Love Between the Pages: 8 Romances for Booklovers Page 7

  “For heavens sake, Mary Lynn, I thought you were sleeping in this morning. Don’t be so furtive. You’ll get my adrenaline going, and I won’t be able to think straight when I’m supposed to be lucid and helpful.”

  “I cannot imagine any circumstance under which you would be unable to be both of those things. And you didn’t respond to my comment.”

  “Because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw you at breakfast with a certain hot historical romance writer and wondered …”

  “Our tables were next to one another at the book signing, and we got talking. He’s interesting. We … ah … ran into each other this morning. That’s all.”

  “If I’d known the book signing got me next to him, I’d have stayed and given you a run for your money.”

  Claudia cocked her head and pursed her mouth, tapping her lips with her forefinger. “Hmm. A fellow agent on the plane. My editor last night at dinner. Now Brad Davis. You collecting men?”

  “Of course not. I’m happily unattached and intend to remain so.”

  Claudia could swear Mary Lynn was a rosier color than normal. “Who’s making you blush—the agent, the editor, or the author?”

  “None of your damn business. Let it go. You have to be in the front of the room in less than ten minutes.” Mary Lynn took Claudia’s elbow and practically pushed her into the meeting room. Claudia tucked away for future use the information that she could get her agent off track by mentioning a couple of men.

  The panel discussion went well. Claudia noticed Brad slip in and sit at the back of the room as the introductions were being made. He grinned at her when he caught her eye. She couldn’t help it; she grinned back, hoping Mary Lynn wasn’t paying attention.

  Just before the session was over, Brad made a quiet exit from the room. She wondered if he was honoring her request to keep her personal life out of the range of anyone who might gossip. It was thoughtful of him, if he was, indeed, protecting her. Of course, after last night, if he kept her personal life quiet this morning, it meant he was keeping his under wraps, too.

  Unfortunately, Mary Lynn was all too aware of what had happened. Two minutes after the panel was over, she grabbed her client. “He came to hear you speak? Seems like more than a casual interest to me. And before you tell me he was here to find out where the market’s headed, stop yourself. He doesn’t write for a market, he created his own.”

  “We were talking about the subject at breakfast, and he wanted to hear what the others had to stay.”

  “Right. The others. That’s why your face lit up like a spotlight when he smiled at you.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did, too. I thought you said you weren’t interested in him.”

  “I enjoyed talking to him.” She crossed her fingers as she told the lie, hoping she didn’t sound too defensive. No way in hell was she going to confess to the night she’d spent in his bed.

  “Okay, honey. You keep thinking it’s only his conversation.” Mary Lynn patted her on the arm. “I’m not much interested in anything else today. Want to leave early and get lunch someplace outside the hotel before we head for the airport?”

  A half dozen more lies flew around Claudia’s head but none of them seemed logical, even to her. So she was stuck with the truth. “Actually, I’d like to stay for lunch here and then leave.”

  “Why would you eat another convention meal when you could …?” Mary Lynn pulled the conference program from the huge shoulder bag she always carried. Claudia never could figure out how she seemed able to get exactly what she wanted without having to rummage. “Wait. I bet …” She flipped through the pages. “Yup. Thought so. You want to hear him speak, don’t you?”

  “Yes, damn it. I do. So sue me.”

  Mary Lynn laughed, then seemed to be about to say something else when a male voice interrupted.

  “Claire? You going to the next session? Want some company?” Brad called from across the room.

  For the first time in her life, Claudia understood what people meant when they said their stomachs dropped. She wasn’t sure she’d get hers back to its normal place in her belly anytime before lunch, it felt so out of place.

  Mary Lynn’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline. “Claire? What the hell …?”

  Claudia gripped her agent’s arm so tightly she was sure she was leaving fingerprints. “Play along with me, please. I’m begging. I’ll explain later. But not here. When we get away from the conference.”

  Before she could say any more, Brad was in front of her. “Your session was good. I learned a lot. Might think about writing historical-zombie-romance. Sounds like there’s a market.”

  “The problem is, by the time you write to the markets they were talking about, readers will be on to something else,” Mary Lynn said. She put out her hand. “Hi, I’m Mary Lynn Elliot. I’m Cl …”

  “Claire’s agent. I recognize you. I’m Brad Davis.”

  “Of course you are. I’m a fan. I particularly loved your latest. Abigail Scott Duniway was a piece of work, wasn’t she?”

  He smiled, and Claudia could swear Mary Lynn began to visibly melt. A twinge of an unfamiliar emotion tweaked the back of her mind. She couldn’t be jealous. Could she?

  Mary Lynn did her usual and held on to the handshake with both hands. “I’m looking forward to hearing you at lunch.” She dropped his hand and turned to her client. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you two kids for a while. Save me a place at lunch, will you? I’m going back to my room to pack and answer some texts.”

  Claudia let out a long breath. Another bullet dodged. “To answer your original question,” she began, “I was headed for the panel on romantic suspense. The next release I’m working on verges on suspense, and I thought I’d hear what the experts have to say about it.”

