Bookish (2 page)

I didn’t know if I was socially awkward or ADD or had something really wrong with me, but did I mention I hated public events?

“He’s from the UK. Isn’t that sexy? I know the U stands for United, like the USA...but what does the K stand for?” Chloe asked, her eyes scanning the crowd for a glimpse of Isaac and his delicious abs.

“Are you serious? Google is just one mouse click away.”

“Seriously, who has time for that? Besides, I live in the moment, history is something you like so I thought you’d know.”

“It’s not history if it’s happening right now,” I said and she glared at me, breaking her constant surveillance of the crowd.

“I’m way more Zen than you are though, you get caught up in the weird details, I don’t,” she said.

“Kingdom. The K stands for Kingdom.”

“Oh cool, now was that so hard? Wait, kingdom? That’s very Game of Thrones!”

“Yes, it’s rather fictional,” I said and smirked at the back of her head as she craned her neck to see him. She was shorter than me, curvy and blonde. She looked like a Marilyn Monroe impersonator, but she didn’t even try. She was sexy, funny, and very much focused on getting her man today.

We had left our table to see him. I don’t think there was a single person at the book event who wasn’t standing in this crowd, waiting for the main event.

Isaac James. God, Isaac, even his name made me feel goofy.

He’d gotten into modeling by accident apparently. He was British, came from a very wealthy upper class family. Well educated at all the best schools, had palled around with one of the princes from what I’d read, and had become a football player by age twenty. That’s soccer, for those Chloe’s in the room.

He’d been discovered during a match; Calvin Klein had been there and picked him up to model underwear.

Damn, what a life, picking up hot guys to model underwear. I think book blogging is the wrong area; I should have gone into fashion.

That had been a few years back, and he’d left football to model full time. He was successful and brilliant, wealthy and generous and kind to his fans. And my god, he was so fucking hot.

I was working myself into almost a lather. I was shaking.

“Do you see anything?” Chloe moaned, “This is taking forever. What good are those VIP tickets if you can’t get to the front of the line?”

“They gave every blogger and author and all their friends VIP tickets,” I said but felt her pain. I wanted to be at the front of the line almost as bad as her. Almost, because part of me was terrified to see him in person. What if he was really short? Or really zitty? Or was a total dick to the fans?

He’d made it big in the book cover world when a certain famous naughty book had picked him up to model for their second edition. The entire trilogy, all three books were basically just variations of his delicious abs and thick muscled arms entwined with his tattoos.

He was such a bad boy; he had to be a dick. I was certain he was a dick.

“Oh my god!” Chloe shrieked, “I think he’s coming!”

I could see movement behind a large cardboard cut out of Isaac. She shoved me forward and said, “What do you see?”

“Not much,” I said. I was hanging onto the red velvet rope trying to get a look. Women started screaming near what I determined was the front of the line. “Oh, oh, I think I see him,” I said, shocked at my own reaction. I reached into my cloth bag and grabbed my Kindle. I was reading the new book with his abs on the front and I wanted him to sign my Kindle cover.

“Where is he?” she demanded, “I can’t see anything Aubrey!”

“He’s coming, hang on,” I said and watched him move through the clot of women. The velvet rope was more of a suggestion and every three or four women one of them would make a break for it and try to get closer to him. He had two huge guys on either side of him handling crowd control. Bald, tall, muscled, sunglasses, earpiece microphone, the whole clichéd get up.

He was kind though, and tall. Really tall, crap, I loved tall men. He was stopping and chatting, signing books and speaking to every one of his fans…when they could talk. Most of them were crying or stood with their mouths gaping open as they handed him their books to sign.

A few feet away, one busty older woman pulled apart her shirt, exposing herself. The bodyguards stood interference, but Isaac laughed, walked to her and took the felt pen she handed him.

“What would you have me say, love?” he asked. His voice was smooth; it cut through my heart like a hot knife through butter. What was happening to me?

“Let me see what’s going on!” Chloe shrieked behind me, but I was mesmerized.

