Hunter’s dark eyes focused on her again, his gaze narrow and suspicious, as if he couldn’t quite believe what she was saying. “Answer me truthfully, Gretchen. Are you interested in me?”
“Now that’s a silly question,” she teased, tugging on his jacket sleeve. When he didn’t relax, she realized how deadly serious he was. No amount of teasing was going to ease this situation. And for a moment, Gretchen felt uneasy. Like she was stepping into raw territory. For some reason, it was very important that she not hurt Hunter. She didn’t want to hurt him more than anything. “I like you more than I should,” she admitted quietly. “Someone like you doesn’t really belong with someone like me, but I can’t seem to stop myself when I’m with you. I want to kiss you until you’re blushing, and grab your ass every time I walk past, and do dirty, lascivious things to you.”
The stiffness in his gaze receded a bit. He regarded her for a long moment, and then his hand tightened on her waist and he pulled her against him for a hard, breathless kiss.
“Someone like you is better than what someone like me deserves,” he said gruffly.
She frowned a bit at that—she’d been talking about money and station in life. But it was clear he couldn’t see past his face. “You shouldn’t talk like that.”
“I speak from experience, Gretchen. You’re the only woman who’s ever looked at me and not been revolted.”
Her hand caressed his scarred cheek, and she brushed her thumb over his lower lip. “Shall I show you just how un-revolted I am by you?”
He growled low in his throat. “You should.”
She glanced around at the empty kitchen, then grinned mischievously. “Does the door to this room lock?”
“No.”
She shrugged and began to slide backward onto the kitchen island. “Then you’d better hope Eldon doesn’t walk in on us.”
Chapter 9
“You’re never going to believe this.” Kat’s voice bubbled with excitement. “It’s wicked amazing.”
Gretchen cradled the phone to her ear and continued typing, logging her current letter. The month was creeping past entirely too fast and she was barely halfway through the enormous trunk of letters. She kept getting distracted by Hunter, though who could blame her? A sexy, delicious man who constantly wanted sex and gave her great orgasms? Every job should come with such distractions.
Still, she was behind in her work and it wasn’t going to get done unless she threw every free minute into it. “My landlord called you?”
“No. Though I did drop off that check. He was kind of pissy about it.”
“We got the payment in for the contract?”
“Better.”
“What’s better than getting paid?”
“You know Astronaut Bill number forty-two? Astronaut Bill and the Tragedy of Europa IV?”
“That was the one with the rampant disease, right? Yeah, I hated that book.” Gretchen wrinkled her nose. “The cover sucked and they made me write in a plotline where Bill cheats on Uranea because he thought she was dead and they needed sex in at least three chapters.”
“It hit the New York Times Best Seller list.”
Gretchen dropped the phone in shock. She stared at her computer screen for a moment, then scrambled to pick up the phone, where she could hear her agent laughing with glee. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not joking! You hit number thirty-four. That’s the extended New York Times list, which isn’t as great as the main list, but whatever.”
“But . . . but . . . how?” Gretchen spluttered, thinking. “The majority of the sales are through truck stops and subscriptions. I sell hardly anything through retail outlets.”
“Well, you sold a shit-ton last week,” Kat said gleefully. “The team over at Incomparable Books is absolutely thrilled and they want you to do more Bill books. As many as you can work into your schedule this year. They don’t even care that you’re late on this other one. Isn’t that awesome? Steady work!”
“Great,” Gretchen echoed, suddenly feeling a little queasy.
“Sales is trying to figure out what the spike in sales came from, but they’re super pleased. They say that if sales keep going the way they are, they might even add your name as a byline at some point.” Kat sounded impressed. “Just think. You could write under your own name.”
“Great,” Gretchen said again.
“So how many Bill books do you think you can fit into your schedule this year? I told them you write fast. At least four, I think. What do you think?”
Four more Bill books, as fast as she could crank them out? Her stomach churned. “I’m not sure. Let me look at my calendar and I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Will do,” Kat chirped into the phone. “By the way, I was going to send you flowers but I wasn’t sure if it would be apropos since you’re guesting over there. But I totally thought of flowers for you. I even bought some shoes in your honor.”
“You’re so thoughtful,” Gretchen said wryly, laughing. “Call you back soon.”
When she hung up the phone, she stared at her surroundings, uncomprehending. Then, the reality of it hit her and she burst into tears.
She felt . . . trapped. God, what was wrong with her? This should have made her happy. Before today, Incomparable Books had been on the verge of booting her from their stable of ghostwriters. She couldn’t hit a deadline and her books weren’t what the fans seemed to want. They wanted Bill having all kinds of sexist, ridiculous adventures and Gretchen had a hard time writing that. But with the success of this book, it meant steady paychecks. It meant success.
It meant she was locked into that misogynistic ass**le Bill for the rest of the year, and possibly several years into the future. And she should have been thrilled.
But instead, she just wept.
It was there that Hunter found her, still on the couch and crying her eyes out. “Gretchen?”
She turned to glance at the doorway and absently dashed a bit of wetness from her cheek. “Hey.” Damn it. Her nose sounded stuffy.
His eyes narrowed and he strode toward her, his fingers moving to lift her chin and tilt her face to him. “You’re upset.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I don’t like seeing you upset. Tell me what it is that’s bothering you.”