  “Not my field, but if you’ll sit at the back of the room with me and let me whisper inappropriate things in your ear while I stroke your soft skin, I’ll join you.”

  Chapter 9

  Seated in the main ballroom waiting for lunch and her agent, Claudia tried to remember what she’d heard in the last session. Nothing came to mind. Well, nothing except the outrageous things Brad Davis had whispered to her about what they had done the night before and what he wanted to do with her the next time they were alone. Her hormones were in overdrive from his words. She had come close to suggesting they ditch lunch and head for her room. Until she remembered he was the after-lunch speaker and it would be only too obvious if he didn’t show up.

  “Penny for your thoughts, lovely.” The sound of his voice whispering close to her ear again sent more shivers through her already sensitized body.

  “Just trying to sort through what I heard in the last session.”

  She didn’t have to see it to guess his sinful smile had appeared. He sat down and whispered even closer to her ear, “And I’ll bet this year’s royalties none of it had anything to do with romantic suspense. Unless the suspense was when we would be able implement some of the suggestions I made.”

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you? Maybe I was thinking about my next book.”

  “Which part of your next book? The part where the hero and heroine are …”

  “I’ve been looking all over for you, Mr. Davis. And here you are, right on time and in the right place. I might have known you would be here. You’re so reliable.” Lucinda Pennington, the meeting organizer, interrupted.

  Claudia almost laughed. He must get that all the time.

  “I hate to break up your conversation with Ms. Mayes,” Lucinda continued. “But I’d like to show you to the head table so you can meet our president, who’ll be introducing you.”

  It was gratifying to Claudia to see how slowly Brad rose from his chair. “Duty calls, Cl … April. Will I see you after lunch?”

  “Mary Lynn and I will probably sneak out during the Q and A so we can get checked out. We’re leaving on the four o’clock flight.”

 
“If I’d known when you were flying, I would have changed my flight so we could all go to the airport together. But as it is, I’m meeting some old friends this afternoon and flying out later tonight.”

  Thank you, God. He wouldn’t be at the airport to see her real name or find out she was flying into Portland, too. Another bullet dodged. There were so many potential deadly missiles out there with her name on them, it was beginning to feel like she was in a war zone.

  “Next time we’re both on the program at a conference, we should coordinate our flights so we arrive at the same time,” he continued. “Give us a chance to have a drink or something before we get to the convention hotel.” He leaned over, and Claudia held her breath, afraid he would actually kiss her in front of the convention organizer. Instead he took her hand and squeezed it. “Make good use of my e-mail address, won’t you?”

  “I promise.” She wasn’t sure if she would, or if it was one more lie to add to the others she’d told the man over the past twenty-four hours.

  • • •

  He was a brilliant speaker, without question. In only a few sentences, he had the entire audience, including everyone at her table, in the palm of his hand. He was funny, informative, and very, very sexy with his deep voice, slightly suggestive comments, and complete command of his subject matter. If she could have, she’d have signed up for his classes at St. Mary’s to hear him talk some more.

  Claudia was sorry when the Q and A session began, and Mary Lynn nudged her and nodded toward the door. “I’m sure you want to stay and listen to him flirt with all the women in the audience,” she said in a quiet tone. “But let’s get out of here so you can fill me in on what the hell is going on with you and him.”

  “Keep your voice down! Nothing’s going on. You’re imagining things.”

  Mary Lynn whispered back. “Nothing? Let’s see—you drooled over him in the bar. Came back and had a drink with him last night. There’s enough heat generated when the two of you look at each other to warm what’s left of the polar ice cap. And for some reason, he thinks your name is Claire. That’s a lot of nothing. And I want the details of all of it.”

  “How do you know about last night?”

  “That’s all you have to say? Hmm. Interesting. I’ll pursue the rest later. The answer to your question is: I have my sources. They were in the bar last night, too. I’m always looking out for the interests of my clients. And what went on last night may or may not be in the best interest of one of my favorite clients.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re protecting my interests.”

  “Which I can do more easily if I know exactly what happened between the two of you.”

  “Right. It’s not curiosity and the love of gossip.” She waved off what was likely to be Mary Lynn’s next rationalization for knowing what happened with Brad by saying, “Fine. I’ll tell you when we get to the airport. Let’s get out of here without drawing any more attention to ourselves than you already have.”

  • • •

  Brad watched as Claire and her agent walked out the back door, closing it quietly so it didn’t disrupt the question an earnest fan was asking him. He almost lost the thread of what she was saying so intent was he on soaking up the last glimpse of the woman who had fascinated him from the first time he’d seen her.

  The thing was, even after their night together and the conversations they’d had over the past couple days, he didn’t feel like he’d gotten any more clues about who she really was, which made him more intrigued, not less. And even more determined to solve the puzzle. He wasn’t happy any further contact hinged on her making the first move. But she set the rules. He would live with it. Until he didn’t hear from her. Then he’d track her down if he had to call every phone number he could get his hands on for Bellevue College until he found someone who could tell him how to get in touch with her.

  • • •

  “Right. We’re away from the conference. Spill. What went on between you and Brad Davis, and why did he call you Claire?”

