She wouldn’t trade this experience for anything, except maybe, at this very moment, a long soak in the Jacuzzi that Aidan had been so happy to dangle in front of her earlier today. She hadn’t even seen the inside of the hotel, let alone the eleven-room penthouse he’d described. They’d been on the go all day, hopping from her radio interview to a TV gig at WGN, to a cocktail reception put on by a local library, to this book signing.
The ill-fated chocolate cake was the last thing she remembered eating, although Aidan had brought her food at various points, food she must have eaten at least some of. She couldn’t remember any of it. The cake, though—that would remain a memory forever.
She wondered whether Aidan had any sort of clue as to the fantasies that had bloomed in her active imagination the moment she accidentally smashed the cake onto her chest and thick, creamy frosting had worked its way between her breasts. That experience would rank as one of the most sensual of her life. Gooey frosting sliding against her skin and sending chocolate fumes upward as it warmed to her body temperature ... Life didn’t get much better than that.
Only one thing would have improved the sensation—having a man like Aidan lick it off. In her fantasy world, Barry would have been somehow taken out of the picture, snatched by aliens or something, so that she and Aidan could be alone in the backseat of the town car.
Then she could have unfastened her seat belt and turned to Aidan, who would also be out of his seat belt. Giving him a searing glance, she’d ask whether he could help her out. She seemed to have chocolate smeared all over the place.
“Emma?” Aidan’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.
She wondered how long she’d stayed there staring at the book in front of her, which Aidan had helpfully opened to the title page. “I’m sorry.” She glanced up at the teenage girl standing in front of her. “How do you want this autographed?” She snagged her pen and poised it over the page.
“It’s for this guy I know named Theo.”
Emma’s hand trembled, and she took another look at the teenager, who resembled all the others traipsing around the store—dark hair cut short, a black parka thrown over a snug white T-shirt, and ripped jeans. Maybe it wasn’t the same Theo, but she’d felt Aidan stiffen at hearing the name, too.
Emma decided to get this over quickly. She’d written To Theo when the girl started talking again.
“He’s a huge fan, and he wants you to write something special in the book. He wanted so bad to be here tonight, but he had to work, so he asked me to come instead.”
Emma had a bad feeling about this. “I’ll just say, Thanks for your support.” Emma started to write but the girl laid a hand on her arm.
“He told me what he wanted in there. Here it is.” She handed over a crumpled piece of notebook paper with a message scrawled across it that completely ignored the lines. The message said, I’d love to meet you.
“I’m sorry.” Emma gazed at the girl. “I can’t write that. My time in Chicago is very limited, and writing that would indicate that I planned to—”
The girl laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t think you’ll really meet him. It’s just so he can show his friends, you know? It’s harmless.”
Aidan stepped closer to the table. “I’m sure it is, Miss ...”
“I’m Terry. Terry Eisenbach.”
“I’m sure it’s harmless, Terry, but I’d like to talk to you privately for a minute.” He rounded the table. “Let’s go over by the coffee shop.”
“Sure, but I’ll get the book, right? I mean, she already wrote To Theo, so she can’t give it to one of the other people in line, right?”
“You’ll get the book,” Emma said. She closed it and scooted it to one side as she greeted the next person in line, a young mother holding a sleeping baby.
As Emma autographed the last two books and then several bookplates, she wanted desperately to find out what Aidan was saying to the teenager. Maybe it was a good sign that Theo hadn’t come to the store but had sent someone in his place. Maybe all he wanted out of this was an autographed book.
Still, she couldn’t write what he’d asked for. That was too creepy. As the last person left with a bookplate in hand, she pulled Theo’s book over and opened it to the title page. Hesitating for only a moment, she wrote, Best wishes, Emma Gavin, and closed the cover with a snap. That was that.
Aidan returned with Terry, who was sipping on a coffee drink, which Emma figured Aidan had bought. The girl gazed up at him with worship in her dark eyes. Emma could easily understand that look. When Aidan turned on the charm, he was tough to resist.
“Your assistant, Aidan, explained everything to me,” Terry said. She spared Emma a quick glance, but she only had eyes for Aidan. “I mean, who would imagine that a message in a book could turn into a legal thing?”
Emma shot Aidan a puzzled glance. He was her assistant now? And what legal thing was Terry talking about?
He nodded wisely. “Anything’s possible in this law-suit-happy climate. I’m not saying that Theo or his family would carry it that far, but Terry agrees that Theo’s not the most stable person in the world.”
“No, he’s not.” Terry finally managed to tear her attention away from Aidan. “He might build it up in his mind that you’d actually meet him, and flip out when you didn’t. I guess his folks could sue for emotional damage or something. They have the money.”
“Oh, really?” Emma glanced at Aidan. “I didn’t know Theo came from a ri—I mean, a wealthy family.”
“Oh, yeah.” Terry rolled her eyes. “The Hendersons are loaded. Some people hang out with Theo because he has money, but I don’t. I hang out with him because he seems lonely.”
“Then he’s lucky to have you for a friend.” Emma picked up the copy of Night Shift and handed it to her. “Thank you for understanding that I couldn’t write what Theo asked me to.”
