Authors: Alexandrea Weis
Holding the pasta in his hands, he
wrestled with which department head could take over for him at Propel. As he ran through the litany of names, the ringing of the black cordless phone on the wall next to the refrigerator interrupted his thoughts.
After four rings an answering machine
on the counter picked up the call, and then a man’s voice blared out from the speaker.
“Monique, where in the hell are you? I’ve tried your cell and this damned number all day. Where are the pages you promised me? We need to get this manuscript to editing by the end of the week to have it ready for a fall release. Send me what you have so we can get
moving. Hunter is all over my ass on this one. He’s already set up your release date with bookstores and is fuming that we have not gone into editing yet. Do you want me to come in? I can run errands and cook for you again, so you can just write. You know I’ll do anything you need. Love you, baby. Call me.”
Tyler
tightened his hold on the fragile spaghetti, and the sound of the pasta breaking in his hand awoke him from the stupor Chris Donovan’s message had invoked.
Glaring at the answering machine, h
e exited the pantry and put the spaghetti on the black granite countertop. After bolting from the kitchen, he was taking the stairs two at a time when the lights went out again. Thankfully, just enough daylight was coming in through the downstairs windows so he could finish getting up the steps. When he arrived at the landing, he heard footfalls on the floor just ahead of him.
“Moe?”
“I’m here. Damn power cut out again just when I was in the middle of working on a really good scene.”
He could see the outline of her figure in the fading light from the window at the end of the hallway.
“Chris just left a message on your answering machine in the kitchen,” he told her.
“He always calls.”
She was about to walk past him when he seized her arm. “Does he usually sign off by saying ‘love you, baby’?”
“You know there is nothing between Chris and me.”
He let go of her arm. “He seemed real damned confident on that machine.”
“Ty
.” She patted his chest. “I didn’t write any books about Chris, did I?”
Her words soothed hi
s anger. “No, you didn’t. But still…the way he said it….”
“It doesn’t mean anything
,” she assured him.
“If you say so.”
He put his arm around her. “Come on. While the lights are out you can show me where everything is in the kitchen so I can cook us dinner.”
“We could order in
.”
He started down the st
aircase, keeping her at his side. “No, I want to prepare dinner for you, and when the lights come back on, I’ll leave you to write. Chris sounded pretty adamant about you getting this book finished.”
“He’s always hot for the next book. He wants to read them all before they go to editing so he can give me his opinion.”
“What will his opinion be of this one? Is it another bestseller?”
She
chuckled beside him as they stepped onto the first floor landing. “I think he may be in for a shock.”
“Why
is that?”
“Never mind.” She took his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you where—”
The lights flickered and then came back on.
“That will make things easier
,” he remarked.
Monique urged him down the
narrow hallway toward the kitchen. “Hurry up so I can get back to writing. If I pull an all-nighter, I can finish up the book and then we can have some fun tomorrow.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Tyler probed when they came to the double white doors to the kitchen.
“I thought we could go to the Quarter
and see the sites. But only if I finish this book.” Monique went to the kitchen cabinet beside the sink. She opened the cabinet to the left of the sink. “Pots and pans are there.” She left the cabinet door open and walked over to a drawer located below the island cooktop. “Cooking utensils are here.” She pulled out the drawer. “There is some ground meat in the freezer, and I think I have some frozen garlic bread up there, too. You can put that in the oven and warm it up.” She came back to his side and patted his firm butt. “I expect everything to be hot and ready in one hour when I come back down. Got it, baby?”
He threw his arms about her. “Now who is the one issuing orders
?”
“I kind of like this. Maybe I can tie you up next time.” She
pressed her hand into the crotch of his jeans. “Would you like that?”
“
No.” He removed her hand and spun her around. “Get back to work, you tease.” He slapped her behind.
She looked seductively over her shoulder. “I like it when you spank me. Maybe you could do it again, later.”
He tried to control his desire to take her right there in the kitchen. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough for one day?”
She headed for the door, shaking her
butt for him as she strutted away.
After she had exited the kitchen, Tyler
tried to calm his rising libido. “Christ, she’s going to be the death of me.” He wiped his hand over his face and returned to the pantry.
F
inding the jar of spaghetti sauce and a container of Parmesan cheese, Tyler was about to turn from the pantry shelves when a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the floor caught his attention. Before sobriety he would have found that bottle too tempting to ignore. Now, he felt not an inkling of desire for his former favorite vice. Returning to the countertop, he retrieved the broken spaghetti. As he prepared dinner, his eyes kept going back to the blinking red light on the answering machine and Chris Donovan’s waiting message.
“
I think it’s time Moe found another manager,” Tyler mumbled. “This one has definitely worn out his welcome.”
Chapter 1
5
The next morning Tyler awoke in his trundle bed alone. He had gone to his room after checking on Monique before midnight, but she had been so engrossed in her book that he had given up. He had hoped when Monique was done she would join him, but he began to wonder if this was the price one paid for being with a writer.
Rolling over and taking in the early morning light coming through the picture window next to his bed, he
briefly mulled over what it would be like to spend the rest of his days with Monique.
Alarmed by his
imaginings, he sat up. “Don’t go there, Tyler.”
A
knock on his door made him stand from the bed, eager to see Monique. But when the door opened, a familiar ugly face trotted inside.
“You’re not the first
person I want to see this morning, Bart.”
