NicenEasy (9 page)

The parade went on forever. It overran its two hours easily,
and the crowd didn’t seem concerned. People just kept drinking and ate more hot
dogs while alien after space captain after dragon walked, rode or even skated
past. Allie took photos of Carl standing with the most outrageous and the ones
closest to the characters in his books. He seemed delighted and why shouldn’t
he be? Everything was going his way right now. Great sales and an editor in the
palm of his hand. The future looked rosy for good ole Carl.

At last, the parade ended with a few stragglers and some
people determined to follow everyone right back to the hotel. Thanks to the
lateness, they had only an hour before Carl had to be in his place for the
signing.

With no taxis available, they trekked back the mile, doing
their best to dodge the people and the cops taking down the barriers that had
kept traffic away. She managed to keep up an air of bonhomie, but seeing Nancy
fresh and ready to go, dressed in a black pencil skirt and short-sleeved
cashmere pullover, the epitome of chic, didn’t improve Allie’s mood any. She
had to wear Carl’s gaudy T-shirt, at least until after the signing. In
addition, she had to tell Donovan she couldn’t see him anymore.

That last thought sent her into a spiral of depression, but
the hell of it was, she couldn’t show it, not for a minute.

“Let’s have lunch,” Carl suggested.

“You have to get to your seat.” She forced a smile. “Tell
you what, I’ll bring lunch to you. I’ll make sure you have everything at your
spot, then I’ll get you sandwiches. What do you like?”

Chick had a wicked sense of humor. He’d sent two slim but
fit men to Donovan, one African-American, one white, both dressed in skinny
black suits, white shirts, thin black ties and sunglasses, rocking the
Men
in Black
look. They stood behind him where he sat at his table, obviously
security but fitting in with the theme better than astronauts or mermen would
have done, and undoubtedly dressed for action. Fucking suits.

He knew they were carrying concealed weapons and his British
spirit felt somewhat nervous about that. It was all well and good having the
characters in his book firing away with merry abandon, quite another to have
two gun-toters standing just behind him, even if they were on his side. They
wouldn’t even sit, so he thought he’d make use of them. “You’re only here to
stop people mobbing me with band stuff,” he reminded them.

“Yeah,” said the white guy. “But don’t you think we look
good like this?”

As usual, Chick had known exactly what he was doing. The
guys looked great, at least he supposed so from the way the girls who arrived
at his table stared at them. And badass, from the expressions on the faces of
some of the men.

The guys did a good job of keeping order. The secret, it
seemed, was being aware of the situation before it occurred. His job contained
a lot of timing, and he could appreciate the way they stepped smoothly forward
to have a word with anyone appearing too excitable. Of course, that might be
because they wanted to talk to him about the book.

Then they stopped a woman in a gaudy T-shirt. Allie. He
motioned to the African-American guy and beckoned to her. He stood up, ready to
welcome her with a kiss, but she stayed on the other side of the table. “Hi,
Donovan. You’re doing well.”

He glanced at his diminished pile of books. “Yes, I am. I
just hope some of them bought it because they wanted a good read.” He gave her
a wry grin but it faded when she didn’t respond. “What is it?”

“I can’t see you again. I have to concentrate on damage
control or I’ll lose everything.”

“Why?” That came out sharper than he’d intended. “What have
they said to you?”

“Nothing. But the pictures from last night are all over the
internet. Carl claimed I’d spent the night with him, and at the time that
worked, because Nancy was right on the edge of firing me. She’s telling me to
concentrate on the bird in the hand.”

“What, your publisher expects you to sleep with its
authors?” Now he felt less like smiling than any time he could remember.

“Well, Nancy seems to. But I should have taken care of Carl
last night, got him to his room and made sure he was okay. Not—” She broke off,
but she didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“You were too shaken up to care for anyone else, and it
looks as if he recovered fine without you.” What was this guy, useless? Donovan
wasn’t exactly devoid of experience of people trying to mollycoddle him. He
refused it every time. Maybe Carl was like that, or maybe he was playing the
prima donna.