“No prob. He won’t be happy about it, but at least he has an autographed book, which I took my valuable time to get for him.” She lifted her coffee drink and turned back to Aidan. “Thank you so much for buying me this. If you need anything else while you’re in Chicago, you have my number.”
“I appreciate that,” Aidan said. “It’s good to have contacts in an unfamiliar city.”
“I know all the good places for music and dancing.” She gave him a coy look. “I’ll bet you’re a good dancer.”
“Actually, I’m a little rusty.”
Emma hid a smile. Rusty, indeed. He could melt an iceberg with his dance moves.
“I’d be glad to help you get back into it.” Terry’s expression was hopeful.
“It’s a nice thought, but I’ll be pretty busy helping Emma get through the book tour. Thanks, anyway.”
“Okay, but let me know if you change your mind. With all those long hours, I hope she pays you well.”
Emma almost choked.
“She does,” Aidan said gravely.
“Guess I’ll take off.” Terry didn’t move.
Emma decided she was supposed to be in charge, so she stood. “We have to leave, too, Aidan. If you’ll arrange for the car, I’ll say good-bye to the bookstore manager before we leave.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Aidan all but saluted as he walked away.
Terry sighed as she watched him go. “You are so lucky to have him.”
“I am. Gay men make the absolute best assistants.”
Terry’s eyes rounded. “He’s gay?”
“You couldn’t tell?”
“God, no! My gaydar must not be working at all, because I thought he was totally straight!” She shook her head. “Bummer. Well, good luck with the rest of your book tour.”
“Thanks.” Emma watched to make sure Terry left the area before she began gathering her coat, purse, and the remaining bookplates. As she was wondering whether she should call Aidan to check on his whereabouts, her BlackBerry beeped.
When she read the text message, she laughed.
Is she gone?
; Yes.
We R at main door. Need me?
She hesitated only a second while she entertained the idea of needing Aidan. She probably did need him, in many ways. But she wouldn’t indulge. She texted him back.
No. B rt there.
“Sold out of books, huh?”
She turned. Standing about ten feet away was a tall, angular young man. His shaggy black hair needed a trim, and his jeans and gray sweatshirt looked as if they’d been pulled from the hamper instead of a dresser drawer.
A squiggle of uneasiness settled in her tummy. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” She still had her BlackBerry in one hand. Feeling a little foolish in case she was wrong, she hit Aidan’s speed dial letter.
“Guess it doesn’t matter.” The young man approached. “I met Terry coming out of the store, and she showed me what you wrote. But looks like I get to meet you, anyway.”
“So, you’re Theo.” She prayed that the BlackBerry picked that up. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him to check for other people around. It was late, and the bookstore had mostly emptied out. Her peripheral vision told her no one was in the immediate vicinity.
“That’s me.” He smiled, and his teeth looked very white, and very sharp.
She wondered whether he’d gone so far into the fantasy that he’d filed them into points. She kept telling herself he was only a nineteen-year-old kid, but she hadn’t factored in his height, about six-two, or the predatory look in his dark eyes.
He could have been a nice-looking guy if he’d bothered with his appearance, but his careless grooming combined with those wicked-looking teeth sent shivers down her spine.
He stepped closer. “Did you get my e-mails?”
“So you’re the one who sent those.”
“Affirmative, sweet thing.”
Her skin crawled, but she kept her tone polite. “I’m glad you like my books. But they’re pure fantasy. As we all know, there’s no such thing as werewolves.” Her laughter sounded about as nervous as she felt.
“Are you sure about that?” He held up a hand, a very hairy hand.
“Amazing what a little spirit gum and fake hair can do, isn’t it?” She willed Aidan to show up now. She didn’t care whether he claimed to be her assistant, her fiancé, or the mayor of Chicago, just so he used his well-sculpted body to put the fear of God into this weird person who was trying to convince her he was a werewolf.
“This isn’t fake.” Theo held up his other hand, which was also covered with black hair. “Give me another couple of minutes and I—hang on.” He sniffed the air. “Gotta go.” Moving with astounding agility and grace, he slipped away down one of the aisles.
He’d been gone about two seconds when Aidan arrived, panting. “Missed him. Damn it. Wait here.” Without asking her which way Theo had run, he turned away and scanned the various escape routes. Then damned if he didn’t sniff the air the same way Theo had, before taking off down the same aisle.
Emma wondered whether she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. The kid had looked somewhat unwashed, but she hadn’t been able to actually smell him. Maybe Aidan was sniffing because he was coming down with a cold. If so, she needed to keep away from him because catching a cold in the middle of her book tour would be hell.
She did as she was told, though, and waited by the signing table for him to come back.
After about ten minutes, he did, but he didn’t look happy. “He got away, probably had a car waiting outside, maybe even Terry’s. I can’t believe I missed seeing him come into the store.”
“I’m sure there are lots of people out on the street, Aidan.”
He gazed at her. “I just should have seen him, that’s all. It’s part of my job, and I wasn’t doing it effectively.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, he’s gone, and that could be the end of it. I hope it is.”
