Sage followed the group across the busy intersection to an upscale coffee house. He had the beginnings of a headache. He'd wanted to decline the "java fix" and return to his hotel room, but he needed the modeling job. He couldn't afford to offend his bread-and-butter provider. God, I wish I could quit modeling.
They entered Jet Setters Java Junction and he watched Sissy Johansen take charge. No surprise there. She was a bulldozer, which was probably the reason she and her husband had such a successful company. Although Sage didn't read romance novels, he knew the genre outsold all others.
Someone behind the counter approached Sissy and gave her preferential treatment, motioning them to another room. They followed Sissy and their Jet Setter hostess to a room glassed off from the main one. A few high class business types sat in comfortable booths. Sage knew he looked out of place in his old T-shirt, but he didn't give a rat's ass. A beautiful woman wearing a classy business suit looked him up and down as he approached. She gave him that slow, I-like-what-I-see smile. He'd encountered that same smile thousands of times since the age of fourteen. His headache felt worse. He ignored her.
At their booth, he stepped aside so Sissy and Mims could slide in. The little photographer slid next to Sissy, so he sat next to Mims. She was a little on the well-endowed side of the fork. She seemed self-conscious, something else he'd encountered thousands of times with women.
The hostess handed them menus. Menus to order a damn cup of coffee. He laid his on the table and didn't even glance at it. Mims looked her menu over, front and back, and so did the others. The hostess returned and he listened to Chuck, because he couldn't bring himself to call him Chuckie, order a Muddy Mocha Miracle. Sissy ordered a double shot Hammerhead Bottom Feeder and he was curious about what the author would order. Very politely, she said, "I'd like a Latin Lover Latte, with lite whipped cream, please." He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
The hostess turned to him. "And for you, sir?" She batted her false eyelashes.
"Black coffee."
"Whatever you want," she said suggestively, and slid the tip of her tongue across her Botox lips.
Sage wanted to ask for aspirin.
* * *
Mims watched the interaction between Sage and the waitress who was trying her damnedest to get his attention. Maybe she could use the little scene in her next book. The poor girl wasn't getting anywhere with him. He looked utterly bored. Actually, he looked gorgeous and bored.
Mims rubbed behind her neck, wishing she'd left right after the photo shoot. Sissy was speaking to her. "I'm sorry, Sissy, what did you say?"
"I said, 'Earth to Mims'," she laughed. "Actually, I was just telling Chuckie and Sage what a great writer you've become. How you've improved with each book. Now you're one of our top authors. Although…" she sent a sly look around the table and leaned in, "…you'd probably be number one if you'd use your talent to write some erotic scenes instead of dancing around them."
Mims felt color flood her face and rubbed the back of her neck again, a habit she'd carried from childhood whenever she felt flustered or nervous. She didn't know how to reply. "I…I…"
Chuckie added his two cents. "Don't worry about it Mims, practice makes perfect." He winked at her.
Mims wanted to crawl under the table.
The flirty waitress saved the day when she brought their orders. Serving Sage his coffee last, she said seductively, "Can I get you anything else?"
Sissy had obviously had enough because she said, "Honey, he's taken by the lady next to him. Show your wares elsewhere."
The young woman glanced from Sage to Mims and her eyes widened, as if to say, No way!
Mims rubbed her neck harder and shot an apologetic glance at Sage. He chuckled and picked up her free hand resting on the table. Bringing it to his lips and kissing her palm, he said, "Yep, I'm taken."
The waitress's jaw dropped, she stammered something, and then hurried away.
Mims jerked her hand back. Her previous embarrassment turned to anger; first at Sissy and then at Sage. She didn't like being the butt of their jokes.
"You know, I really have to get back to my hotel and pack. I don't have time for this. Would you please let me out of the booth, Mr. Tanner?" She started scooting over, even though he hadn't moved. He gave her a quizzical look and then stood.
"Mims, you can't leave!" Sissy cried. "I just wanted to put the little tart in her place."
Mims slid from the booth and turned to say a cool goodbye. With her head held high and her back straight, she walked out of Jet Setters Java Junction.
* * *
Sage watched Mims stiffed-back retreat. Hell, he hadn't meant to offend; he'd just been playing along with the game her publisher had started. Any other woman would have played along, too. How could a romance novelist be such a prude? He placed his fingers on his temple. Now he had a migraine.