  Claudia and Mary Lynn had settled into the frequent flyer lounge and ordered a glass of wine. Since their flight was still several hours away and Claudia hadn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of evading her agent’s questions, she took a deep breath and started, hoping to bury her friend in a flurry of words so she’d shut up.

  “We spent most of the night together last night, and I told him my name was Claire Mason because he figured out April Mayes was a pen name, but I didn’t want him to know my real name because he’s from Portland, too, and thinks I’m from Seattle.”

  “Wait, wait. Let’s start from the beginning. You spent the night with him? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never done anything like that. At least not to my knowledge. Why him? Why here?”

  “It’s all your fault. I was trying so hard to act in keeping with the way you’d dressed me up it was easy to be … well, to be easy.”

  “Yeah, right. Blame it on me. I had nothing to do with the way you looked at each other this morning. I have to assume what happened was good.”

  “It was better than anything I’ve ever written.”

  “Jesus. I should have made a move if he’s that good. I’ve read your stuff.”

  “I’d really rather you didn’t.”

  “That’s all you have to say? You’d really rather I didn’t? I’d expect more like you’d scratch my eyes out.’”

  “I don’t want to look for another agent.” Claudia took a sip of her wine. A big sip, hoping the whole “vino veritas” thing would work in her favor. “Truth is, I don’t really have any claim on him. It could be we had a convention fling. Like the one in my A Series of Errors.”

  “He didn’t look at you like it was a conference hookup. Did he ask for your contact info?”

  “Of course. I avoided answering him. I got his, though.” She patted her messenger bag. “I haven’t decided what to do with it.”

  “Oh, yes, you have. Don’t try to kid yourself. It’s written all over your face every time you look at him.” Mary Lynn leaned across the table. “But what’s with the Claire-from-Seattle business? Why didn’t you give him your real name? Why did you have to invent yet another name?”

  “He saw me at Sea-Tac and assumed, since I was flying from there, that I live in Seattle. And I kinda slipped up and almost said my real name. The first two letters were all I got out but he picked up on it and nagged me about until I told him it was Claire.”

  “Still don’t understand why you didn’t tell him the truth.”

  “He teaches at St. Mary’s. In Portland. Two blocks away from Portland State. He guest lectures at my university. In my boss’s class. He probably uses our library for his research. And if not there, then at the Historical Society, which is right next door to PSU. For all I know, he walks every day in the Park Blocks and knows half the faculty.”

  “So?”

  “So? So, he could blab, tell people how we met, what I write. I can’t chance it.”

  “But he writes romance, too.”

  “He’s a man. He writes respectable books. I’m not and I don’t.”

  “Who cares? You’re a success. You write beautifully. Your books are based on Shakespeare or Austen stories. How can anyone object?”

  “You don’t know the vagaries of a tenure committee. They’re unpredictable. All it takes is one or two people who don’t think you live up to the standards of the department, and you’re doomed. And the tenure committee has Statler and Waldorf.”

  “Who the hell are they?”

  “A couple old-school professors who don’t like commercial fiction, don’t think academics should write it, and would organize a mob of like-minded snobs to come drag me off to the ducking stool if they knew I did. I have worked my whole professional life for this shot at tenure. It’s important. Maybe the most important thing I’ll ever achieve. I won’t let my extracurricular writing get in the way.”

  “Don’t you think Brad would understand if you explained it
to him?”

  “I can’t take a chance.”

  “So you invented another name. Which makes three: one for your friends, family, and colleagues; one for your readers; and one for Brad Davis. Am I the only one who knows them all?”

  Hearing what she’d done described by someone else made it sound so much worse than it had seemed a few minutes ago. “Yes, I guess you’re right. Although when you say it, it sounds much worse than it did in my head.”

  “Interesting.” Mary Lynn’s eyebrows almost blended into her bangs. “Instead of coming clean about your beautiful writing, you’ve added another layer of hiding. Why would you do that rather than just admit who you are when you write novels?”

  “Don’t get any bright ideas about pressuring me to go public about April. You can’t make me. And you don’t dare sink me because if you did, you’d sink a healthy part of your income.”

  “For God’s sake, Claudia. Do you think I’d do something so low? You know I’d never hurt you. You certainly began as my client, but you’re my friend now, and I protect my friends.” Mary Lynn drained the last of her wine and set the glass back down on the table. “Now that you’ve created this fantasy female for Mr. Davis, what do you plan to do with her?”

  Claudia groaned. “I don’t know. I want to see him again, but I don’t know how to do it without giving it all away.”

  Mary Lynn was silent for a long time. At least it seemed like a long time to Claudia. “I almost hate myself for what I’m about to say,” she finally began. “But I saw the way you looked at each other and, honey, there’s something there you shouldn’t let go of. I’m not sure I should suggest this, but maybe there’s a way you could see him again without telling him you’re really Claudia Manchester.”

  “How? I’ve tried to think of some way to run into him accidently but can’t come up with something other than some lame coincidence. I suppose I could wait until we go to Denver to RWA, but the conference is too far off. I want to see him before then.”