Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Or maybe like that?” He attempts a crude knot.
“Nope. But let me tell you, you can tie a bow tie in a few simple steps.”
Then he moves through the steps easily, giving tips as he goes. When he’s done, he adjusts the tie, flashing a warm grin at the camera.
Then he holds up a finger.
“But listen.” He beckons the viewer closer, then stage whispers, “This’ll be our little secret, but I know some of you are still struggling with a basic necktie too. Some dudes are having their moms and dads knot their regular ties in advance before they put them on. Guys, we can do better. Let me be your tie guide.”
He reaches out of camera, then returns with a…burgundy tie. Just like the one I wore when I met him. He lets the fabric graze across his hand as he shows off the tie to the viewer, touching it almost…reverently.
My chest heats, and the pull I feel toward him is tremendous.
“This is my favorite color,” he says, his tone a little sensual but never inappropriate. For a second, something like longing flashes in his eyes. It’s so alluring, not only for me, but for anyone watching, like he’s inviting viewers into his home as he gets dressed for a night out. “And here’s how you tie a Windsor knot.”
I tug on my collar. Shake off the lust. And watch the rest of the video, savoring the scent of coffee beans, smiling like I have a winning hand in Vegas.
When the how-to ends, I text him back with a thank you and send it to Priyam. I finish some other work, then half an hour later I shut my laptop, tuck it into a messenger bag, and leave the shop. This is my goddamn deal to close and I’m not waiting another minute. Once I’m outside, walking down the block, I call Priyam. “What did you think?”
“This video is absolutely delightful,” he says. “And magnetic too.”
“It is, and that’s Zane. And I want you to have first crack at Zane Archer,” I say, cutting to the chase. I like the British man. I want to make him happy. But the time for dawdling has passed. “He’s a rising star. He’s having a helluva season. Someone else is going to snap him up if you don’t,” I say, slowing my pace before I reach the busy avenue. “He can only rep one menswear brand. I want it to be yours. Do you?”
The line goes quiet. Priyam lets out a thoughtful breath. “There’s something about him. He’s just kind of…”
“Irresistible,” I supply. “He’s irresistible.”
“Yes! That’s it.”
But that’s still not an answer, so I push once more. “So, can we finalize this deal today? I don’t want someone else to scoop him up.”
Priyam doesn’t dillydally this time around. “Give me an hour. I’ll send you a contract.”
The instant I leave my next meeting, I pounce on my phone. There it is. It’s a fucking contract, and it’s gorgeous.
Zane is going to lose his mind. And so is Vance. When I call my boss to tell him the good news, he hoots. “Knew you would do it. You’re my closer,” he says, and Vance has returned to his nice guy routine. I’m not bothered by the tough guy act from earlier—it’s part of business. Though it surprised me, I’m glad I know he’s got that knife’s edge when he needs it. Always best to understand who you work with. “And guess what? I have a date with the wife tonight to take the kiddos to the playground, so I’m going to let you get to have all the fun.”
I blink, surprised once again. “What do you mean?”
“Ordinarily, I’d tell the client, since he’s been my guy forever,” he says, like they go back decades when it’s more like four years. “But I want you to experience the bear hug he’ll give you. Do it in person. As soon as possible, since first pitch is at five-thirty.”
I gulp, then gird myself to face the object of all my desires.
17
MAN STUFF
Zane
Baseball is a game of waiting. Wait for your pitch, wait for a chance to steal, wait for your turn at bat.
I’m used to waiting.
But after shooting that video for Maddox and Bespoke, I’m too amped up. These jittery feelings are not coming from the prospect of the deal, so close I can nearly grasp it. They’re coming from the man. I’m seeing him for dinner in a few nights with Priyam.
How the hell am I supposed to act around the guy I like?
Like I did at the golf course?
Or the rooftop party?
Or Venice?
No way. Those were BG—Before Gym.
Now that I’ve touched Maddox so intimately, pretending I’m not wild for him will be even harder. I’ll see him in forty-eight hours, and I can’t let on how much I want my agent.