Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) (16 page)

Yeah, that’s her… Damn, she looks good…

He swallowed as he drew closer, rubbing his hands together, warming them with each rapid stroke. She looked both ways before crossing over into a busy part of the lot, then stopped in her tracks when she spotted him. When they locked eyes, she smiled, making his heart skip a beat.

“Ahhhh, there you are…”

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

T
hat’s the one
thing I used to hate about clubs. Some of the guys would look nice milling about under the shadows. You’d go out on a blind date. You’d find him sitting, waiting for you – a stiff drink in his right hand and a smile he’d create just for you, the new object of his affections; then, the lights would come on full blast, and you’d be disappointed at coming face to face with a drunken, straggly headed troll who lived under the bridge of his mother’s house. Reality and romance sometimes aren’t even on the same block, let alone in the same neighborhood; and besides, under the true light of day, the eyes don’t deceive.

Stores have strange lighting sometimes, and yeah, the lights in Whole Foods made him look different than he does in person, that’s for sure.

… He looks even better.

Emerald walked briskly, her black swing dress swaying, flirting with her kneecaps, kissing them with each step she took in her open toe, ankle strapped heels. She’d envisioned how she’d walk up to him moments before, and was pleased it transpired just how she’d intended it to in her mind.

“Hey! Glad to see you.” Before she could respond, he wrapped his big, strong arm just above her waist, brought her close, and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Damn, he is forward. And he smells good, too!

“Glad to see you, too. You look really nice.” She glanced at the crowd in front of the whitewashed brick building, swarming and growing as each second passed, everyone getting in place to see the headline comedian.

“Thank you.” He took hold of her hand, stepped back, and unapologetically looked her up and down. “You look great. That dress is really nice.”

“Thank you. I would say, ‘Oh, this old thing?’ But that would be a lie… I just bought it two weeks ago.” She chuckled.

“New or old threads, you look like a picture of perfection. Your hair, your shoes, everything… I feel underdressed now. You look beautiful…” He raised his arm in the air, coaxing her to twirl around like a ballerina on a rhinestone covered jewelry box. When the slow ride ceased, she stared into those piercing bright green eyes of his. Her sights drifted to his delectable lips framed by dense facial hair, black with gossamer threads of silver.

“Is this your side job?”

“What?” His brows knitted in question.

“You know, do you get paid to make women blush?” she teased with a tilted smile.

“Flushed cheeks look good on you.” He gently pulled her close and began to walk with her, smoothly marshaling her along. Hitched on a hard swallow, she looked up at the handsome giant as they made their paced jaunt. Though he was an author, his hands were slightly rough…and she liked that. The man’s beard became a sudden source of study for her. A bit long at the tip, it was well coiffed and maintained. The hair was dense, but appeared soft. She imagined running her fingers through it. Sloan was devastatingly handsome, and though he looked a bit intimidating, there was a gentleness to his smile that made her all warm and gooey inside.

“Woooweee!” he squealed with a giant grin. “Look at this line. If this is any indication of the talent inside then it looks like this is going to be good.” He slowly released her hand, rolled up his pitch-black leather jacket sleeve and peered down at his watch. “We’ve got plenty of time though.”

She nodded in agreement, feeling a bit wacky about the way her stomach rocked and roiled with her ever-increasing fascination with the man. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked over at her, his smile getting wider, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

She felt so small standing next to him, but not in a demeaning sort of way. He made a formidable barrier of protection. What against? She wasn’t quite certain, but she felt like she needed him to stand there just as he was, all hard bone, muscles, and intellect, pairing well with her simmering, enamored mood.

They’d had a few conversations before this date—fairly short chats, but she did find out things about him, stuff that intrigued her, piqued her interest in just the right way. She had questions she wanted to ask face-to-face, and she planned to do just that but before she could get the ball rolling, he proved they were on the same train of thought. “So, Emerald, since we’re stuck here in line, we might as well chit chat.” That warm smile of his practically glowed now.

“Sure, sounds like a good way to pass the time and get to know one another.” She rocked back on her heels for a moment, ending up thankful she didn’t lose her footing.

“You told me on the phone that you worked in a dental office but we didn’t get into specifics. So what is your actual job title?”

“I’m a dental nurse.”

“Oh wow.” His eyes lit up. “I bet that keeps you on your toes, huh?”

“Yeah, and I love it. I used to work in a totally unrelated field.”

“Really? Doing what?” They moved a bit closer to the front doors, along with the crawling crowd.

“I used to be the local HR Director of a large retail store.”

“What store?”

“Costco Wholesale.”

“Oh yeah? I’m familiar with Costco. Never had a membership or anything, but thought about it a time or two.” He nodded thoughtfully, as if considering it again right then and there.

“Yeah, you can get some good deals. Anyway, I actually had gone to school for business administration and human resources. I have a double bachelors. I had a really good job, but got sick of it…” She shrugged. “And I always wanted to work in dentistry. I know that may sound a bit strange, but I did.”

“Nah.” He shook his head emphatically, “That doesn’t sound strange to me at all.”

“So, about ten years ago, I went to back to school, took the required tests, got my license, and made the switch. It’s a little less money, but I’m happier.” She reflected back on her decision, and her heart filled with pride.

Sloan’s expression made him appear as if he were in deep concentration with each word she uttered. She wasn’t sure what to make of it until he spoke his mind, breaking the awkward silence. “I admire you. That takes guts, you know that? It’s important to do what makes ya happy. Money isn’t everything. As long as you can still take care of yourself, get the job done and done well, that’s what really matters. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you, and I am.” She grinned as she took in the way his sincere words poured out.

