Chapter 1
Could it be? thought Brandon Cobb when he spotted those familiar curly tendrils amongst the crowd of fans lined up to get his autograph at a small bookstore in Greenwich Village. He’d been toiling for years as a wannabe writer until his big break hurtled him into the stratosphere – an edgy suspense thriller he penned that had been touted as the next Gone Girl. His agent had already sold the film rights, and there was talk of A-list actors vying for the main role.
However, all of that paled in comparison to seeing the woman with the tendrils — Sasha — again. It had been at least a decade since he’d seen her last, when they were students in California at Stanford University, but she looked the same: smooth skin the color of crème brûlée. Big, expressive brown eyes rimmed with dark liner. Bright red lipstick over sumptuous lips. Today she clad her still-svelte figure in a distressed leather jacket, ruched top, and miniskirt over leggings and knee-high boots. She looked every bit the artist she’d always wanted to be.
From his perch on the loft looking down over the crowd, Brandon wondered if she’d made those dreams come true.
“I totally loved this book,” a customer gushed, and Brandon had to remind himself to focus on the task at hand.
Sell books.
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” Brandon said and smiled politely when the fan leaned in for a selfie.
His publisher had booked him on an eight-city tour, starting with this stop in New York, and then on to DC, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas, Seattle, San Francisco, and last, his home city of Los Angeles. It surprised him when his agent told him they’d booked his first signing on New Year’s Eve. It had to have been a glitch, but Brandon wasn’t going to complain because when he arrived at the store this afternoon, a line wrapped around the block. He couldn’t believe all these people, but more importantly Sasha, wanted to see him.
He added his John Hancock to the books, but every so often his eyes ventured to the long line, waiting for it to recede and bring him closer to Sasha. When he’d read an excerpt earlier, he’d caught her eye and she’d smiled the way she always had. His heart had sped up in anticipation of talking to her.
Two hours later near the end of the signing, Sasha approached. Brandon automatically stood. Sasha was even better looking than he remembered.
“Brandon,” she said with a grin, and before he knew it, Sasha pulled him into a bear hug. He reacted immediately, wrapping his arms around her slender figure and crushing her small breasts against his chest. As he released her, he caught a whiff of her intoxicating scent, which always drove him mad with desire.
Today was no different.
“Omigod! It’s so good to see you,” Sasha said, stepping back to look at him. “I mean how long has it been?” She didn’t wait for him to answer and instead kept speaking. “When I saw a flyer about you at the local coffee shop, I couldn’t believe it. No wait, yes I could. You’ve always had a determination to succeed, and look at you.” She motioned her arms around the room. “You’ve done it. You’ve arrived. I’m so proud of you.”
Brandon grinned. “Thank you. It wasn’t an easy road to get here.”
“It never is.” She reached inside her oversized purse and produced his book. “Will you sign it for me?”
“Of course.”
What did I just say? Brandon had wanted to utter something poetic and profound, and he found himself struggling to write something unique in her book copy too. In the midst of his excitement, all he could come up with was “Dreams can come true, Brandon.” It was a sentiment he truly believed — he just wished he had expressed it in a more original way. He handed Sasha the book and watched as she clutched it to her bosom.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He was so busy staring at Sasha that he didn’t realize a few customers stood behind her waiting for his autograph until one of them coughed. Following his line of vision, Sasha glanced behind her. “Oh, I’m sorry. We go way back.” She looked at Brandon. “Well, I guess I should go and let you get back to it.”
He didn’t want her to go. Who knew when he’d see her again? Another decade? He had to strike while the iron was hot. She moved away and began walking down the steps, but Brandon called out to her. “Sasha, wait a sec.”
She looked up. “Yes?”
“Can you wait until I’m done signing books? I want to catch up.” He paused and then added, “If you have the time.”
When she smiled broadly up at him, Brandon felt relieved. “Sure thing. I’ll be downstairs perusing the travel books.”
Brandon’s heart kicked up a notch, and he hurriedly finished signing books so he could spend time with the incomparable Sasha Bennett.
Sasha’s heart was beating loudly as she made her way down the steps of the bookstore. She hoped she hadn’t looked like a complete idiot ogling Brandon like that.
He looks damn good.
He wasn’t only tall and gorgeous but sexy as all get-out too. Rocking a trimmed beard over nutty brown skin with full lips and dark brown eyes, Sasha was instantly smitten. She didn’t recall Brandon affecting her like this before. Perhaps it was his now-hard athletic body. The cardigan over his T-shirt did little to restrain his broad chest and bulging biceps. He was filling out those designer jeans quite nicely too. If they’d been alone when they’d hugged, she might have gone in for a squeeze of those cheeks. Instead, she’d kept her hands to herself.
She wondered what she must look like to an accomplished New York Times bestselling author — she, a vagabond off the street in her tiered skirt and leather jacket from the thrift store. Brandon was a success and had lived up to dreams they’d talked about while sitting up late in their off-campus apartments in Palo Alto, California, passing a bottle of cheap wine back and forth. She’d thought he was handsome but in a nerdy sort of way.
Back then, she’d had a penchant for bad boys like musicians or a wannabe rap artist waiting for his big break, all of whom treated her terribly. Why didn’t I go for the smart one like Brandon who was going somewhere? Because she’d thought of herself as the cool chick who didn’t conform to convention. She didn’t want to end up as some bored housewife. Instead, she’d become a college graduate with an arts degree who’d struggled for the last decade to get her foothold in the New York art scene.
It wasn’t easy.
No one gave you a break here. Sasha was always on the grind. Today was no different. Earlier, on the way out of her studio apartment, her landlady had caught her in the hall and given Sasha grief over being late with the rent again. This woman didn’t understand how hard it was being a struggling artist.