He left and she drummed her fingers on her jeans then stood and paced. Mr. Braxton returned with a glass of ice water. Maryn took a long drink and grinned at him. “Best water I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Can I interest you in a novel to read while you wait?”
“Be straight with me. Is he coming?”
Mr. Braxton pressed his lips together. “I assure you he is.”
“Is he ditching me?”
Mr. Braxton’s face reddened. “No, ma’am, he’s just… freshening up.”
Maryn tilted her head to the side. Tucker Shaffer cared to freshen up for her. That didn’t fit his persona. “Why?”
“You arrived a bit earlier than anticipated and he was…” Mr. Braxton’s mouth twisted then he spit out the word, “Sweaty.”
Maryn laughed. She always tried to be a few minutes early to appointments rather than late. “I don’t mind sweaty.” In fact, she fully appreciated a man who was willing to sweat.
“You would’ve minded this,” a deep voice rumbled from behind her.
Maryn whirled around to get her first look at Tucker Shaffer. My, oh, my. The man must’ve sweated on more than one occasion to get a build like that. Dressed in an untucked button-down shirt and jeans, he was over six feet tall with broad shoulders, a thick waist, and legs like tree trunks. She doubted anyone would dare call him overweight, but he was definitely… well-built. His dark hair was long, almost to his chin, and curled slightly. His mouth was a great shape with a bowed upper lip and full lower one and his face was that hard-working kind of handsome, the type that spent a lot of time outdoors but was still almost too good-looking. His eyes really drew her in. They were dark brown and expressive. Those eyes had stories to tell and she planned to hear them. She knew this was the interview that would guarantee her a successful career and as long as he didn’t pick her up and toss her out of here, she was definitely overstaying her welcome today.
Maryn grinned at him and took a step forward with her hand outstretched. “Mr. Shaffer?”
“Tucker,” his voice was almost a growl, like he didn’t use it very often. He walked across the room and engulfed her smaller hand with his. Maryn wondered if she’d ever liked a handshake as much as she liked this one. He cleared his throat and his voice was clearer this time, but still deep enough that a little thrill of pleasure rushed through her. “You’re Ms. Howe?”
“Maryn to you.” She gave him a saucy wink.
He smiled and the effect was dynamic. No wonder he was an overnight success. She itched to take a picture, but didn’t want to tick him off in the first five minutes.
Tucker released her hand and gestured to the comfortable chairs by the fire. Maryn sank into the soft leather. He sat kitty-corner to her. “Would you like something different to drink?”
Maryn shook her head. “I have this delicious water.”
“Brax, a Dr. Pepper, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
Maryn could swear that was a sarcastic “sir”. His help was interesting, to say the least.
Tucker grinned roguishly at the man. Mr. Braxton shook his head slightly and strode from the room.
Maryn focused on this enigmatic man next to her. Why was he a hermit? Everything about him screamed charisma and he was definitely handsome enough and wealthy enough to have scores of women begging for attention. She knew she’d beg if she wasn’t so prideful and wasn’t sort of dating James. Ah, James would have to forgive her, if Tucker Shaffer showed the slightest bit of interest, she’d be a goner. It wasn’t like she’d committed to date James exclusively.
“Thank you for gracing me with your presence.” That had come out kind of bratty. “I mean, I’m ecstatic to be here and be allowed to interview you. It’s a pleasure.”
“Wasn’t really my idea.” He studied his large hands as he spoke.
“Whose idea was it?”
“PR.” He gave her a tilted smile that revealed a small scar in the corner of his lip. Maryn clasped her hands in her lap to resist touching that scar. Actors would replicate that sexy look and no one would blame them. Holy moly, she needed to focus.
“My PR team is a pain in the butt,” he said.
A loud chortle came out before Maryn clamped her hand to her lips. “I know how that is, my editor is the same.”
Mr. Braxton brought Tucker’s soda.
“Thanks, Brax.”