The dog
pranced past him and jumped on the bed.
“He’s been waiting for you to get up
.” Monique came into the room, carrying a small blue tray with two white mugs of steaming coffee on it.
“
Good morning.” Tyler kissed her lips.
She nodded to his green pajama bottoms.
“Very sexy.”
He
looked over her red nightshirt. “What time did you get to bed?”
“I crashed after
four.” She handed him one of the mugs from the tray. “This one is yours. I added some sugar.”
“Did you finish your book?”
She took her mug and placed the tray on the dresser. “I got it done. I stayed up and went over a few things.” She cupped her hands around the coffee mug. “But I e-mailed it to Chris this morning. Let’s see what he thinks of it.”
Tyler
gulped his coffee, thankful for the added jolt. “I’m sure he’ll love it. I have a feeling as long as you keep writing, he’ll be happy with your books.”
“He may not be too thrilled about this one.” She took a sip from her mug. “It’s a bit of a departure from my usual storyline, but it’s timely.”
“How is this one different?”
“It’s got a few things my readers have not seen before.”
He put his coffee on the night table beside his bed. “That’s a good thing, right? Changing it up a bit keeps everyone from getting bored.” Tyler walked into the bathroom.
“Sometimes, but then again you have readers that aren’t too happy with changes from their favorite authors,” she remarked from the bathroom doorway.
At the sink, he splashed some cold water on his face, and then glanced back at her. “What will you do if they don’t like it? Go back to what you wrote before?”
“I can
’t go back.” Monique leaned against the doorframe. “Things have changed.” Monique waited as he dried his face with the towel. “Are we still on for a day in the French Quarter?”
He ran his hand over the dark stubble on his face
. “You sure you’re not too tired for a day out after staying up so late?”
“
When I finish a book, I’m always keyed up. I’ll probably crash later tonight, but right now I just want to get out in the world.”
Resting his hip against the beige vanity countertop, he grinned at her. “You really like being a writer, don’t you?”
She slowly nodded her head. “It’s hard to describe. The only time I feel whole is when I write. It’s like I am using all of my brain, and not just pieces of it.”
“You have a passion, Moe. That’s a blessing.”
“You have a passion, too. You have Propel. I think you feel the same way about your company.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s just my job. For years I thought it was everything, but lately I’ve discovered maybe I want other things in life.”
She swept her bangs from her face. “Like what?”
“I’m getting older and I’ve realized life isn’t all about work. Maybe I want a family and a life outside of Propel.”
“A family?” She appeared taken aback. “I thought you never wanted children.”
“I
wanted them, even tried with Hadley in the beginning, but we found out she couldn’t have any more.” His eyes skimmed the curves beneath her red nightshirt. “I know we should have talked about this before now, but….” He paused and wiped his hand across his chin. “Are you on birth control? Because we haven’t been using anything.”
Her eyes
plunged to her coffee. “No; I mean I haven’t…but the chances of me getting pregnant are pretty slim.”
“But there is a chance?”
“You don’t have to worry, Ty. I’m not one of those women who would want child support or anything.”
He
took the mug from her hand and placed it on the bathroom vanity. “I wasn’t hinting at that, Moe. I would embrace any chance of us having a baby together.” He lifted her head to him and tenderly kissed her lips. “But I thought I should bring it up since I plan on spending a lot of time in your bed.”
“I gave up on the whole kid option years ago. I figured once I hit forty, I was too old.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that if you want me to use condoms from now on, I will. I’m usually pretty adamant about using something, but with you I have been somewhat…forgetful.”
“
Forgetful?” She giggled. “I appreciate your…candor, but I’m pretty sure condoms won’t be necessary. When Mat and I were thinking about kids, the doctor told me I would have problems conceiving. He said the chances were pretty good that I would never have children.”
Tyler silently berated his callousness.
Here he was trying to be responsible, and it blew up in his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“It’s fine, Ty, really. I
’m glad we talked about it.” She stood back from him. “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll take a quick shower, then we can head out.”
“What about breakfast?”
“Breakfast?” Her dark blonde eyebrows went up in dismay. “We’re going to the Quarter. Our tour will begin with breakfast at Brennan’s.”
***
After parking her white Toyota Forerunner in a lot next to Jax Brewery, Monique led Tyler across Decatur Street to the black iron fence surrounding Jackson Square.
“First place you have to see when you come to the French Quarter.” She motioned to the majestic view of St. Louis Cathedral with the famous statue of Andrew Jackson sitting
atop his horse in the foreground.
“I’ve been here
for a few oil and gas conventions, but I’m afraid I never took the time to see the sites.” Tyler ran his eyes along the balconies of the Pontalba Apartments. “I even considered trying to find you, but I wasn’t sure you would want to see me,” he sheepishly added.
“
That wasn’t the first convention I attended in Dallas. I even got the address to the Propel offices one time and was going to see if you were there, and then I thought maybe you had forgotten about me.”
“We both know that never happened.”
He wrapped her arm about his. “Didn’t you tell me once that you grew up around here?”
“I can’t believe you remembered that.”
Monique shook her head as they walked down the gray cobblestoned street, heading toward St. Louis Cathedral. “My aunt had a gift shop here, and I used to work with her every summer when I was a kid. I got to run around the French Quarter and grew up learning more than many about the city’s past.”