Just Her Type

by Laudat, Reon

  “I’m no good at it.” Kendra stopped short of revealing all about Graham, Colin, and Rand. The embarrassing multiple engagements.

  “Do you want love?” he asked with such compassionate simplicity her heart squeezed.

  “Yes, I suppose.” Kendra looked down.

  “You suppose? What kind of answer is that?” He used a crooked finger to tip up her chin. “Look at me when you answer that.”

  “Yes, I do. I want it. And all that comes with it someday, but without losing myself in it all. I don’t want to get too caught up in emotions. The newness of it all. Know what I’m saying?”

  “I think I do.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and then fingered the colored lock of her hair that never failed to fascinate him.

  “And I’m big on independence and maintaining a strong sense of self. Some men can’t handle that. Can’t handle me, because I don’t want to be handled.” And what went unsaid, Even if they accept my terms, I run.

  “In other words, there were two alphas in those relationships? Becoming a couple means change. Adaptation and compromise are necessary for the sake of the bond. But I’ll always want Kendra to be Kendra.” He cradled her face again. “So far, you’ve let Dominic be Dominic, bad jokes and all.”

  “Thanks for understanding.”

  “And you didn’t call me out for referring to myself in third person,” he said. “It doesn’t get better than that.”

  Looking into his eyes, Kendra nodded. But who was the real Dominic? And he hadn’t seen all of her so-called facets, either. Things that only more time and trials, especially trials, would reveal. Things that surfaced after a relationship had racked up loads of miles and had lost its “new car” smell.

  “So, you liked my manuscript, huh?” he asked, sounding and looking endearingly bashful.

  “I loved it! And other people will, too!” Kendra danced on her toes. “It hits all the right notes as humorous crime fiction. It’s whip-smart with a great quirky plot and lots of deliciously idiosyncratic characters! Punchy dialogue! And it’s edgy, but it has depth, poignancy in parts. Heart. Your protagonist, Shecky Lamar, is a hoot! I can see him carrying a series! Wait. Is this part of a series?”

  “Yes. It’s the first of seven.”

  “Man, you’ve got to shop this!” Kendra flitted back to the manuscript on the sofa.

  Dominic replied with a screeching brakes sound.

  “What?”

  “That means no.”

  “But, but, it’s great! It’s a shame not to put it out there for others to enjoy! Hey, I have an idea. If you’re shy let me shop it. You can use a pen name. We’ll create an intriguing persona. You’re an eccentric who lives off the grid and—”

  “Sharing it with you is plenty for me. My writing will be our special thing, okay?”

  “That’s sweet but, Dominic,” Kendra said, “I don’t get—”

  “Uh-uh. Our special thing—between you and me.” Dominic placed the pages back on the sofa and drew her close again, slipping his hands underneath her T-shirt to caress her bare skin. He slipped his tongue inside her mouth, making her weak with desire.

  Kendra broke the kiss. “So you haven’t let anyone else read this?”

  “Just you.” He moved in to resume the kiss.

  “Wow. I’m honored,” Kendra whispered against his lips. “But if you decide to put it out there, I’m offering my editing service.”

  “Editing?” He pulled back, giving her the side-eye.

  “Minor tweaking, sweetie.”

  “Tweaking?”

  “Thank you for trusting me with your work.”

  “What do you say we get back to the bedroom so you can thank me some more.”

  “The bedroom?” she asked with a saucy smile. “Let me get started right here, thanking the hell out of you.” Her hands languidly skimmed his trim muscle-rippled torso. She wet her lips and dropped to her knees, dragging his briefs to his ankles.

  She removed her T-shirt and tossed it aside. His fingers tangled in her hair as she stroked him and reached for a stray square of Lick-Me Lime from the night before. She quickly opened the package and rolled the condom on him.

  Kendra teased him with her tongue, swirling it around his tip and shaft as she caressed his butt and balls. Soon, she eased his length inside her mouth to pleasure him in a smooth, steady back-and-forth motion.