“Just put ‘property of Isaac James’ and I’ll be the happiest soccer mom this side of the Rockies,” the woman replied and giggled as he wrote it out and signed his name with a flourish. The crowd was buzzing with nervous excitement and it really got to me. I could feel my pulse in my temples, throbbing with some hypnotic beat.

Three feet between Isaac and my trembling Kindle. My hands betrayed my nervousness. I was usually so detached and in control.

“Seriously,” Chloe screamed, “I can’t see a fucking thing!”

“I want him to sign my cover and I’ll get out of the way,” I said, not looking back.

“Where is he?” Chloe squealed and I felt her hands hit the small of my back with a mighty shove.

I was unbalanced from leaning over the velvet rope to see Isaac as it was, and with her help, I pitched face first directly into the path of the hottest man on the planet.

My Kindle went flying and I saw his body guards move towards me, ready to drag me off.

“Wait,” Isaac’s voice broke through the noise, “hang on.”

The women around us went quiet and a hush took over the place. I struggled to get up, but ended up feeling a little like a turtle on its back. The skirt had twisted and tangled in my legs and my arm was bent underneath me.

“I’m okay,” I squawked and tried to right myself.

Within seconds he was beside me, kneeling on the carpet near my face and sliding his hands underneath the front of me. “Let me help you, love,” he said and I swear I melted into a pool of idiotic woman right in front of him.

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” I said again, but I didn’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself.

He smelled like heaven. Like a cool breeze on a hot day, like masculinity wrapped up in the prettiest package you’ve ever seen. Like hot sand and salty waves washing over your naked body.

I’m sure I was redder than I’d ever been in my life; it was a mortifying and strangely satisfying experience. It was like the entire world had shrunk down to just Isaac and Aubrey.

He hooked his hands under my armpits and stood up, pulling me with him. He was a good eight inches taller than me and was like a wall of solid, ridged muscle. His arms bulged, not with the strain of pulling me up, but on their own like they were proud to belong to a man like him.

“Are you all right, love?” he asked and looked into my eyes. Amusement painted his face and I was so close I could count the whiskers on his five o’clock shadow.

“I’m good,” I whispered and stared into his eyes. They were green and flecked with grey; I’d never noticed that in the hundreds of photos I’d seen of him. Then again, I’d probably been like every other woman on the planet and completely focused on his abs.

“OH MY GOD!” Chloe squealed and rushed to my side, “Are you okay Aubrey? Oh my god, I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”

She took my arm and shook Isaac’s hand. He smiled at me, never breaking eye contact and asked me, “Do you know this woman? Can I trust you in her care?”

“I’m her best friend,” Chloe declared and tugged on my arm. Isaac hadn’t removed his from under my arm. His huge hand cupped my ribcage and he could surely feel my heart pounding under his grasp.

“She is,” I said, my voice dry and threatening to give out on me at any moment. “I’ll be okay. I’m okay.” I really needed to work on some new material in case I ever fell in front of the hottest man in the world again.

“I’ll leave you to her then,” he said and removed his arm. I felt suddenly alone, vulnerable and weak without his hand on me. His bodyguard handed me my Kindle and Chloe and I ducked back under the red velvet rope.

He turned back once and winked at me, and he was gone. He moved graciously down the line of screaming women, smiling and talking to as many of them as he could.

He eventually made it to his own table at the head of the event, far from us lowly bloggers who were stashed away in a back room.

Chloe waited long enough to make sure I wasn’t going to fall, turned to me and said, “Did you see that?”

“I know, right?”

“The way he stared, that was intense!”

“You noticed that?” I said, flattered that she caught on to the weird little moment of contact between Isaac and I.

“Of course I did,” she exclaimed, “he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.”

In typical Chloe fashion, she ditched me to get a Isaac James autograph. As I made my way back to my empty table, it occurred to me that I hadn’t even gotten him to sign my Kindle cover.

I supposed it didn’t matter though, I could still feel his fingers burning hot on my skin. He marked me for life, whether the world could see it or not.

Chapter Three

“Thanks for the swag, I love the bookmarks,” said one of the endless readers who paraded in front of my barren table. I had been cleaned out of my good stuff hours ago. All I had left were some lame hand made bookmarks and a few postcards from last year’s big bestseller list.

