Page 11 of Ever Mine

He’s also wearing glasses. Why is he wearing glasses? Why are his glasses so hot?

Awesome, there's a kink I didn't know I had.

I clear my throat. “Uh, I got your note,” I say.

He looks up and smiles. “Addison.” He motions me forward. “Come and sit. Let’s have a chat.”

I’m already shaking my head. “Oh, no, we don't need to have a chat. I know you're busy. I'll just take my notebook and run away. Run very far away.”

He laughs. “Come on, love, don’t be skittish. Close the door on your way over here.”

Love. He called me love. It’s a British thing. It doesn’t mean anything. I make my way over and sit in one of the chairs across from his desk.

As soon as I'm sitting, he stands and walks around to my side of the desk. Then he leans against the dark-grain wood. It's like one of those sexy man poses, you know, where they lean.

He's all like long legs and muscular, freckled arms and… what is wrong with me?

This man makes me stupid.

So stupid.

“I know you're likely embarrassed,” he says. “But you needn’t be.”

“I’m assuming that means you read it. You violated my privacy.”

He smirks. “I apologize.” Then he shakes his head. “No, I don't apologize, because the truth is, that I think you need my help.”

“I need your help? I don't think so. I don't think a lawyer can help me unless you're planning to sue me because you're offended. Or I could sue you because you violated my privacy.”

Another smirk. “That's not a thing.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Well, it should be. Privacy violator.”

My heart is pounding so hard, so rapidly, that I’m surprised he hasn’t asked if I hear thunder.

“Addison,” he says my name with a mystifying tone; part amusement, part patience.

Is he making fun of me? The thought is horrifying, but it also doesn’t ring true.

“I don't need your help with the writing. I have a master's degree in creative writing. Thank you very much. I know how to write. I just don't have anything to actually write about because I have no life experience.”

He moves to the chair next to mine, lowering his long body with far more grace than I’ve ever had. He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“I can help you with that in particular,” he says.

I raise my eyebrows. “What in particular?”

“Your lack of experience,” he says smoothly.

Do not look at his sexy, freckled forearms.

Do not look at his sexy glasses.

Gah, I need to get out of this room. He’s just too much sexy for me to deal with.

“You're going to have to break that down for me, because I don't know exactly what you're offering.”

He retrieves the notebook from his desk and holds it up. “Well, I can answer these questions for you. Some of the questions, at least.”