The Key To Micah's Heart (Hell Yeah!) (31 page)

Tonight for the panel and the signing Micah had put on a stylish dark blue suit and matching hat. He’d been dressing up more for the events at Renee’s insistence and he’d asked Madison to wear a soft blue dress that molded her body like a glove. There was a filmy wrap that she clung to, feeling a tad exposed. Although when he escorted her downstairs, Madison realized she was dressed modestly compared to some.

“Okay, PA, I’ve got a task for you.”

Madison squared her shoulders. “I’m ready. What do you need?”

He groaned. “Don’t say
need
. You know what I need.”

She laughed, snapping her fingers. “Focus, you’ll get the other later. All you want, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied. “Now here’s the thing, if I take my hat off, I want you to call me on the phone. Got it?”

“Yea, I guess so. Why?”

“It doesn’t matter, just do it. I drop my hat–you call. Simple.”

“Agreed.”

She and Cato made certain Micah and Avery had everything they needed. Water. Pens. Swag. Books. Snacks.

“Go sit down, you two!” Avery shooed them away. “We’ll be fine! Go enjoy yourself.”

Easier said than done, Madison learned. She knew Micah had to be pleased with the reaction of his fans. They’d embraced him wholeheartedly. His writing was hot; it was erotic–but Madison didn’t think that simple explanation was the crux of the matter. What made Don Juan’s stories special was the glimpse it gave the readers into the heart and soul of the writer. What could have just been risqué tales were actually windows into his soul. These women were tantalized by the personality behind Don Juan and now they had a chance to indulge–to verify–to claim a little bit of Micah for themselves and they were going for the gusto.

Being quiet and just listening to Micah and Avery compare notes had brought a greater understanding to Madison about the dynamics between writers and readers. Although neither of them had made a practice of meeting fans face to face, they had interacted with them lavishly on social media platforms such as Facebook and Twitter. She heard Avery say how times had changed–before the internet there was very little interaction between authors and their fans. Books were written and read, sometimes fans would write letters to the writers via their publishing companies and the likelihood that the communication actually made it to the author was an iffy prospect. Not so nowadays. A writer can finish a book, get it edited, formatted and loaded up as an eBook on a platform like Amazon in a fraction of the time that it took for a brick and mortar publisher to pull the work from a slush pile, assign it to an editor, publish it and get it on the shelves. Even faster is the reaction from the readers.

“I’ve published a book in the morning and sometimes I have reader reactions before supper,” Avery commented. “Readers are invested in our work. They anticipate it. They get involved with the worlds we create. The characters are part of their lives, their friends. Some of them call the heroes their book boyfriends. So, authors have gone from being an obscure figure slumped over a manual typewriter to the new rock stars on the same level with actresses, singers and sports figures.”

“I think I enjoyed the obscurity.” Micah breathed, as if referring to the good ole days.

“We have to walk a fine line,” Avery continued. “We owe our readers the very best work we can produce, but they don’t get to claim a piece of our lives. I’ve had fans become obsessive to a degree, even to the point of becoming possessive–everything from wanting to monitor my water intake to demanding information about my private life.”

“And yet, here we are.” Micah spread his hands.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Avery continued. “I love my fans. I adore them. I agreed to do this to give back to them. To gift them with a slice of my life–but I can’t give them the whole pie. Even though a part of me wishes I could. But I’m not going to share my address, information on my kids or the fact that my sexy husband is a practicing Dom.”

Micah roared with laughter. “You might want to reconsider sharing that last tidbit. I bet the sales on your BDSM books would skyrocket.”

As Madison took her seat, she let her eyes explore the crowd. Some of the women in attendance looked normal and some appeared to be ready for a night out on the town and they were dressed for the hunt. There were five authors on the panel: Micah, Avery and three others, one was a NYT bestseller and the other two were relatively new. An emcee took her place behind the central microphone and opened up the floor for questions.

One woman raised her hand and waved frantically.

“Francine? Who is your question for?”

“Don Juan, I mean Micah…” she giggled.

“Hello, Francine.” Micah smiled. “What’s your question?”

“Are you married?”

Micah hesitated, then answered. “No, I’m single.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Francine got another question in before the emcee could go to the next raised hand.

“Uh…yes.”

Madison tingled from head to toe.

“And that’s all I have to say about that.” Micah stated, realizing he sounded like Forest Gump.

The emcee smiled really big. “Another question?” She pointed to an older woman wearing purple on the front row. “How about you?”

“Hi, I’m Nancy. My question is for Micah.” She beamed.

Micah fidgeted. “Hey, Nancy.”

“Hi. Do you wear boxers or briefs?”

Micah caught Madison’s eye and widened his. Madison clamped her lips together to suppress a smile.

“You don’t have to answer that,” the emcee whispered over to Micah.

“No, no, I’m an open book. I wear briefs. Cotton. Plaid.”

A few snickers broke out over the room.

“O-o-kay, moving on.”

After that, the emcee lost control. The questions came fast, one after the other and all to Micah.

“Do you prefer blondes or brunettes?”

“Are the books you write autobiographical?”

Micah actually tried to answer that one, but he couldn’t over the roar in the room.

“What is your favorite sexual position?”

“Would you consider doing private readings…in my home?”

The emcee banged her gavel on the podium. “We do have other authors, ladies.”

The three authors that Madison didn’t know, wore very perturbed expressions on their faces. Avery’s head was lying down on the table and her shoulders were moving–it was obvious she was dying with laughter.

Micah removed his hat and placed it on the table in front of him.

Madison couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The questions just kept coming.

