I let out a heavy sigh as I got ready to meet Leon. As much as his irreverent charm could be irritating at times, I had to admit his presence was a welcome distraction from the mess my career had become.

At eight thirty on the dot, I swept into our usual diner looking much more put together than I felt—flowing sundress, tousled waves, minimal makeup to hide the stress etched into my features. Leon was already seated at our regular corner table, somehow managing to look devilishly handsome despite his artfully rumpled attire.

"Well don't you clean up nice," he purred as I slid into the booth across from him. "I almost didn't recognize you without that wild-eyed, hermit aura weighing you down."

I shot him a withering look over the water glass in front of me. "Can it, you big jerk. I've had possibly the worst day dealing with corporate BS."

Leon's intense blue eyes danced with impish glee at my uncharacteristic irritation. "Do tell, Honeybee. What did those pencil-pushers do to your precious writing this time?"

Grimacing, I vented my frustrations about the corporate pressures to accept this ghostwriter situation. As usual, he was being his incorrigible self, alternating between mocking the bureaucratic idiocy and shamelessly flirting with our poor waitress.

"Honestly, can you take anything seriously for once?" I chided as he fired off an exaggerated wink at the flustered girl.

"Where's the fun in that?" Leon's blue eyes twinkled with mirth. "Life's too short not to find the humor in tough times."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help a small smile from tugging at my lips. Leon's refusal to be bogged down by the weight of the world was equal parts infuriating and beguilingly refreshing.

Just then, a deafening clap of thunder shook the entire diner, the lights flickering ominously. I jumped nearly a foot in the air at the unexpected noise. Before I could even process what was happening, the entire place went pitch black.

Calming my rattled nerves, I blinked rapidly, willing my eyes to adjust to the inky darkness. A warm weight settled over my lap, and there was a rustling sound from directly in front of me.

"Well, this is quite a situation," came Leon's voice inches away. "Though I must say, this lighting does wonderful things for that fiery hair of yours, Honeybee."

My breath caught as I finally made out his shadowy form, twisted at an odd angle and... draped directly across my legs? Before I could sputter out a reaction, Leon gave a pained groan.

"As much as I'd love to claim this tangle as a dashing romantic ploy, I'm afraid the universe is simply playing a prank on us."

A shuffling from behind me clarified the situation—in the chaotic rush when the lights went out, Leon had apparently tripped and tumbled forward in a ridiculous heap, his upper body now sprawled unceremoniously across my lap in the least romantic manner imaginable.

"You idiot," I huffed a startled laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. "Get off me before I claim harassment!"

"Believe me, I'm quite motivated to extract myself from this precarious position," he shot back dryly. "Before someone mistakes this for one of those bodice-ripper scenes you're so deliciously notorious for."

We broke into sheepish laughter at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Here we were, trapped in near total darkness with Leon in the least seductive entanglement imaginable, and still we couldn't resist trading quips and barbs. It was so delightfully, characteristically us.

As the lights finally flickered back on, bathing us in the stunned gazes of our fellow patrons, Leon flashed me a lopsided grin from his undignified position. "Well, if this doesn't inspire those creative juices, I don't know what will. Maybe the universe is giving you just what the bestselling doctor ordered."

Shaking my head in bemused exasperation, I aimed a half-hearted swat at his arm. "Just get up, you gremlim. We've caused enough of a scene for one day."

Still chuckling, Leon carefully extricated himself, leaving me strangely flushed and flustered in the wake of our impromptu intimate tumble. As he slid back into his seat, the inescapable warmth of his previous predicament still seemed to linger in a rather flustering way.

"See? I told you the universe was simply giving your creativity a much-needed kickstart!" Leon quipped, apparently oblivious to my inexplicable flusteredness. He took an exaggerated sip of his soda, eyes dancing impishly over the rim. "Though I must admit, getting to be the romantic lead enveloped in the fabled Lady Wordsmith's embraces was an unexpected perk."

I scoffed, forcing an eye roll to camouflage the way my heart did a weird little flip at his teasing implication. "Hardly a romantic fantasy, you goof. More like a cautionary tale about leaving you unsupervised."

Leon clutched a melodramatic hand to his chest with a wounded gasp. "You wound me! Dismissing my courtly gestures so callously."

"Oh, please," I fired back, unable to smother my grin at his antics. "Your 'courtly gestures' are as convincing as one of those low-budget rom-com parodies."

"You wound me, Honeybee!" He fluttered his lashes in an exaggerated fashion that really should have looked ridiculous... and yet, I found my gaze lingering perhaps a beat too long. "Why must you always mock my profound admiration?"

I opened my mouth to volley back another sarcastic rejoinder when a small vibration against my thigh interrupted the repartee. Frowning, I fished out my phone to see Ira's name flashing across the screen.

Dread settled into the pit of my stomach, our playful back-and-forth doused in an instant like someone depositing a bucket of ice water over my head. Of course my venomous publicist would choose literally the worst moment to go slithering his way back into spoiling whatever small respite this was.

