9
Quinn
I read the text Jagger sent this afternoon again and toss my phone on the couch cushion next to me.
Jagger: Jeans and a t-shirt. Of course, I wouldn’t mind a casual dress if you’re in the mood. ;)
Joke’s on him. I sprawl my jean-clad legs on the table, thumbing through a book on plotting that I usually would’ve finished if not for the distraction that is Jagger for the past couple days.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I should be holed up in my office, working on the book that’s due to my editor. Note to self—call editor back tomorrow before they retract my book offer. If I don’t get my book to them soon it’s not going to matter how well my first book did. I push the thought of my first book to the back of my mind.
The small part of me that’s agreed to this damn four-date deal adm
