The Publicist Book One and Two (9 page)

Chapter Twenty

Kate watched Allan, waiting for a response.

“So, what do you think?”

Allan was silent for longer than he intended. He had no love for the publishing industry, although it had made him famous. It was for that reason he hated it the most.

“I’d trust your gut on this, Kate. If your gut is telling you something’s amiss, then go with that. Don’t trust anyone in this industry. They’d sell their mothers into white slavery to make a bestseller. You and I both know that.”

“But, Mac said—”

“Kate, Mac is just like the rest of them. Listen, I like Mac. I met him a time or two. He’s a nice guy, but he’s a little too smooth for my tastes. I wouldn’t trust him, either.”

This wasn’t what Kate wanted to hear. She wanted Allan to tell her she was wrong, that this Singer guy was just what Mac said: Just a new age person who never drank his own Kool-Aid.

“So, how’s the book coming along, Allan?” she asked, changing the subject.

Allan smiled, “Same as it was last week: Fine. I’ll share some chapters with you after the New Year. I promise.”

Kate had heard these promises many times before, but she nodded and smiled. It didn’t matter really. Not to her, anyway. If Allan had another book in him, he owed it to the literary world to get it out there. He was too good of a writer not to.

“You know,” Allan smiled, “my handsome nephew Nicholas will be here next week. I’d really like for you to meet him.”

“I’d love to,” she lied. “Will he be staying through Christmas?”

“I doubt it. I’m sure he has better things to do than hang out with an old man during the holidays.”

“Well, he’s a fool,” she smiled, “because there’s no place I’d rather be.” Kate kissed him softly on the forehead. She loved Allan, although his apartment looked like a disaster area most of the time and he never stopped trying to fix her up with his yet-to-be-seen nephew.

“Kate, honestly, you don’t have to spend Christmas with me. Why don’t you go home?”

“I just don’t feel like it. I’d rather stay in New York and hope for snow. Besides, I have that big release after the first. I need to be here. Lots to finalize.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The Morris & Dean holiday party was being held at The Ritz-Carlton at Battery Park, which had become an MD tradition. Regardless of who was planning the event, the Ritz was always the company’s first choice. It was a statement more than a place. The Ritz was located at the tip of Manhattan. From the famous Skyline Vista, guests were treated to stunning views of the bay through the large, open windows. The event was being held in a large, open room that bordered that legendary room. On any other night, the room might have been filled with a sea of business suits, smart black dresses, expensive shoes, and a smattering of tourists who could afford the price of a cocktail.

For the evening’s event, MD rented the entire space. Cocktails would start in the Skyline Vista with dinner and dancing in a larger ballroom right after. When Kate walked in, she was met with soothing candlelight that bathed everything. The chairs were covered in a shimmering off-white and tied at the seat base with a gold ribbon that hung down the back. The tables were filled with equally shimmering crystal and china. The light of votive candles bounced off the glass and sparkled like a million stars. This party topped all the others, and Kate knew why:
The Promise
had been something to celebrate, and this party would certainly do that. Initially, the book had anchored itself to the bestseller lists in hardcover. It dominated
The
New York Times
,
USA Today,
and others. Then when the paperback version came out earlier that year, it had done the same thing. Even the eBook version has dominated the eBook bestseller lists. She hoped next year
The Continued Promise
would bring them something equally as glitzy.

Kate was dressed in a midnight silk dress that hung to the floor and pooled at her feet. There were no beads or sequins; Kate couldn’t stand the feel of beads on her skin. The shoulders were thin—only slightly thicker than spaghetti straps, and the neckline dipped far enough to see the curve of her breasts. Although she’d been to numerous MD holiday parties, she still worried about what to wear. The gown made the statement; Kate knew this. Too overdressed and it would look like you were trying too hard. Too underdressed and it looked like you didn’t care. Kate accessorized the dress with a string of pearls on loan from Grace, who, surprisingly, had a taste for fine jewelry but only owned three pieces. Kate wore two of them tonight. The pearl teardrop earrings swayed whenever she moved her head. Her soft, deep brown hair was twisted into a chignon. She looked simple and elegant, and Mac couldn’t help but notice her the minute he arrived.

She took his breath away. Kate saw him immediately, too, dressed in Armani—a suit, not a tux. He wore a black jacket and pants, off-white tie, and shirt that set off the slight tan of his skin. Somehow, Mac managed to keep his color, even through the winter. It must be his heritage, Kate mused. His Italian mother, no doubt, was where he’d inherited his coloring. Mac was alone, of course. This didn’t surprise her at all. Mac was always alone, much to the chagrin of Edward, who arrived fashionably late with his wife on his arm. She beamed by his side, no doubt grateful to be trotted out for another event.

Kate took her seat at the “publicity table.” They were always seated in the same place. Some things never changed about these parties. Much like the location, the seating arrangements didn’t change from year to year. Mac was seated with the editors; she could hear his laughter over the din of voices and caught him, once or twice, looking her way. They hadn’t spoken the entire evening, and that was fine with Kate. She didn’t plan to stay long, anyway. It had been a long week, and her only intention was to make an appearance, dance a few songs, and then sneak out like Cinderella, long before the stroke of midnight.

Dinner was a five-course extravaganza. The room was filled with laughter, voices, and the clinking of glasses and plates as the servers did their best to clear the tables before the next course arrived. The band played a melody of background jazz and a few Christmas tunes. Nothing too overt. No songs about Santa, elves, or—God forbid—Rudolph. They were hired to play a vanilla set during the meal and then liven it up the minute that the dessert plates were cleared. Their first song was “Great Balls of Fire,” one of Edward’s favorites, to get things going. Year upon year the song never changed.

