I take her strength and swallow it, letting it fuel me. “So do I,” I say, quietly, telling the truth. “That’s kind of the problem.”

  Her smile reappears for a second, then she seems to rein it in. “Why is it a problem?”

  “You know why. It’s complicating things,” I say, frustrated again with our situation, with all the lines between us.

  “But they’re already complicated,” she counters.

  I stare out the window, Central Park below us, New York beyond. Then I look to the brunette beauty on my couch, my heart pounding mercilessly hard. I could crush her lips in a kiss, cover her body, fuck her till she’s lost her mind.

  Get it together.

  “They’re so complicated I can’t fucking think sometimes around you,” I admit, and it’s a wild relief.

  “Same for me,” she says, breathy. “Same for me…Mr. James.”

  Her lashes flutter.

  It’s the first time she’s called me that and it’s too sexy, too dangerous.

  My heart stops then starts again, beating in double time. “You know that no one in the office calls me Mr. James, right?”

  “Do you like it when I do?”

  I clench my fists. “Too much,” I rasp out.

  She leans closer. I dig my fingers harder into my palm.

  Then she whispers my name once more, letting it slide off her lips like she’s lingering on every letter. “Mr. James…”

  I’m this close to saying fuck it to everything. To locking the door and pushing her up against the wall. To tearing off that shirt, and pressing my mouth to her lush, tempting skin.

  But my office phone trills.

  You can order THE RSVP everywhere!

  My So-Called Sex Life sneak peek…

  Hazel

  Obviously I believe in love.

  If I didn’t I’d be the worst kind of romance writer — the kind who lies to her readers.

  But there’s something I believe in more fervently and that’s the meet cute. You can’t get to the happy ending without the unputdownable beginning.

  The start of the story is my writing church, and I worship at the altar of those delicious moments when the hero and heroine meet for the first time.

  Or meet again.

  Tonight, I’ll be researching a new here’s-how-they-met possibility as I head to dinner in New York.

  I’m one block away from the restaurant. My short, black ankle boots click against the sidewalk on Twenty-Fourth Street as I gaze up at the numbers on the buildings. I pass a tattoo parlor where a goth gal inks a burly man’s arm, and then I acquire the target.

  Menu.

  A hip new eatery that’s all the rage. “It’s as trendy as it is annoying,” my friend TJ said of the joint when he told me about it last week. “And I promise it’ll inspire your next chapter one,” he said.

  Sold. I made a reservation then.

  Now, I’m here at the minimalist styled restaurant. Under the sign for Menu are the words Meet, Eat, Mingle.

  Change your life.

  Well, some restaurant thinks highly of itself.

  Fodder. This place is going to be full of fodder. I can’t wait. I draw a deep inhale of the May night air, then square my shoulders. “Cover me, I’m going in,” I say to, well, no one.

  Sometimes I talk to myself. It’s a thing. Whatever.

  I head inside, marching to the hostess stand. A woman wearing a black tunic and sporting a blonde undercut shoots me a bored look. Yeah, that’s on point for a place called Menu.

  “Hello. I have a reservation. Valentine. Party of one,” I say.

  She shoots me an as if look. “It’s all parties of one,” she says, monotone.

  I know, honey. That’s your shtick. I’m just saying.

  “Old habit,” I say with a friendly shrug. “In any case, it’s for seven-thirty.”

  With an aggrieved sigh, she scans the tablet screen, then meets my eyes. “The other party isn’t here yet. If he or she is five minutes late, we’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  Okaaaay.

  It’s a new world order. Restaurants have rigid rules. But I knew what I’d signed up for. “Works for me,” I say. See? I’m easy to get along with. You catch more flies with honey and all.

  “Fine,” she says, then she nods toward the black and gray dining room behind her. It’s small and bare, in keeping with the theme, aka we’re cool, you’re not. The tables are black wood, the walls are steel gray, the tiles are white. Everything is ordinary, except the experience.

  This restaurant is tres chic because it seats strangers together.

  As I follow her, I smile, giddy at the thought of a brand new meet cute. Two sexy strangers happen to be seated together at a hipster restaurant just like this. They hit it off. Get it on that night. Then oops! The next day he turns out to be her brand new boss, perhaps?

