her own. Strangely, it didn’t feel much like a business meeting at all, but a lunch out with a couple of adults getting to know each other. Alex was easy going and friendly, and didn’t seem to care at all that she wasn’t skinny and glamorous. A couple of times she even thought he’d been giving her appreciative glances—but that was just her imagination. No way would a guy like him be interested in a girl like her.

“Well, that was delicious,” Vanessa said as she pushed back her plate, “but unfortunately I have another meeting I need to get to. I’m leaving Valerie in your capable hands, Alex; try not to corrupt her too much.” She winked at Valerie. “See you later, sweetie.”

Valerie gulped, her nerves coming back in force, but before she could say anything Vanessa had already dropped a few dollars on the table and whisked herself away. Oh God. Her agent was leaving her here by herself with Mr. Gorgeous Editor? How was she going to survive?

She turned back to see Alex chuckling as he picked up his glass of wine. “Typical of her, leaving me here to pay the bill.”

“Oh.” Valerie’s cheeks turned red—she’d assumed that since he’d extended the invitation that he was paying, but maybe things were done differently with editors? She opened up her purse and rummaged for her wallet. “I’m sorry. I can—”

“Valerie.” He reached out and gripped her hand gently. “It’s alright. I was just teasing.”

She looked down at his large, warm hand wrapped around hers—capable indeed—and her cheeks grew even hotter. “Sorry,” she said, snapping her back shut and feeling like she wanted to melt through the floor. “I… I guess I’m just nervous.”

Alex leaned back, sensing that she needed a bit of space to compose herself. She’d seemed genuinely at ease and comfortable right up until Vanessa had high-tailed it, but then writers were often introverted or insecure. “You have no need to be worried, Val” he said, using Vanessa’s nickname for her in an attempt to get her to relax. “You’re an incredible writer. I don’t take on romance novel projects very often, but you have a great voice and strong characters.”

Her eyes sparkled as she lifted her head, true pride in her expression. “I’m so glad you think so,” she said earnestly. “I’ve been chasing after the publishing dream for so long. And I keep having to pinch myself every time I look at you just to make sure I’m not asleep in my bed.”

Alex laughed. “You’re a funny girl, Valerie. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?” He was curious to find out more about this woman who’d managed to pull him to her through her writing alone, using a genre that he usually didn’t read.

“I grew up in Kansas,” she admitted. “Small-town girl who learned to drive in a tractor.”

“No kidding!” Alex leaned forward. “No wonder you don’t have the Long Island accent. So, farmer girl, huh? How’d you manage to get away from the fields long enough to write?” he teased.

Valerie grinned. “I was an avid reader. My mom’s shelves were full of romance novels and I started sneaking them when I was thirteen. I got hooked, but I was tired of reading the same old things, so I decided I wanted to write my own, but with more action-adventure elements. I’m a serious action film junkie.”

“Really?” Alex shook his head. “You look more like the type who’d sit on the patio reading
Pride and Prejudice
than on the couch with a glass of cold beer watching
Die Hard.
”

“Well, you’d be mistaken,” Valerie said, “Give me a good dose of Double-O-Seven any day of the week, baby. How about you? Where did you come from?”

“Me? Oh, I’ve been a city slicker from birth. Born and raised in the Windy City, and like you I was hooked on reading from an early age. Went to Illinois SU, got my degree in Professional Writing and decided that if I was going to be a big name in the business that I should move to where publishing was happening. Been here five years now, and I’ve never regretted it.”

Valerie smiled. “Yeah, I moved out to New York for pretty much the same reason—I figured that if I was going to make it happen I wanted to be as close to the action as possible. But I wasn’t quite ready for Big City life, so I decided on Long Island instead.”

They talked for a while longer, until Alex finally looked at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to head back to the office,” he told her, flagging down the waiter so they could get their check. “But it’s been really great getting to know you. I’m really looking forward to working with you on getting your book published.”

