Ivory Tower (8 page)

“I do. I also know I need to do this alone. I need to find
myself, Josh. Before I lose any chance to.”

Yep. It was that damn application. He knew that now, and it
was all his fault she was leaving. If he wasn’t careful, he’d lose her. Josh
reined in his anger and frustration and tried to even out his voice, even though
it killed him to do so. “All right. You go find yourself. Just be sure you come
home to me, okay?”

“Always,” she answered and Josh heard the smile return to
her voice.

“Hey, keep your cell phone with you. Please. Call me if you
need anything. Or if you want me to join you, wherever you'll be. I’ll be there
as fast as I can.”

“I will. I love you, Josh. Never doubt that.”

“What do you want me to tell your mother?”

“Tell her...you don't know where I am, but that I said I'd
be back.”

“I don't like this. Not at all.”

“I know. I'll call you when I can.”

“You do that.”

Josh held onto his cell phone for a long time after Jenna
disconnected. When he finally set it down, his gut churned. He'd set a ball in
motion, never expecting it to fly, and there was nothing he could do to stop it
now.

He only hoped Jenna's love for him wouldn't get buried in
the process of whatever awakening she was about to go through.

Chapter Eight

Flying first class opened a whole new world to Jenna. It
felt strange to be seated in a comfortable, roomy seat, sipping water with a
slice of lemon in it, while everyone else boarded. She felt refreshed, while
they had the glassy-eyed, stooped-shoulder look of already weary travelers. She
should feel sorry for them. She'd been in the exact same situation.

Settling deeper into the cushy seat, Jenna decided she'd
feel sorry for them next time. Right now, this was way too delicious to allow
anything to ruin it. Her mother, her wedding, everything faded as the flight
attendant asked her if she’d like a drink. She ordered another fruity something.
If this was how she'd be treated during the trip, she might just enjoy whatever
adventure she'd embarked on.

When her flight landed, full from a surprisingly good
onboard dinner and a little tipsy from a very sweet piña colada, Jenna
disembarked the plane ready for whatever would happen. Then stopped in her
tracks so suddenly, the person behind bumped into her. “Oh, sorry,” Jenna said
as the glaring co-passenger walked around her.

No one seemed to be waiting for her.

What do I do now?

Jenna was in Las Vegas, a town she'd never visited before.
And she had no idea why she'd been brought here or where she should go from
here.

The duh! moment passed when Jenna realized she was in a
secure part of the airport. She walked out through security and scanned the
small crowd there. The white board with “Jenna Wilton” scrawled on it gave her
an immense sense of relief.

“I'm Jenna Wilton.”

The petite woman, dressed in a business suit, almost
gushed. “Oh, I know. I recognize you from your picture.”

My picture?

“When I heard you were coming, I made sure I was first to
volunteer for your airport pick up. I'm thrilled to meet you in person.”

The woman pumped Jenna's hand and Jenna grinned through her
confusion. “It's nice to meet you...”

“Oh, my gosh. I can't believe I didn't introduce myself.
I'm Sharon. Sharon Newton. And I could just
squee
that I'm here with you. That I get to escort you to the hotel.”

Jenna had no idea what the woman was bubbling about or what
hotel she spoke of. Maybe this was some elaborate Game, like that Michael
Douglas movie. Maybe she wouldn't know where she was going or why everything
happened until the very end? At the moment, Sharon's sparkling green eyes and
bobbing head of black hair lifted Jenna's spirits. Her new friend, however,
continued to just stand there and stare at her, grinning from ear to ear.

“So...are we hotel bound or waiting for something or
someone?”

“Oh, gosh. Sorry again.” She straightened and tried to
adopt a formal pose, but her wide grin belied her composure. “If you'll follow
me, Ms. Wilton, we'll collect your luggage. The car will be waiting out front
when we're ready.”

Scant minutes later, Jenna and Sharon headed outside with a
suitcase identified as hers, but which she'd never seen before her arrival here
in Vegas. She briefly wondered if she should report her luggage, which she’d
never seen until this moment, to the authorities. After all, she hadn’t packed it
and they always ask you about whether or not you accepted a package from a
stranger.

Sharon indicated the limousine in front of them, complete
with a driver holding open the door, and all thought of luggage fled. This was
surreal.

Jenna slipped inside and settled into yet another cushy
seat as her mystery luggage was stowed. Moments later, they were out of the
airport and on their way to whatever hotel Sharon spoke of.

Jenna tried to glean information about what was going on,
but once inside the limo, Sharon pretty much went quiet. So Jenna did the only
thing she could. She watched the scenery. Frustration quickly gave way to awe as
they headed into the strip. Vegas had always been on her places-to-visit list,
but she hadn’t managed the trip to date. She’d only seen the city in movies or
on television.

Vegas looked even more awesome in reality. In the dark of
night, light flashed everywhere, static and whirling and all around her. It was
sensory overload on crack and Jenna’s laughter overflowed, infused with a
happiness too long suppressed.

“First time in Vegas?”

“Yes.” Jenna didn’t turn from the view to answer.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Jenna’s grin widened. “Definitely.” Trying to keep up with
all the electronic billboards to see what shows were playing was all but
impossible. There were too many of them.

The limo slowed and the marquee in front of her finally
answered the question of why Vegas. Apparently, she would be attending a
romance conference. She belonged to the national organization because she wrote
in this genre. But she’d never really been an active participant. She wrote
stories. She didn’t read the reviews or even look at the royalty statements.
She didn’t want to know if her stories reached people. She didn’t want other’s
opinions changing the words that came from deep inside. Maggie handled all that
for her. Jenna only wanted to craft characters, wrap her heart around them
until the final pages, and then let them fly.