Her mouth drooped at the corners—she looked utterly
exhausted. “I want to keep this job. If I can work with Carl just until the end
of his first trilogy, I’ll have picked others up by then. Besides, he’s not
that bad. Just a lech, that’s all. Working with him at a distance is fine.
Great, in fact.” She tried for a smile but it just looked pathetic. She was
dispirited and exhausted and he wanted to take her to bed, just to hold her and
ensure she got some sleep.

That thought stopped him cold. Women were for amusement,
friendship and fucking. Just as he preferred not to have people fussing over
him, he rarely fussed over the women in his life. But he wanted to look after
her. He didn’t know if he wanted to because she needed it or because he needed
to make sure of it, something else that worried him.

Not that he could let her know any of what he was thinking
right now. Sympathy, yes. “After this, are you free?”

She shook her head ruefully. “We have some functions left. I
leave tomorrow morning.”

“Back to work on Monday?”

She shrugged. “Of course. As I said, we have a lot to get
through after the con.”

“And is Nancy doing the same thing?”

She hesitated, enough to tell him what he needed to know.
“She’s staying here for a day or two.”

On her own, in a four-star hotel with, he guessed, little to
do. Avoiding the hardest work, or doing some after-hours catching up and
planning her next move. Leaving the firefighting to her junior. “You know
that’s wrong.”

She fired up, her eyes sparking flame. “Of course, but I’m a
junior editor. I’m lucky to have a job.”

“You’re bright, intelligent and quick-thinking. You are so
employable.”

“Not in publishing.”

He raised a brow. “Are you afraid?”

“Of what?”

“Of what might happen if we carry on?” He kept his voice
conversational, but he could see by the rose tingeing her cheeks that she knew
what he meant. They’d discovered something together that they might never have
found apart, and he badly wanted to continue the experiment. He also wanted to
continue to get to know her.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “But we won’t have the
opportunity.”

“Think again.” He recalled something. “At the end of the
tour, we’re back in New York. Chick got us another booking at the Garden. I
will email and text you. The decision will remain in your hands.” The decision
whether to break up or not, because he didn’t want to.

“But we won’t be together.”

“No,” he agreed, “not until then, at any rate. If you insist
on it. But I want to keep in touch. Listen, Zazz contacts a woman in England
every week. He says it’s business, something to do with his family, but it’s
the nearest to a proper relationship he has outside the band. I want at least
that with you.”

Fully aware of the two men behind him, he couldn’t say he
cared if they heard. A few young people, hovering by his table, heard too.
“It’s up to you. It seems a shame to waste the time before you leave, but
that’s up to you too. Call me.” Just in case she didn’t have it, he scribbled
his mobile number on the back of one of his business cards and handed it over.
The girls near the table arched their necks, but she covered the number and put
it in her new convention pouch.

That was a start, anyway. At least she hadn’t torn it up. No
way would he let her go now, not unless she told him to, and she hadn’t yet.
Just given him a lame excuse. They could do long-term for a while, or even
break up until they met again. He wanted her as a friend, he told himself, then
recalled his promise of honesty. He wanted much, much more than friendship. But
it looked as if it would have to do for a start.

Despite his great signing day, he felt down. He’d looked
forward to claiming her later on, for an intimate dinner maybe, or just
straight to his suite. He cast a broad smile at the girls hovering around. “I’m
thinking of hitting the bar later.” He heard the slight groan from the guys
behind him. “If you’re around, maybe you’d like to join me.”

Allie turned her back. That was it then, he was reverting to
type. No, she wasn’t being fair. She’d disappointed him, but at least he wanted
to keep in touch. She imagined a few emails, then he’d lose interest. Maybe the
emails would get further apart and then stop. Maybe he wouldn’t write at all.
She’d been an idiot to sleep with him in the first place, stupid to listen to
him. An easy fuck, that was all she’d been to him.

But even as she told herself that, bolstering her resolve,
she knew it for a lie.

She went back to Carl and pasted on a smile. “You’ve had a
good day.”