“I did something similar, actually,” he offered as they took a few short steps forward.

“I’d love to hear about it.”

He paused, and just looked at her. The uncomfortable taciturnity had returned with a vengeance. She wished for the life of her that she could read the man’s mind. He always seemed to be thinking, working through things, twisting knotted thoughts one brain cell at a time. Perhaps he did this because he was a writer.

“Well, I went to CUNY for journalism. Before that, I always wrote in my high school newspaper. I found out pretty early on that I enjoyed writing; not so much breaking news and things like that, but about every day people having unusual experiences. I did some contract work for local papers and magazines and built a name for myself, then did an internship at the Wall Street Journal.”

“Oh wow, that must’ve been an amazing time?”

“It definitely was.” They took a couple of steps forward in line. “I got hired soon after, so I had a job already lined up after graduation. I wrote under a different name: ‘S. Reid’.”

“What sort of topics did you write about?”

“Oh,” he said, crossing his arms, “all sorts of things. For instance, I wrote about the plight of people in poverty, the corruption in various governmental offices all over the country. Of course, that led to me not being a favorite of some higher up constituents. Let’s just say I wasn’t on the governor of Ohio’s Christmas card list.”

“I bet!” She caught a whiff of his mannish cologne wafting seductively close and tickling her senses.

“Anyway, yeah, that’s what I did.”

“Honestly, it sounds exciting.” She wanted to hear more, fall headfirst into tales of his adventures writing for the Wall street Journal and all that entailed. As she looked at the smile lines around his lips and the wisdom in his gorgeous eyes, she surmised she was peeling only the first layer of a fascinating man, and she couldn’t wait to delve deeper. “I think I would have enjoyed riding shotgun with you… being a fly on the wall if you will.”

“Yeah, it was exciting at times, but sometimes it was mundane, too.”

“Really?” She shrugged. “I guess the grass always looks greener on the other side, even in cases like this.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it does. It’s all about perception, too.” He gave a watered-down, lackluster grin. “I conducted interviews with bar owners, college basketball coaches embroiled in some controversy… things like that from time to time, too. I always had a photographer with me who helped capture the moment. These were the days before the camera phones, stuff like that. We had our cell phones, but nothing like what we have nowadays.” She nodded in understanding. “I always tried to give news from a different angle, a different perspective. And at that time, what I was doing and how I created the stories was kinda fresh, innovative.”

“If I’ve read one of your articles, I don’t recall, so you’ll have to give me a crash course. How do you believe you stood out from the norm?” She felt like she was conducting an interview her damn self now. What the man said about things that had nothing to do with courtship were just as intriguing to her as the things that did, completing one big puzzle of his life—the beautiful, ugly, and boring bits.

“I see the world in pictures, you know?” He held his hands up to his face as if he were looking through high-powered bifocals. “Texts become pictures to me, Emerald. I tried to use my written words like my photographer took his photos. The person readin’ the article isn’t physically there, so it became my job to
put
them there.”

“I want to read one of your articles from back then.” She blurted the words out, unable to control herself as she got lost in the way he rolled around happily in his past passion.

“I can email you a few… would you like that?” He arched his brow.

“Very much… my apologies for interrupting you though. Continue with what you were saying.” They moved a few steps forward.

“Yeah, no problem… uh, yeah, well, I was going to say that I worked hard to achieve my objectives so people can feel what it’s like to be in someone else’s shoes, whether it was a small business owner caught illegally purchasing poisonous Brazilian snakes and having them shipped into the country for some medicinal soup or the small town housewife who just wants her disabled daughter to stop being bullied by the kids at her school.”

She examined him closely, as if they’d changed places with him going under her scrutiny. There he was, under her microscope, oblivious to her secret thoughts shielded behind a pleasant veil.

“I like that, you know, the idea of talking about every day America, and making it important. We need more of that.” He leaned in a tad closer to her, his expression stern, yet tinged with droplets of lust.

“I’m working on being a good person. So I decided I’d like to hang around other good people, find out what your secret is. Do you think you can teach me how to be like you?” She looked up at him, then turned away for just a moment to mask a blush.

“I don’t want you to be like me. I want you to be yourself.”

“What if I told you that a part of me is missing and I’m trying to find it, but you mirror that missing piece?”

“Hmmmm.” She smirked. “Then maybe I’d take you up for consideration, giving lessons on being good ’nd all. You can teach me things, too… like more than just about wine.”

“I plan to.” he looked her up and down then turned his gaze straight ahead, as if he hadn’t just eaten her up with his eyes. “When we get a bit more privacy, I think I’m going to ask you some personal shit. I’m a reporter at heart. I like to get into people’s business, especially someone I find so…damn…sexy. You’re a sight for sore eyes. Sorry, but Jesus, I really love your style.”

She could do nothing but burst out laughing, causing him to do the same. He was saying the things she’d slow danced with inside of her very own head, the notions she’d considered crazy, silly, or even perhaps childish for a woman of her age… like who would take a walk with her in the deep woods late at night and not call her insane, or not freak out about the howling wolves and hooting owls? He wanted to know what lived inside of a person, not just that surface level shit… and she fancied herself to be that way, too.

“What are you thinking about?” He cracked the whip on her inner thoughts, bringing her back into the fold of the light of day.

“Just how human nature in general intrigues me.”