Which was the reason she’d never gone to a conference or
taken a workshop or class. Apparently, that was about to change.

“So this is why I’m here,” Jenna mumbled.

“Oh, yes,” Sharon said. “We’re so excited to have you here.
Everyone wants to meet the reclusive Jenna Wilton.

“Reclusive? Me?”

“Well, yeah, no one’s ever met you.”

“I have a website.” At least, Jenna thought she did.
Mags
had mentioned it once or twice...hadn’t she?

“But you are
never
anywhere on the web. Ever. Not Facebook, not Twitter, nowhere. Trust me.” Sharon
looked embarrassed. “I’ve been kind of stalking you.” She shrugged. “Or, at
least, trying to. Your assistant puts out promo about your books.”

God bless you,
Mags
.

“But you, you don’t show up anywhere. Yet you are
hugely
successful.”

Hugely? Jenna doubted that. “People can’t be that
interested in me.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Sharon stared at Jenna as the
limo driver retrieved her suitcase. “Do you seriously not know how popular you
are?”

“I’m finding it a little hard to believe.”

Sharon laughed. “Man, would I love to have your attitude.
And your talent. They moved mountains to rearrange the workshop schedule when
they heard you were coming.”

She took off with Jenna’s suitcase as the words sunk in. “Wait.”
Jenna sprinted after her. “What do you mean they changed the workshop
sched
—”

The rest of the sentence froze on her lips and she came
face to face with the larger-than-life sign in the lobby. Did the temperature
just plummet in the lobby? The lights dim?

Jenna Wilton,
author of The Lovelace series and a multitude of other books, presents her
workshop “The Emotions of Erotic Love Stories”.

Tomorrow. At 2:00 p.m., it said.
Tomorrow?
Who? How? Holy
shit.

Jenna didn’t
do
public speaking.
Ever.
She turned
around just in time to see the limousine pull away. A taxi. Maybe she could
grab a taxi back to the airport. She thought about the twenty dollars in her
wallet and doubted that would be enough. She’d switched to a small clutch for
the shower and didn’t even have her credit cards with her.

“You’re lucky it’s 1:30 a.m. or you’d probably be mobbed. Come
on,” Sharon said, apparently ignorant to the panic rising like bile in Jenna’s
throat. “Let’s get you checked in. We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Yeah. Jenna needed to find a flight home and get out of
this hotel before Sharon could hunt her down.

Twenty minutes later, Jenna nudged a still-chatting Sharon
out the door with a promise that she would be ready to go by nine in the
morning. Sharon wouldn’t say where, but plans had been made, it seemed.

As she closed the door and leaned against it, Jenna
wondered when in this scenario the whole “I want to make my own decisions”
thing would happen. Wasn’t that what the missive had promised? To help her find
herself? Well, life was pulling her along yet again. Yanking, more like. How
had she let herself get into this mess?

She blew out a deep breath. The last few hours had been the
craziest of her life. What in God’s name was she doing? She moved to the bed
and picked up the hotel phone. She needed an airline and a reservation to
return home ASAP. Still clutching her purse, she remembered. No money, no
credit cards. Damn. She’d have to call Josh or her mother for the money. Double
damn.

She slammed the phone down. This was yet another
manipulation. Some unknown person, who appeared to know too much about her, was
pushing her to do something she’d never had the nerve to do before, except at
her father’s funeral.

Jenna imagined herself in front of a room full of women,
talking to them about the intimate details of erotic imagery. She could write
it, but could she speak it?

No. It was time to go home. So who should she call? Her
mother? No way. Josh? He’d happily bail her out, but...something inside her
wanted to solve this problem on her own.

She smiled, then grabbed her cell phone and dialed the only
person she could.

“This better be Brad fucking Pitt calling at this time of
night,” the sleepy voice said.

“Hey,
Mags
.”

“Shit. Jenna, where the hell are you?”

“Would you believe Vegas?”

Her friend whistled through the phone. “That’s a town you
could get lost in.”

“Yeah. So, how are things back home?”

“It’s been...interesting. Your mother shooed everyone out
the door after you left, then grilled me.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not. I didn’t break under that evil stare of hers.
Kind of enjoyed having the upper hand, honestly. And I’m glad you took off.
It’s about time you did something all for you.”

“That’s the thing,
Mags
. I don’t
think I can. I’m at a romance conference and they want me to give a workshop
tomorrow...about erotic writing!”

Maggie’s guffaw was not the reaction Jenna wanted. “You
know I don’t do speeches, certainly not about a subject like this. I’m coming
home. Now. Tonight. But I need you to book me a flight. I don’t have my credit
cards with me.”

“So-o-o-o, you’re stuck in Vegas, where someone—you don’t
know who—is elbowing you out of your comfort zone—”

“Way outside.”

“And you want to put your tail between your legs and run
home?”

Jenna bristled. “I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely, but
yes.”

“To your mother.”

“Damn it,
Mags
. I don’t have a
choice. I can’t do this.”

“You
do
have a
choice. And you
can
do this.”

Jenna forced her voice back down a couple bars to a more
normal range. “Just get me the tickets,
Mags
. Take it
out of my royalties.” Jenna bit her lip. “There’s enough there, right?”

The chuckle on the other end of the phone was full of
secret delights Jenna would have to dig out of her friend another time. “Well,
is there?”

“Yes, there’s enough money in your account.”

“Great, then make the damn reservation and get me out of
here.”