Quickies

Callie shook her head, spotting chairs over against the wall. "I'll just…" She edged her way over and tried to make herself as small as possible in the chair, trying hard not to fidget as she watched the office activity. She thought about asking for a bathroom to check her appearance in a mirror, but instead just smoothed her long, red hair with her fingers, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass next to an office door. She adjusted the straps on her black heels and crossed one knee over the other, pressing the curling edge of the folder flat with her fingers, trying to smooth that, too.

"Callie?" His voice was golden, like liquid fire, the kind of voice that could talk a woman into anything. She recognized it immediately from their phone conversations.

"Jason?" She stood, taking his extended hand, blinking at his grip, warm and firm, his hand swallowing hers. This was a man used to shaking hands. She noticed the gray-green of his eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her.

"That's me," he confirmed with a wink, rubbing the reddish goatee on his chin.

"Running late, huh?"

"I got lost." She shrugged sheepishly. "But still, you'd think I could find a building this big! Especially being right across from the Empire State Building…"

"Right?" He chuckled. "Are you ready to give it a go?"

She glanced up at him-way up, he was quite tall and lean-blinking fast. "I guess so."

"Come on, then."

She followed him down a long hallway and into a small booth. He shut the door behind them and nodded toward the chairs. She sat in one, watching him as he set up a microphone in front of her. Just the sight of it made her feel dizzy.

"You nervous?" He smiled, sitting beside her.

She nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

"I'd tell you to just picture me naked, but considering what you're here to record…"

Callie laughed, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair. "What if I already am?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and grinned. "I wouldn't object."

"You're so bad." She picked up her red folder, opening it, amazed at how easily it had resumed, their phone conversations turned into face-to-face contact without hardly missing a beat. "I brought two… which one do you think I should try?"

He took two short stories from her, separated by a staple, glancing at the titles on the covers and flipping through them thoughtfully. She knew he had read them both-

he'd read all of her writing-but he was in business mode now, considering the options.

"This one." He put Folsom Prison Blues down in front of her. It was a short piece, written as a letter, first person-a woman writing to her lover in prison. It was definitely the more graphic of the two. Callie glanced at it, flushing when she remembered how many times she'd used the word "cunt" in it.

"You're really sweet to offer to do this, Jason." She picked up the story, flipping past the title page. "In a million years, I never thought I'd be sitting in an agent's office in New York about to record one of my own erotic stories…"

"Honestly, it's my pleasure." His smile lightened his whole face. "You're an amazing writer, and bringing your work to audio only enhances it."

"You really are a sweet talker, aren't you?" She smirked, shaking her head. "No wonder you're an agent."

"That's my job." He grinned. Then he leaned over and touched her knee. It was a brief thing, almost casual-except that it wasn't, and they both knew it. Her breath caught as she met his eyes. "But with you, I really mean it."

She slapped the story on the table. "Okay, let's do this thing, before I lose my nerve."

"Ready?" He flipped a switch, putting the microphone in front of her. "Just go ahead and read."

She cleared her throat, letting the swimming words on the paper come into focus.

It was hard to do with him watching her. "Every morning I check the calendar. Twenty-seven days, baby. I'm marking it with big red X's, one day at a time…" Jason leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was thoughtful, discerning. She could read the criticism in his eyes, could almost see his thoughts.

"What?" She stopped, frowning.

"You're really nervous." He leaned over and turned off the mic.

She sighed, looking down at the curled edge of the red folder, her still-dyed-pink fingers. "I know."

He leaned forward in his chair, tenting his fingers under his chin. "Close your eyes." She blinked at him, swallowing hard. "Go on, do it." She hesitated, but did as he asked, almost immediately feeling a relief when she couldn't see him looking at her.

"Now… imagine you're Katie…"

"But…"

"No 'buts,' Cal." His voice was firm, commanding. "Do it."

"Okay, okay."