Our Husband (a humorous romantic mystery) (44 page)

industry awards and the achievement of his stable of world-class authors—Britt Manning, Gaylord Cooper, Stella Roundtree.

According to her sources, Ron could have left Parkbench and taken a more prestigious position at least a half dozen times, but

his dedication to his authors was legendary.

Tallie adored him, and she'd wasted her first two years at Parkbench lusting after him from afar until one of her bullpen

buddies, Felicia Redmon, had informed her that Ron Springer was gay.

"He is not," Tallie had said, devastated. "He's in the Army Reserves, for heaven's sake."

Felicia had scoffed. "Haven't you heard of 'don't ask, don't tell'? Oh, let me guess—there are no gay men in Circleville,

Ohio?"

Tallie, sensitive about her rural upbringing, had lifted her chin. "The man who owned the two car washes in town was

gay... allegedly."

"Well," Felicia had said gently, "let's just say that if Ron ever visited Circleville, he'd get his car washed."

"But Ron doesn't have a car," Tallie had said.

She cringed now when she remembered the conversation—her naiveté had been the butt of more than one joke among her

friends.

But that was years ago—before the accent reduction class and before getting mugged—twice. Now she spoke with

shortened
i’s
and carried a personal alarm that sounded at twenty decibels above the threshold of pain. And she could

generally tell if a man was gay.

When she had heard Ron declare that
Beaches
was the best movie ever made, she had conceded that he was, indeed, gay.

The problem was, before Felicia had informed her of his sexual orientation, Tallie had confided her crush on Ron to, of all

people, her mother, who had gotten it into her head that Tallie and her "handsome boss" would someday wind up together.

Tallie had elected not to divulge to her mother the extent of the impossibility of her and Ron's "winding up together," because it

would have simply generated more drama. Besides, what was the harm in giving her mother a little hope that she would

someday find a nice guy, fall in love, get married, have twins, quit her job, and move back to Circleville to live in a house on

the same street as her parents.

But if Ron canned her, she'd have to come clean with her mother, which might prompt a special mid-year edition of the

Blankenship Bulletin.

Ron sighed noisily, then looked up and seemed startled to see her sitting there. His gaze was unfocused, his expression

slack. Panic blipped momentarily in Tallie's chest.

"You wanted to see me, Ron?" she prompted.

"Oh... right." He ran his hand through his immaculate blond hair, leaving it standing at all angles. He tossed down his pen.

"Um...Tallie, how long have you been working here?"

Oh, God, here it comes.
"Nine years."

"Nine years," he repeated, looking thoughtful. "In that time, I think we've become friends, haven't we?"

She knew next to nothing about his personal life, but she nodded congenially.

"Good, because I have a favor to ask."

Her chin bobbed nervously. "Anything."

He sighed, then leaned back in his chair. "Gaylord Cooper will be here Thursday to deliver his last book on his current

contract."

Tallie nodded. Gaylord was the darling of their publishing house—two hardcovers on the
NYT
best-seller list last year,

both at number one. Ron had found the man's work in the slush pile fifteen years ago, and the rest was publishing history. The

one drawback of working with Gaylord, though, was his... idiosyncrasies. The man mistrusted everyone, especially the

government, and refused to use computers or telephones. He typed his intricate thrillers on an ancient Underwood typewriter

and conducted all business face-to-face, including hand-delivering his finished manuscripts.

Ron shifted in his chair. "I'm going to be away from the office for a few weeks, beginning tomorrow. Since I won't be here,

I was thinking I'd have you take over the editing of this manuscript."

Tallie felt her eyes go wide, but she schooled her face into a composed expression. "I-I'd be happy to, Ron, but—"

"But?"

"But how will Mr. Cooper feel about working with me?"

"I'll give his agent a call and let him smooth the way. Do you know Jerry Key?"

Her stomach crimped. "I know of him." And what she knew wasn't favorable.

Ron sighed. "Yeah, Jerry has a reputation, but you can handle him."

She tried to smile. "If you say so."

"And I won't lie to you—Gaylord himself is one crusty customer. But once he realizes how much you respect his work,

he'll come around. Just don't change a word of his manuscript, and he'll be fine."

She started to laugh, but Ron's expression grew grave.

"Seriously, Tallie, I can't stress enough how important it is that Gaylord remain pacified. He'll be negotiating a new

contract after this book, and I know those bastards over at Bloodworth will be trying to lure him away. I've assured Saundra

that you'll be able to pull this off."

Saundra Pellum, publisher of Parkbench, emerged from her corner office on the floor above them only to reprimand, chew

out, and fire. No pressure.

Tallie wet her lips. "I understand, Ron. Do you have something going on with the Reserves?" Ron put in his time one

weekend a month, but considering the state of the world, it was entirely possible that he was being called up.

"Um... not this time," he said shortly.

"Oh. When do you expect to return?"