  But who is he? A mafia king? A sexy CEO?

  The muses will let me know who the next hero is. Maybe even tonight he’ll reveal himself.

  Undercut brings me to a table at the back. She waves a limp hand in the direction of the framed QR code on the table. “We use QR codes. You scan them with your phone. Have you ever used one before?”

  I’m thirty-one, missy. Ancient to you, but I can work a phone, a power drill, and a twenty-speed vibrator. Not all at once though. “I’m familiar with the concept of QR codes. Also, phones,” I say.

  “Cool,” she says blandly, then walks away, her tunic swishing against her leggings.

  Once I sit, I rub my palms on my jeans, a tiny bit nervous. What if I’m seated with an over-sharer? An endless talker? A dullsville candidate?

  But I’m excited too.

  What if my companion is an enigmatic billionaire like in a romance novel? A broody rock musician? A hot tech nerd who’s looking for a matchmaker?

  Gah. The meet cute possibilities are endless, and when I write this as the opening of my next book, it’s going to be epic.

  I just know it.

  I open an app on my phone to write down some notes about the vibe, when a man’s voice carries across the space. “Four minutes and forty-five seconds.”

  Say it isn’t so.

  I know that voice too well. That gravelly, know-it-all voice.

  I can’t believe he’s here tonight.

  Hanging on a dwindling hope I heard wrong, I turn my gaze to the front, praying that’s not my arch nemesis. Maybe he has a vocal twin. Maybe that’s a thing now.

  But my prayers are unanswered. Standing tall at the hostess desk is the smart-mouthed, glasses-wearing, smirky-faced romantic thriller writer, Axel Huxley.

  Wearing black, because of course he wears black.

  And of course he’s arguing with the hostess, because he never met a statement he couldn’t debate, dissect and slice into a million, julienned pieces, then pepper with disagreement.

  He blah blah blahs a little more, finishing with, “So, you have to seat me. It’s within the bylaws of the restaurant.”

  I snort. Get over yourself, Huxley. I hope they kick you out.

  I feel sorry for whatever sucker is getting seated with King Dick tonight.

  I return to my phone, tapping out a note about how funny it would be if the heroine ran into her enemy before the clever, charming, eventual hottie hero enters the scene.

  Then I check the menu options while waiting for my brilliant professor, my inscrutable tycoon, my good guy with a heart of gold in need of a makeover.

  Until the sound of footsteps grows louder, and closer. I look up.

  At a face I want to punch.

  You can order MY SO-CALLED SEX LIFE here!

  ALSO BY LAUREN BLAKELY

  FULL PACKAGE, the #1 New York Times Bestselling romantic comedy!

  BIG ROCK, the hit New York Times Bestselling standalone romantic comedy!

  THE SEXY ONE, a New York Times Bestselling standalone romance!

  THE KNOCKED UP PLAN, a multi-week USA Today and Amazon Charts Bestselling standalone romance!

  MOST VALUABLE PLAYBOY, a sexy multi-week USA Today Bestselling sports romance! And its companion sports romance, MOST LIKELY TO SCORE!

  WANDERLUST, a USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  COME AS YOU ARE, a Wall Street Journal and multi-week USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  PART-TIME LOVER, a multi-week USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  UNBREAK MY HEART, an emotional second chance USA Today Bestselling contemporary romance!

  BEST LAID PLANS, a sexy friends-to-lovers USA Today Bestselling romance!

  The Heartbreakers! The USA Today and WSJ Bestselling rock star series of standalone!

  P.S. IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU, a sweeping, second chance romance!

  MY ONE WEEK HUSBAND, a sexy standalone romance!

  CONTACT

  I love hearing from readers! You can find me on Twitter at LaurenBlakely3, Instagram at LaurenBlakelyBooks, Facebook at LaurenBlakelyBooks, or online at LaurenBlakely.com. You can also email me at laurenblakelybooks@gmail.com

 

 

  Lauren Blakely, The Good Guy Challenge: A Fake Dating Standalone Romance

 

 

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