“I’m really glad I got to meet you face-to-face today,” Valerie told him. She glanced at her watch as well. “Looks like I’m going to have to hustle if I want to catch the next train.”

“Why don’t you let me give you a ride?”

“Oh—I don’t want to impose—”

“Don’t be silly. Penn Station isn’t too far out of the way for me anyway.”

She relented, and he escorted her downstairs and out the front doors. The valet had his car waiting for him—a silver Lexus—and as they made their way through Manhattan traffic, Valerie couldn’t help but admire the interior.

“Editors must make serious money here,” she remarked, and then clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oops. I didn’t mean—”

Alex laughed. “It’s alright.
 
Actually my uncle is a Wall Street Broker, and he helped make me some pretty good investments. If I wanted to I could retire to some beach in Maui.”

Valerie laughed. “What a life that would be!”

Alex grinned and glanced at her sideways. He certainly wouldn’t mind rubbing coconut oil on her… and where had that thought come from? He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, for sure. Most people would love to retire young.”

Valerie smiled. “So, why aren’t you enjoying the highlife, then?”

“Oh, I take a vacation every now and then,” he admitted. “But like I said, I’m a city-slicker. I enjoy the hustle and bustle and the fast-paced life, and I also love my job. I would go stir-crazy if I bought myself a cabana on some remote island and stayed there the rest of my life.”

“I could see that.” Valerie nodded as the pulled up in front of Penn Station. “Thanks so much for the ride, Alex.”

“Anytime, Val. I’ll be in touch.”

He watched her go, her curvy hips swaying as she made her way across the granite sidewalk and down the limestone staircase. Oh, she was fine. But she was also one of his authors now. Editors and authors didn’t have relationships… did they?

A horn honked impatiently behind him, and he snapped himself back to the present. “I need to get back to work,” he muttered.

~ * ~ * ~

 
“So, how’d your meeting with Mr. Hot-Shot-Editor go?” Nancy asked as they settled down in her kitchen for dinner with ten-dollar steaks and a bottle of wine that was only slightly pricier.

“I felt like I was on cloud nine,” Valerie said, and she wasn’t even ashamed that she sounded a little dreamy. “I don’t think dinner with Tom Cruise or Sylvester Stallone would have been better.”

Nancy arched an eyebrow. “He’s that hot, is he? Damn?”

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Not because of that—though he is even more gorgeous in person. I meant because he’s one of Random House’s top editors and he is totally into my work. He gave me some seriously lavish praise and told me how much he was looking forward to working with me.”

“Ah.” Nancy swallowed a bite of steak. “Bet you wish he was totally into
you
as well as your work, don’t you?” She waggled her eyebrows, and Valerie nearly spat out her mouthful of wine.”

“What? No! Of course not,” she spluttered. “He’s my editor. That would be totally inappropriate.”

“Why?” Nancy folded her arms. “Just because he’s your editor doesn’t mean he’s your boss. I’m sure he’d be down for a quick roll in the sheets.”

“Stop it!” Valerie’s cheeks scalded, and then her eyes narrowed at the mirth in Nancy’s eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me, aren’t you?”

“It’s so easy,” Nancy admitted. “How could I not? But really, honey, it’s up to you. I know how much this publishing deal means to you, and I know you don’t want to screw things up. But if he makes a move and you’re interested… I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“Fat chance,” Valerie snorted, going back to her steak. “Men like him want to be able to carry their women over the threshold without getting a hernia.”

Nancy just rolled her eyes.

~ * ~ * ~

 
“You staying late tonight?” Cheri asked as she packed her things up and shut down her computer.

Alex looked up from his desk to see that the sun had gone down and the lights had been turned on. He looked at his watch to see that it was twenty minutes past the time he usually went home. “No, I should really get going,” he said. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll just take some of these home with me tonight to work on.”

Cheri arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t the Giants playing tonight?”

Alex cursed and ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus. I completely forgot about the game. I’m supposed to pick up barbecue wings and be at my uncle’s in half an hour.”