“Sure have.” Carl sounded hoarse, a legacy of talking in a
dry, air-conditioned hall for three-plus hours. “I need a shower and a rest.
Any reason I can’t have that?”

“As long as the nap isn’t too long.” She checked her phone
for his next appointment. “You’ve got until four thirty, then you have a
meeting with your agent. He should have arrived earlier but his plane was
delayed. He sends his apologies.”

Carl shrugged. “I hardly need him with you to take care of
me.” He grinned. “Look, I was a pain in the ass last night. Can I take you to
dinner to make up for it? We can make a token appearance at the ball early then
disappear.”

That seemed fairly innocuous, as long as he didn’t enforce
his threat to take her up to his room afterward. “Thanks, I’d like that.
Perhaps we can discuss the third book. You said you wanted to talk over your ideas.”

He nodded and turned to someone waiting to see him. “Great.
Seven thirty okay?” He winked. “Don’t bother with the fancy dress. Half an hour
at the ball, then out.”

Then they’d be over by nine thirty, ten at the latest and
she could get a relatively early night before her flight in the morning. Put
this nightmare convention behind her. Admittedly, the convention goers seemed
to have had a great time, but for her—it hadn’t all been bad. Not by a long
way. She had a new experience that could take the place of some of her
fantasies.

When she remembered going down on her knees for Donovan
Harvey, her libido kicked in and heat coursed through her. She excused herself
hurriedly. Perhaps she’d make her shower a cold one.

Allie went back to the room. Nancy arrived, brisk and neat,
and Allie wondered if she’d showered somewhere else. Not that it was any of her
business. One thing was for sure—she’d learned a fuck of a lot about the
publishing business, more than she had in the nine months since she’d started work
as an editor. Before that, she’d worked in a big conglomerate as a print
manager, looking after packaging and cartons, hoping that would get her into
publishing. It never had, and now she knew better. She needed editing
experience, not industry experience. So when she’d seen the editing job
advertised, she taken the leap—and a big drop in salary.

If she didn’t get a break soon, she’d have to give up her
comfortable apartment in the ’burbs and move in to something cheaper, maybe
share a place like many of her colleagues. She’d always known that would
happen. She also knew she’d have to tough out any problems she encountered,
like Carl’s drunken attack last night. Nobody would offer her sympathy.

Yeah, she could do that. She wouldn’t be a junior forever.

Her boss fixed her with an eagle-eyed stare. “You’re seeing
Carl?”

“He doesn’t want to go to the ball, so we won’t stay long.
He wants to go to dinner afterward. We can talk over his third book.”

Nancy snorted in derision. “Yeah, right. Be sure you’re back
here later.”

“I thought that didn’t matter?”

“It didn’t when I thought you were about to snag Donovan
Harvey. If you’re with him, it still doesn’t matter. But Carl is with us
already, locked in for at least three books. You should be recruiting new
authors as well as keeping your current ones happy.” She shrugged. “But if
that’s what it takes, then do it.”

Allie looked up from the bed where she’d spread out after
her shower. For once, she felt comfortable, dressed in a loose robe and her
underwear. She’d even tried for some peace of mind before Nancy had come in.
Now Nancy’s perkiness irritated her. What did she have to be perky about?

“I have tried.”

“You spent all your time mooning over Donovan Harvey. If you
can’t get him by the time you go home, then you’re done.”

Allie lifted her head from the pillow. “What do you mean,
I’m done?”

“You didn’t play it too well, did you? You spent the night
with Carl, who’s a married man and an existing client, and then spent the rest
of your time mooning over Harvey.” Nancy didn’t bother to hide her scorn. “This
was your big chance, Allie, and you’re blowing it. After your meal, see Carl to
his room, tuck him in and find Harvey. Or go to the bar and troll for talent.”

Allie caught her breath. Nancy hadn’t done that by accident,
made her sound like a whore. She knew the publishing industry didn’t operate
like this everywhere, but she also knew that Nancy had more clout with her
employers than she did. Nancy had shown her true colors. Everything she did was
about Nancy.