  Dominic’s head lolled back. “Ahhh, yes,” he said in throaty praise of her skill and enthusiasm. With his hands on her head, setting the rhythm, her movements gradually quickened until he climaxed.

  He joined her on the floor to kiss and hold her in his arms.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, rolling Kendra on her back, parting her legs, and placing them on his shoulders. He kissed her torso, moving downward past her pierced belly button until he reached his destination. He gave her a lazy smile and a flick of his tongue where she was most sensitive. “One good turn…”

  Chapter 30

  Monday morning at the Porter Agency, Brittany had spent the last five minutes of her coffee break scrolling through the Post-a-Pic app on her phone. “She did such a gorgeous job with the winged-liner-smoky-eye-matte-red-lip combo. Wow!” She moved to type something then paused, tipping her head to one side. “But I need to wait a while, maybe a whole month, before I comment on or twinkle-dinkle another one of her photos, no matter how great it is. It’s a shame. I am no longer so liberal with my public praise.”

  “Let me guess. You’re looking at Makeup by Marvelous Marla,” Kendra said as she took a seat behind her own desk.”

  “I am.”

  “Did she out you again?”

  Brittany, who followed the British professional makeup artist’s blog and various social media accounts, lived in fear of getting put on blast yet again with one of those “mock-humble” “THANKS FOR THE LOVE” shout-outs from Marvelous Marla. Brittany believed when a Post-a-Pic user compiled a listing of a followers’ multiple fawning comments and twinkle-dinkle endorsements in one screen shot and then posted them for all the world to see, it “totally made that follower look like a stalker.”

  “Is it really about honoring the follower, or is it about flexing? As in, ‘Hey, look, all you pathetic fuckers, I have fans! Ardent fans! Ha!’”

  “Or maybe it really is Marla’s way of showing sincere gratitude for your support. Ever thought of that?” Kendra said.

  “So direct message me, then, follow me back, or comment on my account with a thanks for a change. And while you’re at it, send this plebeian some of those ‘smashing’ Givenchy makeup samples you’ve been hoarding, Marvelous Marla.”

  “Oh, no, I’ve ruined you,” Kendra said ruefully. “You’re almost as jaded as I am, Grasshopper.”

  “I’m still a fan of hers, just an undercover one.”

  With fawning followers on her mind, Kendra surfed to Just Vanessa to read the latest post and view photos of the property Vanessa and Ashton had purchased in the Bahamas. She hadn’t heard anything from her since the day they’d discussed that girls’ getaway weekend that would never happen.

  However, Vanessa had already planned to host a meet-and-greet for her most dedicated followers. They would gather at some tony restaurant in Aspen, Colorado during her and Ashton’s upcoming visit there. Kendra scanned the comments section. Several excited posters wrote that they were “most definitely” attending. One woman vowed to make the nearly four-hour drive from her home in Colorado Springs “come hell or high water.”

  Why on earth?

  Just Vanessa was exactly what the titled proclaimed. Unlike bloggers such as Marvelous Marla, Vanessa did not share loads of tips, advice, reviews, or anything else that a visitor might actually find useful. Nor was the writing particularly engaging. So what in the heck did Vanessa offer that made her worthy of holding court?

  Kendra surfed off the site and reached for Brody’s signed agent/client agreement on her desk to ruminate over something positive. Brody and Kendra had met for a two-hour lunc
h the day before to discuss representation. They’d asked and answered each other’s tough questions. Before the meeting ended, they’d toasted an agreement to work together.

  Brody had one manuscript left in his current publisher’s contract. After he delivered it, Kendra would handle the round of negotiations for his next three-book series for which they’d brainstormed concepts. There was some doubt whether Brody would remain with his present publisher with a new editor assigned to work with him or seek a new house. Dominic had negotiated an author-friendly Right of First Refusal clause. No surprises there. But with Brody’s deadline extension, a sales move on the new series was probably unlikely for at least another year.

  Brittany walked over to Kendra’s desk. “I’m going to run out to grab some lunch. You want something?”

  “I’m not hungry. Oh, wait. Have you had a chance to go through the requested submissions?” Kendra scanned Brody’s agreement document for the agency’s digital files.

