My eyes blinked. “No, yes, you’re right.” Why do I think he is talking about sex? Maybe it was my mind that kept going there. “I don’t have a lot of experience in writing memoirs. I understand if that makes me unqualified.”

“I’ve read my share of memoirs. Some are formulistic and dry. Your lack of experience interests me because I’ve found that the less experienced individual relies more upon their passion. It’s that inner drive that pushes them forward. Mistakes may or may not be made, but those are usually in the mechanics, easily fixable. Over time that passion tends to lessen. The finished products become more cookie cutter. Insert information here and there. That isn’t what I want for this project. I’m attracted to your passion, Julia.”

I sucked in a breath, still unsure about the blurred line between the memoir and sex.

Van went on, “You accepted my offer. And for the record, I don’t anticipate being unhappy with your performance—”

“Writing performance,” I clarified.

He smirked. “Yes, that is what we’re discussing, right?”

“Right.”

“If I’m unsatisfied in any way or you are, together we’ll work it out, simple mechanics. As a point of interest, your manuscript will not only need to be approved by me, but it will also need to go through a vetting process with my legal team.”

“Why?”

“It’s nothing about your writing. It’s the content. I’ve been involved in many ventures that if mentioned in our conversations should not be part of the final manuscript. If those matters are mentioned, the legal team will redact them from your work.”

I wasn’t certain how to respond.

Instead, I turned back to the large living room we’d traversed on our way to the windows.

While the furnishings were stunning, it was the grand piano that first caught my eye. Walking toward it, I gently ran my fingers over the ivory keys, not applying enough pressure to sound even one note. When I looked up, Van was looking at me with an unreadable expression.

“Do you play?” I asked.

“I used to. Do you?”

A bashful smile came to my lips. “It’s been a while. I was never that good.”

“I’m not used to having others around, but if playing this piano will help you think and thinking will change your answer to my proposal, then by all means, you’re welcome to play. I have it tuned yearly.” He leaned down as his large fingers splayed over the keys, rounding to the perfect position and began to play.