I did okay with the blog, it wasn’t my day job but it offered me an escape into the kinds of books I loved and if I had a reason for doing it, I didn’t feel as guilty. They weren’t exactly great literature, but I didn’t feel like such a lame duck if I was reading them for a purpose.

“You’re welcome, make sure to like us on Facebook and sign up for our mailing list,” I said to the girl’s retreating form.

“You never told me what you thought about my review,” Chloe said, breaking into my train of thought. She was sitting next to me, bored after the highlight of her day. She’d come back about an hour after leaving me for Isaac James’ line up. She’d whipped open her shirt and showed her own boob autograph. Isaac’s writing was illegible, but Chloe claimed he’d written ‘only have eyes for you’ but I swore it looked more like ‘good luck on your book’. He probably thought she was an author.

“I liked it,” I said, “it was pretty funny and I think I can use it.” Chloe had begged me for weeks to blog with me, and I’d finally given in when my ‘to be read’ list threatened to tumble over and crush me under its weight. She had surprised me and the review really wasn’t that bad. With some polishing and a little tweaking, it would be useable.

“Oh good,” she replied and sipped at her double chocolate espresso cappuccino whatever the heck she was drinking and smiled at me. “It’s funny,” she went on in a tone that told me this was gonna be good, “I used to think you were such a nerd for having your face stuck in a book. In high school I had no idea what the hell you were talking about half the time, all you had was book learning. I was out on the street getting my education from real life.”

“Uh huh,” I said in a non-committal tone. She was about as street as one of Auntie Abby’s cats. Chloe was raised in a nice neighbourhood with parents who loved her and spent money on her like it was the cure to some disease she had. She wasn’t exactly schooled in the university of hard knocks.

“I remember when that Fifty Shades book came out, you were the first to read it. It was my official first book other than the shit they force you to read in English class. As you know, I was hooked, but I still didn’t get into it like you did.”

“You didn’t really get hooked on reading until you discovered the cover models,” I said and laughed.

“You’re right, and the people. I mean the community this book world has is amazing. I really want to be part of it.”

She meant she wanted to be part of it without trying. I built my blog from the ground up, I’d put countless hours and ever spare dollar I had into it over the last three years. I had over thirty thousand followers on Facebook and almost seventy five thousand on my newsletter list. She had no clue how much work I’d done building my little empire.

“I know you do,” I said, “and I’ve had reviewers before. It’s cool.”

“I don’t want to just be a reviewer,” she replied, “I want to be a part of the blog. Like a co-blogger or part owner or something.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said, “Let’s start out small, have you do a couple more reviews. Then we’ll see about the rest, okay?”

She pouted, sipped her obnoxiously long coffee drink and finally said, “Fine, but I want to review the new Rebecca Hawk book. Okay?”

I sighed and brushed hair out of my face. I should have put it in a bun or something, but Chloe flipped out when I suggested it. It was my best feature, according to her, and I should work it. “Okay, it’s a deal. I’ll email her PA and make sure I’m authorized to give it to you and you can get it done for next Friday.”

“You’re such a narc,” she giggled, “you need to loosen up. I’m sure they wouldn’t give two shits if you sent it my way. And see what making me a partner will do? It will free up so much time. People will know that it will be you or me reviewing, no questions asked.”

“I guess you have a point, but for now I have to get permission.”

“Sure thing, officer,” she laughed and sipped her drink again. Loudly. Slurp slurp. I felt bad, hating on Chloe sometimes, but let’s face it, she could be really annoying.

“Did you get anything else autographed?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. I wasn’t comfortable sharing my blog with her, but I felt like she’d already hitched me to her train and was going to drag me wherever she wanted, like it or not. I longed for the good old days when the book thing was nerdy and she paid no attention to it.

“Nope,” she replied, “I totally forgot to give him my postcard. Just my boobs.” She snickered and fell into some private memory. I wish I had given him my Kindle cover before he’d gone, but there was no way I could face Isaac James after my tumble to the floor right in front of him.