opportunity,” I said. Sweat slicked my back and my heart rate escalated.
Garcia thought we were a perfect fit. I swallowed, breathed deep through my nose. I couldn’t see Asher again. I couldn’t. My burgeoning feelings for him needed to stay out of whatever business arrangement we developed. He was married, and I wanted them to reconcile whatever their problems were. I needed to believe in Asher as much as I needed to believe that love could get people through the hard times.
Correction. I needed to believe in Asher even more, especially after the night we’d spent together.
I forced the tension down with brutal efficiency, unwilling to give in to the emotions rolling over me.
Paul’s smile warmed. “Great! I want him, specifically, to do the songwriting, with some help from a few singer-songwriters and another couple of indie rock groups. Keep the mix eclectic but unified. Maybe your brother-in-law, Simon. I heard him play a couple of months ago, and I loved his ‘More Time’ tune,” he gushed.
Surprise sizzled through me. “I’ll pass that along,” I said. This entire meeting was surreal. First, my books were like Asher’s songs and now Paul wanted to give Simon his big break. “I’m sure Simon would love the opportunity and airplay.”
The door opened and a young brunette stuck her head through the opening. “Asher Smith’s here. Should I send him in?” she asked, looking at Garcia.
“Please,” Paul said.
Garcia nodded. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to school my features into some semblance of professionalism. I wasn’t ready. When he entered, I stood, bumping into my notepad. It tumbled to the floor. “Asher, so good to see you again,” Paul said, holding out his hand.
“Yeah, thanks.” But Asher’s eyes never left mine, even when he shook Garcia’s hand.
“I wondered,” he said, a slow smile curling his lips. “I remembered your last name used to be Moore.”
I stared at him, the panic building. I couldn’t sit next to him for an hour, not after the depth of our conversation the other night. Asher narrowed his eyes, no doubt seeing I was about to lose it. He moved around the table, picked up my notepad. He leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek in a casual greeting.
His smell swirled around me, heightening the burning sensation around my heart.
“Breathe, Dahlia,” he murmured, close to my ear. “You have this. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I looked up at him, his eyes soft and sure. I took a deep breath and nodded. He set the notebook on the table in front of me. I collapsed into the chair, and Asher sat next to me.
“I didn’t realize you two were more than acquaintances,” Paul said, frowning.
“Old friend,” Asher said with an easy smile. Under the table, he clasped my hand. “Dahlia and I reconnected the other night at Simon’s gig.”
Paul eyed us. Asher squeezed my fingers, and I managed a smile.
“Thanks for having me here,” Asher said. “Richard said this was for a sound track.”
“Since you know Lia,” Garcia said, his smile megawatt-bright, “I’m sure you know she writes these sexy-hot books. We want to produce her Gardiner series.”
Asher nodded. “I’m familiar with those books.”
I pulled my hand from his, and rested my damp palm on my knee. Much as I wanted his touch, I couldn’t handle it, not if we were going to discuss love scenes.
“So here are some of my ideas,” Paul said, snapping back to business mode.
I pulled my pen and paper closer, ready to take notes.
6
Asher
O nce the shock wore off , Dahlia handled herself with the same poise and patience I’d come to expect from her years ago. She offered a few suggestions, but mainly listened, jotting down her notes.
I shook hands with the men before ushering Dahlia from the room. She fell into step beside me, surprising me with her acquiescence. Once we were in the elevator, I turned toward her. She was composed, but the pulse in her
Garcia thought we were a perfect fit. I swallowed, breathed deep through my nose. I couldn’t see Asher again. I couldn’t. My burgeoning feelings for him needed to stay out of whatever business arrangement we developed. He was married, and I wanted them to reconcile whatever their problems were. I needed to believe in Asher as much as I needed to believe that love could get people through the hard times.
Correction. I needed to believe in Asher even more, especially after the night we’d spent together.
I forced the tension down with brutal efficiency, unwilling to give in to the emotions rolling over me.
Paul’s smile warmed. “Great! I want him, specifically, to do the songwriting, with some help from a few singer-songwriters and another couple of indie rock groups. Keep the mix eclectic but unified. Maybe your brother-in-law, Simon. I heard him play a couple of months ago, and I loved his ‘More Time’ tune,” he gushed.
Surprise sizzled through me. “I’ll pass that along,” I said. This entire meeting was surreal. First, my books were like Asher’s songs and now Paul wanted to give Simon his big break. “I’m sure Simon would love the opportunity and airplay.”
The door opened and a young brunette stuck her head through the opening. “Asher Smith’s here. Should I send him in?” she asked, looking at Garcia.
“Please,” Paul said.
Garcia nodded. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to school my features into some semblance of professionalism. I wasn’t ready. When he entered, I stood, bumping into my notepad. It tumbled to the floor. “Asher, so good to see you again,” Paul said, holding out his hand.
“Yeah, thanks.” But Asher’s eyes never left mine, even when he shook Garcia’s hand.
“I wondered,” he said, a slow smile curling his lips. “I remembered your last name used to be Moore.”
I stared at him, the panic building. I couldn’t sit next to him for an hour, not after the depth of our conversation the other night. Asher narrowed his eyes, no doubt seeing I was about to lose it. He moved around the table, picked up my notepad. He leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek in a casual greeting.
His smell swirled around me, heightening the burning sensation around my heart.
“Breathe, Dahlia,” he murmured, close to my ear. “You have this. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
I looked up at him, his eyes soft and sure. I took a deep breath and nodded. He set the notebook on the table in front of me. I collapsed into the chair, and Asher sat next to me.
“I didn’t realize you two were more than acquaintances,” Paul said, frowning.
“Old friend,” Asher said with an easy smile. Under the table, he clasped my hand. “Dahlia and I reconnected the other night at Simon’s gig.”
Paul eyed us. Asher squeezed my fingers, and I managed a smile.
“Thanks for having me here,” Asher said. “Richard said this was for a sound track.”
“Since you know Lia,” Garcia said, his smile megawatt-bright, “I’m sure you know she writes these sexy-hot books. We want to produce her Gardiner series.”
Asher nodded. “I’m familiar with those books.”
I pulled my hand from his, and rested my damp palm on my knee. Much as I wanted his touch, I couldn’t handle it, not if we were going to discuss love scenes.
“So here are some of my ideas,” Paul said, snapping back to business mode.
I pulled my pen and paper closer, ready to take notes.
6
Asher
O nce the shock wore off , Dahlia handled herself with the same poise and patience I’d come to expect from her years ago. She offered a few suggestions, but mainly listened, jotting down her notes.
I shook hands with the men before ushering Dahlia from the room. She fell into step beside me, surprising me with her acquiescence. Once we were in the elevator, I turned toward her. She was composed, but the pulse in her
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