“I hope so.” Aidan didn’t sound convinced. “Give me your coat. We need to get out of here.”
“Okay.” She allowed him to help her with her coat. After dealing with Theo, she wanted to snuggle against Aidan as he slipped it over her shoulders. “I was planning to say good-bye to the bookstore manager.”
“You can send a note.” He put his hand at the small of her back and urged her forward. “I’ll feel better once we’re locked inside the Palmer House.”
“So will I. Theo is seriously whacked, Aidan. He’s glued fake hair to the backs of his hands, and I don’t know if he’s filed his teeth, but they look really wicked.”
Aidan cursed softly under his breath.
“Do you think we should notify the police?” Emma asked as they hurried through the store. “I didn’t want to do that, but the kid may be a danger to himself and others, and ... well, me.”
“I’m not sure what the police could do. At this point he hasn’t actually threatened you, and you do, after all, write about werewolves. He could say he was just playing along with the way readers of vampire books show up wearing black capes and fangs.”
“You’re right.” She saw the town car and Barry standing with the back door open for her. What a welcome sight. She wanted to run forward and fling herself inside the safety of the car, but she forced herself to walk. “Hello, Barry.”
“Hello, Emma.” He glanced at Aidan. “Catch him?”
“No, he got away.”
“Damn.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” Aidan climbed in after Emma. “I thought about having sandwiches ready for you, but then I decided you might not want to juggle a hot pastrami on rye in downtown Chicago traffic.”
She buckled herself in, but her thoughts were focused on the hot pastrami and rye. “Was that sandwich suggestion a lucky guess or have you been talking to someone who knows me?”
“Uh, Jenny might have mentioned that you liked those. Or it was in that interview I read.”
“You must have read that interview with a high-lighter.” She settled back in the plush leather seat. Her conscience didn’t even prick her at the luxury of it. She was safe, and after the encounter with Theo, that seemed more important than class distinctions and squandering resources.
“I’ve followed your career with great interest.”
She turned her head to look at him. “Apparently so. I still don’t quite get it, though. I’m not putting down what I do, but usually it appeals to women who love the idea of an alpha male.”
He glanced over at her and smiled. “I’ll be happy to explain what I like about your books over dinner. I can call the hotel and get them started on a room service order. Do you want the hot pastrami or something else? Steak? Lobster?”
She thought about it and couldn’t work up any enthusiasm for a big meal at this hour. It was almost ten, and she had to be up at seven. “The sad thing is that with all the running, I’m not really hungry anymore. Maybe just some cheese and crackers, stuff to nibble on.”
“Wine? Champagne?”
Oh, what the hell. She was in the company of a man who was so wealthy he wore an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar watch. “Champagne gives me a headache, but if you’ll choose a really good red wine, I’d like that. I won’t drink much, but I’m a little tense, and that should relax me.”
“You’ve got it.” He punched a number into his BlackBerry and gave someone instructions.
She heard the name of the wine, some high-priced brand she vaguely remembered from a movie. It probably cost several hundred dollars a bottle. She didn’t want to know. It would be wonderful, as everything connected to Aidan was wonderful.
When he returned to New York and she flew on to Denver, the party would be over. For now, she was still doing research. At some point she should write down the name of the wine so she could use it in a book.
Aidan put his hand over the mouthpiece of his BlackBerry. “One more question, Emma.”
“What’s that?”
“They offered to run the water in the Jacuzzi for you. What do you say?”
She ached all over from the constant pressure of being sociable for hour
s. She was essentially a hermit, but a book tour required her to be on much more than she was used to. For a few seconds she thought of all that water, all that electricity needed to heat the water, and how very wasteful a Jacuzzi was compared to a quick shower.
She should really take a quick shower instead. But that wouldn’t help her with her research. “I say that sounds great,” she said. “But just to be clear, you can’t join me.”
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
He might not, but she would.
Chapter 10
An hour later, Aidan paced the living room of the penthouse while he talked to Roarke. He’d ditched his suit jacket and rolled back the sleeves of his white dress shirt. Emma was deep into her Jacuzzi experience and had her cheese tray and a bottle of Lafite Rothschild in there with her.
He doubted she’d be popping out to hear his conversation. Still, he kept his voice down.
Roarke, who had no such restraints, was yelling into his phone. “You’re an idiot!”
“Not according to my test scores.”
“Which are nullified by your testicles, apparently. I knew you had solid-brass ones, but this is arrogance taken to the max!”
“Calm down, Roarke.”
“Here I thought we had an understanding, and then I check with Dad and find out you’re on the damned tour with her, after all! What’s wrong with you, bro?”
“When it turned out to be a Henderson, I thought that I’d be the best one to—”
“Fuck it up? That’s my analysis of the situation, for what it’s worth. You were thinking with the wrong part of your anatomy. You’re in the penthouse of the Palmer, aren’t you?”
“It’s safe.” He stared into the flames of the gas fire dancing on the marble hearth. The lit fire was part of the turndown service. “I figured if it’s good enough for the President of the United States, then it’s got enough security for my purposes.”
A Werewolf in Manhattan Page 10