If Allie went above Nancy’s head, she’d find a way to stick
it to her, and Allie had to ensure she’d set up adequate defenses. Allie was
the newcomer and she had to prove Nancy’s behavior first. Right now she’d be
easy to discard, to push out of the way—with one important author, one she had
to work hard to keep sweet, the publishing house would hardly miss her. She was
in deep shit here, and she had to work carefully.

The thought sent her carefully orchestrated calm into the
stratosphere, never to be seen again. She owed it to herself and to the company
she worked for to at least try.

Tense again, she sat up and decided she might as well get
ready for her dinner with Carl.

Left to her own devices, Allie would have spent more time at
the ball, enjoying the costumes and the exuberance of the convention goers, but
Carl wanted to stick to his plan and they were in the hotel restaurant by
eight. The food was pretty good and the company amusing. Some people didn’t
seem to have taken off their costumes from the night before, or they had
duplicates in their luggage. She recognized a dragon who’d lost part of his
tail, not that it had slowed him down any.

The restaurant was part of an open area and from the table
they chose, they could see the bar. It made for a relaxed atmosphere. But she
brought her notebook.

The first hour went well. They chatted, then ate, then
discussed the third book. She loved Carl’s ideas for the development of one of
the main characters and told him so. He basked and admitted his wife had helped
him with the romance part.

Just as she went into more discussion about the romance,
Carl broke into her speech. “I talked to my wife about other things, you know.”

“Did you?” He seemed eager to tell her, so she’d let him
before leading him back into the book.

“We have an open marriage.”

Shit.
“Do you now?” Should she invent an imaginary
boyfriend? No, that bird had flown. Her behavior with Donovan either suggested
an open relationship with someone at home or none at all. “Does that help with
your writing?”

“Sometimes.”

How many glasses of wine had he drunk? Three, she thought,
because she was halfway through her second and there was a little left in the
bottle. Shit, he didn’t have a good head for drink at all. She’d thought a
bottle of wine with dinner would be safe, but already she could see his eyes
were wider, darker, and he was waving his hands around more, his voice getting
louder.

Not a repeat of last night though. She’d take him upstairs,
fend off the octopus hands and shove him into his room. Soon.

Her attention drifted as soon as she’d emptied the wine
bottle into her own glass. Not that she’d drink it, but she didn’t want Carl
having any more. A movement of vivid green caught her eye and she glanced over
Carl’s shoulder toward the bar.

Nancy, in a skintight green top and that black pencil skirt,
laughing at something that Donovan had just said. They were at a table, much
smaller than the one she occupied with Carl, and they sat close together on one
side of it. Far too close for Allie’s liking.

She felt betrayed. How could he? She knew how Nancy could.
She was trying to get Donovan on her side and then sign him. Going in for the
kill. Allie hoped Donovan had more sense, but she didn’t really know him. It
had felt as though she did when they were in his suite and he’d seemed sincere.
But she’d told him they had no future so what right did she have to tell him
how to behave?

The right of a concerned friend, that was what.

She closed her notebook with a decided
snap
and
Carl’s eyes widened. “You’re on edge.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “Nothing wrong at all. It’s
just I’m really tired and I have an early flight in the morning. I need to
check on something with Nancy, then I’m off to bed.”

That brought him to his feet. She shouldn’t have mentioned
the “B” word at all. “I’m with you. Let’s go.”

At least it got him moving. She signed the bill, then they
set off for the elevators. Allie let Carl put his arm around her waist but when
he would have pulled her in to his side, she walked a little faster and avoided
getting any closer.

One side of the elevator was glass so she stared resolutely
out of it until it stopped at her floor. “Night, Carl.” When he would have
kissed her mouth, she managed to make him miss and his kiss landed on her
cheek. He couldn’t have been as drunk as the night before because he accepted
it and contented himself with a pat on her ass.

Allie waited until she was sure Carl had gone and wasn’t
coming back down, then took the elevator back to the bar.

They were still there, still sitting close, smiling in an
intimate way. She should stop him, because Nancy would take photos or some
other sleazy thing. She knew her boss much better now. At least this weekend
gave her the extra knowledge. How come she’d never noticed before? Too busy
settling into a new, exciting job, learning her way around and talking with
some of the household names who walked through the doors.