“What size shoes do you wear?”

“How many girlfriends have you had?”

The emcee called for order.

Micah picked up his hat, put it back on, took it right off and dropped it on the table from high enough for it to make a noise against his microphone.

It was only then that Madison realized she’d missed her cue. “Crap,” she fumbled in her purse, knocking things out, including the lock Micah had given her that she constantly kept with her like a talisman. Finally finding her phone, she hit his contact button, letting it ring a couple of times before ending the call. Giving her a pointed stare, he did the hat thing again and she repeated the process.

Micah took his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Dang, girls, I’m so sorry. I have to take this.” He stood, gave the crowd a salute and made for the door, giving her a head nod to join him.

Madison left her seat, excusing herself to meet him in the hall. “You knew this would happen,” she said accusingly.

“I was afraid it would, those other authors might as well have not even been here. Jeesh!”

“Why do you think this happened?” Madison felt sorry for Avery.

“Because I’m so dashing and attractive?”

Madison laughed. “Full of yourself, much?”

“Just stating the facts, ma’am.” He grabbed her arm and they made their escape.

Savannah…

Madison discovered the cities they traveled to all had different personalities. Dallas was out-going. Memphis was playful and Savannah was so laid-back she just wanted to find a porch, sit in a rocking chair and sip mint juleps.

Their hotel was called The Bohemian and was by far the most luxurious of all. Both authors had been assigned huge connecting suites and they shared a meeting room between them. As they’d done in the last few cities, Micah had escorted her around the city, showing her the sights–all of the antebellum mansions and the oak-lined streets with beckoning antique shops filled with treasures from the past. He’d even escorted her through Bonaventure Cemetery and reminded her of the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. She told him her favorite scene, when Minerva had performed hoodoo on one of the graves.

“You’re weird.” Micah kissed her on the nose. “I love weird.”

Her heart leapt. Every time he mentioned love in any way, Madison grabbed onto it with both hands. Here they were in Savannah, the next city they’d visit would be Boston and then it would be time to go home. Madison wished she knew what that meant. Being in Micah’s company was addictive. When their time was over, seeing him only on occasion wouldn’t be easy.

This event was different from the others. Micah told Madison that they were attending a party, a party thrown by one of the high-society ladies of Savannah who just happened to love erotic romance. “Renee says our hostesses name is Miss Ridgeway and she has more money than God. From what I’m told, she is the very definition of eccentric. Her receptions are legendary and people actually connive and some say, even murder, to get invited.”

“Murder?” Madison parroted.

“Apparently this one woman fed Miss Ridgeway information on another society dame to keep her off the guest list. The squealer was in our hostess’ good graces at the time and got her way. The woman who was blacklisted became furious and at the next social event they both attended, she slipped poison into the squealer’s drink.” He made a slicing motion across his neck. “Croaked.”

“We should be on our best behavior.”

The way she said ‘best behavior’, so genteel, so feminine–he just pounced.

“I’ll be happy to show you my best behavior.” He playfully wrestled her to the bed, blowing raspberries on her stomach. He’d managed to pull his pants down and was about to throw her skirt up. His intent was to work his way south until he had his mouth on that sweet pussy of hers…but he forgot the connecting door.  

“My eyes…my eyes…” Cato cried. “I’m deaf and now you’ve mooned me. I’ll go blind.”

Micah scrambled around, trying to cover his assets while Madison jumped from the bed trying to pretend she had nothing to do with his display at all.  

Avery came to see what all the hullaballoo was about and when she discovered the problem, she rolled her eyes. “What do you expect? If Isaac were with us on this trip, you’d just have to shut your eyes or look the other way. He takes his sex seriously.”

Micah made some kind of manly grunting noise that denoted approval while Cato escaped to get first dibs on the shower.

Madison perched on the end of their luxurious king-size bed. Every once in a while, she pinched herself to make sure she was really here. She was having the time of her life. All of this seemed just a little too good to be true. Micah seemed too good to be true. He had it all. Micah was handsome, sexy, talented–he had the world by the tail and for the life of her, Madison couldn’t think of a good reason why she was the one sitting here with him.

“What are you wearing?” Avery asked Madison. “My dress is red. Cato’s is pink.”

“Wear the gold,” Micah prompted. “The backless one.”

“Oh, that sounds pretty. I just wanted to make sure. One night all of us McCoy girls went to the Cattleman’s ball and we all wore black. We looked like a gospel quartet.”

“We’re supposed to do a reading tonight. Right?” Micah asked.

“Yea, do you have your scene picked out?” Avery wanted to know.

“I do. How about you?” Micah asked, making Madison wonder if he would read the scene from page 78, the one they’d acted out.

Just the thought made her flush with arousal. Avery began telling Micah what scene she’d chosen when Madison heard her phone ring. Grabbing her purse, she stepped out on the balcony so she wouldn’t disturb their discussion. 

“Hello?” She didn’t recognize the number, but suspected it might be the temp agency. She glanced at her watch. Wasn’t it after office hours? She was trying to calculate the time difference when a familiar voice laid aside any speculation.

“Baby?”

“Mama?” Madison was surprised to hear from her. “What’s wrong?” There was something wrong, there had to be. Sunny Fellows didn’t usually phone to just make small talk.

“This is my first chance to call. I had to wait ‘til Rudy got paid to get my hands on a phone.”

The mention of Rudy made Madison uneasy. “Did he tell you what he did to me, Mama? He tried to choke me.”

“Now, baby, don’t get excited. Rudy didn’t mean anything. He just loses his temper sometimes.”