  “I went through part of last week’s that arrived electronically. And I’ve gone through the stack that arrived by mail. Looking for something in particular?”

  “Yes, have you seen anything from Corinne Ostertag? The manuscript is titled Four Simple Wishes.”

  “I recall the name and the title.”

  Kendra swiveled her chair to face the desktop computer at the right of her L-shaped desk and went to the e-submissions folder and digital drop-box. She looked at the date on the file with a sigh. “This is the original version. We didn’t get a revised version from Corinne?” she asked, now on tenterhooks.

  “That’s the only one I’ve seen.”

  “I asked for revisions in Maui, she agreed to them, but I haven’t heard anything from her since. It was a large file. The manuscript is nearly one hundred and fifty thousand words. I’m not sure how long the revised version will be, but I expect substantial cuts.”

  “If you asked for sweeping architectural changes that could take time. Are you worried?”

  “Hmmm. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be, but she didn’t respond to my request for a progress report,” Kendra said, thinking it strange that she hadn’t received an email or anything from the elder Ostertag, either, who’d made a point of dipping in everything else related to the manuscript. Surely Corinne had told her mother about their meeting and showed her the editorial letter. Something about their extended silence created a pit in Kendra’s stomach.

  “We have no idea how slowly or quickly she writes. That’s the thing about new clients. We see their version of the finished product when they first submit, but we have no idea if it took seven days, seven months, or seven years to write. Did Corinne happen to say how long it took?”

  “I believe it was her mother who offered that information. It took some years.”

  “Well, there you have it, but I’ll do a quick check again before I leave.” Brittany sat at her desk and typed on her keyboard.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Kendra arranged stacks of paper submissions. Though many agencies only accepted digital queries and submissions, Porter still accepted those sent by snail mail. She reached for a query letter though it was in a silver-engraved envelope resembling a New Year’s Eve party invitation. Not a good sign. After removing what felt like expensive cardstock, a shower of small glitter stars and rhinestones scattered on her desk. Would some writers ever learn? When it came to submissions it was all about content not fancy packaging or bribes. Although those gourmet chocolates tucked inside another submission looked scrumptious, she’d never consume food sent through the mail by a stranger. Kendra put the bedazzled submission and candy aside.

  She reached for the next envelope that screamed FIFTH INVOICE ENCLOSED from an industry insider magazine demanding a seventy-five dollar remittance for twelve additional issues that had cost five dollars the year before. Your good standing with us is at risk, it warned in stern red letters. What were they going to do? Send a goon named Big Al to break her kneecaps? Asphyxiation by avalanche of scolding junk mail was more likely. Though she smelled a bait-and-switch in their tactics, it had been her responsibility to read the fine print about automatic renewal on that bargain introductory offer. She swiveled her chair toward the computer and paid the bill online, not because of the comically toothless threats, but because her word was her bond. And maybe the token effort would have a positive karmic effect: Corinne would keep her word, too.

  Kendra couldn’t stop second-guessing her decision not to try signing the writer while they were in Maui. What had she been thinking, leaving someone as gifted as Corinne free to roam among so many hungry and highly qualified colleagues? If it were anatomically possible Kendra would kick her own keister.

  She considered playing the songs of nature relaxation music on her phone, but Brittany forever ruined its calming effect by noting that the mountain streams on it sounded more like “some dude taking a long whiz.” Now Kendra couldn’t get that image out of her head so she checked the queue with the queries sent by email instead. Brittany had cut them down to about four hundred. Kendra quickly read fifteen, all fell in the definite thanks-but-no-thanks category. And then in a nerves-infused tidying tear, she organized and shelved a box of bound galleys and foreign editions that had arrived that morning. She fidgeted over her email again. Maybe she should fire off that twenty-fifth note to Claudia over at Lassiter & Crane. For months now, that heifer had been squatting on a historical fiction submission she claimed she couldn’t live without. So why, oh why, hadn’t she responded to Kendra’s numerous attempts to connect? From her own experience, she knew editors were crazy busy and some simply checked out during the holiday season, but it only took one flipping minute to provide a definitive yes or no. And if it was a yes, make a darn offer already, dingbat! Kendra paused to beat back her annoyance before she did something stupid. Now was not the time to torch a bridge at a publishing house. She went right back to organizing those galleys.

