Ten Thousand Words (6 page)

Being considered gay didn’t offend me in the least.

My best friend and business partner was gay. Trey and I had grown up together, and from an early age, I had known he wasn’t interested in girls. He had known that I very much was, so it wasn’t ever awkward between us. Other people had made fun of us though, calling us queers and fags. It had never stopped women from spreading their legs for me, and the guys who had wanted to bend over for Trey had done so. The both of us always had extremely healthy, if completely different, sex lives.

“So, this person of interest…” Mandy prompted.

“Is my business,” I replied.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Is she hot? Tall blonde bombshell?”

Shooting her a look of contempt—more for being accurate about the type of women I usually went for than fishing for information on a woman I had just met and wanted to get to know better—I held my silence.

“I’ve checked up on you, you know. I happen to know, you surround yourself with some gorgeous people. Lots of blonde bombshells.”

True, the women in my life were all quite beautiful.

“Is she a model?”

“No.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a writer. Can we change the subject now?”

“All right, all right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I hope you’re not this surly for your interview on Wednesday.”

“Interview?”

“Uh, yeah. You have an interview that will go up on social media sites. You’ll be asked about a lot more than your personal love interests.”

“What can you tell me about Elaine?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“She’s really cool. Laid-back. Very kind. Very considerate.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. “I just thought maybe she…was weird or something. I don’t know. I started reading
Haunted Bonds
, and I just wonder what sort of person thinks up the things she does.”

“Elaine is special. I’ve been a fan of hers for years. I was one of the first people to read her books and give them rave reviews. I made it my mission to get her works traditionally published. She’s extremely talented and humble.”

“Huh.”

For the second time in one day, I was finding myself intrigued with a woman—the first one, I couldn’t get out of my mind, and the second, I couldn’t figure out at all.

“You’ll see on Friday,” Mandy assured me.

“Can’t wait.” I found that to be completely true.

When I got back to my hotel room, I crashed.

I had planned on reading more
Haunted Bonds
, but I woke up with a little less than an hour to get ready for my dinner date with Xanthe. After a quick shower, I called her and told her to meet me in the lobby at seven o’clock.

“Please tell me it’s casual,” she begged.

Poor woman sounded exhausted.

“It’s casual,” I promised.

After hanging up, I suddenly wondered what Xanthe’s idea of casual was. On the plane, she had been a bit on the shabby side, and if she showed up wearing a similar outfit, I might be a bit upset—even if she did make it look cute.

Shit, when did I become such a snob?

Always in the height of fashion, I liked looking good.

Maybe I should tone it down a little.

Or maybe I shouldn’t let it bother me.

Xanthe was who she was, and if I was honest with myself, she had captivated me just as she had been. If she showed up wearing what she wore on the plane, then that was what I would get. I discovered that I wanted whatever she was willing to give.

Surprisingly nervous, I stood in the lobby, waiting for her. She wasn’t late. I was ten minutes early. I was dressed in dark jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt, and an olive-green denim jacket. I had decided not to style my hair, instead wearing a black beanie on my head. It was cold out, so I could get away with it.

Suddenly, I was wondering what she would think of my style, if she would like it.

Is she as nervous as I am?
God, I fucking hoped so.

At exactly seven o’clock, the elevator doors opened, and Xanthe stepped out. I almost didn’t recognize her. Her thick hair was down—

Oh, wow.

Shiny, fat curls were tucked behind her left ear, cascading down around her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and that excited me. I’d finally get the full blast of her hazel eyes. Dressed in a clingy burgundy sweater, tight jeans, and dark brown leather boots, she was…
damn
.

I loved her casual look.

“Hey,” she said softly as she came up to me.

If I didn’t stop smiling, my face was going to cramp. “Hey. Ready?”

“Yep.”

Xanthe was even more beautiful than I’d realized.

How did I not see this before?
I had spent hours in her company. I had already thought she was stunning. The sight of her now damn near knocked the breath from me.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I found this restaurant I wanted to check out. Have you ever eaten Brazilian food?”

“Nope. But I’m not picky. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Her smile was doing me in.

“Come on. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“With the boobs?”

“With the
big
boobs, yeah. And I’m starving.”

A fifteen-minute quiet cab ride brought us to the Brazilian restaurant, Churrasca. My nervousness had subsided when Xanthe showed up, but it seemed hers had kicked in when she saw me. Either that, or she was
that
tired and couldn’t be bothered with trying to make conversation.

“You all right?” I asked as the cab pulled to the curb.

She turned surprised eyes on me. “Yeah. You?”

I smiled. “I’m great,” I told her as I nudged her to get out of the car. I paid the driver, hearing Xanthe grumble about me paying all the fare through the open door.

“You really don’t have to keep paying my way, Ollie. It’s kind of weird,” she told me as I got out.

“It is not,” I stated. “And I don’t mind.”

“I’m paying for my own food,” she said stubbornly.

The hell you are,
I thought.

We made our way to the door, which I opened for her, and because I simply couldn’t help myself, I placed my hand on her lower back as she walked past.

“Oh, damn,” she said softly as she breathed in the scents of roasting meats and herbs.

I had to agree. It reminded me of spending winters with my family in Brazil. I missed my mother’s food.

“Right?” I whispered in her ear.

She shifted just slightly closer to me. I breathed in her awesome spicy scent and went a little weak in the knees.

We were seated in a booth toward the back of the restaurant. The first course was a self-serve salad bar, so we dropped off our jackets, and for the first time, I noticed Xanthe hadn’t brought a purse. She did have a wallet stuffed in the back pocket of her tight jeans, and my eyes bugged when I took in the sight of her ass.