"Everything okay?" Leon's brow furrowed at whatever sour expression had twisted my features.

I grimaced, but managed a tight nod as I muted the call and slipped my phone back into my purse. "Just... Ira being his typical obstructive self about this whole ghostwriter fiasco. I really don't want to deal with his passive-aggressive manipulations right now."

Something flickered across Leon's face—a strange combination of protectiveness and... something else I couldn't quite put my finger on. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly reached across the table and covered my hand with his larger, calloused one. A jolt of awareness zipped straight through me at the contact.

"You know you don't have to put up with their crap, right?" His tone was low and intense in a way that seemed to siphon all surrounding noise into insignificance. "Your talent and creative passion are way too sacred to be stifled or compromised like this. There are always other paths, other ways of regaining your spark on your own terms."

I swallowed hard, abruptly hyperaware of the charged energy sparking between us across the narrow separation. Of how impossibly blue Leon's eyes looked in this lighting, the delicious lower timbre of his voice skating delirious tendrils of awareness down my spine. Tendrils that tried very hard to convince me this was nothing more than friendly concern and solidarity.

When I didn't immediately respond, Leon cocked one roguish brow and his lips kicked up in that maddeningly lopsided smirk. "Unless you're secretly hoping to see this ghostwriter guy shirtless? Happy to give you some space if that's what inspires you these days."

The unexpected ribald comment was like a bucket of ice water splashing down over the weird tension crackling between us. I blinked rapidly, the momentary haziness of distraction dissipating as Leon's shameless irreverence reasserted itself in full force.

Which was honestly a relief—I could only handle so much of his quiet sincerity pouring over me like a sensual balm before I started to discredit my own perceptions.

I huffed out a laugh, the strange tension effectively punctured by Leon's trademark inappropriate innuendo. "You're certifiable, you know that?"

He flashed me a roguish grin, squeezing my hand briefly before releasing it. "And yet you've never once complained about me shaking up your stuffy literary world, have you, Honeybee?"

As much as it pained me to admit, Leon had a point. For all his maddening flaws, that restless creative spirit and commitment to shaking up the status quo was exactly what had drawn me to him in the first place.

He personified the unpredictable spark I used to infuse into every story before the corporate machine tried grinding me down.

Pursing my lips, I studied Leon's expectant expression across the table. This whole Tristan Marshall debacle represented a deep violation, no doubt—the corporate arm wrestling its way into my most sacred personal territory.

But... was there really any harm in entertaining the collaboration from a different angle? If only to prove I could alchemize whatever they threw at me into a sizzling narrative goldmine?

"You know what?" I said at last, feeling oddly fortified by the glimmer of mischief in Leon's bright eyes. "Maybe you're onto something with this whole 'roll with the creative punches' idea."

His brows shot up in surprise, clearly not expecting me to entertain such a concession so readily. "Oh? Do tell," he prompted, chin propped roguishly on one hand as he cocked an inviting look my way.

I allowed myself a small smile, feeling a tiny flicker of my former creative spark flare back to life as ideas started catalyzing. "Well, who says this ghostwriter has to be a hindrance? What if I use his involvement to enhance the challenges my heroine faces, turning his corporate narrative into delicious torment for her to overcome?"

Understanding blossomed across Leon's features, rapidly giving way to outright admiration and delight. "Brilliant! Let the corporate hack descend, only to find himself enraptured by your heroine's authenticity!"

"Exactly!" I exclaimed, excitement building as my imagination kicked into gear for the first time in months. "Imagine a scenario where his stale, ghostwritten chapters are revitalized and electrified by her authenticity and passionate spirit..."

Leon's eyes danced with unabashed revelry. "You glorious thing! Just when I think you've depleted that well of romantic genius, you ignite these molten plot twists." His gaze raked over me with an admiring heat that felt like a physical caress. "Who could possibly resist such outrageous literary indecency?"

I felt warmth bloom in my cheeks at his lavish praise, suddenly hyper-aware of the thickness of the air between us despite the cacophony of the diner. But before I could dwell too perilously on the sizzling energy arcing between us, Leon was barking out one of his rich, full-bodied laughs.

"Well, I don't know about you, Honeybee, but I'm already me seduced by this renaissance you've masterminded!" He raised an imaginary glass in a theatrical toast. "To dismantling the corporate world through deliciously chaotic storytelling! Those suits have no idea what's coming."

I grinned, feeling lighter and more buoyantly inspired than I had in ages as I mimed clinking my own glass against his. "You're insane, you know that?"

Leon's answering smile was pure wicked promise. "Fortunately for you, I'm also a whirlwind of romantic anarchy when properly inspired."

Despite the absurdity of it all, I knew without a doubt that this unconventional new path held the key to reigniting my imaginative fires in the most incendiary way possible. And with Leon's special brand of chaotic encouragement in my corner?

Those corporate publishing stooges had absolutely no idea the blisteringly authentic storm headed their way. I could hardly wait to watch it all spontaneously combust.