A pinched look came over his face, and he cleared his throat. "I don't know, but I'll be checking in periodically to answer

any questions you might have." He stood abruptly, signaling the end to their conversation.

Tallie pushed to her feet, her head swirling with questions about Ron's sudden leave, but so honored by his trust in her that

she wasn't going to pry.

"I'll make sure that Lil notifies you when Gaylord arrives," Ron said. "Depending on his frame of mind, he might want to

have lunch. If so, take him to Spegalli's, because they receive consistent good marks on their health department inspections."

"Right. Anything else?"

He lifted his gaze, and something flashed through his dark eyes—alarm? "Watch your back, Tallie."

Her jaw loosened in confusion. She was on the verge of asking for specifics when his phone rang. He snatched up the

receiver. "Ron Springer." She turned to vamoose, and as she was closing the door, Ron said in a lowered voice, "I told you to

never call me here—don't you think I'm in enough trouble?"

Tallie bit her lip as she silently closed the door. It seemed reasonable to assume that the "trouble" her boss alluded to was

the basis for his abrupt holiday. And for Ron to leave his responsibilities at Parkbench, even temporarily, the trouble had to be

dire.

On the walk back to her office, she nursed mixed emotions—concern for her boss, elation over her high-profile

assignment, and fear that she would do something to alienate the company's biggest cash cow, Gaylord Cooper. She tingled

with anticipation, thinking this could be a turning point in her career.

Watch your back, Tallie.

She worked her mouth from side to side, chalking up Ron's odd comment to his uncharacteristic state of mind. Then she

released a dry laugh. Or perhaps he was talking about what Scary Kara might do when she discovered Tallie had been singled

out to work with Gaylord Cooper. A gloating smile curled on Tallie's mouth, and she made a mental note to call her best friend

Felicia to tell her the good news.

But meanwhile... back to the slush pile reading. Her phone rang and she smiled—a reprieve.

"Tallie Blankenship."

"Hello, Tallie," said a deep, male voice—a hesitant deep, male voice. "My name is Keith Wages. We've never met, but

our mothers are acquainted."

Tallie squinted—
Wages.
"Sheila Wages in Ann Arbor?" She had met her mother's childhood friend once, years ago. She

vaguely remembered a son in the pictures the woman sent at Christmastime, but she couldn't place his face.

"Right." He gave a little laugh. "This is awkward, but I live in the city and when my mother found out that you live here,

too, she suggested that I give you a call. You know... have lunch or something."

Red flags went up in her mind. WARNING: GEEKY SON OF MOTHER'S FRIEND DETECTED. PROCEED AT YOUR

OWN RISK.

"That sounds nice," she said carefully. "But I'm really swamped for the next couple of weeks."

"Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee?" he suggested. "Something quick?"

Her mind raced, but she couldn't think of a polite put-off. And if she didn't meet the guy, her mother would eventually hear

about it and pester her to death.

"Okay," she said, checking her calendar. "How about Wednesday at twelve-thirty?" She'd learned a long time ago that

having to get back to work was the best way to escape an encounter-gone-wrong.

"Sounds good—where?"

Someplace not too close to her office and not a regular hangout, in case he turned out to be a psycho. "Are you familiar

with Suspicious Grounds coffeehouse on Lexington Avenue?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you there."

"Um, wait a minute," she said, her pulse suddenly picking up for no good reason other than the fact that he had a nice

voice. "How will I know you?"

"I'll be wearing a Michigan State ball cap."

Oh, great—a sports nut, and obviously badly employed if he could wear a ball cap in the middle of the day. "Okay. See

you then...Keith."

He hung up and she replaced the receiver, already dreading the meeting. The weirdo quota in her circle of acquaintances

was full. With a sigh she picked up Mr. Wannamaker's cover letter for a quick skim to the end.

Many people don't realize how interesting the life of an IRS accountant can be. There was the time I had a hit put on me

for nailing a congressman for tax evasion. And the time I killed a man, and got away with it.

Tallie's eyebrows shot up. She was accustomed to receiving outlandish letters from inmates trying to sell their life story,

but this was a new one.

Suddenly, Mr. Richard Wannamaker's submission was a lot more interesting.

Stephanie Bond was five years deep into a corporate career in computer programming and pursuing an MBA at night when

an instructor remarked she had a flair for writing and suggested she submit material to academic journals. But Stephanie was

more interested in writing fiction—more specifically, romance and mystery novels. After writing in her spare time for two

years, she sold her first manuscript, a romantic comedy, to Harlequin Books. After selling ten additional projects to two

publishers, she left her corporate job to write fiction full-time. To-date, Stephanie has more than fifty published novels to her

name, including the popular BODY MOVERS humorous mystery series. For more information, visit www.stephaniebond.com.

Table of Contents

Cover

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

Excerpt from WHOLE LOTTA TROUBLE by Stephanie Bond

Meet Stephanie Bond

Table of Contents

Cover

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19