right?”
She reaches into her slim clutch and holds out a business card to him. Turning over the glossy black card, he notices wide swirling red designs and a name in bold print: Tamsin Archer.
“My name is Sophie Turner. I’m Tamsin Archer’s agent.”
“Whoa.” He tosses his rag to the side and offers his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we were properly introduced.”
She stares down at his hand and sniffs with distaste. “On the contrary… I think we have.”
When she turns to leave, he rushes for the steps and grabs hold of her arm before she can open the door. “Please, wait. It’s been a really long day and I was a bit of a wanker. Let me buy you a beer and we can talk. How about that?”
He watches as a hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. “Are you hitting on me, Slade?”
Better be careful with how I answer that one! He thinks over his response before shrugging. “That depends on if you want me to.”
“Maybe there is a bit of Ender in there after all.” Sophie laughs. She saunters past him and heads for the bar. “I’d like a pint of Stella, please.”
His eyebrow arches with surprise. “Fighting juice? I would’ve pegged you for a fruity drink kind of gal.”
“Then you would have been wrong.” She sets her purse down on the counter, holding her skirt as she crosses her legs.
From this vantage point, it looks very uncomfortable to be perched on the edge of the barstool, but somehow she manages to make it look natural. He rushes around the bar and grabs a glass, giving it a onceover to make sure it’s clean.
“So I’m guessing it’s a good thing you’re here, then. Does this mean I got the job?” He pulls on the tap and waits for the foam to rise to the rim of the glass. He pushes the pint toward her and pours himself one, stopping halfway. He doesn’t want to look like a drunk during their first encounter, now does he?
“Well, that all depends on you, really. Let’s call this an interview, shall we?” Sophie grabs the pint and takes a long drink.
Slade watches her throat bob several times before she places the glass back on the bar. A third of the beer is gone. He grins, realizing that under this high-maintenance exterior is a girl who could probably outdrink most of the blokes that come in here every weekend. He likes that.
“You’re a pretty tough bird under all that makeup, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning against the bar. The scent of her perfume makes his stomach feel warm. Or maybe that’s the beer. Probably the beer.
“I have been known to play the role of bodyguard a time or two. Tamsin can be quite a handful at times.”
Slade laughs. “No kidding. I think I’ve still got the claw marks in my stomach to prove it!”
Sophie smirks before taking another drink. This time she sets it to the side and laces her fingers together, leaning in close. “Here’s the deal: we want you for more than just the cover shoot. I’m prepared to offer you a rather nice sum of money in exchange for your services over the next three weeks.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Well, that doesn’t sound the least bit kinky.”
“I assure you that is not something I am willing to pay for.” She reaches for her purse and pulls out a trifold set of papers and passes them to him.
“This is your contract. It details everything we expect from you. All of your expenses will be paid for the duration of this book signing tour. Five cities in three weeks. Black tie dinner parties and more screaming women than a guy like you could handle. If that sounds like a good time, then you can sign on the dotted line.”
She tugs back on the contract, making him pause. “Make no mistake about it, though. This is a job. If Tamsin takes you out to party, then you go, but don’t you dare show up the next morning too hung over to work. No drugs, no bringing hookers back to the hotel, and most importantly, do not do anything stupid to get a bad name in the press.”
“I don’t do
She reaches into her slim clutch and holds out a business card to him. Turning over the glossy black card, he notices wide swirling red designs and a name in bold print: Tamsin Archer.
“My name is Sophie Turner. I’m Tamsin Archer’s agent.”
“Whoa.” He tosses his rag to the side and offers his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we were properly introduced.”
She stares down at his hand and sniffs with distaste. “On the contrary… I think we have.”
When she turns to leave, he rushes for the steps and grabs hold of her arm before she can open the door. “Please, wait. It’s been a really long day and I was a bit of a wanker. Let me buy you a beer and we can talk. How about that?”
He watches as a hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. “Are you hitting on me, Slade?”
Better be careful with how I answer that one! He thinks over his response before shrugging. “That depends on if you want me to.”
“Maybe there is a bit of Ender in there after all.” Sophie laughs. She saunters past him and heads for the bar. “I’d like a pint of Stella, please.”
His eyebrow arches with surprise. “Fighting juice? I would’ve pegged you for a fruity drink kind of gal.”
“Then you would have been wrong.” She sets her purse down on the counter, holding her skirt as she crosses her legs.
From this vantage point, it looks very uncomfortable to be perched on the edge of the barstool, but somehow she manages to make it look natural. He rushes around the bar and grabs a glass, giving it a onceover to make sure it’s clean.
“So I’m guessing it’s a good thing you’re here, then. Does this mean I got the job?” He pulls on the tap and waits for the foam to rise to the rim of the glass. He pushes the pint toward her and pours himself one, stopping halfway. He doesn’t want to look like a drunk during their first encounter, now does he?
“Well, that all depends on you, really. Let’s call this an interview, shall we?” Sophie grabs the pint and takes a long drink.
Slade watches her throat bob several times before she places the glass back on the bar. A third of the beer is gone. He grins, realizing that under this high-maintenance exterior is a girl who could probably outdrink most of the blokes that come in here every weekend. He likes that.
“You’re a pretty tough bird under all that makeup, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning against the bar. The scent of her perfume makes his stomach feel warm. Or maybe that’s the beer. Probably the beer.
“I have been known to play the role of bodyguard a time or two. Tamsin can be quite a handful at times.”
Slade laughs. “No kidding. I think I’ve still got the claw marks in my stomach to prove it!”
Sophie smirks before taking another drink. This time she sets it to the side and laces her fingers together, leaning in close. “Here’s the deal: we want you for more than just the cover shoot. I’m prepared to offer you a rather nice sum of money in exchange for your services over the next three weeks.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “Well, that doesn’t sound the least bit kinky.”
“I assure you that is not something I am willing to pay for.” She reaches for her purse and pulls out a trifold set of papers and passes them to him.
“This is your contract. It details everything we expect from you. All of your expenses will be paid for the duration of this book signing tour. Five cities in three weeks. Black tie dinner parties and more screaming women than a guy like you could handle. If that sounds like a good time, then you can sign on the dotted line.”
She tugs back on the contract, making him pause. “Make no mistake about it, though. This is a job. If Tamsin takes you out to party, then you go, but don’t you dare show up the next morning too hung over to work. No drugs, no bringing hookers back to the hotel, and most importantly, do not do anything stupid to get a bad name in the press.”
“I don’t do
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