“And then you left? Are you insane?”
I lean forward and place my head on top of my crossed arms to hide my face on my desk. “What was I supposed to do? Say, sure, let’s go back to your place and I’ll flip my hair all over your muscled abs?”
“Umm . . . Yes!”
I raise a finger out from the side of my head and flick Luna off.
She sighs loudly. “Well, the good news is that the videos people have posted on YouTube only show the back of your head. We were able to deny it was you.”
“I signed an autograph.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think we’re good.”
“But Fisher’s face is everywhere!”
“Okay, you have to tell me now. What’s Fisher’s last name?”
“Fisher is his last name.”
“His name is Fisher Fisher? That’s odd.”
I lift my head off my arms and clench my teeth. “Are you for real? No. His last name is Fisher. His first name is Patrick. There’s no use hiding it now.”
“Move,” Luna says as she pushes the arm of my chair, rolling me away from my desk. Her fingers fly over the keys. Within a second a picture of Fisher flashes on the screen. He’s wearing a towel and his skin is drenched like he just stepped out of the shower. He also has that smoldering look on his face that made me stop breathing on the beach.
“Holy shit-tits! Is that him?” she asks.
I roll closer to the desk, pushing Luna to the side to get a better look.
“Patrick Fisher is a model turned actor, age thirty, from Cleveland, Ohio.”
I click on the “images” tab and picture after picture of him appears on my screen. This is what I’ve been missing? I should have checked him out sooner. Holy hell. If I had seen these pictures a month ago I would have had a trilogy written by now.
“He doesn’t look like Chris Hemsworth,” Luna adds. “It’s Henry Cavill.”
I snap my fingers at her. I knew he reminded me of someone.
“He’s hot as fuck. You weren’t kidding there.” Luna pushes my hand away and goes back to “all” to scroll more info on him.
“Girl, it doesn’t look like he’s ever been married. He’s dated, but who hasn’t?”
“Okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to see or hear anything else about him. I don’t care.” I stand and walk away from the desk.
“Oh, here’s a picture of him naked!”
“What?” I rush back over to the screen, angling it toward me, and Luna laughs. It’s him in a suit but not the birthday suit I was expecting.
“Uh-huh. You don’t care. You wanted to see what kind of package the future father of your children was carrying.”
“Stop. And I already saw his package, remember?”
“So did you describe it to the T? Does he manscape? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Knock it off!” I laugh, covering my face with my hands.
The phone buzzes. “Yes?” Luna asks.
“Marcus Montgomery is here.”
“Send him in.”
Marcus walks through the door with a file in his hand and immediately opens it on the desk in front of me.
“Patrick Fenton Fisher, age thirty, born and raised in Cleveland, Ohio. Graduated from Columbia School of the Arts in New York. Started modeling at age eighteen when he was discovered in a Starbucks as a barista. Modeled for Ford, did ads and runways all over the world for years. He’s been in two movies, small roles, numerous commercials, and is currently working on location in Fresno filming twelve episodes of a new series due to be aired on Fox next season. He travels a lot. As far as a criminal history, he was given community service for public intoxication when he was twenty-one. Other than that, he’s squeaky clean. Too clean if you ask me.”
I fold my arms over my chest and lean forward to look at the file. “So no priors for stalking? No restraining orders?”
“Just because someone hasn’t been arrested for it, doesn’t mean they haven’t done it. He probably hasn’t been caught yet.”
“His initials are PFF.” Luna makes the sound rather than saying the letters. “I like him already.”
“Thank you, Marcus. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
He nods. “So you know, after you left, the police asked him if he wanted to press charges against us. He said no, but I don’t think he’s done with this. I suggest you still file a restraining order. I don’t think he should be allowed anywhere near you ever again.”
Luna does a double take at him then stares at me. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. I don’t know how I feel about never seeing him again. As if she’s read my mind, Luna speaks.
“Marcus, you’ve done an amazing job these last couple of weeks and I think I can speak for both Macy and myself when we say we’re grateful for everything. The thing is, now that Macy realizes that Fisher is harmless and that this whole thing has been a complete misunderstanding, I think it’s safe to say that, for now, we won’t be requiring your services any longer.”
“What? But—”
Luna walks around the desk and grabs him by the elbow, leading him toward the door. “I will definitely tell Fabian what an outstanding job you’ve done and I promise we’ll call you for any publicity events we have in the future.”
Marcus turns to look at me over his shoulder and I lift my hand and wave at him as I smile awkwardly.
Luna closes the door behind him and leans on it. “Phew.”
“Thank you. But do you really think Fisher isn’t a threat?”
