Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145574 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
“What do you think?” Adam asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“It’s spectacular. The lighting is ingenious, too. Shows off the color and artistry.” I glanced sideways at him, knowing this little detour had to mean something.
“Look at the placard.” That grin was still going strong.
I moved forward and read the tag, my eyes widening. “Georgia Stan— What the hell?” Georgia did this? I looked up at it with fresh eyes, and even I could admit my jaw dropped a little.
“Just because she’s not a writer doesn’t mean she’s not creative. Humbled? Just a little?” Adam moved to stand at my side.
“Just a little,” I said slowly. “Maybe a lot.” My attention dropped to the placard again, noting the date. Six years ago. Coincidence or pattern?
“Good. My work here is done.”
She hadn’t just gone to art school. She was an artist. “She won’t listen to me, Adam. She’s hung up on me both times I’ve called. I’m trying to get this thing plotted out so I can dig into it, but the second I start in about the ending, it’s dead on the other end. She doesn’t want to collaborate; she just wants it her way.”
“Sounds like someone else I know. How much listening have you done?” he challenged. “It’s not just your book this time, buddy; it’s hers, too, and for someone who loves primary sources, you’re ignoring the one right in front of your face. She’s your resident expert on all things Scarlett Stanton.”
”Good point.”
“Come on, Noah. I’ve never known you to shy away from a challenge. Hell, you seek them out. Pick up the phone and use that legendary charm to get your foot in the proverbial door. Then get to listening, buddy. Now, I have to shower before a meeting.” He headed toward the revolving door.
“I’ve already tried the charm!” And it got me exactly nowhere, which was professionally annoying and personally…well, frustrating, especially considering the way I was still drawn to her from more than a thousand miles away.
“Not if you’ve only called twice, you haven’t.”
“How did you even know this was here?” I called across the foyer.
“Google!” He gave me a two-fingered salute and disappeared out of the building, leaving me with the proof that I hadn’t been the only creative genius in Scarlett’s office that day.
Then I started my research—not on the Battle of Britain but on Georgia Stanton.
…
I glanced between my phone—which lay harmlessly in the middle of my desk—and the phone number I’d scrawled on the notepad beside it. I was a week closer to my deadline, and though I’d plotted out what I felt was the right path for the characters, I hadn’t started writing. There was no point if Georgia was just going to demand that I change it all.
Use that legendary charm…
I dialed the number, then turned to stand at the massive windows lining my home office, looking down at Manhattan as the phone rang. Was she going to answer? That particular worry was a first for me when calling a woman, not because picking up was a given but because I’d never really cared.
Ask about her grandmother. Ask about her. Stop yelling in her general direction and start treating her like a partner. Just pretend she’s one of your college friends and not someone from work or someone you’re interested in. That had been Adrienne’s advice, followed by a sarcastic quip that I’d never had a partner in my life because I was a control freak.
I hated when she was right.
“Noah, to what do I owe the honor?” Georgia answered.
“I saw your sculpture.” Way to ease into it.
“I’m sorry?”
“The one of the tree rising out of the ocean. I saw it. It’s stunning.” My grip tightened on my phone. According to the internet, it was also the last one she’d done.
“Oh.” There was a pause. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t know you were a sculptor.”
“Uh…yeah. I was. A long time ago. Was being the operative word there.” She forced a laugh. “Now I spend my days in Gran’s office, sorting through a mountain of paperwork.”
Subject closed. Noted. I resisted the urge to dig—for now.
“Ah, paperwork. My favorite way to spend the evening,” I joked.
“Well, you’d be in heaven, because it’s a hot mess. There’s. So. Much. Paperwork,” she groaned.
“Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty to me.” Fuck. I winced and mentally calculated how much I was about to pay in a sexual harassment lawsuit. What the hell was wrong with me? “Shit. Sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” So much for treating her like a friend from college.
“It’s okay.” She laughed, and the sound hit me like a freight train to the chest. Her laugh was beautiful and left me smiling for the first time in days. “Well, now that I know what turns you on,” she teased, and I heard a creak in the background that I recognized. She’d leaned back in the chair. “Honestly, it’s fine, I promise,” she managed as her laughter simmered. “But really, did you need something? Because the minute you say the words happy ending, I’m going back to my paperwork.”