My God.

It took all my willpower to tear my eyes off it, so I could put food on my plate.

Xanthe made no bones about piling her plate sky-high. It was nice to be having a meal with a woman who actually enjoyed eating. As she approached the end of the salad bar, she forlornly looked around.

“What is it?” I asked.

She cleared her throat. “Is this it?”

“What do you mean?”

Glancing at her plate of ten different salads, she said, “I thought I smelled steak.”

Busting out laughing, I startled some of the patrons around us. Xanthe snorted a laugh, too, and raised her hand to cover her mouth in embarrassment. Right in that moment, I knew that this woman was going to be a danger to me, and I couldn’t care less. She was bewitching me, and the best part was, she wasn’t even trying to.

“Come on, carnivore. They come by the table with the steak after we finish the rabbit food.”

“Oh, good.”

This time,
she followed me, and thank God, because I would have definitely been caught drooling over her ass the second time around.

Xanthe placed her plate on the table and dug something out of her front pocket before taking her seat across from me. Fascinated, I watched as she pulled back her wealth of hair and fashioned a bun on top of her head with the curls flying everywhere.

“So, on the plane, you let me talk your ear off, Xanthe. It’s time for you to give over some info.”

“Sure,” she replied before shoving a large forkful of food in her mouth.

“So…”

She chewed slowly, and I got the feeling she was doing it on purpose. I narrowed my eyes at her, and she smirked.

What a rascal!

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Well, I told you all about my family. What’s up with yours? You mentioned your dad and a great-aunt.”

She nodded. “I also have some cousins in England, aunts and uncles, and my grandparents on my father’s side. They’re nice people.”

“I’m sure they are.”

She sighed and poked at the vegetation on her plate. “My mother and grandmother were killed by a drunk driver when I was twelve, which was why I didn’t mention them before. I didn’t want to bring us down on the flight.”

“Oh.” Yeah, I could understand that. It wasn’t necessarily information you just handed to a virtual stranger. No matter that it didn’t really feel like it, we were, in fact, strangers.

“Both my parents were archaeologists—well, my father still is. He likes digging up dead people and studying ancient civilizations. He teaches at Oxford when he’s not at a site.”

“That sounds interesting.”

She nodded. “I think so. My Great-Aunt Ellen’s an awesome old lady.”

Xanthe was an enigma. It wasn’t that she was unwilling to share herself. What I had first perceived as a woman who didn’t wish to reveal much was simply cautious and observant.

“Do you still plan on working in the bookstore?” I asked. “Since you’re now publishing with Dreamstone, I mean.”

“Of course. Aunt Ellen needs me.”

“Who’s helping her while you’re here?”

“Rex and Jaime.”

I nodded and took a few more bites of food, wanting to think through my next line of questioning.

“What’s the name of the bookstore?”

Xanthe hesitated, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. It was a little maddening to think she didn’t want me to know. We lived in the same city, and if we really hit it off here, like I was hoping we would, then we’d be seeing each other back home.

Isn’t she thinking along those same lines?

“Flight of Fancy,” she replied quietly.

I hadn’t heard of it, and I told her so.

“It’s small. We sell new and used books and also trade when people want to exchange.”

“What sort of books do you write?”

The most endearing shade of red infused her cheeks, and she sipped on her water before answering. “Um…paranormal romance.”

“Oh. Like Elaine H. Ford?”

Her face went, if it were possible, even redder. “Yeah.”

“Will you tell me what it is, so I can read it?”

She laughed. “I thought it wasn’t really your thing.”

“It’s not, but I’d give your stuff a go.”

Xanthe grew quiet.

“What is it?” I asked.

She shrugged. “If you think Elaine is nuts because of what she writes, what makes you so sure I’m any different?”

Stunned, I stared at her. I was disappointed in myself because she had a point. I’d already knocked someone, whom she considered a friend, for writing about disturbing material. It was my fault that Xanthe wasn’t willing to put more of herself out there for me.

“I met a friend of hers today,” I mentioned quietly.

Startled, her eyes clashed with mine. “Yeah? Who?”

“Her PA, Mandy Arthur.”

Xanthe relaxed and nodded. “Mandy’s good people.”

“You know her?”

“Sure. She’s well-known in the indie world. She writes brutally honest reviews, too. Bit of a book junkie.”

“She asked me if I was gay.”

Xanthe’s laughter was awesome. Infectious, too. She looked so carefree and sweet when she laughed, and the sound was just incredible, deep and husky.

“Why would she have asked you that?” she mused, wiping happy moisture from her eyes.

I shrugged. “She busted me smiling while I was texting you. She asked if you were my girlfriend, and when I said no, she wanted to know why I was smiling like I was.”

“Why were you?”

“Smiling like I was?”

“Yeah.”

“I told her I was talking to a person who was of interest to me.”

Xanthe sobered instantly. “Really?”

I nodded. “I find you very interesting.”

This time, her flush was a soft pink, and her smile was certainly shy. “I think you’re pretty interesting yourself.”

Heat flooded through me, making me pleasantly tingle in places that weren’t appropriate in a restaurant. Not for the first time, I openly stared at her.

Xanthe was like no woman I’d ever met before. Her unique beauty was slowly blooming before my eyes. I still couldn’t decide if I liked her better with or without glasses—both were equally appealing. I liked her nose. It was small and straight. Her eyebrows cleanly arched over large eyes that were a little deep-set. And that black freckle…I might be falling in love with it.