She glanced at the two men who sat none too discreetly at a
table nearby. They’d changed out of their
MIB
getup into more casual clothes.
One of them glanced at her badge and nodded, smiling. She didn’t smile back.

“Hi.” She stopped by the table. Nancy glared, Donovan
smiled. Allie hoped nobody noticed her fingers were trembling. She resisted
clenching them into fists and pressed them against her thighs to steady them
instead.

“Hi. Want a drink?” Donovan got to his feet.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

Then Donovan bent and kissed her. Not on her cheek either.
Allie stood still, frozen with shock. Surely he knew most of the people and
aliens and fantasy creatures in the bar had cameras as part of their uniforms?
He’d only given her a swift kiss on her mouth, but the intimacy existed now and
everyone had seen it.

Nancy flipped back her hair and glared at Allie. Was it
possible Nancy wanted Donovan for other than professional considerations?
Highly probable. Allie considered him one of the sexiest men alive, but then,
she had a more intimate basis for thinking that.

Donovan took Allie’s hand and led her to a spare chair
before he sat back down, this time at a slight distance from Nancy. Allie felt
like saying he needn’t bother for her benefit but she curbed the acid in her
tongue. “Carl’s gone to bed. He has an early flight.”

“I don’t know what kind of welcome he’ll find,” Nancy said,
“if his wife discovers what he’s been up to. Of course, she must have seen the
pictures from last night.”

Allie was almost past caring but that would be dangerous.
That would be the time Nancy could stab her in the back. “She probably knows
her husband doesn’t have a strong head for drink.”

Nancy glanced at Donovan then back at Allie. “I have to
apologize for my employee’s behavior,” she said to Donovan. “We don’t usually
approve of editors spending the night with their authors, much less two of
them.”

Allie gasped. She hadn’t expected a full-frontal attack.
Before she could regain her senses to respond, Donovan joined the fray. “No
apology necessary. Besides, Allie didn’t spend the night with Carl Morano,
merely saw him to his room after he misbehaved in the bar. You don’t expect
your people to stand for what she did last night, do you?”

Nancy shook her head, her eyes filled with confusion. “She
said—”

“I doubt she told you she spent the night with Morano. You
might have inferred it.” Allie felt passing approval when she realized Donovan
had used a tricky word properly. And so properly he’d set Nancy back.

“That is a shame,” Nancy said, “because I emailed Mrs.
Morano earlier, apologizing for Allie’s actions and putting the blame on her.”
She shrugged. “I was trying for damage control. Carl is a great author and a
great person.” So she’d already thrown Allie to the wolves.

“With no head for alcohol,” Allie put in. “His wife would
know it too.”

Nancy shot her a bland stare, her carefully made-up eyes
unblinking. By now, Allie knew that meant trouble. Nancy confirmed her
suspicion by getting out her cell. “I should follow up on that and explain what
you’ve just said. However, I’m sorry, Allie, but I doubt Carl will want you as
his editor anymore. We have to think about the welfare of our authors.”

“Rather than the editors,” Donovan said, tight-lipped. Allie
had seen his anger before; Nancy hadn’t, so she might not have recognized the
signs. Easygoing Donovan Harvey didn’t get angry, did he? Well, yes, he did, as
Allie already knew.

Nancy gave him an understanding smile. “I’m afraid so.” She
got out her phone and glanced at the screen. “Mrs. Morano will probably call.
We met last year when Carl first signed for us—didn’t I tell you, Allie? Oh
dear, I meant to.” Right on cue, the phone trilled. It didn’t take much
deduction to realize that Nancy had probably requested a callback at this time,
when she could expect to be in public. Right now she had just the audience she
wanted. “Hi. Can you hold on just one moment? I can’t hear you very well. Let
me find somewhere quieter.” She raised a brow. “You want to listen?” She stood
and glanced around. The restaurant on the other side of the huge reception area
was closed, its tables deserted. She led the way across to one of them and sat.
Donovan and Allie sat opposite.