She hadn’t even been there for an hour, and already Kate was bored. At her table, she could hear Pete drone on about some publicity coup he’d gotten the week before. It was no surprise that he had come without a date. Kate was certain there wasn’t a single female in Manhattan desperate enough to tolerate him. If she got drunk enough, she’d suggest he go to New Jersey and see if he could scare up a date there.

Lulu tried her best to fit in. She was there with her husband who looked wildly out of place. Lulu chatted with the publicity team, talking about the exciting projects coming up. All Kate heard was white noise.

“You look bored, Katie,” Mac startled her from her thoughts. He was behind her, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She turned to him.

“I am…a little,” she replied softly.

No one at the table seemed to notice that Mac had walked up to her.

“Let’s dance,” he said, pulling her up from her chair without waiting for an answer. The song was fast, something from Bruce Springsteen. The band was doing a good job of performing it although the lead singer didn’t sound a thing like Bruce. The minute they got to the dance floor, the band switched gears and a slower song started. A female vocalist took the stage and began crooning a Norah Jones song. “The Nearness of You” wafted from the speakers. Mac slipped his arms around her small waist, touching the silk that enveloped her body. Kate’s skin tingled when he touched her. Mac’s hands were warm, soft, and strong when they pulled her to him.

“I guess it’s a slow one then,” he smiled, his face inches from her own. “I like slow dancing. I haven’t done it in a while. By the way, you look beautiful.”

Kate didn’t respond. Suddenly, she felt her body give in to his touch and part of her panicked. She wanted to be in her apartment, watching a rerun of
Seinfeld
or something else benign, safe, and far away from this man who looked and smelled so toxic she was certain if she inhaled a deep, long breath of him she’d die an exhausted but decadent death. His would be the last face she’d see…

“Your smile enchants me and my arms around you grant me a glimpse of what heaven must be…feeling you so close and never wanting to let you go…”

They moved slowly across the floor in a smooth, sensual motion. Edward was there with his wife, dancing an acceptable distance from one another while Mac gently pressed Kate even closer to him, if that was even possible. Kate could feel Mac’s heartbeat through his shirt. He was so much taller than she was, almost towering over her.

Suddenly, the song was over and the band kicked into “Wang Chung Tonight.” Kate immediately released herself from his arms. The spell was over. She felt herself start to breathe again. Had she been holding her breath the entire time? She wasn’t sure, but she was certain it was time to leave. She had to get out of the party and away from Mac.

“Goodnight, Mac.” Kate didn’t wait for an answer but left Mac standing on the dance floor while she grabbed her purse and slipped out under the inquisitive eyes of several curious co-workers.

…

Kate was on the street, her coat wrapped tightly around her. Soft, delicate snowflakes were drifting down around her.

The first snow of the season.

Kate breathed in deep. The icy air felt good in her lungs and woke her from the stupor she’d found herself in on the dance floor. It was around ten-thirty, but the streets seemed almost vacant. The adjacent Battery Park was quiet this time of night, and Kate decided to take a walk. She loved the park at night, especially when it snowed. The moon was full and threw a pearly glow through the bare trees that lit the path in front of her. The lights above gave off a dim but comforting glow. The park was safe enough, but she wouldn’t walk for long, just long enough to sober up from Mac’s embrace.

“You shouldn’t walk at night alone, Kate. It’s not safe.” Mac startled her for the second time that night.

“What are you doing here?” Kate pulled her coat tighter around her.

“It was time to go,” Mac smiled, “then I saw you walk into the park, and I thought I’d see where you were going.” He paused. “May I walk with you?”

Kate nodded, knowing instinctively it was a bad idea. They walked for a few minutes without saying a word.

Finally, Mac asked, “Did you enjoy the party?”

“Sure, how about you?”

Mac shrugged, “It’s an obligation. I hate these things.” He threw her a smile, and she knew what he meant. The parties were a necessity of being in the business. Mingle, talk about books, buzz about the spring list, dance the night away, watch the sales team drink too much, lip-sync with the band, and then go home and start the grind all over again on Monday.

“Kate, listen, I hope you didn’t think I was blowing you off about the Singer stuff. I do take you seriously. You know that, right?”

Kate wasn’t certain of too much at this moment, but
that
she knew without a doubt—Mac did take her seriously. Mac stopped walking.

“I mean it, Kate,” he said softly. “If I really thought there was something to worry about, I would pull the brakes on this thing.”

“I know you would, but thank you for saying it.”

They were deep in the park. The snow started falling heavier now, the flakes coating her shoulders.

“Kate, I think it’s time we head back,” Mac said in almost a whisper. Part of him knew he should run away from this woman whom he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of all night, but he couldn’t move. He was rooted in place—intoxicated by her smell, her eyes, and the way her body moved beneath the midnight blue silk. His eyes fell on her delicate face, and gently he dusted some of the snow off her hair. Then his hand followed the curve of her chin and tipped up her face. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. They felt warm and soft. His strong mouth was gentle and passionate, and his lips were wet with anticipation. Kate couldn’t pull back. All she could do was give herself over to him. Her hand reached up and curled around his neck as Mac’s kiss grew slightly more intense. She felt his tongue slide into her mouth, gently prying her lips apart. She found herself not wanting the moment to end; the urgency behind his kiss matched her own. There, in the park, under a full, glistening moon and the first snow of the season, she kissed Mac and knew from that moment forward, her life would never be the same.

“Merry Christmas, Kate.” He smiled, finally pulling away from her.

Kate did not respond.