  “Kendra.” Brittany’s voice dropped with an ominous note as her gaze locked on her monitor. “The title of the manuscript you were looking for is Four Simple Wishes?”

  “Yeah.”

  “By Corinne Ostertag.”

  “Yes. Whew!” Kendra’s tightened muscles uncoiled. “So the revised version finally came in?”

  “No, but—”

  “What?”

  “The latest Publishing Grapevine. The lead listing.”

  Kendra blinked in dazed disbelief. “What?”

  “Take a look.”

  Kendra’s mouth went dry as she tapped over to her email account and the popular industry newsletter:

  Corinne Ostertag’s FOUR SIMPLE WISHES to Tucker Rosedale at Lassiter & Crane. A sweeping yet intimate coming-of-age story that begins during the Sierra Leone Civil War and spans to one boy’s new life in the U.S., in a major two-book deal for publication next year, brokered by Dominic Tobias, Impact.

  Kendra’s skin blazed. She slumped back in her chair, suppressing the urge to release a primal scream.

  So this was the reason Kendra hadn’t heard back from Corinne. She’d not only signed with an agent, but also a publishing house. But how could that be? And a deal of this magnitude had been announced? Already?” She reached for one of Lizzy Hopewell’s swag pencils to doodle hard lines on an old Scribes’ Monthly magazine, in which she’d given a two-page Q & A interview. She had to keep her hands busy or she’d break something.

  Agents generally sent closed deals to that industry newsletter. In Kendra’s experience, as a former acquisitions editor and as an agent, from initial submission to an eager editor to acquisitions committee to negotiated and signed contractual agreement typically took anywhere from two to six months, with two months more like the super swift exception in a business where moves were notoriously glacial. But this involved Dominic Tobias, who probably had all the right players on speed dial, so the usual rules did not apply. Her pencil sliced through the magazine cover like a surgeon’s scalpel.

  Did Dominic know about Ken
dra’s interest in this manuscript? If so, at what point did he know? How had he gotten his hands on it? How in the world had Kendra totally misread Corinne and their connection? Why hadn’t Corinne phoned, emailed, or texted to tell Kendra when she decided to go with different representation? Or had Kendra been a backup plan while Dominic had been her first choice all along? The questions barreled at her while her brain raced to put together what had gone wrong.

  “Are you okay?” Brittany asked.

  “Yes.” Kendra resisted the urge to snap the pencil in two.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “This crazy business,” she said with a mirthless titter. “Those are the breaks.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t make it any less disappointing. I can tell you think this manuscript is something extra special.”

  “It is,” Kendra said, unable to sustain the indifferent façade when the pencil lead broke.

  “Look on the bright side. We have Brody Goodwin. And I had a chance to peek at the proposal for a new three-book fantasy series from Blake. The first book is nearly done. I’ve read it. And he’s plotted detailed story arcs for the rest. It’s fantastic, Kendra! I’m sure this is going to be the breakout for him. Wait until you read it. I have a feeling. You know I don’t say this often.”

  Kendra appreciated Brittany’s futile attempts at mood rallying, but those niggling questions were relentless. Kendra would fire off a congratulatory email to Corinne. No, a call would be better. She reached for the phone and dialed. Darn it! Voicemail. Before she ended the land line call her cell phone rang. Dominic.

  Kendra hesitated, unsure of what she could or should say to him, but she answered before it went to voicemail.

  “Hello there!” Kendra forced a cheerful note in her thin voice.

  “I’m calling to see if you’re free for dinner tonight, my place this time.”

  Kendra hesitated. Was she ready to face Dominic before she’d had a chance to process the latest turn of events? She’d also planned to edit a client’s manuscript, but she wouldn’t be able to focus until she got to the bottom of what the holy hell had happened with Four Simple Wishes.