“I agree with her. You might as well become a nun for all the activity you’ve seen,” Dierdre added.
“Great. Now you’re ganging up on me. I’ll have you know I have plenty of sex. I have friends.” I was over the top with my defiant attitude. Even before Tristen’s death, our sex life had suffered along with everything else.
“You mean they’re all battery operated. Let me guess, you have a glass of white wine, put on a little Spanish guitar music, and read several very naughty paragraphs in a romance novel just before you pretend you have a lover.” Clarice wagged her finger.
I flexed mine into claws, threatening to scratch her. “You’re terrible. Both of you. And it’s red wine, not white.”
“You need to crawl on top of a man and ride his cock for it to qualify as sex.” Clarice took a step back before I could swat her.
“I hate both of you,” I snarled.
“Just looking out for your best interests,” Dierdre insisted.
“I’m fine. Just dandy in fact. But I am not using this event as a way to try and get a man. Period.” I stomped my foot like a petulant teenager to make my point.
“Then we’ll need to blackmail you,” Clarice stated in such a way, I knew she was serious.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Now wasn’t the time to play games.
“Just setting you straight, including your priorities. So, here’s the deal. If you don’t want me announcing to all these lovely people that you hate romance books, then you’re going to allow us to select one fine-looking gentleman for you.”
“I don’t think people will care I don’t read romance books. No deal,” I told her, shaking my head. “You’ll need to try harder.”
“I guess you haven’t seen the latest article inRaleigh City Lifethen. I happen to have a copy with me.” Clarice was an evil woman to think this would work. However, when she held up the dog-eared page inside the magazine, I groaned.
The headline was fabulous, but not if she countered it, especially at an event for the hottest romance author in the country.Corks and Books, Romance at its Finest.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I snarled, using the gruffest voice I could manage.
“She would and I’d join her,” Dierdre said, her laugh full of wicked joy.
“You two are no longer my friends.”
“Come on, you love us,” Clarice cooed. “It’s only a conversation, a glass of wine maybe if Mr. Hottie shows up. Nothing more. At this point, neither one of us have noticed anyone good enough for you, but the afternoon is still early.”
“Go,” I huffed. “Do the jobs I hired for you. Remember? Today you work for me so I can fire the two of you.”
“Right. I see that happening.” Clarice took a sip of her wine then winked, the little brat.
I shooed Dierdre away, shifting into managerial mode. I took a moment to enjoy the fruits of my labor then shoved my wine onto a table in the back. I still had tons of work to do.
* * *
Three hours later and the crowd was starting to thin. Hundreds of people had come through my door. Thousands of dollars of merchandise had been sold. It had been a perfect day.
“We found him, darling,” Clarice said from behind me.
“Uh-huh. Let me guess, some book nerd or worse, a man twice my age.”
“Actually, he’s… perfect. And I mean freaking perfect. The bad boy billionaire type. Sexy voice, dark eyes. Highly intelligent. Mmm…”
Clarice’s idea of perfect was a man who made seven figures, buff and beautiful with a chiseled physique. That person didn’t exist except in a fantasy world. “Then he’s taken. Besides, he’s your type, not mine.”
“I don’t think so on either count. There’s no ring on his finger and he’s sitting alone on the patio. It’s the perfect opportunity. He ordered a glass of merlot without caring about the price. He was personable and has a great smile. He’s also reading a book he purchased. Why don’t you take him that glass and check him out?”
“You’re incorrigible.” I took a deep breath. It wouldn’t hurt to bring him his order.
“Would you prefer I give the sendoff to our author?” she asked, blinking rapidly. When I said nothing, she acted as if she was headed toward the back room.