A Word with the Bachelor by Teresa Southwick Read Free Book Online

about now. A phone call, package delivery, or a little rocket attack. “The thing is, I don’t have all the characters set in stone yet. Still trying to flesh them out.”
    â€œYou have Mac,” she pointed out.
    Good old Mac. “I do have him.”
    â€œWhat’s happened to him in the time since we left him at the end of book one?”
    â€œThat’s a good question. I’m glad you asked.” Not.
    She waited for him to elaborate. So it was safe to say she wasn’t an interrupter. Boy, did he wish she was.
    â€œSo,” Jack said. “He’s been kicking around.”
    â€œIn Los Angeles? Or has he gone to Dallas, Topeka, or Micronesia?” The perky, trying-to-be-helpful tone was missing in action from her voice.
    â€œHe hasn’t moved.” And that was Jack’s fault because he hadn’t moved his main character.
    â€œIn the last book he had just left the army and had no plan for his life before being pulled into that case involving his dead buddy’s younger brother, who was married to his ex-girlfriend.”
    â€œYeah.” Funny how the no-plan-for-his-life part sounded a lot like Jack.
    â€œHow is he supporting himself?”
    â€œOdd jobs. This and that.” And in a military operation when you wanted to avoid direct confrontation with an enemy that had superior firepower, a good soldier created a diversion. He took a piece of paper from the printer tray beside him. “I put together some things for you to research.”
    Erin’s eyes narrowed as she took it from him, then scanned the list. “Meteors? Dinosaurs?” She met his gaze. “You probably already know that Jurassic Park has been done.” She looked down again. “Jet Skis?”
    â€œAll things I’m considering incorporating into the story.”
    With careful, precise movements she folded the single sheet several times before slicing him with a look. “What’s going on, Jack?”
    â€œI need you to look stuff up.”
    â€œNo, you don’t. You’re trying to distract me and it’s time for you to cut the crap.”
    â€œIs that any way to talk to your employer?”
    â€œTechnically I work for the publishing house, specifically your editor. So, yeah, it’s a very good way to address a man who is not forthcoming.”
    â€œWhat makes you think something’s going on?” Besides the fact that he kept dodging her direct questions?
    â€œClassic avoidance. And to quote Shakespeare—‘let me count the ways.’” She held up her fingers. “You won’t talk about the story, characters or what your hero has been doing. I’m pretty sure that means you have no idea. And every time I push for information, you come up with a distraction. Some ridiculous research stuff that has nothing to do with your genre. One hundred and one ways to be romantic—really, Jack? You even threw me out of my room and kicked me downstairs.” She took a breath. “So call me paranoid and neurotic—”
    â€œDon’t forget punctual,” he added helpfully.
    â€œâ€”but I’m suspicious,” she continued without missing a beat after his interjection. “Your editor would welcome an outline of the project. Not details, necessarily, just the beginning, middle and end of the story. Possibly a one-line characterization of the hero.”
    Jack met her gaze, stare for stare. Her perky, cheerful interrogation might have given him a sense of her being a pushover. Now he saw the error of that assumption. She was sunshine and steel.
    Still, he couldn’t resist trying one more time. “There’s nothing to be suspicious about. I’m in the process of pulling all the threads together.”
    â€œThen let me see your pages.” She suddenly stood and moved around the desk to look at his computer monitor. “It’s not even turned on.”
    â€œThat’s easy to