“I think he’s romantic. Who wants safe? A little danger and intrigue is intoxicating.”
I shake my head and sit down at my desk. Clapping my hands together first, I place my hands back on my keyboard. “Okay, so now that this whole mess is finally over, can we just go back to my trying to write and you bugging me about doing it faster?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is. I want to forget any of it ever happened. I want to forget all about him.” Right after I write another book about him.
I’m pretending to enjoy eating carrots for a snack when Brenna knocks at my door. I gaze up at the clock. It’s already after three. This day has flown by.
“Come in.”
“Hi, so, um, are you accepting appointments here?” she asks.
“Appointments? For what?” The cracking sound as I bite into another carrot is louder than I thought it would be. Even my chewing sounds louder now that someone else is in the room. Weird. I continue to type, not even looking at Brenna. I’m on a roll today.
“A lunch meeting, I guess?”
“With who? The producers usually go through Luna.”
“No, not the producers. With the . . . book guy.”
My head pops up and Brenna smiles nervously. “The book guy?”
“He’s on line one. He asked if he could make a lunch appointment with you tomorrow. You know, just like in the story.”
My face tightens. Is he for real? I drum my fingers on my desk. “Put him through, please.”
Brenna scurries away and I stare at my phone, waiting for it to ring. As soon as it does I lift the receiver and let loose. “You can’t be fucking serious?”
“Well, hello there. I don’t remember Kasey picking up the phone. I’m pretty sure she just said no.”
“This isn’t a book, Fisher, and I’m not Kasey.”
He laughs lightly. “And thank God you’re not. I had a dog growing up named Casey and that would be really weird for me.”
I try my hardest not to smile. He’s not cute. He’s not. “What do you want?”
“You didn’t really think I was going to let you walk away and never talk to you again, did you?”
“Look, I have no interest in dating you.”
He laughs. “Good. I think dating is overrated. I think we should hang out, not date.”
“I don’t want to hang out with you either.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm . . . that’s weird. I was thinking about how excited you were to see me yesterday. I’m guessing if those hulks of yours hadn’t pushed me to the floor, I probably would have gotten, at minimum, a hug. Maybe even a kiss.”
“I don’t want to kiss you either.”
“Not even a tiny little peck on the cheek?”
“No. Not even that. I don’t like you.”
He laughs again. “What’s the saying about someone who protests too much?”
“I’m speaking the truth. I’m sorry if that hurts your tender ego.”
“Ouch,” he says with a snicker. “I knew going into this you were going to be hard to crack. I’ve always liked that about you. The fact is, I really didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you yesterday. All I’m asking for is one meal. If after that you still want me to leave you alone, then I will. Deal?”
“How about if you just leave me alone now?”
“I suppose I could do that, but what fun would that be? Don’t you feel the least bit bad about the bruised ego I now have to go along with my bruised face?”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I remember his bloody nose. “Are you okay? I’m really sorry about all that.”
“Are you?”
“Of course I am. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“What if it would hurt me if you wouldn’t have dinner with me?”
I sigh. “Are you trying to play on my guilt to get me to cave?”
“Is it working? If it is, then yes. My nose really hurts.”
I can’t help but grin. I roll my chair around so I can look out the window. “How do I know you aren’t crazy?”
“Aren’t we all? Listen, if you had given me your real number months ago, I would have called you the next day to arrange to see you. I told you back then I wanted to see you again. Why are you surprised?”
“Because of the book stuff.”
“Was it that bad? You didn’t like it at all?”
I think for a minute. “I guess it did make me smile, up until the part where I was scared for my life.”
He moans. “Please let me make it up to you.”
I want to say no just for the sake of saying no, but if I’m honest with myself, seeing him again has been on my mind since before I even walked away from him yesterday. He’s been on my mind for months. “What did you have in mind?”
“Do you trust me enough to give me your cell number?”
“Not really but . . .”
“But?”
I rattle off the numbers because I kind of want his number too.
“I’ll text you tomorrow with the address. Just do me one favor?”
“What?”
“Let your GPS lead you. Don’t overthink it. And dress casual.”
My skin buzzes with nervous energy. “Are you always going to be secretive?”
“Always makes me think there are going to be a lot more dates. I like how you’re thinking.”
I try to change the subject. “It better be a public place.”
He laughs. “It will be.”
“I have to work. See you tomorrow, I guess.”
“Nothing will make me happier. Goodbye, Greer.”
Ending the call, my heart pounds wildly in my chest. What’s wrong with me? Before I met him I would have never agreed to any of this. What is it about him that makes me so not me?